"Are you sure you want to do this?"
Pich flinched. Kisook took a drag of her pipe, blowing a tapestry of smoke into the air.
"For the thousandth time, I refuse to speak with the woman."
"Why don't you try?!"
"It makes no difference whether we speak or not-- we will die anyway."
"We-ell...I'm not good at the talking part."
"Pfft! You spoke to that malicious spirit the other day, 'David Carlyle'?"
"Th-That was a demon?"
Kisook grabbed an amethyst from her table, running her fingers over the lavender bumps.
"Not a demon, but a human turned spirit. I can sense the difference. One who is not Death, but seeks revenge on Death. I feel all these things, yet...I can't put my finger on what he was."
She took another drag. Pich's jaw twitched.
"Calm down, Mama! You just had your kidney replaced."
"Hmph. I'm falling apart anyway."
"I got a transplant, too. Remember?"
Pich ran a slim hand along her cheek. Death's cheek. A little stitching, the surgeon had said, A little brushing on the bottom.... Her heart thundered. A gentle fire sizzled under her skin.... I am beautiful, even more than before! No General can stop me now!
"Yes, Mama. I've the Face of Death."
"Good. Let me feel."
Pich bent forward. Kisook lifted a hand, stubby fingers twitching along icy, pointed bones and warm curves of the wire-veined face. My Goddess! Her wrinkled mouth dropped open like a marionette.
"A-Ah," she gasped, "That is certainly it. Sharp cheekbones, they said, big eyes and soft lips. But...isn't it a little white for the rest of you?"
"How can you tell?"
"Death is a white woman. I've heard jokes-- jokes are rarely wrong."
"B-But...!"
"I love it, but I fear...my time is almost up. I cannot feel it long."
Pich's eyes burnt with tears. She fell to her knees, wrapping one arm around her mistress.
"You can't leave! I-I've never had a mother like you!"
Kisook's thick fingers curled over the cold metal like rust.
"I've seen enough people die artificially. I refuse to live the same way. Besides, you'll feel my presence more, dead and awake than alive and asleep."
"Who did you see...?"
"Pich! Is your gun loaded?"
Pich gripped the pistol between two sweat-soaked hands. She cuh-rocked, so Kisook could hear. Kisook nodded.
"Promise me you will only use that, and no witchcraft."
YOU ARE READING
The Righteous Perish
FantasyThis isn't my first full-length work (longer than short-story), yet the only one I find decent. I began writing it in 2019. As always, the characters' biases do not reflect my own. That being said, I'm still young. (Try to) enjoy!
