Avriel Kaplan: Well dressed, well groomed, beautifully handsome, quiet and brooding and exactly the kind of man Ariel Declan doesn't need to know. But, that is not for her to decide.
Alexander Kirk: wickedly handsome, well known and well liked, egot...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Their community was small. Which was ultimately better for humanity. It was kept that way out of necessity and requirement. Avriel was content with that, happy to not have meetings and gatherings and to generally not have to be in the same space as most of them. It was not like an AA chapter, a committee, council or a charter of alumni or anything. Just a small group of people, controlled and regulated.
There were rules. Who was going to enforce them? Yes, there was a council. They enforced the rules. There were consequences for breaking them. Most of the rules were steeped in tradition, but some were based in logic adjusted and changed over time to match the changing world and the advances in technology and human medical knowledge. Still, someone had to decide when the rules had been broken and what was to be done about it. The council did that.
Avriel was on that council, along with Scott, Esther, and several others. He didn't want to be, but it was his birthright and not something that he could readily escape. They didn't meet unless they had to. Luckily, they hadn't needed to in many years. The community regulated itself quite nicely and everything was kept in balance by its members. Until it wasn't.
Something was threatening that balance, moving the scales in an unfavorable way. It hadn't escaped their awareness entirely, yet they did not know exactly who or what it was. Whatever, whoever it was, it was cunning and smooth. It had so far escaped the notice of the local authorities, but how long would that last?
She was unhappy with her life, locked in a continuous downward spiral. She finished her drink and slipped away unnoticed from Frank's bar. No one ever noticed her. That was the problem. She was never pretty enough, never smart enough, never young enough. She was wrong, just all wrong. She was none of those things for him, so he left. 'Upgraded' he said. He had upgraded. She really didn't understand. She had given him the best years of her life, gave him children and love, made his home. Why wasn't she good enough? She stumbled into the bouncer on her way out of the club. He helped steady her.
"You alright ma'am?"
"Fine. I'm fine," she slurred.
"Shall I have someone call a cab or an Uber for you?"
She looked at him as if he had slapped her. "I'm fine." She unsteadily pulled her arm away from him and walked out of the club into the cool night air. She was fine. She didn't know what the hell that man was talking about. She didn't live too far away anymore. Not since, not since he kicked her out of her home, the home she had built for him and their children. She couldn't help but wonder how long. How long had it been going on? How long had she been fooling herself? Thinking that she was enough for him. Thinking that she was beautiful and grown more beautiful with time and that she was worthy of his love. She didn't know. She didn't know at all.
Unsteadily she got in her car. Some part of her knew that she shouldn't be driving. She was drunk. Hell, she struggled to walk to her car. There was no way she should be behind the wheel. She knew this, but she just didn't care. This time would not be like the last time. She would be fine. She could make it home without a problem.
She was lucky to get out of the parking space in one piece. It was a wonder she made it down the road at all. The streets were calm, quiet. It was only Tuesday night. Her worry started to dissipate. There was no one on the road. No children on the side of the street playing. No little boys walking their dogs. She didn't have to worry. She pushed her worry and guilt aside.
As she started to think about that flirty little bitch of a secretary that stole her husband, she grew angrier and angrier. As her anger mounted her right foot grew heavier. She reached a traveling speed of 45 miles per hour and misjudged a turn. Her car skidded out of control, but she recovered it and slowed down. But her anger continued to build as she drove down the cold and empty street to go to her cold and empty apartment on Leek Street.
Was that a person? She thought she saw someone standing on the side of the street. A man. Was there a man? She kept driving. A sick tingling feeling started at the base of her neck and spread up and down her spine. She felt fear, vibrant and intense, replace her anger. She passed another dark hooded figure. Was that the same man? Her mind started playing tricks on her as her fear deepened and consumed her anger. She missed her street.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the same hooded man again, then again a few feet away, then another few. Did he have a dog with him? Was he walking a dog? Was he a man at all? Perhaps he was a little boy in a blue hoodie with jeans and red sneakers. She wanted to speed up to get away, so she did. She whipped her car around a corner and slammed on the breaks to avoid hitting the little boy in his blue hoodie stained with his blood, and the little brown dog. She lost control of the car, it spun out of control sliding across the street to slam driver side door first into the nearest telephone pole.
Her airbag deployed, sparing her life. The glass from the broken windows slashed and lacerated her arms, face, and neck. She was dazed and confused but hadn't sustained any life-threatening injuries. The little boy. All she could see when she closed her eyes was the little boy. He looked perfect, like an angel. Just like a sleeping angel except for the pool of red that spread around his head like a crimson halo. He was perfect except for that.
She saw him clearly, just as clearly as she saw him lying on the pavement in front of her car the first and only time she had seen him. She thought that a car would do more damage to a little boy. Maybe he would have broken limbs, his arms and legs turned wrong, but no, he was perfect.
She remembered, she remembered all too well. She had been drinking at the office, just one little drink, just one, maybe it was two or three. She couldn't remember. She had just learned about his secretary. She didn't feel tipsy. She was driving along minding her own business. He just came out of nowhere, from between the cars, chasing after a little brown dog. She tried to stop the second she saw him. She tried to stop. Then, she just drove away. Just left that little boy and his dog there in the road for someone else to find. Tears, hot and thick ran down her face.
Slowly her head cleared. The car was still running. She could smell the gas as the fumes flooded the car. The engine was running. Was the car going to blow up? She frantically reached for her seat belt, but the blood from her head wound, moreover the cuts on her arm slicked her hand. She couldn't release the buckle. She had to get out of that car. Her fear mounted and peaked. She had survived wrecking her car only to be trapped in it and suffocate or burn to death when it exploded. "Oh God. I'm so sorry. I so, so sorry. Oh, God. Please forgive me. Save me." A dark and shadowy figure approached the side of the car and opened the passenger door. The air immediately cleared. She breathed a sigh of relief. The stranger just looked at her, quietly assessing her wounds.
"Please, please. Are you here to help me?" The stranger continued to look at her and a great sense of fear washed over the woman.
The stranger smiled softly. "Yes and no." She saw him shrug. He was the hooded figure she saw on the side of the road. "Should I help you like you helped him?" His smile was cold and cruel. "He was just a boy, just a little boy." The Stranger's eyes were cold yellow and dead. The woman panicked, and he laughed a soft maniacal laugh. "Yes, please be afraid. Be very afraid."
"God." She cried. As the stranger reached for her arm. She tried to pull it away. He pulled a few of the shards of glass from her skin, dropped them carelessly to the passenger seat of her car, and looked into her terrified eyes as he held her wrist delicately in his cold hands. Her heart raced out of control. The dark stranger smiled again, his teeth glistening in the night as he raised her bleeding wrist to his lips.
"God. Please," she weakly muttered her eyes gone wide with fear and anticipation.
"Your God can't save you now." The stranger whispered before touching her wounded arm to his lips.
