ã€ŠBeyond Floatingã€‹


 Chapter One

    To settle the score right here, right now, I would like to make one thing perfectly clear: I hate poetry. Perhaps it¡¯s a personal thing, as I am a lousy poet. Some things in this world can only be described by people with a modicum more command over the English language than I. Colors to the blind, music to the deaf ¨C things like that.

    Floating weightlessly is a unique feeling - especially when one has no body to accompany it.

    <hr>

    ¡°Just get it over with.¡±

    Isaac sighed lightly, and looked down at his ¡®patient,¡¯ with a narrow look of concern. ¡°I do not understand why you insist on being conscious for this.¡±

    ¡°Because it¡¯s my arm,¡± was the strained response.

    ¡°That is precisely why I would think you would prefer to be unconscious,¡± Isaac couldn¡¯t help but smirk slightly at the humor in the situation. Well, humor by his standards, certainly. He cinched the tourniquet tighter around his employee¡¯s upper arm and picked up the surgical saw. The sound of the blade sliding across the metal tray brought back memories ¨C none pleasant. The pungent odor of the sterilizer didn¡¯t aid at all in keeping his mind on the moment at hand. Other matters for other times, he supposed. He turned his attention back to the man lying recumbent on the metal table ¨C it had been a great many years since he had played the doctor, and it would take his focus to do this correctly. ¡°You are positive you do not wish to be more heavily sedated.¡±

    ¡°Somebody has to be awake to install the wires¡­¡±

    ¡°With the amount of pain medication you are currently under, do you honestly believe that you will be successful?¡±

    ¡°How the hell am I supposed to know?! Have you ever done this before? I certainly haven¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°A fair statement.¡±

    ¡°Just do it.¡±

    Isaac placed the saw to the man¡¯s flesh, and paused, giving the younger man another chance to change his mind. With a resolute stare being his only response, he sighed again. ¡°I am sorry¡­ truly sorry, my friend.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize, just do it.¡±

    And with that, blade bit into flesh, and the screams began.

    <hr>

    There is a perfect stillness that comes with the darkness of winter. Nothing seems to move for fear of breaking the thin veil between the silence and the noise - between life, and death. The snow on the ground turns a gaunt blue in the pallor of the moonlight. The ice crystals frozen in that top layer glitter back the stars and there seem to be only shades of blue in the color pallet of the world. The trees, blacker than the night sky, cut jagged shapes out of the freezing air and ground just the same.

    You could almost join in the lifelessness if you held your breath. That cold, peaceful, motionless nothingness that hung in the air like a palpable force. For just a second, you could almost share in the feeling before the beating of your heart broke that almost otherworldly stillness.

    She didn¡¯t exactly have that problem.

    She didn¡¯t exactly have a heartbeat.

    For her, it was far too easy to feel that perfect stillness. Sometimes, she would hum a tune or whistle - something - anything - to avoid the frozen world. Tonight, it just felt wrong. So, there she sat atop the carved stone that juts up from the frozen ground, she had nothing else to do but take in her surroundings. It seemed even the wind had died in its tracks - afraid to pop the bubble of nothingness that took over the moment.

    I wonder if this is what it¡¯s like being in space. Except with more stuff. She thought to herself.

    Stones - black against the sparking white and blue snow - stood amongst the trees like so many chessmen. Winter, death, cemeteries, they had so very much in common. They were silent, cold, uninviting, and absolutely perfectly still.

    Suddenly, this particular graveyard had about two out of four.

    <hr>

    ¡°Boss, I swear, she won¡¯t stop kicking me in the shin, and if she does it one more time, I¡¯m gonna - ow, you little!¡± Victor snarled into the face of the blonde girl he dragged behind her. She had the same ridiculous pattern. Tug, tug, kick - tug, tug, kick - he was getting used to it until she decided to break up the pattern with a sharp jab to his calf. It didn¡¯t really hurt him, mind you - but it was getting really damn annoying.

    ¡°Victor, be silent.¡±

    ¡°But, boss, it¡¯s-¡°

    ¡°I could arrange it very easily for you to take her place.¡±

    Victor let out a puff of air, which, unlike the others, did not turn to steam in the freezing air. ¡°Fine,¡± he grumped and continued to drag the woman along behind him. ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean I have to be happy about it,¡± he finished under his breath.

    <hr>

    Four men trudged a path through the ankle-deep snow. Crunching their feet loudly through the top layer of frozen ice, they cut a path through the winding stones and trees as they moved deeper away from the streetlights that dotted the road.

    Correction: four men and the previously noted woman, although it was obvious that the woman in question had no desire to be present. Hands bound behind her back and a piece of duct-tape carelessly slapped over her mouth, she was being yanked along by the man in the back of the small group. Despite her best efforts, he had no difficulty pulling her along.

    The woman dug her heels in abruptly, wrenching backwards and kicking violently at the man who had her upper arm in his grip. With one loud growl of frustration, Victor roughly jerked the woman around and gripped her by her upper arms. Using his height to his advantage, he loomed over her and flashed a perfectly charming, bright white smile. The only thing debatably marring the smile was a set of pointed, dangerous fangs.

    ¡°Okie-dokie, sweetheart. No, really, kick me one more time an¡¯ I¡¯ll have to make this much, much worse on you.¡± He cheerily rolled the last few words out slowly and blew a strand of his highly-styled blond hair out of his eye. Pointedly flashing his fangs again, he finished with a chipper, ¡°Kay?¡±

    The woman only squealed behind the tape.

    ¡°Yes? Great! I¡¯m glad you see things my way,¡± he said with another charming smile.

    ¡°Will you please stop stalling?¡±

    ¡°Yes, boss,¡± Victor said begrudgingly. He had the tone of voice one gets only when you¡¯ve said something many times before, and are likely to say the same thing many times again.

    The four men gathered around a table-top tomb, the blond - Victor - dumping the young woman unceremoniously atop it. He began to whistle idly as he started to lash the girl to the tomb¡¯s marble legs with some rope he fished out of his well-worn black leather coat. The man standing at the girl¡¯s head - the ¡®Boss¡¯ - removed his thin framed rectangular glasses from his nose and pinched its bridge in exasperation.

    Victor stopped whistling and paused in lashing the woman to the stone to look up as the latter replaced his glasses. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Never mind.¡±

    <hr>

    Isaac stood and watched as his ¡®employees¡¯ moved to stand around the table-top tomb. The woman tied on her back to the cold stone was frantically thrashing, and he all but ignored her. Reaching into the inside pocket if his long, dark grey wool coat, he pulled out a simple ivory-handled pocket-knife. Giving it a clean and practiced flick, his attention shifted to the girl. His expression remained detached as she began to scream through the tape with renewed determination.

    One man - standing easily head and shoulders over the rest, and nearly twice as broad - snorted then ran his hand back and forth over his bald head. He eyed the blade incredulously. ¡°What, no curvy blade or something¡¯? No candles or-¡° The man paused as the girl screamed louder, muffled through the tape. ¡°-or chanting? Just a pocket knife?¡±

    Taking the kind of tone one takes when trying to explain something to a chid, Isaac turned his attention from the girl on the slab to the behemoth across from him. ¡°Mal, we¡¯ve been over this. It is quite simply all about the will involved. The tools are immaterial. The power is what gets the job done.¡±

    ¡°Mmmff!¡± screamed the girl.

    If the huge man picked up on Isaac¡¯s tone, it seemed not to bother him. ¡°Oh. Still, one of those¡­ squiggly-like, curvy blades woulda looked cooler, ya think?¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Kris.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Mmmf!¡±

    A pause. ¡°It¡¯s called a kris. The blade to which you are referring,¡± Isaac replied dryly. He prided himself on his control over his outward emotions, but his grasp on his temper was becoming tenuous at best.

    ¡°Oh. Right. I¡¯ll shut up now.¡± Mal cupped his massive hands in front of his mouth and blew into them in an attempt to keep them warm.

    ¡°Mmmmph!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯ll last,¡± Victor sneered up at the bigger man. Mal growled at him angrily, and Victor¡¯s sneer quickly turned into a yelp as Mal gripped him by the front of his white button-down shirt. The bigger man¡¯s fist dug into the silk as he hefted the smaller blond vampire off of his feet.

    ¡°Listen to me ya scrawny, frilly-shirt-wearing, prissy little smart ass, I¡¯m gonna break yer sorry little neck if you don¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°Quiiiiiiiiiiiiet!¡± croaked the fourth man. He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, snuffling through a clearly congested nose. ¡°You¡¯ll make them angry. They get angry really really easy. You don¡¯t want them angry. And besides, then you won¡¯t be able to kill the piano king. Cheater uses too many hands. It¡¯s no fun if you cheat,¡± the man let out a frantic giggle and looked down at a large jar that he held under one arm with a fierce protectiveness. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right?¡±

    ¡°Oh, look, great, you¡¯ve got Ezekiel going on again. Good. Good job there Mal,¡± Victor grumbled as he pushed away from the bigger man. Dropping down hard onto his feet, he took a small step to catch himself. He muttered to himself quietly, lamenting his constant mistreatment as he attempted to fix his carefully arranged hair and straighten his clothes.

    ¡°Mmmmmf!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, if your face didn¡¯t so desperately need a pounding, maybe he never would have started goin¡¯ in the first place!¡± Mal cracked his knuckles against the palm of his other hand, glaring down at Victor.

    ¡°Silence. Please.¡± With only a simple shift of his tone, it was clear that Isaac was done with the show in front of him. The other men fell silent obediently, knowing better than to test him. Isaac adjusted his thin-framed glasses back up his nose with the push of his ring finger. ¡°Let¡¯s just get on with this.¡± He held the knife over the struggling girl, then raised the blade up to the sky.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it just a titch late to be playing ¡®sacrifice the virgin¡¯?¡± piped a rather cheery female voice from behind him.

    Isaac nearly dropped his knife in shock as he whirled around to find the source of the interruption. He opened his mouth to speak, but simply shut it again, finding no words. Whatever he had been expecting, what faced him was not it.

    A twenty-something young woman sat on the top of a tombstone behind him, grinning mischievously. A section of bangs from her shoulder-length, unruly dark blue hair hung in front of her face. Blowing it out of the way, she began to talk through a snicker. ¡°I mean, really. It¡¯s what, three am? Your parents are probably all worried sick about you.¡±

    ¡°Jack and Jill went up the hill¡­ and¡­ then Jack went stabby-stabby-stabby-stabby-¡° Ezekiel began to croak. Victor grabbed hold of him and covered the chubby little man¡¯s mouth, pointing down at him to shush him. Ezekiel whimpered once and went quiet. He looked down at the jar and petted the side of it almost feverishly.

    ¡°Shit girl, aren¡¯t you cold?! I¡¯m freezing my ¡®nads off, and at least I¡¯ve got a goddamn coat.¡± Mal wrinkled his nose a bit as he thought about it. ¡°An¡¯ come to think of it, you got a fuggin¡¯ death wish, coming up on us like this?¡±

    Isaac, frustrated that Mal found his tongue first, took the moment to settle himself. After a long and measured breath, he turned his attention to the girl in front of him. ¡°He has made a rather apt point, child. You should not be here.¡± Isaac lifted the knife slowly and twirled it between his fingers, letting the steel flash in the moonlight. He clicked it shut with a small, practiced flick of his wrist.

    ¡°Neither should you, so, there you go,¡± she replied, clearly incredibly amused with what was going on in front of her. ¡°I think it¡¯s illegal to be in graveyards after dark, or something.¡±

    ¡°What we are doing here is of no concern to you. It is in your best interest to leave,¡± Isaac said, his deep voice taking on a dangerous tone. Isaac was a patient man, but there were limits to everything in this world.

    His threatening tone had no effect on her. ¡°Why, so you can go back to cutting up the chick for - what reason again?¡± Narrowing a heavily-lined eye at the men in front of her, the girl hopped off of the stone. Her knee-high black boots barely made an impression in the icy crust. That was odd. Isaac narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as began to put together what was happening in front of him. His train of thought was cut short as she suddenly snapped fingers excitedly and stepped towards them. ¡°Oooh, I get it! I get what you¡¯re all doing!¡±

    ¡°Oh? Do tell.¡±

    ¡°You really are playing sacrifice the virgin, you sickos. Here I thought I just walked in on some weird-ass amateur porn movie. You¡¯re going to slice her up to - what - summon demons or something? You guys some sort of weird¡­ cult thing?¡± The girl cracked a laugh at the prospect. ¡°Nice vest, by the way. Good job. Goes well with the coat. I mean, nobody really sports the three-piece-casual-suit-thing anymore.¡±

    That was about all Isaac could take. His frustration began to leak into anger. Patiently crunching through the snow toward her with measured steps, he spoke just as slowly. ¡°Propose we are. Propose we are standing here in this graveyard to ¡®summon demons,¡¯ as you put it. Here we are, four dangerous men, ready, able, and willing to kill¡­ and you, a single, misguided goth girl-¡±

    ¡°Ooh, she¡¯s gone and done it¡­ she¡¯s made him mad,¡± Victor whispered up to Mal. If Isaac heard, he didn¡¯t react.

    ¡°-Find it wise to simply walk up and interrupt us? Do you truly have, as Mal noted, a ¡®death wish¡¯?¡± Isaac stopped, standing just barely in front of her. Her sardonic smile remained unfazed as she looked up at him.

    If what he was saying was supposed to scare her, it was clearly doing little good. ¡°Death wish.¡± The girl laughed hard, and then let out a wistful sigh. ¡°That¡¯s funny. Look -¡° she shrugged ¡°- that¡¯s charming and all. I¡¯m really scared. I promise I am. No, really, you¡¯re freaky, I get it.¡± All humor faded from her face. ¡°But you really oughta take your chick and go home. Cut her up somewhere else if you¡¯ve got to, but not here.¡±

    Isaac laughed. The unsettling noise rang out through the cemetery, breaking the silence in the yard like glass. Finally, he was making progress. If for any other reason than the girl had just given herself away, his frustration lessened. ¡°You mean to tell me what to do? I haven¡¯t had a good laugh in a long time. Thank you, child.¡± The dark-haired man smiled with a thin twist to his lips.

    ¡°Seriously, just go somewhere else. I don¡¯t care if you kill her or not. Just not here,¡± the girl said again. The imposing man in front of her was starting to make her nervous, and it was creeping into her voice.

    ¡°And what gives you the power to tell me what to do?¡± Isaac said calmly, his grey eyes staring into her blue ones. ¡°What stops me from simply breaking your spine?¡± His hand snapped forward suddenly to grasp her around the neck.

    She pulled back sharply. ¡°Hey! Now¡­ no, don¡¯t go doing that. It¡¯s not a smart idea.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± He wondered if his knowledge of the situation reflected on his face. He doubted it.

    ¡°I¡¯m warning you.¡± The girl did her best to sound firm, although the effort was wasted.

    Any remaining humor faded from Isaac¡¯s eyes. ¡°You have annoyed me for the last time.¡± Moving to grab her, Isaac watched as his hand passed straight through her body. She seemed to swirl around like disturbed incense smoke, only to reform around him, despite his hand having absolutely no business being there.

    The girl shrugged.

    ¡°Told you so.¡± Stepping forward, she suddenly passed straight through him, re-emerging on the other side like he was simply not there. He clenched his fists to keep from convulsing as a feeling like static electricity crawled up his spine.

    She walked towards the group with her back to Isaac and waved her hand a bit dismissively as she approached the other men. They all took a quick step backwards, staring at her wide-eyed and in various stages of shock.

    ¡°What-¡± Mal began, wide-eyed.

    ¡°Am I?¡± The girl didn¡¯t even bother to look at Isaac as she interrupted him. ¡°See, I can¡¯t have a death wish. On¡­ account of the fact that, well, I¡¯m already dead.¡± She snorted at her bad joke. ¡°Man, that was corny. Ba-da-bum, ha-cha-cha. Oooh, I¡¯m so clever it hurts.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ dead? Like really dead-dead?¡± Victor had horror clearly written across his face.

    ¡°Yep. Dead-diddly-ead.¡± The girl stepped through the table - and the blonde still tied to it - to come out on the other side in front of Victor. He screamed and staggered backwards as he suddenly lost his balance and fell. Tripping over one stone, his head bounced off of the marble of another marker. He let out a long groan of pain and gripped his head in both hands.

    The blue-haired girl turned towards Isaac. ¡°You should probably get some friends who¡¯re a little less¡­ jumpy.¡±

    Isaac had gone terribly still, staring at her with a sort of removed fascination. He began to walk towards her again, taking his time. The girl ran her hands through her unruly hair, watching him approach. She did her best to ignore the weird look on his face. ¡°So, really, take the girl and go,¡± she finished. Her realization that whatever power she may have had was indeed worth little, registered clearly on her face.

    Isaac slowly walked around the table. His sharp grey eyes were staring at her like he was taking stock of her, thoughts attached to some obscure line of reasoning no one else could track. ¡°You are an unusual creature.¡±

    ¡°Em¡­ thank you?¡±

    ¡°We did not come here to raise demons, child.¡±

    ¡°Man, I really did just spoil the hottest porn movie ever, didn¡¯t I?¡± She grinned wide, unable to help herself. Mal started to laugh loudly, but, at a sharp glare from Isaac, he did his best to cut it short and turned away to hide his laughing.

    Isaac shut his eyes for a moment and let that one pass before opening his eyes again. ¡°We came here to raise spirits.¡± He took a step forward and closed the distance between them. Lifting his hand, he let a silver necklace dangle from his fingers. Hanging from it was a shining onyx stone the size of a half-dollar, clasped in a strange, decorative, cage-like casing.

    ¡°Oh.¡± She took a step back. The look on her face was that of someone who thought she had the best hand at the table, only to discover someone else had smuggled in other cards. ¡°What¡­ for?¡±

    Without answering, Isaac thrust the pendant into the young woman, the stone flashed, and suddenly let out an explosion of bluish-green light that illuminated the graveyard. The other men turned their faces away from the sudden blinding light, but just as soon as it had come, the light vanished - only a dull glow remained in the stone until that, too, faded. The blue-haired ghost was gone.

    ¡°Time to leave,¡± Isaac said simply, stuffing the necklace into his pocket and walking back towards the street lamps flickering in the distance.

    ¡°But, Isaac - what about her?¡± Victor chimed, pointing at the girl on the slab. Her eyes were still locked wide, and her skin was starting to pale. She was staring sightlessly in shock, shivering against the restraints.

    ¡°No matter. Let her freeze,¡± Isaac replied without even turning around. Shrugging at each other, the other three men simply followed him into the night.

 Chapter Two

    Wingtip shoes made quiet thumps against the carpet as Isaac strode into his study and shut the heavy wooden door behind him.  The room had the feeling of meticulously organized chaos. Dark oak bookshelves lined both walls, brimming with books and bizarre statues, jars with strange objects in them or looseleaf paper bound up tight with string.  Clutter without being a mess, the tops of the bookcases were lined with more bizarre statues, wooden boxes, and strange clockwork mechanisms. The walls, where they were visible around the bookcases and under the various framed artwork that hung on them, were covered in a deep red and gold damask wallpaper.  He crossed the faded, once brilliantly colored oriental rug to a standing coat rack by one wall.

    He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the onyx necklace.  Slipping it around his neck and tucking it underneath his shirt, he shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a peg.  The man undid his thin black and green striped tie and tossed it onto the coat rack as well. Walking to the large ornate fireplace, he crouched down to start the fire.

    He began to grumble under his breath as he went through match after match.  Jabbing at the wood with the fire poker, he tried again.

    ¡°Want some help?¡± came a sarcastic and disgruntled female voice.

    Sharp grey eyes turned to the rest of the room but saw no one.  He unclipped his cufflinks and folded up his sleeves and began to jab at the wood with a fire poker again. ¡°No,¡± he replied simply.

    ¡°Mm-kay.¡±

    Another few minutes passed as Isaac continued to fail at lighting the fire, crumpling up a paper and stuffing it into the pile of damp logs.

    ¡°Seriously, all you gotta do is ask.¡±  She was still very clearly annoyed, wherever she was.

    ¡°No,¡± came his simple reply again.

    A sigh, and then, ¡°Men.¡±  Suddenly the fire sparked and flared in front of him.  He fell back, startled, his long black hair falling in front of his face.  He stood up quickly and ran his hand through it to straighten it.

    ¡°Appear,¡± he snarled angrily at the room.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Make yourself visible.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t say why.¡±

    ¡°I will not talk to an empty room.  I will not tell you a third time.¡±

    ¡°Make me,¡± she snickered from nowhere.

    ¡°As you wish.¡±  He touched the necklace through his shirt.  The girl suddenly screamed in pain and appeared in mid-air, her form falling to the ground with a loud thump.

    ¡°Shit!¡± She glared up at him and began picking herself up off of the carpet.  ¡°That hurt! Want to tell me how the hell you did that?!¡±

    Walking up to her with seemingly no expression on his face, he reached down towards her and toyed with a dark blue lock of her hair momentarily - rubbing it between his fingers as if he were testing the texture.  She swatted his hand away and took a step back. ¡°So you can take completely physical form. That is unusual but convenient,¡± he muttered half under his breath. The girl half suspected that he wasn¡¯t talking to her at all.

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me!  And you didn¡¯t answer my question.  What the hell did you do to me?!¡±

    Whoever he was, he seemed completely uninterested in any sort of conversation.  Turning away from her, he walked to his desk and sat down in a wooden swiveling chair.  He slid a book over the glass top and opened it, flipping to a half-empty page. Picking up a pen, he began to write, his back to her.

    ¡°Hello?!¡±

    The long-haired man raised his head up from his work for a moment before lowering it again and resuming writing with his left hand.  ¡°I suppose the simplest and most direct way to explain it would be thus: you belong to me now.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?!  What the hell does that mean?! Look, jackass, you don¡¯t own me - are you some kind of psycho?!¡±

    He let her finish before hooking his black hair behind his ear with the push of a finger.  Without turning, he spoke with the same calm demeanor. ¡°I took a piece of your soul. Inside this necklace is a shard of you.  I had intended to gather a few weaker spirits to do what I need. Instead, we found you.¡±

    ¡°Hold on - you¡­ took a piece of my soul?!¡± she fumed.  ¡°How the hell can you even do something like that?!¡±

    ¡°Yes.  And the how is actually rather simple.  The right piece of stone from my collection, the right time and place, and here you are.¡±  He placed down his pen and swiveled around his chair to face her. He gestured simply with both of his hands as if he were referencing the most common of situations.

    ¡°What, magic?!  Are you telling me you used magic on me?  Don¡¯t tell me that shit¡¯s real.¡±

    ¡°You seem to post-date the Retribution.  You should, therefore, know very well that the supernatural and other such things exist.  Did you not stop to think that perhaps that was not the end of it? You are dead, and standing here in the middle of my house.¡±

    ¡°Magic.  Seriously?¡±

    ¡°It would appear so.¡±

    She felt rage slowly boil through her being. She vanished, then dashed at him.  She moved quicker than a living person could, having no body to drag along with her.  She wasn¡¯t quite sure what she meant to do to him - she only knew she desperately wanted to hurt him.

    He touched the necklace again, making no other movement.  The girl screamed and crashed to the ground from mid-air, pain crawling through her body.  She lay there for a while before pushing herself back up to her feet.

    ¡°What¡¯s to stop me from just stealing that thing when you¡¯re asleep?¡±

    ¡°You wish to try?  Go ahead.¡± He pulled the necklace out from under his shirt and simply sat back.

    She reached towards the stone, and then stopped short.  She straightened up, her eyes narrowed. ¡°What¡¯ll it do to me if I touch it..?¡±

    ¡°Ah, you are not as dimwitted as I suspected.¡±

    ¡°Cut it with the insults, alright, psycho?  What¡¯ll it do?¡±

    ¡°I suspect nothing.  You cannot touch your own soul.¡±

    To prove his point, she reached forward - and her hand passed uselessly through the stone.  She tried to pick it up again, and nothing. She snarled in rage and stomped away from him.

    ¡°There is nothing you can do.  Best to simply accept it,¡± he said as he swiveled back around in his chair and resumed writing.

    She glared at the back of his head as she turned over thought after thought.  She desperately tried to think of some vicious retort, some inescapable insult.  The longer she went without coming up with one, the more frustrated she became. Turning away, she began to pace around the room silently.  If he cared, he did nothing about it. She was helpless - completely stuck. She almost wanted to cry, but, she wouldn¡¯t give him that victory.

    ¡°Y¡¯know, if you¡¯re going to do this to me, you don¡¯t have to be such a dick about it,¡± she said quietly.

    The scratching of the pen on the parchment paused for a few moments before continuing.

    ¡°So what does this mean?¡± she finally asked.

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°What does it mean, you ''taking a piece of my soul?''  What now?¡±

    Leaning back into the wooden chair, Isaac swiveled it around on the pivot to face her.  Taking the glasses off his face, he rubbed his eyes tiredly. Slowly replacing the glasses, he finally turned his grey eyes on her.  ¡°It really is simple. If you disobey me, I can put you in complete agony. So you will fulfill my requests of you. You are tied to me until I set you free.¡±

    She wasn¡¯t even aware something like that was possible, but, clearly, it was.  The man in front of her had caused her to feel the first pain she¡¯d felt since she had died.  Something told her that it was completely pointless to argue about. And really, what could she do?  It was obvious she couldn¡¯t touch him. Call the cops? Yeah, right. ¡°Great,¡± she said through clenched teeth.  ¡°So what do I do now?¡±

    ¡°Amuse yourself with something else until I need you.¡±

    She stared at him as a strange and awkward silence descended between them.

    ¡°So what¡¯s your name?¡± she asked finally, her arms folded.  She figured she should know the name of the man she¡¯d be cursing.

    ¡°Isaac.  Isaac Ostheim.¡±

    ¡°Muse.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±  He turned his head just barely towards her.

    ¡°My name¡¯s Muse.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Charming.  What is your real name?¡±

    ¡°None of your business.  You call me Muse.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure I could.  Whether I will or not remains to be seen, I suppose.¡±

    Growling loudly in frustration and with a desperate need to either punch him in the face or get away from him, Muse chose the latter.  Dissolving, she floated down and pushed through the floor of the study. Gliding through furniture and walls, she pointedly ignored everyone in the house until she came to an unoccupied room.  Floating formlessly across the kitchen and over the counter, she moved herself up and wedged herself above the cupboards.

    Great.  This is just great.  Dead, and now¡­ abducted¡­ or whatever¡­ I wonder if there¡¯s like¡­ supernatural police¡­ or¡­ something¡­ She took hold of a cupboard and opened it, and slammed it back shut again, the noise and the action making her feel better.

    This.   She slammed it again, harder.

    Just.  Wham.

    Sucks.  Wham.

    So. Wham.

    Damn.  Wham.

    HARD!

    ¡°OW!¡± Thud.

    Having been focusing so hard on abusing the cabinetry, she hadn¡¯t noticed when Victor had walked in.  She had apparently smacked him square across the face as she threw the door open. He was now laying on his back, gripping his nose, whining in pain.  She took physical form reflexively, biting her lip, and reached down to help him up.

    Seeing a hand trying to help him, he blearily reached up.  ¡°Huhn? Oh - thanks.¡± Taking the hand offered to him, he let it help him up to his feet.  Blinking away the rest of the pain, he finally was able to focus on who was standing in front of him.

    He screamed.

    Recoiling from her, he fell against the fridge, his back slamming up against it painfully.  Terrified, he began to brush himself off where he had touched her, as though acid had hit him.

    Muse rolled her eyes, her form disappearing in a rapid swirl of grey smoke that disappeared half a moment later.  ¡°Great.¡±

    Victor stood there, staring at the kitchen, his eyes darting around.  ¡°Um. Are¡­ you still¡­ here?¡± He rubbed the side of the face where the cupboard had smacked into him.

    ¡°Sure,¡± she replied, floating shapeless by the hanging pan rack.  She rotated it idly with a push.

    Victor watched the pots slowly rotating around in a circle, motivated by - to him - some horrible invisible force.   ¡°So¡­ uh¡­ Whydja hit me? I didn¡¯t do anything¡­¡±

    ¡°¡®Didn¡¯t do anything,¡¯ right.  Look, who-ever-you-are¡­ I cracked you in the face without realizing it.  I¡¯m not sorry, as far as I¡¯m concerned, you deserve it for helping put me in this stupid situation.¡± She did, honestly, feel kind of bad for hitting him in the face.  But only kind of.

    ¡°Hey, look, about that, I¡¯m sorry for Isaac, he does that kind of crap, but I didn¡¯t¡­ I didn¡¯t even know what we were there for, so, please, don¡¯t.. like¡­ hit me again, okay?¡±  He winced, and touched his fingers to his nose again, checking to see if it was bleeding.

    And he¡¯s a vampire?  Seriously?

    ¡°That¡¯s why I was taking it out on the cupboard.  Seeing as I can¡¯t hit that jackass in the face¡­¡±

    ¡°Where are you anyway?¡±

    ¡°Over here,¡± she poked the hanging pan rack again.

    ¡°How¡¯re you doing that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a dead person thing.  We don¡¯t always have bodies.¡±

    Victor laughed nervously. ¡°Oh, yeah, of course, we - wait, what?!  We?! Who¡¯s we?!¡± He looked around the kitchen again, drumming his fingers on his thighs, clearly wondering what kind of invisible monsters were now roaming the room.

    Muse snickered again.  The vampire was clearly scared out of his mind.  It was a ridiculous concept. ¡°Sorry. Don¡¯t worry, no one else is here.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?!¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°How do you know?!¡±

    ¡°I¡­ can see other ghosts, dumb-ass.¡±  Muse wondered how hard she had actually hit him in the face.

    ¡°Oh, right,¡±  Victor said, glancing around the room in paranoia.  ¡°Hey, uh, could you like.. maybe¡­ be somewhere? It¡¯s kind of weird talking to thin air.¡±  He muttered out the last part, embarrassed.

    Finding the inane conversation with the vampire was lessening her frustration, and with nothing better to do, she appeared sitting on the counter.  Victor visibly jumped, still pressed back against the fridge like there were sharks in the tiling of the kitchen floor. ¡°Sorry again,¡± she said with another half-laugh. ¡°I forget that the comings-and-goings can be abrupt.¡±

    ¡°Kinda.¡±  Victor slowly unglued himself from the fridge and sidestepped.  Opening the fridge, he pulled out a beer and nudged the door shut with his foot.

    ¡°So why the hell¡¯re you afraid of me, anyway?  You¡¯re a damn vampire, and I freak you out?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well¡­ never met a ghost before.  See, you¡¯re like dead-dead. I¡¯m just¡­ semi-dead.  I never went the whole way.¡±

    ¡°Never met a vampire either.  The war started only a few years before I died - wasn¡¯t over till after.  So I never actually met any vampires. You guys were always myth and legend, and after word got out, everyone was too busy trying to kill you all for me to go introduce myself to one.¡±  Now that she thought about it, Muse looked at him curiously. The man in front of her was certainly cute as hell, but not what she would picture when she thought of a vampire. She guessed she expected them to look a little bit¡­ freakier.

    ¡°So we¡¯re even.¡±  Visibly stomaching the nervousness, he moved to hold his hand out to her.  ¡°Victor,¡± he said and flashed another bright grin.

    ¡°Muse.¡± Muse took his hand as he shook it and couldn¡¯t help but notice the smile.  ¡°Bet you get all the ladies with that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a hobby.  Hey, Muse is kind of a weird name.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a nickname.  80¡¯s goth. It happened.¡±

    ¡°Ugh.  80¡¯s. Bad, bad hair.¡±  Victor shuddered dramatically.

    ¡°Hey!  I like my hair. What¡¯s the excuse for yours?¡±  She stuck her tongue out, drawing a playful growl out of him.  Like a lightbulb going off, he looked down at her hand, still in his.  Letting go, he started to poke her in the shoulder. ¡°I can touch you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, imagine that.¡±

    ¡°Why?  Last time you went all¡­¡± He gestured wildly.  ¡°Whoosh.¡±

    She couldn¡¯t help but smile. ¡°I can control how solid I am.  It¡¯s a matter of degrees, really. I think. Again, I¡¯m not sure.¡±  Muse had never tried to explain it to anyone before. This was the first ¡®real¡¯ conversation she had had with anyone on the subject.

    ¡°Huhn.  Neat,¡± Victor said and drank another swig of the beer.  He poked her a few more times for good measure, a grin still across his face.  ¡°So can all ghosts do that?¡±

    ¡°Not that I¡¯ve seen.¡±

    They both turned as another man entered the room.  Muse wasn¡¯t sure what she noticed first. The fact that it looked like he had just crawled through a puddle of dirt and oil, or the weird blast goggles he had on top of his head, messing up his sandy-blond short spiky hair.

    ¡°Eric!¡± Victor yelled.  ¡°Check it out! It¡¯s the ghost!  Only her name is Muse-¡± Victor spouted, pointing at her as he babbled.  ¡°She¡¯s dead, but she can make herself, like, touchable, and¡­ and¡­¡±

    Eric looked at Muse apologetically.  ¡°Hey. Name¡¯s Eric. Excuse my big brother, he¡¯s excitable.¡±

    ¡°I noticed.  It¡¯s all right, exciting wouldn¡¯t exactly describe my¡­ existence until recently.  Wait,¡± she narrowed an eye and looked between the two. Victor clearly looked to be the younger one of the two.  Eric had grey touching the temples of his sandy-blond hair. ¡°Big brother?¡±¡°Vampire. Stopped aging,¡± Victor said with a faint smile that never quite reached his green eyes.

    ¡°So you¡¯ll be around for a while, I take it?¡± Eric asked, sharply changing the subject.  He grabbed an unopened beer out of the refrigerator and cracked it with an opener he fetched out of the dish drainer.  He scratched at his chin, the stubble betraying the fact that he hadn¡¯t shaved in a few days.

    ¡°Mm.  I guess?  Until the butt-munch upstairs changes his mind.¡±

    Eric brushed his hand down his shirt, which read ¡®There¡¯s no place like 127.0.0.1¡¯.  Muse was sure that made sense somewhere, but ¡®here¡¯ wasn¡¯t it. The swipe of his hand left a rather noticeable black smudge across the grey fabric.  ¡°Isaac? Yeah. He can be an ass sometimes, but he¡¯s good at what he does.¡±

    ¡°Which is what, exactly?¡±

    ¡°Whatever he wants.¡±  Eric swigged his beer and propped himself up against the counter across from her.  ¡°Dude has some serious voodoo shit going on. I don¡¯t know honestly. We just live here and work for him.¡±

    ¡°Oh, good.  You¡¯re employees.  Here I thought there was something else going on.¡±

    ¡°Huhn?¡±  Victor stared at her, lost.

    ¡°Oh, with, I don¡¯t know, a bunch of dudes¡­ in a house¡­ together¡­¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Eric exclaimed. ¡°It¡¯s nothing like that!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, that big guy looks like he¡¯d be one hell of a-¡°  Muse was cut off as the cap from Eric¡¯s beer bounced off of her arm. ¡°Ooh, more violence.  I see how it is, everybody just abuses the ghost,¡± she cracked. She should be mad. She should be trying to murder them.  Honestly, she wasn¡¯t a violent person by nature, and something about their antics was calming her down. It was¡­ normal. Human.  And some of the first interaction she¡¯d had in twenty years.

    ¡°It¡¯s not like that.¡± Victor picked up where his brother had left off. ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ well, we uh¡­ we¡¯re kind of mercenaries, I guess.  We¡¯re¡­ we¡¯re¡­¡± He looked over at the thinner blond and snapped his fingers as he grasped at words.

    ¡°Hitmen,¡± Eric finished.  There was a long pause as she stared at them incredulously.

    ¡°You¡¯re serious,¡± she said flatly.

    ¡°Yep.  Isaac¡¯s the boss.  Pays us all, we get hired out, we go and kill people.  Sometimes it¡¯s professional, sometimes it¡¯s personal, sometimes it¡¯s¡­ just for fun.¡±  Eric swigged down the last of his beer and went to get another one. The man could put it away at a practiced speed.

    ¡°Riiight.  Christ. This ought to be interesting.¡±  Muse yawned suddenly. ¡°Nngh. Excuse me.¡±

    ¡°Ghosts get tired?¡± Eric asked, cocking a brow.

    ¡°Well, yeah¡­ I don¡¯t know.  I do too much, I get tired,¡± she offered uselessly.  ¡°Hey, do you know anywhere I could curl up out of the way?  Getting woken up when somebody walks through you is really crappy.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ can imagine,¡± Victor said, tossing his empty beer bottle into a bin next to the sink.

    ¡°Huhn.¡±  Eric stepped up to her and lowered the blast goggles onto his eyes.

    ¡°Oh, here we go¡­¡± the vampire groaned out.

    ¡°I guess it makes sense,¡± Eric started, muttering distractedly. ¡°The electromagnetic field around you is distorted, that¡¯s for sure¡­ it seems to almost bend around you, in some kind of flux.  It spikes, then it depletes itself.¡± He fidgeted with a dial on the side of his goggles. ¡°It could be possible that you¡¯re some kind of sentient semiconductor. Almost like a¡­ heterojunction bipolar transistor but not quite.  I can¡¯t locate where the energy storage would be. I wonder if you¡¯re photovoltaic or electro-voltaic¡­ Maybe you¡¯re electro-photovoltaic.¡± He snickered at some apparently private joke. ¡°Anyhow, that would result in discomfort on both parts if someone were to walk into you, grounding out the inherent electromagnetic charge¡­  Logically, the best place for you to be would be somewhere with minimal foot traffic, such as a storage location¡­ ¡°

    ¡°That means what, exactly?¡±  Muse leaned back away from Eric as he leaned towards her.  The little guy was¡­ weird. Seemed harmless, but weird.

    Victor snickered. ¡°No, it means the attic¡¯s out of the way if you need to curl up somewhere.¡±  He snagged the back of Eric¡¯s t-shirt and started to drag him backwards. ¡°Leave the nice ghost alone, Eric.  You can scare her later with all your stupid techno mumbo-jumbo.¡±

    ¡°Hey, but-¡° Eric stammered, not wanting to be interrupted.

    ¡°Seriously, dude.¡±

    Muse dissolved, slipping out of her physical form.  ¡°Uh¡­ goodnight?¡±

    ¡°You, too,¡± Victor replied.

    Pushing up through the floors and rooms, she headed towards the aforementioned attic.  There was little else for her to do except get some rest. There was no use screaming, no use crying about it.  What was she going to do, whom would she complain to? One way or another, she had to make use of this situation.

    Hopefully, she¡¯d at least get a few laughs while she was at it.

 Chapter Three

    Insult to injury, that¡¯s what this is.

    They made her do dishes.

    Muse stood downstairs in the kitchen, her arms up to their elbows in soap as she stood at the sink. She whistled along idly with whatever old tune was on the radio she had flipped on. It had been mandated by the others that despite the fact she didn¡¯t eat, she still had to take turns doing the household chores. Truth be told, although she certainly complained, she didn¡¯t mind that much. It gave her something to do that didn¡¯t involve rearranging the attic or sifting through boxes, which was all she had been up to in the last week or so.

    The whole situation seemed surreal. Muse smirked. How much more surreal can this get? I¡¯m dead. Here she was, doing the dishes for a bunch of people who ¡®abducted¡¯ her. She should probably be pissed. She should probably be stomping around tossing things over and punching holes in the walls. All it would probably serve her was a great deal of pain on behalf of the weirdo in the vest and tie. At least everyone else seemed like some source of conversation, and while they looked at her weird because she was dead - they didn¡¯t run away.

    Muse lifted another mismatched and cracked plate and put it next to all the other mismatched plates. She had yet to find more than two pairs of any kind of kitchen implement - be it knives, forks, bowls, or plates. She wasn¡¯t exactly surprised, to be honest. Yes, they were a bunch of freaks - but they were still a bunch of men living by themselves in a house.

    Isaac walked into the kitchen, wearing what seemed to be his usual pattern of a button-down shirt tucked neatly into black pants, double-breasted vest, and tie. He walked to a cupboard and pulled out a glass, then to the fridge to fetch himself something to drink. He looked at Muse where she had her hands up to her elbows in the water. Isaac raised his eyebrow at her, watching her for half a moment.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± he finally asked.

    Muse turned her head to look at him and looked back at the water. She held up a soapy dish. She wasn¡¯t going to try and lob an object at his head, but she could at least still be ticked off. ¡°This is called a plate. Sometimes they have to be washed.¡±

    Isaac narrowed his eyes, but let the attitude slide. He poured himself a glass of water and walked to the kitchen table and sat down in silence. The minutes ticked by, the only sound the clinking of metal and glass from the sink. It was like a battle of wills, to see who could go the longest without talking. She sucked at this kind of game. Finally snapping, she turned her head quickly at him and flicked the soap off of her hands into the water.

    ¡°Okay, what?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Isaac asked calmly in return, sipping the water.

    ¡°Why¡¯re you staring at me?¡±

    ¡°I am simply trying to - what¡¯s the phrase - ¡®figure you out,¡¯ child.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that. I¡¯m not a kid.¡±

    ¡°You are younger than I am.¡±

    ¡°Really? You look like you¡¯re in your - what - mid-thirties? Late thirties tops. I was twenty-five when I died, and that was twenty-some-odd years ago, making me fifty-something. Making me older than you.¡± She folded her arms across her chest, forgetting about the soap on her hands.

    ¡°That is assuming that I look my age,¡± he said with a twinge of a smile.

    ¡°Figures,¡± Muse groaned. ¡°Fine, how old are you?¡±

    ¡°Older than you,¡± he replied and sipped his water again. ¡°How did you die?¡±

    ¡°No dice.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± The harder edge to his voice began to show again.

    ¡°No dice - off limits.¡± She shook her head, not caring if he got angry this time.

    ¡°You belong to me, child. Nothing is ¡®off limits.¡¯¡± Isaac tapped his fingers on the tabletop slowly. That was probably the only sign that Muse would get that she was at least succeeding in annoying the man if nothing else. Good. Let him be annoyed.

    ¡°Stop treating me like I¡¯m a possession. I¡¯m not your pet.¡± Muse turned and looked down at the dishes. If she looked at him, she¡¯d get the urge to slap him. She knew that would end poorly.

    ¡°Yes, actually, for all intents and purposes, you are. Whether or not you come to accept that is another point entirely. It would be easier on all of us if you just came to terms with your current situation. And when I ask you questions, I would very much appreciate them answered.¡± His voice kept its calm and stoic quality as he just sat there and watched her, expressionless.

    Muse felt her patience ticking away. Two. One. Gone. ¡°How do you get through your day with your head so far up your ass?!¡± She turned to shoot an icy glare at him. ¡°Go ahead, zap me again! Zap me every time I talk, why don¡¯t you? Maybe I¡¯d be happier to answer your questions if you didn¡¯t freaking abduct me and then act like I was some goddamn houseplant! So screw you and the horse you rode in on!¡±

    Isaac briefly shut his eyes before turning his grey gaze back to her. ¡°Are you done?¡±

    ¡°Yes! Yes, I am.¡± That was it. She had had it, and she needed to get away from this man. Disappearing, the soap previously on her hands drifted to the ground. Pushing herself through the wall, she moved into the darkness of the night beyond. It was just past sundown, and the sky still held a light blue glow. Settling down onto the ground, she prepared herself for a good long sulk session. She did those well. She was a pro-sulker. Sometimes they lasted months.  Helps when you don¡¯t have to eat.

    The ground was surprisingly dry, the snow having melted after a warm spell, leaving only small pockets of ice in shadowy areas under trees. Typical late March in New England. One week you had snow, the next you had eighty-degree weather. Didn¡¯t really matter to her, though - the weather was rather meaningless at this point.

    Waist-deep in her sulk, she didn¡¯t even notice when a man sat down next to her sometime later.

    ¡°Ghost sad... Mr. Blinky saw it," came a rather squeaky voice next to her.

    Muse turned her attention upwards suddenly at the odd man sitting beside her. Recognizing him from the graveyard, she took a moment to look him over. He was bent over a glass jar that he clutched in his lap, protecting it with his body. His unkempt, greasy curly red hair hid his face as he rocked back and forth. She slowly took form.

    ¡°How''d you know I was here? Can you see me?"

    "Noooooo, silly..." he giggled quietly. "Mr. Blinky can!"

    She paused. "Right."

    ¡°Sad ghost, sad ghost," he crooned out in a sing-song voice. "Sad. Boss made you sad," he squealed.

    ¡°He didn¡¯t make me sad, he made me pissed,¡± she muttered, kicking at a rock near her foot.

    ¡°No, you¡¯re not reaaaaally angry. You¡¯re sad. Why?¡± He leaned in closer to her, still pawing at the jar in his lap.

    Muse propped her back against a tree and turned to look at him. ¡°Let me guess. You¡¯re the company psychic.¡±

    ¡°Nope!¡± The man giggled like it was one of the funniest things he''d ever heard. ¡°I¡¯m normal. Completely normal. Human. Mortal. Normal! Nope. I¡¯m not psychic. Mr. Blinky -" he croaked and shoved the jar up towards her face. She made a grimace as she saw its contents consisted of a human eyeball bobbing about in some sort of viscous liquid. It looked like it had been there for some time, the eye kind of hazy and white but well preserved. ¡°- Is the psychic!¡±

    ¡°Oh... Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Blinky." She did her best to smile at the floating eyeball. The best thing to do with crazy was to play along. Too many years in the club scene taught her that.

    ¡°Heee. We like you. You don¡¯t laugh at us. I¡¯m Ezekiel.¡± The man extended his hand to her. Muse shook it with another smile. At least most of the people around here were nice. Might be flipping insane, but at least nice.

    ¡°Nice to meet you too, Ezekiel.¡±

    The man giggled and muttered to himself, and then sighed loudly. ¡°Ghostie still sad.¡±

    ¡°My name¡¯s Muse.¡±

    ¡°Ooooh, I know. Mr. Blinky told me. I just like calling you Ghostie. Because there''s nobody else I can call Ghostie,¡± Ezekiel said with a missing-toothed grin in her direction. ¡°Well, I could. But that wouldn¡¯t make any sense. And we can¡¯t have that.¡±

    Ironic statement alarm...

    ¡°Ah. He¡¯s a smart eyeball.¡± Muse leaned her head back against the tree. ¡°Sad?" She thought about it for a moment. Was she? She knew she was still angry at the whatever-he-was named Isaac. But sad? "Probably? I guess so. Guess you learn to ignore it when you¡¯re dead. Sadness, I mean. It''s sort of a fact of life... existence. Whatever."

    ¡°Oh." Ezekiel paused for a long time, and then whispered, "does it hurt?¡±

    ¡°Does what hurt?¡±

    ¡°Dying," he whispered again, getting very quiet as he said the words as if he were afraid that saying the word itself could bring it down on him. Muse ran her hand through her hair, scratching her head lightly. More of an old habit than out of need, as her hair always pretty much looked the same.

    ¡°No,¡± she started, thoughtfully. ¡°Dying itself doesn¡¯t hurt. The brief moments leading up to it suck pretty hard¡­ depending on how you go, I guess. But dying itself¡­ is pretty quiet. It¡¯s like the exact moment you fall asleep¡­ it¡¯s hard to put your finger on. I couldn¡¯t really tell you the exact point that it happened.¡±

    ¡°Ooh.¡± Ezekiel turned his head upwards. He let out a small puff of breath. ¡°Sleeping. I like sleeping. I don¡¯t dream. Do you?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said quietly. She wasn¡¯t sure why she was admitting all this to a crazy little man with an eyeball in a jar. He was deranged, probably harmless, but somehow she instantly liked him. Not only that, somehow she instantly trusted him.

    ¡°Yeeeaaah¡­ Mr. Blinky says he dreams though. Dreams of things. Things he tells me.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s cool. Has he told you anything about me?¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh. Things. Like blood.¡± He petted the jar and settled it down his lap.

    ¡°Blood?¡± Muse asked nervously. She had been glad to change the subject, but it quickly went in an uncomfortable direction. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Blood. Bloody ghost. You died. Bloody,¡± he stated simply. He raised his hand to say something more but paused in mid-motion to think about it, and then nodded. ¡°Bloody.¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡±

    ¡°Mr. Blinky is always right,¡± Ezekiel interrupted. ¡°So don¡¯t bother lying. But it¡¯s okay.¡± Ezekiel leaned forward towards her and whispered, ¡°It¡¯s our secret! Even if Boss yells at me. I won¡¯t tell! I won¡¯t tell anyone. Because you don¡¯t laugh at Mr. Blinky. You don¡¯t laugh at us. We like you.¡± Ezekiel suddenly reached out and hugged her tightly.

    After her initial shock, Muse hugged him back. ¡°You¡¯re not half bad yourself.¡± She really had no idea what was going on. She felt like she was just along for the ride in this conversation. If you could call it a conversation.

    Ezekiel shot a smile up at her, then opened his mouth to say something. He stopped as a bright look crossed his features. ¡°Oo! Dinner¡¯s ready!!¡± Ezekiel shot up to his feet and grabbed Mr. Blinky and looked down at her. He scratched his head. ¡°Are you coming?¡±

    ¡°Nah¡­ I¡¯m going to stay out here and watch the stars for a while.¡± Explaining her greater problem with food to him might be more trouble than it was worth. And besides, it was ten-thirty and dinner was already over. She didn¡¯t feel like explaining that to him.

    ¡°M¡¯okay!¡± Ezekiel took off across the grass, running back towards the house in the distance.

    Man, that guy can book it for a chubby dude. Muse thought to herself and sighed. She relaxed, phasing her body out to a barely-visible white mist and staring up at the sky and the stars overhead.

    Being dead held definite pros and cons in Muse¡¯s opinion. The cons were obvious: the world around her was numb. She couldn¡¯t taste, smell, or feel anything around her, not even herself. Scratching her head was out of habit, it¡¯s not like she felt it. She hated to admit it to anyone, mostly because she had trouble thinking about it herself. Eating dinner would do her no good, and only make a mess when her body left and the food stayed.

    It was like living behind a pane of glass. Until recently when she was reintroduced to ¡®pain,¡¯ the most she would ever feel is a mild tingle if she wandered through a TV set or something else like it.

    She couldn¡¯t move amongst the living and pretend to be alive¡­ there was always that sense - even when they were just normal humans - that something was wrong. No matter how hard she tried, they always seemed to know. Not to mention the dogs. The dogs would always bark at her, and cats would always freak out in her presence. There was no point in it anyway, to be honest. She had no connections to anyone and had no real desire to move amongst the living anyway.

    But she had to admit that one of the pros in particular almost made it worth it.

    Color.

    Everything seemed to be far more vibrant than she remembered when she was alive. She could ¡®see¡¯ energy. Living people had fuzzy transparent clouds around them that often changed shades, electric lights and TV sets gave off strange glows that would swirl, depending on how much electricity they were sucking up.

    Trees and flowers seemed hyper-exposed, the colors were so vibrant they looked, well, unnatural. But the real blockbuster in Muse¡¯s opinion - the real reason she sometimes didn¡¯t mind the numbness - was the sky. Sunsets and sunrises seemed to dance and flare like northern lights. Every current of air that was a different temperature would light up and glow as it arced across the sky. The colors swirled and tossed as the blues turned to oranges, oranges to reds, reds to purple, purples to a black that always seemed more full of life than it could have had before.

    Stars glittered in the sky, dancing and flickering. Muse liked to imagine them talking to each other - laughing and having conversations. And no matter how bright the sky was from the nearby cities, in her world, every single star shone with its own brilliance.

    Muse lost track of how much time had passed as she stared at the sky. She didn¡¯t hear Isaac walk up to her, leaning against one of the trees near where she lay in the yard as a mist. ¡°Muse."

    Snapping out of wherever her mind had gone for the second time that night, she sighed audibly and took form with her fingers interlaced, her palms laying on her stomach. ¡°How¡¯d you know where I was?¡± she asked with no small hint of annoyance.

    ¡°Side effect from the necklace, I surmise. I am able to simply ¡®know¡¯ where you are. It¡¯s purely unintentional.¡± He picked at one of his cufflinks, his head turned down to focus his grey eyes on her from over the rim of his glasses.

    ¡°Oh.¡± She looked back up at the sky. Muse was determined not to give him anything more than she had to.

    He turned his attention up for a moment to see what she was staring at then turned his attention back down to her. ¡°Come inside," he said quietly, folding his hands in front of him idly.

    ¡°Why? It¡¯s not like I¡¯m going to catch a cold.¡±

    ¡°We need to talk.¡±

    ¡°No, we really don¡¯t," she said with a half-laugh, half-snort.

    Isaac took off his glasses and ran his hand over his face, then back over his long black hair where it sat in its tight ponytail. He calmly placed the glasses back on his nose, pushing them up with his ring finger. Taking a moment to debate his next course of action, he sat down next to her, and then laid down on the grass, staring up at the sky.

    She turned her head, a puzzled expression on her face. ¡°What the hell¡¯re you doing?¡±

    ¡°Watching the stars," Isaac said simply, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

    ¡°Why?¡± Her puzzlement was now full-blown confusion.

    ¡°Because we need to discuss our ''working relationship.'' And if we aren¡¯t going to talk, then we are going to learn to tolerate each other in silence.¡± He laced his fingers together, resting his hands on his stomach, mimicking her pose. She rolled her eyes and looked back up at the sky. Minutes passed between them. She figured that was probably his attempt at being clever.

    ¡°Hey, Isaac?¡± Muse said quietly.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna get grass stains.¡±

    Isaac laughed. Muse turned to look at him and sat up on her elbow a bit. He stopped and arched an eyebrow. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You laughed.¡±

    ¡°Yes... and...?"

    ¡°It was a real laugh. Not a maniacal I¡¯m-going-to-take-over-the-world laugh like you were sporting earlier. Like, a human laugh," she said as she flopped back onto the grass and tucked her hands behind her head.

    ¡°Are you ridiculing me?¡± Isaac asked, his eyes narrowed.

    ¡°No, actually. Who knew you have a sense of humor.¡±

    ¡°Yes, who knew.¡± The statement almost seemed sincere. Another few minutes passed before he broke the silence. ¡°You were murdered, weren¡¯t you?¡±

    Muse shut her eyes and groaned. ¡°Please. I don¡¯t like to talk about it. In fact, I''ve never talked about it, and you''re hardly the one I''m going to ''open up'' to. So don''t try."

    ¡°That would be a yes," he said, turning his head towards her. ¡°Why do you guard it? Muse... I will find out one way or another. It would serve you best if you simply told me. Besides, they say talking about tragedy helps the pain.¡±

    She shot him a glare. ¡°That your sense of humor again?¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Most likely.¡±

    ¡°Why the hell do you care?"

    "Mm, I don''t," Isaac said after a pause. He clicked his tongue as she made an unhappy noise in the back of her throat. "Now, before you become more upset with me - let me rephrase. I do not ''care'' so much as I am curious. I simply wish to understand more about how you''ve come to be as you are."

    "Don''t ever become a doctor."

    "I am. Well, not technically. Literally," he trailed off thoughtfully as he began to turn over the specific requirements in his brain. "Am I? I suppose I am."

    "What''re you talking about?"

    "Never mind," Isaac waved a hand dismissively. "It''s neither here nor there. But don''t change the subject. It will do you a lot of good to tell me your story, Muse."

    "Like what?"

    "Understanding breeds familiarity. You will be here for quite some time, and we cannot persist in this animosity forever. I will not be letting go of this topic. I do not give up easily, Muse. I am a very patient and stubborn man. Simply answering me is the path of least resistance here. Besides," Isaac said quietly, staring up at the stars. His voice suddenly took on a softer tone. "I would rather very much prefer we come to an understanding. I do not like having those I live with hating me. It tends to be... awkward at best."

    "Fine..." It was the last thing in the world she wanted to do. He was right. She hated to admit it, but he was. Either she told him now, or he''d painfully drag it out of her later.

    ¡°We¡¯ll start with the simple things. What is your full name?"

    "I''ll tell you if you promise never to call me by it."

    "I will see what I can do."

    Knowing that was the best she was going to get out of him, she paused for a long time before answering. ¡°Sasha Larue."

    "There, now. That wasn''t so hard," he replied with another expression that might have been an attempt at a smile. "When did you die?¡±

    ¡°1989.¡±

    "Date?"

    "... 1989."

    Isaac shut his eyes. "Yes, I gathered that part. The day. What was the exact date?"

    Muse let out a small whine and muttered it under her breath, putting her hands over her face.

    "Don''t mumble, child,¡± he scolded. ¡°What day?"

    "October 31st. 1989," she finally groaned out.

    ¡°What?¡± he turned to look at her incredulously.

    ¡°Please don''t laugh." The last thing she needed was someone laughing at her. Especially him.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to,¡± Isaac said quietly. It was his turn to prop up on his elbow and look at her intently, his grey eyes narrowed. Muse didn''t know how she felt about the fact he was staring at her like that. ¡°You were murdered... on Halloween night?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡¯

    ¡°You¡¯re going to laugh...¡± Muse groaned, and shut her eyes, running both her hands through her hair. Isaac lay back down on the grass.

    ¡°I will promise you I will not laugh," he voice still had that almost - just almost - gentle quality to it.

    Muse let out a long drawn out sigh and watched the stars. ¡°Whatever...¡±

    Hopping fences was not a new activity for her, but this one was particularly high and worrisome. The wrought iron fence in front of her stood easily a foot-and-a-half above her head. Making it worse, it was a new moon, so there was no light overhead save the dull sparking of the stars. Any extra light that could have helped her was cut off by the large trees surrounding them. "C''mon Sasha, quit stalling," came a male voice from the other side of the fence.

    "Don''t call me that. And cut it out Will, I''m working on it. I''m going as fast as I can." Muse lobbed her bag over the fence. "Catch!" she exclaimed.

    "Ssh! What''re you doing, trying to get us caught?" Will said in a hushed voice, catching the bag as it hurtled towards him.

    "Paranoid much, Will? No one''s going to catch us. It''s two AM and we''re in the middle of nowhere. What''re you worried about?" Muse looked up at the top of the fence, took a deep breath and leaped, grabbing on to the pointed spikes on the top. She felt the slightly-rusty metal bite into her hand. The iron was surprisingly cold, even on the unseasonably balmy fall night. Grunting, she lifted her feet and put the bottom of her black army boots on the metal pole of the fence, and started to pull herself up onto the top of it. "And... by the way... thanks for helping me up... you shoulda let the lady go first."

    "Yeah, well, when I see a lady, I''ll let you know." Will flashed his mischievous grin up at her in the darkness.

    "Oh, bite me." She grunted again as she finally managed to pull herself up onto the fence, crouching on the top of the fence like a gargoyle. She judged the distance down to the ground - a little too far to jump from here without probably hurting herself.

    "Later," Will retorted. "You never know, there might be vampires around! Maybe I''m a vampire. Ooo," Will snickered.

    ¡°You¡¯re too lame to be a vampire, Will.¡± Muse glared down at him in the dark, although she doubted he could see her. ¡°Besides¡­ Catch!¡± Muse yelled and jumped off of the fence - careening straight towards Will. The man caught her in his arms with a startled shriek, but the sudden shift of weight sent him crashing to the ground with her on top of him. "Well... Hello, sailor," Muse purred out and ruffled his spiky black-and-orange hair.

    Will smirked up at her and wrapped his arms around her and growled playfully. Suddenly he leaned up and caught her in a kiss. His lip ring always caught her by surprise, no matter how many times she felt it. She kissed him back, biting his lip playfully, eliciting a deep growl from the back of his throat. "You really are trying to get us caught," his voice was a breathless deep grumble as he broke the kiss.

    "What can I say? I think cops are hot." She climbed off of him with a grin. She walked over and picked up their bags, putting hers on her back and tossing his at him as he stood up.

    "Ah-ha. Very funny. Let''s go." Will straightened his studded black leather coat before shouldering his bag and heading off into the darkness. Muse followed behind, trying her best to avoid the twigs, rocks, and other trip hazards as she walked behind him.

    The stones were barely visible in the dim starlight, making it hard to walk. Muse looked up at the scene before her and smiled - it was beautiful to her. The trees around them were black silhouettes against the sky. The air was just barely chill, with a thin breeze; the only other sound besides their footfalls were the chirps of crickets around them. They had mowed the lawn that afternoon, and it still smelled like cut grass.

    Will led the way, Muse following behind her taller companion. Muse amended her previous thought - the only sounds were their footfalls, the chirps of crickets - and the jangling of Will''s many metal accessories. The spikes on his coat were tapping against the spikes on his wrist-cuffs, and his many wallet chains were jangling as he moved. And he yelled at me to be quiet, she thought with a silent laugh.

    Fifteen minutes easily passed as they wound their way deeper and deeper into the huge cemetery. The two figures worked their way down a hill, her hand in Will''s as he helped her down.

    "You''ve got to see this..." he said as lead her through the darkness. She looked up at the row of thin, tall pine trees in front of her. They seemed to form a wall, or a guard line, like sentries. They walked closer, and she realized the trees formed a circle, far too well manicured to be chance. Stepping through the line of trees, she let out a whistle.

    Will stepped aside to let her take in the full beauty of what was in front of them. The family plot in front of them was like a small sanctuary. A low lying, rusted metal fence, barely a foot tall, cut out a large square inside the circle made by the trees. In the center of the family plot were three table-top tombs, waist-high with legs like Roman columns.

    Muse stepped over the low-lying fence and walked towards the center of the circle. She ran her hand along the slate of one of the table-tops, feeling the stone still warm from a day in the sun. Try as she might, she couldn''t make out the names and dates carved on the stone. She looked around, seeing that the tombs were arranged to form a loose triangle within the square of the fence. In the center of the triangle, a small upraised tablet lay on the ground, jutting just a few inches above the grass. Something was carved on its surface, but it was hard for her to make it out. Maybe a family crest, she guessed.

    "It''s beautiful,¡± Muse said, stepping towards the center tablet on the ground. "This is awesome... What a weird layout, though..."

    "Yeah," Will replied from behind her. Wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, he rested his chin on her shoulder. "There''re actually all sorts of rumors about it." He started kissing her cheek.

    Muse smiled and leaned back into his warm arms. She tilted her head towards his kiss, feeling the metal of his lip ring press against her cheek. "Oh?" Truth be told, she was only half listening. She was paying attention to other more important things.

    Will continued with a smirk. ¡°They say this family was¡­ all up into black magic, the occult, and crap¡­ Constantly trying to raise demons or some shit. The rumor is, is that this whole plot is in such a weird layout because¡­ like, they used to do rituals here. It¡¯s all laid out like some old ceremonial circle.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± she blinked. She looked around with renewed interest, looking down at the upraised tablet in the center of the plot - it was another tomb marker, but there were no names or dates on the lid - just the large family crest. She couldn¡¯t easily see what was on it - she just made out the shield, a knight¡¯s helm over it and what she thought might be a large rose. ¡°That¡¯s nuts.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I mean, some rumors even say that they had¡­ like¡­ black mass orgies here.¡± He kissed the side of her neck. ¡°Had sex with their victims - before and after.¡± Will nuzzled in closer to her, kissing the side of her neck again. His kisses became heavier, more insistent. She felt his teeth graze her neck.

    Muse laughed quietly, having trouble concentrating on what he was saying, feeling his hot lips on the side of her neck, the metal of his lip ring again causing sharp contrast to the softness of his lips. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ kinda gross. And yet, kinda hot at the same time.¡± She pulled in a sharp breath as he bit down on the side of her neck. Letting out a small moan in the back of her throat, she didn¡¯t even try to stop him. It wouldn¡¯t have been the first time they had done this in a graveyard.

    ¡°Innit?¡± Will chuckled darkly. ¡°You are so beautiful¡­¡± He kissed her jawline lightly, licking along her chin. Resting his forehead against her temple, he let out a small groan and pressed his body against hers. She could feel exactly how excited he was to be there. He shifted to her side, keeping one arm around her.

    ¡°Aw, shucks¡­¡± Muse chuckled quietly, shutting her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re making me blush.¡±

    ¡°You really are¡­¡± Will said quietly, smiling.

    "It''s indescribable, really¡­ I mean¡­. the¡­ the feeling of cold steel sliding between your ribs... It... it grinds... I don''t know how to explain it..."

    Lost, stunned - staring at the row of graves without ever focusing on anything she was seeing. She felt the knife slip into her back, boring its way through her flesh, sliding between her ribs. It felt so¡­ slow. At first, she couldn¡¯t tell what had just happened. She would have fallen, but she was cradled between his leather-clad arms. He held her firmly, but not violently, as he pulled the knife back out. Holding her up against his body, he pushed the knife into her back again, just to the left of where he struck the first time.

    "Sometimes, sometimes you have to suffer for freedom, for power... Sometimes, you have to do things you don''t want to do - things that you... shouldn''t admit that you really, really enjoy." Will leaned in, kissing her neck, nuzzling his head into her shoulder. He groaned huskily against her as he twisted the knife slowly.

    She gagged as he pulled the knife out and drove it into her body again. He grunted as he did, letting out another moan of - God help her - pleasure. She felt him shudder in ecstasy as he pulled the knife out and pressed it back into her yet again. Muse didn''t move, and she didn''t make a sound, her mind in shock. She couldn''t do anything. What was happening was impossible, it wasn''t happening - not to her, anyone but her.

    A warm, sick liquid, bitter and coppery, bubbled up to the back of her throat. She wasn''t sure what it was. Her knees gave out from under her, but she felt Will''s arms tighten around her, holding her up. His body felt impossibly hot against her like her world was going cold. She felt the knife slide out of her back, dragging along the bone and tearing flesh. She finally managed to make a noise - wanting to scream, wanting to cry - but only managing to let a soft, whimpering mewl exit her throat, before she coughed - whatever it was in the back of her throat was making it impossible now to make noise.

    The next thing she knew, Muse was staring up at the cold autumn sky, at the cold, dead stars. She watched them flicker uselessly in the black sky. She felt the cold grave beneath her. Somewhere in her mind, she registered that he had laid her on her back atop the family crest. She felt something warm seeping into her clothes. Her blood was the only thing that felt warm at all. She shivered and gasped for breath. It hurt so bad to breathe, it was just easier not to.

    Muse saw a figure, the black silhouette of Will cut out against the sky. He straddled her body, leaned down and kissed her, languidly pushing his tongue into her bloody mouth. After savoring the kiss for a long moment, he slowly sat up. She lay there staring up at him, feeling almost void of emotion. She felt numb, everything felt numb. The last thing she remembered was the knife poised over her chest. The dim light of the stars glinted off the knife, stained dark with a liquid barely visibly red in the darkness.

    "God, Sasha, you''re so beautiful..."

    Muse had sat up, pulling her knees to her chin and tucking her head down, telling the story with her eyes shut. She couldn¡¯t bear to look up at the sky at the moment, no matter how pretty it was, it wouldn''t help. She kept her head down as she finished talking. Her eyes were shut tightly, tears running down her cheeks as she spoke. She wiped her eyes fiercely with the back of her hand, not wanting him to see her cry.

    Isaac rolled onto his side and reached out - running his hand down her cheek to her chin, turning her face to him. He touched her damp cheek with his finger and looked at it as it came away moist. Pushing himself up to his feet, he let out a small ''huhn'' noise. "Ghosts can cry," he said. "I wonder why that is."

    "Probably because it''s the only thing we really have left..." She put her head down on her arms.

    "Perhaps." Isaac slowly stood up from the grass and brushed some dirt off of his pants. "Perhaps now you have something else."

    Muse only grunted from where she sat, vanishing. It would certainly keep him from seeing her cry.

    ¡°You should look at this as an opportunity, Muse. You no longer float uselessly about the place you died. You are here, with people who do not fear you. Make friendships. Enjoy this. It may be the closest thing to a life you will ever have again."

    "You''re a know-it-all, aren''t you?"

    "That I will accept," Isaac paused, his face thoughtful. He started to speak, stopped, thought about it and then began to talk again. "Muse, take shape. I do not like talking to air..."

    Muse was silent.

    "Please."

    Letting out another audible sigh, she appeared, standing in front of him, staring at the laces of his shoes. Isaac looked down at put the crook of his finger under her chin and lifted her head to make eye contact. "I will not offer up some useless and piteous apologies for what you suffered. But I will offer you a deal. If you will make an attempt to at least try to work with me, I promise I will do two things."

    "What are they?"

    "The first - I will keep your story secret. It will be yours to tell, should you choose to. I will keep your name to myself, as well, if you like. The second will be that... I will do my best to treat you perhaps with more... dignity... then I have this past week and a half." Isaac turned and started walking away towards the house.

    "You''re not going to treat me like a houseplant?"

    He stopped and turned his head to speak over his shoulder, a faint smile on his face. "No, perhaps a coat rack. They serve more than a decorative purpose."

    ¡°I hate you." Muse didn''t know whether she wanted to laugh or throw a rock at his head. Probably both.

    ¡°Do try not to dwell on it.¡±

    <hr>

    Sleep for those who have died and yet are not exactly completely dead is different from normal sleep. It really isn''t so much dreaming and resting than it is simply like a switch has been turned off. Consciousness simply steps out, and time whizzes by unchecked. Sometimes a day, sometimes a month, sometimes entire years go by in a blink. Waking up is become aware of your surroundings, paying attention to things you had forgotten about. Sometimes, it''s a slow process, like lazily waking up from a mid-afternoon nap.

    Sometimes it''s a bit more abrupt.

    Muse crashed from the air and landed with a hard thud on the wooden floor of the attic. Pain tingled up through her limbs as she found herself looking quite closely at the grain in the wood.

    "Ow," was all that she could think to say.

    "Ah, there you are."

    Muse blearily managed to lift her head to see Isaac standing by the stairs. With his hands neatly clasped behind him, he was watching her as though he was some school teacher. Not approving, not disapproving, but somewhere in the middle. She really never liked teachers. "What the hell, man?! I was sleeping."

    "I thought you were." Isaac looked down at a record player sitting next to him on the table. The needle had long since run to the center, letting out only a soft repeating pattering of clicks and white noise. Flipping the switch off, he turned his attention back to the ghost currently climbing up off the floor. "I had no other means of waking you." Isaac turned his attention to there rest of the room. Muse had taken the liberty to ''decorate,'' moving boxes to the walls and pulling out furniture, turning the previously dusty and cluttered space into what could have passed as a room. "You''ve reorganized."

    "I''m a regular Susie Homemaker."

    "Charming. Well, regardless - an opportunity has come that will allow me to take stock of your abilities. We have a job to do."

    "A job," she narrowed her eyes at him. "Wait, what?"

    "I believe that Victor explained to you exactly what it is we do for a living, did he not?"

    "Yeah, aren''t you some... quite-possibly-ambiguously-living-in-the-same-house hitmen?" she said with a small sarcastic smirk.

    Isaac seemed to miss the joke. "I keep them here for safety''s sake. If we were targeted, it is easier to injure us separately than all at once."

    "Sure, man, whatever you gotta say to yourself..." Muse lifted her hands up defensively, a smirk still on her face. For someone who seemed so stoic, it was fairly easy and fun to needle the man.

    Isaac shut his eyes, seemingly taking a moment. "Notwithstanding, we have been contracted to remove someone."

    "Oh, goodie. And I get to do what, exactly?"

    "You are coming along, you will do as I say, and you will help if the situation goes awry." Isaac pushed a strand of his long black hair behind his ear, as it had escaped the ponytail that kept the rest of it cinched neatly at the back of his neck. "I do truly hope that you will not make this difficult."

    "No, I get it. Either I come along and play puppy-dog to some freak in a vest or I get zapped sidewards with that stupid necklace of yours." Muse vanished in a swirl, preferring to stay invisible and shapeless in the air. At least then he couldn''t look at her like she was under some kind of magnifying glass. "So lead on, Champ."

    Isaac paused. "Did you just call me ''champ''?"

    "Your observation is correct. I surmise that I may have done just that," she replied, mimicking his tone of voice.

    "It seems I am ever to be surrounded by audacity..." Isaac muttered as he turned and headed down the stairs. "Come, then."

    The trek out of the house went in silence, her floating behind him as he wound down the stairs and through the foyer. Stepping across the lawn towards the driveway, she noticed a rather stately looking, if somewhat oversized, hearse parked there. She couldn''t help but start laughing from where she floated behind him. "A hearse? Seriously?!"

    "I masquerade my business as a funeral parlor. Would I not own a hearse? I do have a sense of irony, dear girl." Isaac plucked at his cuffs as he walked around the side of the hearse, climbing into the front passenger side seat. "Inside, if you would," he finished, then shut the door.

    Muse floated through the side of the hearse and found she wasn''t alone. Sitting on the leather bench seats that ran along either side, were Eric, Victor, and a gigantic mammoth of a man she recognized from earlier. He had his feet kicked up, occupying the entire seat on that side. "-So, like, you wouldn''t believe the shit that girl could do with her- Oh, hey Boss. Did you get the genie?"

    "She is not a djinn, Mal," the other man replied from the front.

    "A what?"

    "Never mind."

    "Uh..." Eric looked around the hearse curiously. "Muse...?"

    "Boo!" she yelled loudly next to him and began to laugh hysterically as the spiky-haired blond screamed and collapsed to the floor of the hearse, his eyes wide.

    "Woman! Seriously! Don''t friggin'' do that!"

    Muse appeared sitting on the bench next to Mal, as there was no other room. "Sorry, can''t resist."

    "Oh hey!" Mal grinned broadly as Muse suddenly found herself with a gigantic hand on top of her head, being jerked side to side as the gigantic man did what she could only hope was some sort of sign of affection. "If it isn''t ''lil Blue! Never thought I''d get to actually meet you, what with you playing recluse up in the attic!"

    Muse looked up at the man as he let her go. "Uh... yeah, hi. Name''s Muse."

    "Mal," he reached down and shook her hand. His wrapped all the way around hers. She was very happy she couldn''t feel his grip, as it probably would have been crushing her fingers. "-A pleasure. Welcome to our ''lil happy club."

    "Thanks." Muse wasn''t quite sure what to make of the gigantic man. His arms were bigger around than her waist, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he could probably snap the hearse in two if he had the desire. And yet somehow he seemed like a teddy-bear, a gigantic heavily tattooed laughing goof.

    Mal promptly picked up where he had left off in the conversation between him and Victor - some sort of regaling of a sexual exploit, she quickly discovered. He seemed to have no qualms telling the story with a lady present - although Eric had just turned nine shades of red. Doing them both a favor, she tuned out the conversation, as she really had no desire to know who could bend their legs behind where. Muse came to the sudden realization that she had no idea who was driving the hearse. Isaac was in the passenger seat. Shifting so that she could lean between the two front bucket seats, she looked to her right at Isaac, and then to her left.

    Sitting there was the skinniest man she had ever seen. He looked like he had spent months in the Sahara, gaunt skin barely clinging to the bone, his clothing hanging limply from a slight frame. Muse had seen someone go through chemotherapy and had wound up looking something like that. ¡°Hi,¡± she said as cheerily as she could. The man didn¡¯t respond, simply sitting there and staring out the windshield as he drove. ¡°Um, hello?¡± No luck.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t bother, Muse.¡± Isaac was sorting through sheets of paper inside a manila folder. Pictures, what looked like blueprints, and other pages of text that she couldn¡¯t read fast enough to gather what they were. ¡°He is unable to respond.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°He is a revenant. A reanimated cadaver, if you must be technical.¡±

    ¡°Paul¡¯s a zombie,¡± Victor chimed in from behind her. She sat back down in the seat to look at him in disgust. ¡°That¡¯s about how we all react at first. He¡¯s fine. Doesn¡¯t do much. Just sits, drives, things like that.¡± The vampire smiled as helpfully as he could. ¡°He¡¯s harmless.¡±

    ¡°A zombie. Where¡¯d you get a zombie?¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯d¡¯ja think?¡± Mal jerked a thumb in the direction of the front passenger seat.

    ¡°Ew¡­ gross¡­¡± She shouldn¡¯t have been surprised. Of course, he had a zombie. Of course, he raised the dead. She decided then and there that she didn¡¯t really want to know what else Isaac did with his free time.

    For the rest of the ride, she sat and listened to the three men crack jokes and tell stories to each other. Looking out the windows, she realized they were driving into Albany, the city lights peeking up in the distance.

    It was the view of the city that made it all snap together in her brain. They were all going out into Albany to kill someone. She was with these guys and they were all going into the city with the intent to end someone¡¯s life. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she reminded herself that she didn¡¯t exactly have a choice. Dragged along by Isaac, she either went with it or she suffered for it. In the long run, that probably meant little.

    While she was not sure how she felt about not having a choice in the matter, she was sure of one thing: she was not okay with the idea of murdering someone.

    Call it too close to home.

 Chapter Four

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand it, Michael.¡± A shrill female voice chimed. ¡°I don¡¯t understand what they¡¯re doing.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t have to be doing anything. They simply exist,¡± said a male voice, who was seemingly less than amused by the younger female.

    ¡°Then why are we watching them, and not simply killing them now?¡±

    ¡°Because.¡±

    ¡°Because why? You don¡¯t have a reason, do you?¡± the female voice insisted again.

    ¡°Raphael, leave him be. We have a plan,¡± a gruff male voice scolded the girl.

    ¡°I still don¡¯t get it - and I don¡¯t have to like it, Uriel.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± finished the gruff voice. ¡°Just shut up about it then.¡±

    <hr>

    The group of them must have looked more than a little odd standing in the slush on the sidewalk. Muse tilted back to look up at the skyscraper that loomed up over her. Shining glass and metal against the night sky, it was tall enough that it gave the impression that the building was actually curled over her. Even though she had grown up just outside the city, she never got sick of looking up at buildings like that.

    The sky was clouded, tinted an orangey-grey by the city lights. It was snowing again. The sound of wet tires through slush was peppered with other familiar city noises - horns, sirens, the beeping of a crossing signal. She had a feeling that there were going to be quite a few more sirens before the night was over. She just hoped she wouldn¡¯t have to be personally responsible for any of them.

    ¡°Hey, Muse?¡±

    Muse turned her head to the vampire standing next to her. She noticed that his breath didn¡¯t turn to fog in the cold March air. Of course, hers didn¡¯t either, so who was she to judge?

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you cold?¡±

    Looking down at herself, she was wearing what she was always wearing. Fishnet shirt, black tank top, dark blue pants, knee-high boots. Same jewelry. Always. Never changed. Ever. She wasn¡¯t sure why she was constantly stuck in the same outfit. Either because she chose to unconsciously or because she had died in it. Muse hadn¡¯t really figured it all out. ¡°Uh, no.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m dead,¡± was her brilliant reply. She was still reluctant to explain the fact she felt nothing.

    ¡°Oh, right. Durr,¡± Victor snorted and wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her to his side. Muse froze a bit at the strange show of affection but reminded himself that the blond was clearly a ladies man and probably thought nothing of it. The vampire continued. ¡°Man, I¡¯m a dumb-ass sometimes.¡±

    ¡°No kidding,¡± quipped Eric, who was staring down at a large, unusual looking touch-screen tablet in his hands - at least that¡¯s what he called it in the car, anyway, Muse had never seen anything like it - busying himself by poking away at a screen of charts and numbers. Victor opened his mouth to launch a reply at his brother, but was interrupted.

    ¡°Not now, please,¡± Isaac said from where he stood, looking up at the building. Adjusting his glasses with a shove of his ring finger, he continued. ¡°We are here on business, after all.¡±

    ¡°Wait. The guy you¡¯re supposed to off is up there?¡± Muse pointed, although she wasn¡¯t sure why. She was looking at the back of Isaac¡¯s head.

    ¡°CEO¡¯s generally do keep their offices on the top floors of buildings, my dear,¡± Isaac said thinly without turning around. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small silver pocket watch. Flipping it open, he glanced at the time, shut the watch with a click, and slipped it back into his vest.

    Victor desperately tried to suppress a laugh as the ghost made faces at the man behind his back. Muse sighed uselessly. ¡°So we¡¯re going to take down a guy on the top floor. Aren¡¯t they going to notice us? I mean, what¡¯re we going to do, take the elevator?¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡± Isaac turned to face them. ¡°I have a meeting with Mr. Brooks to discuss the price on his head. He intends to¡­ ¡®negotiate.¡¯ Muse, you and I will attend this meeting. The others will go up using the stairs-¡° Isaac shot a look at Eric as he groaned and shut his eyes in dismay at the idea of climbing up that many flights of stairs. ¡°-after-¡° Isaac continued with a mildly annoyed tone ¡°-Eric disables the security system.¡±

    Muse looked around her at the other men. Eric was still poking away at the tablet in his hands, biting down on the tip of his tongue lightly. She had figured out that was the tell-tale sign he was concentrating. Victor was trying to use his reflection in a nearby window to adjust his hair. Mal - seemingly completely uninterested in the situation - was picking at his teeth with a fingernail, making loud clicking noises as he did.

    Great. This is just great. Off on some murder spree with a bunch of guys who don¡¯t give a crap¡­ I guess it makes sense, they¡¯re ¡®professionals.¡¯ How in the hell does this shit happen to me?

    <hr>

    ¡°Eighty-seven¡­ eighty-eight¡­ eighty-nine¡­¡± Eric counted as they climbed.

    ¡°If you don¡¯ stop your damn counting, I am going to bash your head through the god damn wall,¡± Mal grunted as he followed up behind the group, the two brothers leading the way.

    ¡°Can it, steroid bomb, I¡¯m counting for a reason¡­¡± Eric murmured and resumed. ¡°Ninety-one, ninety-two..¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a steroid bomb, and count in your goddamn head then, twerp,¡± Mal grumbled again.

    Victor felt more than a little glad to not be the focus of the abuse for once. His amusement fading, he looked back at Mal with a serious expression. ¡°Why did Isaac take Muse with him? I don¡¯t get it.¡± Victor felt kind of disappointed - and didn¡¯t really know quite why. Sure, she was certainly not hard to look at, that helped.

    ¡°I dunno, man. Maybe he¡¯s trying to train her. Maybe he¡¯s just keeping¡¯ an eye on her. I mean, this ain¡¯t exactly flipping¡¯ burgers.¡± The big man¡¯s nearly ever-present smirk faded as Eric continued to count.

    ¡°Ninety-seven¡­ ninety-eight..¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s kinda nice to have a chick in the house again. Otherwise, we¡¯re some big freakin¡¯ spooky sausage-fest,¡± Victor said. ¡°And she¡¯s hot, too. Always a plus.¡±

    ¡°Awww, is fang-face crushing on the ghost?¡± Mal shoved Victor from the back, making him stumble a step.

    ¡°I am not, I¡¯m just saying she¡¯s hot.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I think you¡¯re crushin¡¯ on Blue.¡±

    ¡°Hundred and ten¡­ hundred eleven..¡±

    ¡°I swear to God, man ¨C you keep counting out loud and I¡¯ll make you eat the next stair.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t make me lose count, asshole, or I¡¯ll have to start over!¡±

    <hr>

    ¡°Would you please attempt to carry yourself with some manner of dignity now, Muse?¡± Isaac asked, stepping out of the elevator without looking at her. She followed close behind him and snapped a salute that he couldn¡¯t see.

    ¡°Ja wohl!¡±

    Isaac paused mid-step but quickly resumed. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Muse looked around and couldn¡¯t help but be in awe of the place - the office screamed ¡®money.¡¯ Big money. The floor was wood, stained dark and covered with so much lacquer and polish that she could almost see her reflection in the floor. Everything was shiny for the sake of being shiny.

    An expansive marble-topped desk stood to one side. A young woman sat on the other side, looking exactly the way Muse would picture a high-paid secretary. She was pretty, brunette, and wearing a silk blouse that was buttoned enough to be ¡®professional¡¯ and yet unbuttoned enough to be ¡®frisky.¡¯ Muse watched as the young woman looked up at Isaac. First, a flash of fear, then something else that Muse couldn¡¯t instantly identify crossed the woman¡¯s face.

    The woman bit her lower lip and shuffled some papers around on her desk. ¡°You¡­ must be Mr. Ostheim¡­¡± With a strange lilt to her voice, the woman looked up at Muse over the frame of her own glasses.

    Muse realized what the look was - it was attraction. More precisely, lust. The secretary was both afraid of, and yet attracted to, the tall, dark man in front of her. Muse found that exceedingly funny and had to restrain herself from losing it into a fit of giggles. Girl, if you only knew. Muse had to look away and take a few deep breaths - the old action settling the laugh that threatened to burst loose.

    ¡°Uhm¡­¡± The brunette shuffled some papers again and looked down at the table, then turned her attention back up to him. ¡°I believe Mr. Brooks requested that you come alone.¡±

    ¡°She is my assistant. That is all. He certainly didn¡¯t expect me to attend a meeting of this magnitude without someone to take notes for me.¡±

    The secretary turned her attention to the man¡¯s ¡®assistant.¡¯ The glare that Muse was preparing to bore into the back of Isaac¡¯s head was cut off as the ghost did her best to smile sweetly back at the woman behind the desk. Isaac continued, smiling just barely down at the woman. ¡°We are both unarmed, and it should be fine. Though, I do not fault you for looking out for the interests of your employer. It speaks to your quality of work...¡± Isaac¡¯s voice had a smooth quality to it that Muse hadn¡¯t heard before.

    He¡¯s playing her. Great. Good going Muse, at this rate he might actually be the anti-Christ.

    ¡°I¡­ yes, of course.¡± The brunette was blushing. Muse had to do everything she could not to stick her finger down her throat and yack. The secretary poked a button on the phone next to her and leaned in. ¡°Mr. Brooks? Mr. Ostheim has arrived.¡±

    ¡°Send him in,¡± came a man¡¯s reply through the speaker.

    ¡°Thank you, my dear.¡± Isaac turned and walked towards the huge set of wooden double doors that dominated one side of the room. Muse walked behind him and couldn¡¯t resist. She looked at the secretary and held out her hands towards Isaac¡¯s backside as he walked, miming squeezing his rear with both hands. She grinned wickedly at the woman¡¯s shocked expression and quickly moved to catch up to the man.

    Muse stood next to him as he put his hand on the large brass doorknob. ¡°Very funny,¡± he said quietly. ¡°But do keep the antics to a minimum.¡±

    ¡°How did you¡­?¡±

    ¡°I know all,¡± Isaac said with a surprisingly playful tone.

    Muse stood slack-jawed, trying to figure out how he had seen, as Isaac pushed open the large wooden doors and walked inside. She really couldn¡¯t get away with anything, it seemed.

    If she thought that the foyer to the top floor was opulent, the man¡¯s office put the rest of the floor to shame. Floor-to-ceiling windows ran along an entire wall of the huge room, showing the city beyond. The floor was the same deep, red wood as outside, but now inlaid with black marble. The black marble was cut into the shape of the company¡¯s logo, an art-deco pair of eagles back to back, perched on top of a globe. She looked up from the floor and around the room. Leather furniture, a bar to one side and doors leading off of the main room, all shut. A large desk sat in front of the huge windows, and its glass top shone in the ¡®tasteful¡¯ overhead light.

    Muse focused her attention on the man sitting in the high-backed leather chair. He was old, balding, slightly over-weight, and all things considered, completely unremarkable. The most attractive thing about him was his expensive suit. Typical.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    The man - Mr. Brooks she assumed - lifted a short, quarter-full glass to his lips, taking a sip of the amber liquid. ¡°Ostheim,¡± he cleared his throat roughly.

    She followed behind Isaac as he strode across the floor towards the desk. Isaac smoothly sat down in a leather chair opposite Mr. Brooks, leaving Muse to stand. Awkwardly, she stood next to the chair, not really sure what else to do.

    ¡°I told you to come alone, Sorcerer.¡± Brooks glanced at Muse in a non-too-friendly manner. Muse again offered her best sweet smile. Sorcerer? Is that what Isaac is? I guess that makes sense¡­

    ¡°She is my assistant. I will not argue the subject.¡±

    ¡°Fine. You have unusual tastes in assistants¡­¡±

    Muse fought the urge to say something.

    ¡°I am an unusual man.¡±

    A strange silence overtook the room as the two men sized each other up. Muse was starting to think that the whole thing was one stupid joke, this couldn¡¯t actually be happening. She couldn¡¯t actually be standing here next to some freakish dude in some guy¡¯s office about to watch said dude kill said guy.

    Isaac brushed a stray strand of his long black hair out of his face. He steepled his fingers in front of him. ¡°You called this meeting, Mr. Brooks. I believe you are attempting to dissuade me from collecting the rather sizable price on your head.¡±

    The older man snorted. ¡°Please. That bounty isn¡¯t half what I¡¯m worth.¡±

    ¡°So you intend to pay me more to spare you.¡±

    ¡°I intend to do no such thing, Mr. Ostheim.¡± Taking a slow drink from the glass, he put it back down on the glass-topped desk with a small clink. ¡°The simple matter of the fact is you can¡¯t kill me and you can¡¯t collect the bounty.¡±

    ¡°You are so sure of your own safety, Mr. Brooks?¡± Isaac¡¯s voice was dark and sharp-edged. She knew that tone of voice. He was getting angry, and Muse was desperately glad that this time the anger wasn¡¯t pointed at her.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure that you could kill me. I¡¯m not an idiot. I know what you are.¡± Brooks leaned in towards Isaac. ¡°It¡¯s a shame you¡¯ve taken up the business you have, Mr. Ostheim. Selling your secret to immortality - real immortality, not this vampirism business - would be far, far more lucrative¡­¡± If Brooks was looking for a response, he got none. Isaac simply sat in silence, unmoving. Brooks growled, seeing he was getting nowhere with the man across from him. A sick, sly smile crawled across his face. ¡°But the fact remains that you won¡¯t kill me, and you can¡¯t collect the reward even if you did. So it¡¯s pointless.¡±

    Muse caught the flicker of movement to her left. She turned and saw something she had never seen before. All living things had an ¡®aura¡¯ of sorts - a mild glow of energy. She was looking at¡­ someone¡¯s aura. But there was nobody there. Just the glow itself, a fuzzy bluish almost-person shaped blob near the wall. It wasn¡¯t a ghost, she knew what those looked like. This was¡­ just weird.

    ¡°Uh, Isaac?¡± Muse said, her voice small.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ know¡­ what I¡¯m looking at¡­ but I don¡¯t think we¡¯re alone. It¡¯s this-¡° suddenly the blue blob was rushing at them at full speed. ¡°Oh, Christ!¡± Muse screamed. Isaac stood up, knocking the chair backwards. Flicking his left hand forward, Muse watched agog as the fuzzy shape bounced off of some¡­ invisible wall. The form crashed to the ground, and there, now surrounded by the glow, was a body covered in a collection of black rags.

    The figure stood up slowly and turned its hooded face towards them. Its face was covered with a porcelain mask, expressionless and white.

    ¡°Hello, Azrael,¡± Isaac said calmly. ¡°I hate to say I was expecting you. Where is the rest of your family?¡±

    Azrael only slowly tilted its head to one side and leaped at Isaac again. Isaac still held his hand up over Muse¡¯s shoulder. She watched as it - whatever it was - bounced off the wall again. Electricity seemed to rush over its body, and it staggered back. It suddenly vanished from sight - or rather, most of it did. The bluish blob of aura was still there.

    ¡°What the-?!¡± Muse finally found her tongue.

    ¡°Its name is Azrael. It can hide its form. Be ever so kind as to keep an eye on its location, as you can see him when we can not. Do you think you could physically restrain it?¡±

    ¡°Do what?!¡±

    Isaac sighed. ¡°We¡¯ll work on that later.¡± Isaac turned his attention to Brooks, who was also standing and now backed up against one of the windows. ¡°You have done a very, very foolish thing, Sir,¡± Isaac said softly, oozing venom. ¡°You have sealed your own death¡­ Now I will kill you - simply for fun,¡± Isaac smirked dangerously. ¡°I will enjoy watching your life end.¡±

    Brooks was shaking visibly but tried to keep his voice defiant. ¡°I doubt it. You¡¯ve been done in, Ostheim. They¡¯ve set you up. There¡¯s no bounty on me, they have your contacts-¡±

    Muse watched as the bluish blob started to move towards the door. She figured she was supposed to follow it. Or¡­ hit it, or something. ¡°Imma¡­ Imma be right back¡­¡± Muse vanished and moved, feeling an odd sensation as she passed through whatever had been between them and ¡®Azrael.¡¯

    ¡°Mother Mary - What the hell?!¡± Brooks dropped his glass, clattering across the floor, recoiling in shock at her sudden disappearance.

    ¡°You¡¯ve played with the wrong kind of people, Mr. Brooks. The worst kind.¡± Isaac¡¯s threat was hardly thinly veiled.

    The blue blob started to rush at Isaac, and Muse appeared suddenly in its path. She didn¡¯t know what else to do. Azrael collided with her, crashing them both over a leather ottoman and onto the ground. Muse was glad she didn¡¯t feel pain, as that probably would have hurt like mad. Muse rolled, trying to pin it to the ground. She suddenly realized she was only holding onto a pile of black rags - nothing but tattered fabric. ¡°This isn¡¯t fair! I was trying!¡± she yelled to no one in particular.

    Muse jumped visibly as the main doors were suddenly kicked in violently, Mal in front, the blonds behind the mountain of muscle.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry baby, once we¡¯re done here, I¡¯ve got all night!¡± Victor quipped at the secretary still at her desk, walking backwards into the room.

    ¡°Cut the routine, twerp,¡± Mal grumbled and grabbed the vampire by the back of the shirt and threw him towards the room.

    Victor skidded to a halt and glared back at the gigantic man. ¡°Whatever, man. There¡¯s nobody even in here.¡±

    ¡°There was.¡± Muse shook the rags in her hand. Her mind was spinning through what was going on in an attempt to find a solution to what was happening, but none was coming.

    The rags apparently meant more to Victor than they did to her. Letting off a small series of colorful swears, he swiveled his head around in a panic. ¡°Crusaders¡­¡±

    Muse was staring down at the rags in her hand when a door to her left was kicked open.

    ¡°You will suffer the wrath of God, heathens! Prepare yourself!¡±

    Muse was convinced she had lost her mind. A maniacal ghost-kidnapping ¡®sorcerer,¡¯ a white-faced vanishing rag thing, and now this. Yup. She was officially nuts now.

    ¡°Oh, hello, Michael,¡± Isaac said from where he stood near the desk. ¡°It has been a while. How are you?¡±

    The source of the yelling was a man, now standing in the middle of the room, resplendent in a full suit of armor. An actual honest-to-God suit of armor. The metal was steel, with burnished gold and red in decorative patterns over each plate. The helm on his face was a smooth surface - covered his entire head and removed all features. A gold cross was emblazoned on the front of it, the gold of the cross-beam going across his eyes. He had a gigantic two-handed broadsword that matched his armor.

    Muse could only watch uselessly as Victor leaped at Michael, only to have something jabbed into his chest when he got too close. Victor, staggering to the side, looked down to a large metallic cross suddenly sunk a few inches into his chest, point first. ¡°A cross? Dude that¡¯s only a legend. Nice try, but that won¡¯t-¡° Victor began to scream and snarled, digging his fingers into the wound and pulling out the cross. He looked down as the metal began hissing against his flesh. He dropped it onto the ground. ¡°Silver?! Ooh, okay douchenozzle¡­ I¡¯m gonna-¡° He took a step towards Michael, grunted, and fell to one knee, looking down and seeing two other crosses shoved into his legs.

    ¡°I gotcha, Blondie,¡± Mal grunted and walked around in front of the fallen vampire. ¡°Come ¡®ere!¡± The lumbering tower of muscle charged across the room after the man in the armor. Whoever the man in the armor was, he seemed prepared for Mal. Ducking under one large swing, he used the larger man¡¯s momentum against him, the careful placement of a foot sending Mal crashing through a large wooden table, splinters shooting across the floor. Mal may have all the strength - but this guy seemed to know what he was doing.

    Eric ran over to at least help his brother dig out the silver, but was forced to pull back sharply as the armored man¡¯s sword nearly cleaved him in two. The sword missed him, but barely.

    ¡°How many times must I lop off your limbs?!¡± Michael snarled, his voice sounding oddly metallic and hollow behind the helm.

    Eric screamed and jumped back, ducking under one of the swings and rather ungracefully running away. Eric pulled a gun out of his belt and fired, the bullets uselessly pinging off of the armor.

    ¡°Run not from your fate, coward! Face me!¡±

    ¡°Come now, Michael¡­ would you rather not face a challenge?¡±

    The armored man whirled to face Isaac who standing in the center of the chaos like an uncaring statue. ¡°Any day would I face you, Sorcerer¡­¡±

    ¡°No time like the present.¡± Isaac held his hands out to his sides and lightly bowed at the waist.

    Michael charged at Isaac, who held out his hand, palm out. The sword impacted the shield with crackling energy, the sword seemingly digging into it. Isaac narrowed his eyes in irritation. Moving his other hand, a burst of green fire launched from Isaac¡¯s palm and hit Michael in the chest, sending him staggering backwards. Michael rubbed a gauntleted hand down the breastplate and laughed behind the helm.

    ¡°Fire? When have you used such childish parlor tricks, Isaac?¡±

    ¡°Childish tricks for a childish foe. But if you prefer something more interesting¡­¡±

    Muse finally dropped the fabric back down to the ground and stepped through the ottoman towards Mal, who was standing up slowly from where he had landed. Suddenly she lurched forward and crashed on the ground. Something had hit her hard from behind. She turned her head to see Azrael now standing behind her. ¡°Okay¡­ neat trick.¡± She vanished and reappeared standing next to him. Azrael stood up, tilting its head slowly from one side as it watched her like some bizarre animal.

    Azrael, apparently deciding she wasn¡¯t a threat, vanished and dashed at Mal. Muse moved to stop him, although how she had no idea. She never had to figure out how, as she wasn¡¯t fast enough. The creepy thing in the black rags appeared suddenly as it leaped through the air and brandished a large curved knife, digging it into the back of Mal¡¯s shoulder. Mal roared as it sliced through flesh. Blood welled in the wound and slowly oozed down his back, staining his white wife-beater a dark red. Swatting his good arm backwards, he sent Azrael crashing into the wall. Mal stood there and struggled to reach behind himself to pull out the knife.

    ¡°I got it,¡± Muse said, trying to be helpful. Doing her best to ignore the man in the armor and his scuffle with Isaac, she ran up behind Mal. Taking hold of the knife in both hands, she pulled. It quickly became obvious that it was a horrid idea, as pain lanced through both of them. Electricity shot through her, and she staggered back. ¡°Mother-¡°

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, it happens¡­¡± Mal huffed and tried to pull the knife out, but was only electrocuted again for his trouble.

    Muse looked up just in time to see Azrael lift himself from the wall, running at Mal. He was once again invisible except for the weird blue blur. Muse took form at the last second between them, once again putting her body between whatever-it-was and its intended victim. Appearing in front of Azrael, the momentum of his impact sent her staggering backwards into the direct swing of Michael¡¯s sword as it attempted cleave through Isaac¡¯s shield. She pivoted to face the armored man in hopes of stopping the blow, but it happened too quickly. The two-handed broadsword dug straight through her body, going through her shoulder and ending somewhere just at the bottom of her ribcage.

    Muse blinked.

    Michael stared.

    At that moment, the room stopped.

    ¡°Howdy,¡± was all that came out of her mouth. Another pause. ¡°This is awkward.¡±

    ¡°What in God¡¯s name are you?!¡± Michael asked, flabbergasted.

    Taking his opportunity, Isaac thrust his hand out. Muse felt the strangest sensation - like she couldn¡¯t move. Michael was suddenly thrown backwards - with her attached to his sword. She could only watch as Michael impacted one of the large glass windows.

    The clear glass went white with a million spidery cracks as the window gave way. Michael fell, tilting back through the empty air as gravity took over. Muse, dragged along, screamed. Fear consumed her as she plummeted towards the ground that was rushing up toward her.

    Then the thought hit her.

    Wait a minute¡­

    Muse vanished and floated in mid-air, watching the armored man plummet down to the ground. She wondered if it was the proper reaction to laugh or be sick as she saw him hit in the middle of the road, cars swerving and veering around the body. She heard the tell-tale sound of horns and crashing vehicles.

    Floating back up and into the room, she took shape and instantly glared at Isaac. The roaring of the wind made it hard to hear, but she wanted to yell at him anyway. ¡°You threw me out a window!¡±

    ¡°No, I threw him out of a window,¡± Isaac corrected, cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief. ¡°You just happened to be attached to him at the time.¡±

    ¡°I- I-¡± she sputtered. She should have some reason to be angry, but she really didn¡¯t. She really just wanted to be mad. ¡°Fine,¡± she snapped. ¡°Whatever.¡± When in doubt, sulk.

    Isaac almost looked amused. Stepping over the bloody remains of what was probably a prior Mr. Brooks, Isaac headed to Mal. Gripping the blade still embedded in the back of the bigger man¡¯s shoulder, he tugged. It came out without any protest. Dropping it on the ground, Isaac walked towards the door without a word.

    ¡®Azrael¡¯ was missing. It must have left somehow. Figuring she probably missed it while plummeting out of a window, she thought it best not to bring it up. Victor was being heavily supported by Eric as they all headed for the door - some silent signal that it was time to go.

    ¡°Hey, Blue,¡± Mal said as he twisted his head to look at her, filing out of the room towards the elevator. ¡°Either you¡¯ve got the craziest level of pain tolerance I¡¯ve ever seen¡­ and I owe you a drink of having a set of balls that big¡­ or¡­¡±

    Muse sighed. ¡°Later, Mal, please?¡±

    Instantly sensing that it was a can of worms he shouldn¡¯t be opening right now, he nodded and rubbed his good hand over his bald head. ¡°Yeah. Later¡¯s good.¡±

    Muse vanished, floating close to the group as they left. A mix of nervous excitement and worry, she felt unsettled about this whole situation. Things had gone from bad, to confusing, to confusing and bad. She had no idea who the creeps in the armor or the black rags were, but she had a horrible feeling she was going to find out whether she liked it or not.

    Something told her it wouldn¡¯t be the last time she saw them.

 Chapter Five

    ¡°Ow¡­ ow¡­ ow! Watch it!¡±

    ¡°Sit still, Mal! I can¡¯t sew you shut if you keep squirming!¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you stitch your no-good brother back up, ¡®stead of sitting here putting me back together like some goddamn turkey roast?!¡± Mal sat on a chair backwards, straddling the backrest and leaning forward as Eric stood behind him, stitching together the wound on his shoulder with a needle and thread.

    ¡°¡¯Cause I heal fast, dude.¡± Victor sat on one cot, his head resting against the wall, the blood stains on his clothing and a tired expression on his face the only signs that he had been hurt at all. ¡°You don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I still don¡¯t get why you¡¯re the one doin¡¯ this,¡± Mal grumbled over his shoulder.

    ¡°I¡¯m the only one here with any medical experience.¡± Eric pressed a ball of cotton against a section of the wound as he slipped the needle through one section of skin, and pulling it through another like he was mending a tear in a pair of pants. ¡°And Isaac¡­ you don¡¯t want Isaac¡¯s help.¡±

    ¡°Dicking around with some toasters and stitching them to your ass doesn¡¯t count as medical experience.¡±

    ¡°More than you have.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well-¡°

    Muse wondered if every time she went looking she was going to find them arguing. It had been a few hours since they had come back from the sky-scraper, and Muse had gone off to think about what had just happened. She watched a man fall to his death, and it was¡­ wrong. Just wrong. She was still debating if it was her fault. She could have saved him, and yet it hadn¡¯t occurred to her to try. She tried to blame it on her fear of falling and how quickly it all happened - but she wasn¡¯t sure. She could have helped him. She decided it was a better idea to try and find answers to her questions instead of debating her own assistance in the evening and what it meant. She had wanted to talk in the hearse, but everyone was either not in the mood, or weren¡¯t conscious at the time.

    Muse watched as Eric and Mal shot insults back and forth at each other, Victor sitting by a wall and laughing tiredly at the scene. Muse could have left, and gone to ask Isaac what she needed to know, but she quickly decided against it. He wasn¡¯t exactly what you would call approachable. Instead, she decided to try and talk to the more mouthy contingent of men in the house. Muse floated over by Victor and took form sitting next to him.

    ¡°Aughk!¡± Victor yelped. ¡°Muse! You gotta warn us or something¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I forget,¡± Muse watched the other two bicker, wondering if they had even noticed she was there. She doubted it. She looked over at the vampire and down at his leg where he had gotten hit. ¡°How¡¯re you doing? That looked like it hurt¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but I bounce back. Vampires do that,¡± he smiled down at her. ¡°Mal got it worse than me. He doesn¡¯t patch himself up nearly as fast as I do, and he¡¯s got Eric as a surgeon.¡± Victor snorted and poked at the hole in his shirt. ¡°The worst thing is, I liked this shirt.¡±

    ¡°Everything with you¡¯s about style, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Hey, it takes work to look this good.¡±

    Muse had to laugh. She had a hard time figuring out if he was serious or being ironic. It struck her that his hair, which always seemed so perfectly maintained, was now just pushed back away from his face in tired apathy. The vampire looked the worse for wear, but to be honest, nobody in the room looked that great. They were all sporting various assortments of bruises, open wounds or burns. In fact, the only one that looked the same was her.

    Probably because she always looked the same.

    She never changed. Fishnets, tank-top, pants, boots. Every day. No matter what.

    She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her legs around them, lost in the unpleasant thought. Finally, she remembered what she had come here to ask in the first place. ¡°Hey, Vic - who the hell were those guys?¡±

    ¡°Michael and Azrael? Oh right¡­ you don¡¯t know,¡± Victor¡¯s voice got serious, the usual playful glee in his face fading. ¡°They¡¯re Crusaders. There¡¯re seven of them, I think - the Vatican¡¯s ¡®special forces¡¯ team. They¡¯re trained and designed to exterminate ¡®problem subjects.¡¯ We¡¯re on the list.¡± Victor scratched at the wound on his right leg, now only a barely-visible yet obviously annoying red rash. ¡°We haven¡¯t seen ¡®em in a while though. Azrael¡¯s a real bitch to deal with, Michael¡¯s a real douche¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, at least Michael¡¯s not a problem anymore, huh?¡±

    ¡°I wish we were so - ow - lucky,¡± Mal chimed in, finally becoming aware of the conversation after telling Eric that if he didn¡¯t ease up, he¡¯d deposit some medical supplies into his body using a very impolite method.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Muse blinked, confused. She looked over at Mal and was glad she wouldn¡¯t ever need to be stitched back together, but that didn¡¯t stop her from feeling nauseous as she watched Eric push the needle through Mal¡¯s skin.

    ¡°It¡¯s a long story. You¡¯ll figure it out soon enough. Hey Muse, I gotta question.¡± Mal turned his head as much as he could to look at her.

    ¡°¡­ Yeah?¡± Muse asked warily, although she wasn¡¯t exactly excited to hear what he was going to say. She had an idea what he was about to ask, and if she was right, this was going to be awkward.

    ¡°How come you took that sword gettin¡¯ buried into ya and didn¡¯t even flinch? You just that hardcore, or don¡¯t you feel pain?¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t,¡± she said. The room sat in silence for a moment as she fixated on her boots, not wanting to look up.

    ¡°You don¡¯t feel pain? That¡¯s a neat trick¡­ can you just like¡­ turn it off?¡± Eric asked, not looking up from where his attentions were focused.

    ¡°Not exactly¡­ I uh¡­ I can¡¯t feel pain. Ever. Well, no, that¡¯s not true. Electricity hurts. I don¡¯t know why. But besides that...¡± She decided just to fess up. It would be better if she did. She took in a deep breath, held it, and ripped off the proverbial band-aid. In one rush of air, she blurted out the next sentence. ¡°I can¡¯t feel anything, actually.¡±

    Victor poked her in the shoulder. ¡°You can¡¯t feel that?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t feel anything? Ever? Why didn¡¯t you say that earlier?¡± Victor asked.

    ¡°I dunno¡­ I don¡¯t like to think about it, okay? Being dead sucks enough without having to be reminded of it. I can¡¯t feel things. I can¡¯t taste them. I can¡¯t smell them.¡± Muse couldn¡¯t stand the way that Victor was looking at her, so she vanished, causing him to jump.

    ¡°Touchy subject?¡± Mal asked, then snorted with his stupid pun. As the room sat in silence, he let out a deep sigh. ¡°Wrong joke, wrong time. Sorry, Blue.¡±

    Muse didn¡¯t respond, drifting her way up through the floors. She just wanted to get away from everyone. Pushing her way through empty air, wood, and pipes, she went back up to the attic. Spreading herself out, she settled herself down on the floor in the middle of the room.

    Time could blink away in an instant when you were dead. Zoning out, one could literally watch grass grow. Sulking, she was unaware of how much time passed before she suddenly realized she was being stood - not on - but in.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Wha-aah!¡± Victor screamed as he leaped sidewards as it suddenly felt like static electricity was crackling along his feet from the ankles down.

    Muse made a similar noise as she floated away and appeared sitting on the table. ¡°Don¡¯t do that, I hate that!¡±

    ¡°What the hell? What¡¯d I do?¡± Victor jumped from foot to foot.

    ¡°You stood in me.¡±

    ¡°I did what?¡±

    ¡°You stood¡­¡± she slowed it down, hoping it¡¯d help. She wasn¡¯t sure how else to describe it. ¡°-In me.¡±

    Victor stood there and looked at her blankly for a long moment before the figurative lightbulb went off. ¡°Oh, crud, girl, sorry. Didn¡¯t know you were there¡­¡± Victor watched as Muse shrugged morosely. ¡°Hey, Muse - you mad at us?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± It was her turn to be confused. She was surprised he thought she would be.

    ¡°Y¡¯know about the¡­ Mal¡¯s stupid joke, and us¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡±

    She shifted where she sat as she tried to put her finger on exactly what caused her reaction. ¡°No, I¡¯m not. The whole thing is just uncomfortable for me to talk about. I¡¯m not used to it, this is really the first time since I died that anybody¡¯s ever asked me questions about it.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Victor walked over and sat down on a bunch of boxes across from her, and shifted awkwardly as he tried to think of what to say. Muse was too busy trying to sort out her own emotions to really notice the silence. He finally spoke up. ¡°That makes sense. Sorry, we¡¯re not used to having a ghost around either. Hey¡­ Can¡­ can I ask you some questions?¡±

    ¡°I guess.¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind my asking, how long¡¯ve you been dead?¡±

    ¡°Twenty years or so. I don¡¯t know when I ¡®woke up.¡¯ I don¡¯t know how instant a transition it was.¡± If Muse was good at anything, it was changing the subject. ¡°How ¡®bout you? How long have you been dead?¡±

    ¡°Eeeh, I¡¯m not really dead-dead. Just un-living.¡± Victor paused to debate the vocabulary silently in his head. ¡°But anyway, only about¡­ damn¡­ fifteen years now. It was shortly after the Retribution started - when the Vatican started up their war against the undead, I was a soldier for them. Eric hated the idea-¡±

    ¡°You fought with the Vatican during the Retribution?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, whatever, I was young and stupid. It seemed like the thing to do, what with all the propaganda and everything. I was scared, hell, we all were. It was about eight years into the war, and, well anyway, I was - how¡¯d you put it - captured behind enemy lines? This vampire chick turned me, and well - I changed my mind on a few things,¡± he said with a laugh.

    ¡°I bet she changed your mind. A little hot vampire sex¡¯ll do that to you.¡± Muse chuckled and winked at him playfully.

    ¡°Bah,¡± Victor pouted. ¡°But, oh, yeah. She was smoking¡¯.¡± Victor let out a whistle and, using his pointer fingers, traced out an hourglass shape in the air in front of him. Muse laughed and shook her head.

    ¡°So how does Eric take this whole situation?¡±

    The light in his green eyes faded as she asked. ¡°He¡¯s¡­ he wasn¡¯t thrilled when I got turned. I mean¡­ I¡¯ll basically watch him age and die. But I guess that¡¯s the way of things... Nothing I can do to change it now.¡±

    ¡°I guess not.¡±

    They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in thought about their own particular fates. Victor was the first to break the silence. ¡°Okay, screw this doom-and-gloom shit!¡± He stood up and walked up to her, and ruffled her hair with both hands. ¡°C¡¯mon, Shorty, let¡¯s go downstairs and play some foosball or something¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but I¡¯m surprised you don¡¯t have some hot date you¡¯re late for.¡± She let herself get tugged out of the room and down the stairs.

    Victor flashed his traffic-stopping smile, despite how tired he obviously was. ¡°Naah, I don¡¯t like getting stabbed and screwed in the same night.¡±

    <hr>

    You¡¯re dead. Fine, you can deal with that. You can¡¯t feel things. Fine, you can deal with that. You¡¯re probably going to exist for centuries and then blink out in a puff into oblivion, unloved and forgotten. Fine, you can deal with that. But no - oh no - this is the true torture.

    The house was empty of people. Well, mostly. She was sure Isaac was around somewhere. Mal was out with some lady-friend. Ezekiel was talking to a coat-rack - who was apparently named Roger - and didn¡¯t seem to notice she was there. Victor had gone to ¡®eat¡¯ - he had asked if she wanted to go along, but she declined. As oddly fascinating as it would probably be for her to watch him bite someone, she really didn¡¯t know if wanted to be a tag-along.

    The true torture?

    Muse was bored.

    One person didn¡¯t seem to be missing, but couldn¡¯t be found - the other brother. Eric¡¯s carefully maintained ¡®baby¡¯ - a 1968 Pontiac GTO - was still sitting in the garage. She had been informed that if she ever, ever, touched his car, he would find a way to kill her as he put it, ¡®twice dead.¡¯ The weirdest thing was that no matter how many rooms she checked, she couldn¡¯t find where he was. Finally, after twenty minutes, she found him in the basement. As she popped through the wall she felt an awkward buzz rush her system.

    ¡°Damnit!¡± she heard him growl. He walked over to a weird pile of wires and strange metal boxes with dials on them and started whacking his fist on the top of the monitor as the picture on the screen was overcome with static. Poking around to the other side, she saw it was reading out a series of numbers. Muse tried to no avail to make sense of what they meant.

    Turning her attention to the room and snickered quietly to herself. The room was probably at one point huge, but the walls, ceilings, and every available surface were overcome with wires, pipes, motors and other little gadgets that made little sense to her. It made the room feel exceedingly cramped and crowded. On one wall hung an array of bizarre looking guns, weird flat metal disks and something that looked like a harpoon.

    The other side of the room was crowded with what looked like half-finished creations. A large lizard-esque looking creature with wings sat against the wall, hunched over. Its chest cavity was empty, wires hanging out down over its legs.

    She looked back towards Eric. He was standing at a desk, his back to her - his pair of thick blast goggles down over his eyes. Sparks flew out from in front of him and to both sides in a bright shower of slag metal.

    ¡°Hey, Eric.¡± She took form standing in the center of the room.

    Eric jumped nearly a foot in the air and whirled, the small welding gun in his hand pointed at her. ¡°Shit!¡± he yelled. ¡°Woman! Don¡¯t do that!¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she snickered at the gun and sarcastically threw her arms up as if she were being robbed. ¡°Oh no! Are you going to weld me?¡±

    ¡°Oh, shut up. You startled me.¡± He turned around and put the gun down, picked up a small screwdriver and began to tinker with the pile of metal and wires that sat in front of him. He lifted his head thoughtfully, and let out a small ¡®huh¡¯ noise from the back of his throat. ¡°You¡¯re the reason the monitor went haywire. Hey, do me a favor - if you can help it, could you not pass through my equipment?¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°As I figured,¡± he began and pushed the goggles up onto his head. ¡°You¡¯re comprised mostly of electromagnetic and other radio wavelengths.¡±

    ¡°Okay? Um¡­ was that an insult or a compliment?¡±

    ¡°Neither,¡± Eric snickered. ¡°Just means that if you walk through anything electrical, you¡¯re likely to mess it up.¡±¡°I knew that. I¡¯ve told you as much. So that explains the buzz.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°When I walk through electrical crap I get a buzz.¡±

    ¡°Interesting¡­ I¡¯m probably right then.¡±¡°Right¡­ to be honest, I¡¯m not sure exactly what ¡®electromagnetic wavelengths¡¯ actually really means in relation to me.¡±

    ¡°It means please don¡¯t walk through any of my crap,¡± Eric said through another chuckle.

    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± Muse walked up next to him and peered over his shoulder. ¡°What¡¯re you working on? It looks like an arm¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ¡®cause it¡¯s an arm,¡± Eric muttered as he kept working, biting down on the tip of his tongue as he carefully started plugging wires into different sections of the hunk of metal. The arm had its forearm panel flipped open, exposing weird tubing and other things that Muse didn¡¯t understand. It looked like a left arm, going all the way up to the shoulder joint.

    ¡°Why¡¯re you building an arm?¡±

    ¡°Because you never know when you¡¯re going to need an extra one.¡±

    Muse opened her mouth to retort but found she couldn¡¯t come up with one. ¡°Touch¨¦.¡± Muse moved over to an empty spot on the table and hopped up onto it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about the other night. I wasn¡¯t mad, it¡¯s just weird to talk about.¡±

    ¡°No biggie.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re in good company to have a screwed up life.¡± Eric lowered the blast goggles onto his eyes again, twisted the dial on the side and went back to plugging in wires. ¡°We all got more stuff in our closets... Hell, I think the only one who hasn¡¯t got some crazy ass secret they¡¯re hiding is Zeek, probably because he can¡¯t remember any of them.¡±

    ¡°How nuts is that guy, anyway?¡±

    ¡°Not sure, but-¡° he pulled his hand away quickly as a spark jumped between the metal hand and his own. Waving his own to dull the pain, he put the screwdriver back down and kept working. ¡°He¡¯s harmless. I didn¡¯t know him before he worked for Isaac. He¡¯s been here longer than any of us. When he starts making sense, though, that¡¯s when you really gotta worry.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± Muse wanted to ask more questions, ask about Isaac, about their jobs, about how all of them got into killing people for a living, but she didn¡¯t want to pester him. It was clear that he was busy, covered in wires, soot, oil, and smoke. Wait. Smoke. ¡°Um. Eric?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯re on fire.¡±

 Chapter Six

    Climbing into the back of the hearse, Muse sat down on the long black leather bench on one side. She had no idea where they were going, or why. She was slowly getting used to Isaac keeping things like that to himself. Victor flopped down next to her in the seat and turned sidewards, stretching out with a pleased groan and plopping his legs across her lap. He folded his arms behind his head and rest backwards against the back door of the hearse. Muse looked at Victor with a raised eyebrow and only got a flashy grin in return.

    ¡°Well look at you two - getting¡¯ all cute ¡¯n shit,¡± Mal snorted. ¡°Like two cute ¡®lil undead cuddle bugs.¡±

    ¡°Oh, can it Mal. You know he¡¯s just being an ass,¡± Muse replied.

    ¡°I have long legs, and I need somewhere to put ¡®em. Besides. It¡¯s like a five freakin¡¯ hour drive to this damn job.¡± He shuffled, settling further into the seat. ¡°Hey Boss - are we getting a hotel up there or are we driving back tonight?¡±

    ¡°Depends fully upon how long it takes to complete the task at hand. We will probably be driving back,¡± Isaac said without turning his head from the passenger seat to look at the vampire. He had his head down and seemed far more interested in the book in his hands than any sort of conversation.

    Victor groaned. ¡°Fine¡­ But you know how I hate sleeping in that damn body bag in the hearse - I always wake up all stiff and with weird bruises on me.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t imagine where those come from,¡± Eric said with an evil grin. Victor opened his eyes, looked at his brother and reaching over the gap between the seats, punched him hard in the thigh.

    ¡°Ow! Damn it, man!¡± Eric punched back.

    Victor blocked the punch. ¡°Oh, sorry toaster-boy, what¡¯d I do, dent your hard drive?¡±

    Eric¡¯s second attempt at a punch landed, and it quickly escalated into a full-blown wrestling match. Muse yelped and ducked, moving across the aisle and sitting next to Mal to get away from them.

    ¡°I¡¯m sitting over here, now,¡± Muse said through a laugh and watched the two blondes thump around in the back of the van, punching and kicking at each other - Victor now had Eric in a headlock and appeared to be dead set on noogie-ing his brother into submission. Muse had to admit, it was fun watching the boys go at it - it made her wish she had siblings growing up. Yes, they were fighting, but they both had grins on their faces.

    ¡°Pro¡¯bly a good bet, there, Blue.¡± Mal chuckled deeply and watched the two boys fight and shook his head - tsking in the back of his throat and looking down at the ghost next to him. ¡°They¡¯re nothin¡¯ but amateurs.¡± The big man ruffled her hair. ¡°Me? I¡¯m a pro.¡±

    ¡°A pro at what, breaking things?¡±

    ¡°You got that right, honey.¡±

    The hearse pulled over on the side of the street, the tires crunching in the gravel as it slowed to a stop. Everything was darkness to the normal eye. They were apparently in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night. As Muse got out, she noticed that Isaac was the only other one who exited the car.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on? You ditching me on the side of the road like a puppy?¡±

    Isaac was seemingly building up a tolerance to her constant sarcasm. Damn. ¡°No. But you are staying here. You have a separate objective while we attend to another job.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± She had drawn the short straw without knowing it. ¡°So what¡¯m I doing?¡±

    ¡°About a quarter mile up this highway is a dirt road that forks off into the right into the woods. At the end of it is a house. You are to haunt the man who lives there.¡±

    ¡°Haunt. Are you kidding me? You want me to haunt someone?¡±

    ¡°You are a ghost, that is what you do, is it not?¡± Isaac said with a tone that Muse suspected was his attempt at being funny.

    ¡°Aha. Ha. Ha. And what keeps me from just tearing ass out of here?¡±

    Isaac responded by tapping a spot on his chest, a clear reminder of the necklace he wore.

    She put her palm over her eyes, coming to the sad realization that it was pointless. She was going to have to do this one way or another. She threw her hands up in the air. ¡°Fine. Who am I haunting?¡±

    ¡°His name is Aaron.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ Haunt a guy named Aaron. Do you have anything¡­ specific? I¡¯ve never haunted someone before.¡±

    ¡°You are to make him believe that there is something out to get him - something unnatural. That his life is in danger.¡± Isaac began picking at his cufflinks, straightening them. He had a way of speaking to her like she wasn¡¯t actually there like he had already progressed from their conversation to the next thing on his to-do list. As far as she knew, he probably had.

    ¡°Right. Got it. House. Aaron. Haunt. Spooky-danger.¡±

    ¡°Good. Have fun,¡± Isaac said with what could have been mistaken for mirth in his voice. He climbed back into the hearse. Muse was left standing there watching the tail-lights of the vehicle as it drove off. Without the headlights of the car, darkness soon enveloped her.

    Great. I really do feel like a puppy. She vanished and floated down the road, covering a good deal of distance. That was one of the few benefits of being dead. When you had no body to tote around, it was easy to move quickly. She had figured this out a few years into her being a ghost when she was trying to catch up to a car. At first, it was a little alarming, but she had slowly adjusted to it. Now, it seemed second nature. Darting along the side of the highway, she moved over rocks and around trees and eventually found the dirt road.

    Well, she assumed it was what she was looking for.

    The if-you-could-call-it-that road was comprised only of two muddy tire ruts that wound through the woods and out of sight. What the hell, might as well check¡­ Turning, she headed into the woods with the tire ruts as a guide, moving deeper into the blackness of the night. There was no moon, and the light of the stars did little to help her see. But that didn¡¯t bother her any.

    The glow was good enough.

    Everything living, human or otherwise, gave off a glow. Trees gave off different colors depending on the season or if the tree was about to die or not. Or at least, that was her best guess. It was very early spring, and the trees were not quite yet ¡®awake,¡¯ so the glow was more of a muted greenish-grey color. It was that same glow that served as the light she needed.

    The road rather abruptly dumped her into a clearing. There was a battered, beaten-up old Jeep in front of her. Mud clung to the tire treads, but the mud had clearly dried long ago - it hadn¡¯t been moved in a while. Across the uncut grass in front of her was a large two-story house, looking unkempt, but not what she would call derelict. The paint was chipping, but nothing seemed broken. The only noise she could hear were the crickets in the grass around her.

    All but one set of windows were black, the last flickering with the dim familiar bluish dance of a TV set. Floating through the door, Muse was expecting trash, beer cans, flies. She expected the redneckish exterior to match the interior.

    To her surprise, the room had barely anything in it. A large sofa was the only piece of furniture, the springs long since battered past their straining point. The floor was hardwood, parts of the lacquer worn away in paths from walking. A sofa and a TV. That was it. Literally. Freaking weird.

    She would have jumped if it weren¡¯t for her decided lack of a body, as the man she presumed to be Aaron walked into the room. He was huge, not the size of Mal, but close. He was just under seven feet, muscular, and broad at the shoulders. She looked at him in shock. He was shirtless, in just a pair of long grey sweatpants. That wasn¡¯t why she was agog.

    His body was almost completely covered in scars. All the way across his stomach, up to his neck and down his left arm. The thin lines of cuts crisscrossed over his body, and up onto his face. His left eye was completely white, and one particularly large scar went down through his eyebrow and across his eyelid and down his cheek at an angle. His hair was chestnut brown and fell around his face in curls and waves. It looked like it hadn¡¯t been cut in ages, and whoever had cut it last hadn¡¯t done a terribly even job.

    Muse could only watch, still shocked, as the man crossed the floor with a beer in his hand, flopped onto the sofa, and resumed watching the TV.

    Em. Christ, Muse thought to herself as she took in the sight. What the hell happened to you?

    She watched the man for a while, trying to think of some explanation for the strange scars that he had. That brought her around to wondering why Isaac wanted him tormented. That, unfortunately, brought her back to the reason she was here. She was supposed to haunt him. Looking around the room, she tried to think of something to do. Think, Muse, think. You¡¯re a ghost. This is what you do, isn¡¯t it? Oh!

    The TV would work. Drifting over it, she reached into its circuits. Her inherent ¡®charge¡¯ started to mess with the screen, causing the image to flicker and start to change colors abruptly. It buzzed, sending a strange sensation through her, but she dealt with it.

    The man on the sofa snarled and stood up and walked up to the TV. Muse had to move quickly to get out of the way as he thwacked on the side of it with a massive hand. Grunting, he walked back to the sofa and sat back down.

    She decided to give that a rest for now. She wasn¡¯t exactly excited about tormenting the man, but she had to. She really didn¡¯t want to be on the receiving end of Isaac¡¯s wrath. She felt guilt pluck at her as she meandered out of the room. It¡¯s not like the guy clearly hadn¡¯t put up with enough crap in his life. That is if he didn¡¯t give those scars to himself. If he did that to himself - what the hell are you supposed to do to scare him? It was true, she didn¡¯t know that he was actually a victim. Maybe he was a bad guy. Good, make excuses. That¡¯ll help, she remarked to herself as she floated around the house looking for inspiration.

    All of the rooms were completely empty and barren. No furniture, no pictures, nothing. Only four rooms had anything in them, and even then she¡¯d hardly call them ¡®furnished.¡¯ The living room, the bathroom which had scattered necessities, the kitchen with the same bare-minimum items, and what she presumed was his bedroom from the mattress laying on the ground, a single sheet and single pillow laying on it. A few piles of clothes were strewn around the room.

    Who is this guy? Muse stopped as she picked up a little brown book - a journal it seemed. She was about to open it when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Shit! Muse quickly dropped the book and floated over to a corner. Yes, he couldn¡¯t see her, but it wouldn¡¯t be fun for either of them if he stepped through her.

    Aaron walked into the room and tiredly ran a hand through his hair. She watched as he went over to his mattress, the journal having caught his attention. Swiveling his head, he looked around the room for a moment. She froze as he looked right at her, and didn¡¯t know why. It was silly, but she didn¡¯t know who she was dealing with, after all. Whoever he was, he apparently couldn¡¯t see ghosts. Apparently giving up, he flopped down on the bed. She waited a good long while until his breathing started a slow rhythm before she went to work.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    <hr>

    Aaron woke up with a snort as he heard a strange noise. Opening his eyes, he shook his head to try and clear the daze. It took him a long time before he realized it was the sound of his TV set downstairs blaring static. He wasn¡¯t alone. Shooting up to his feet, he tore downstairs. He would find who had broken in and teach them a rather valuable lesson.

    Skidding into his living room, he stopped and swiveled his head around. There didn¡¯t seem to be anyone. ¡°Hello?¡± he asked the room and got no reply. But the TV was on, and he certainly didn¡¯t leave it that way. Walking up to it, he flipped it off and let out a low sigh. Well, better safe than sorry. Turning, he went through the house checking all the locks on the doors and made sure that every window was shut.

    It must have been a fluke. Or maybe he was wrong and he had left the TV on. The more he thought about it, the less he actually remembered what he had done. He was so sure when he first thought about it, but now he was very much less so. Funny how that happens. He shrugged it off and trudged up the stairs back to his room. Exhaustion tugged at him as he flopped back down on the mattress. Just as sleep was about to come back to him, his eyes shot open.

    The TV was buzzing.

    He got up and very nearly flew downstairs, his nerves on edge. He was ready to pound whoever was there into the floor. But once again, there wasn¡¯t anyone - just him and the offending piece of electronics, the latter letting out a sputtering stream of static and white noise. Walking over to it, he didn¡¯t bother to turn it off. He yanked the cord straight out of the wall.

    Another circuit inspection of the house, and with nothing to show for it, he went back upstairs. He laid down on his stomach and punched the pillow a few times to get it into the correct shape. His eyes didn¡¯t stay shut for long this time.

    The TV was buzzing.

    Impossible. That was impossible. That couldn¡¯t be. Sitting up in disbelief, he stormed downstairs and, sure enough, found the goddamn thing on. He walked over to it and switched it off. Maybe he had just dreamt unplugging it. That was possible, he very often had vivid dreams. He swiveled the TV on its stand and reached behind it - and his hand came away with the plug. It hadn¡¯t been plugged in.

    He shook his head and felt his breath quicken. He ran a hand through his long hair and pulled on it. Letting out a low groan, he felt fear start to pluck at him. Dropping the cord, he began to back away and up the stairs.

    Not again. Not this. Not now.

    There was nothing else he could do right now. Maybe this was all just a figment of his exhausted mind. This time he shut his bedroom door and locked it, just to be safe. For the fourth time, he went back to bed. For the fourth time, he started to fall asleep.

    For the fourth time, he was losing his mind.

    ¡®You¡¯ll be saying wow every time you use this towel! It¡¯s like a chamois! It¡¯s like a towel! It¡¯s like a sponge!¡¯ roared the TV. He shot up to his feet and screamed, staring down at the flickering box that was now sitting in the middle of his floor, completely unattached to anything. The door was still shut and locked. How?!

    ¡°No, no, no¡­¡± he moaned. He opened the window, and tentatively walked over to the machine, wondering if the freak of a man on the screen that was avidly trying to sell him something was going to leap out of the screen at him. Picking up the TV with one hand, he walked over to the open window and lobbed it outside. It landed on the ground with a loud crash as the glass shattered.

    He couldn¡¯t keep himself from shaking. He walked over to a corner of his room and pressed his back against the wall. Sliding to the ground, he sat there, his knees bent. Sleep wouldn¡¯t come back to him tonight, he knew. So he did the best he could.

    He waited.

    <hr>

    The days went rather uneventfully as they could when one spends one¡¯s time haunting someone. She continued tormenting the poor man - sometimes rearranging items in his house, sometimes doing more malicious things like writing messages on the bathroom mirror in the steam from the shower. She began to take pride in some of - in her opinion - her finer moments of inspiration. Like when she managed to pick him and his entire mattress up one night and drag him, without waking him, through the woods and leave him on the shore of a lake a mile and a half away. She was never quite sure how strong she was - she just always seemed to be as strong as she needed herself to be.

    Muse floated around Aaron¡¯s house one morning, thinking of a new way to harass the man. She tried to convince herself that it was harmless pranking, or some kind of game. Yes, he scared easy, but she wasn¡¯t hurting him. Right? It saved her from being around Isaac and getting into who-knows-what kind of trouble.

    She floated from room to room idly as Aaron sat, eyes locked on the wall across from him, exactly where she left him the night before. If he wasn¡¯t breathing, she would have been sure that he was dead. She stayed there and watched him for a moment, and frowned inwardly. Dude, I¡¯m sorry. I really am. Muse floated through the kitchen. If the scarred monster of a man that she was tormenting was the psychopath she had guessed him to be, she doubted he¡¯d be sitting in a corner having a panic attack. And how long am I supposed to keep up on this? Isaac just said ¡®haunt him.¡¯ When should I go back? If I¡¯m going back¡­

    She started throwing things around in the kitchen, knocking over pots and pans, taking the kitchen knives and flicking them at the wall hard enough that they stuck three or four inches into the drywall. She heard footsteps tentatively walking across the floor upstairs. Ooh, that got him moving. She continued the racket until she heard him start to round the corner. She held a pan in mid-air and waited just until he appeared in the kitchen and then dropped it.

    Aaron watched the pan clatter to the floor. He gripped the doorframe so hard that his knuckles turned white.

    ¡°No,¡± he moaned. ¡°No¡­ Lies!¡± Aaron staggered back away from the kitchen, nearly tripping on himself. Muse heard him fly up the stairs and heard his bedroom door slam shut. That left her standing there, wondering what that was all about.

    Lies? What lies?

    <hr>

    Muse woke up the next morning and found Aaron not where she had left him. She poked her head outside and saw that the beat-up old Jeep was gone. She floated inside and went about re-arranging all of the clothing piles in his room into no real particular order and then flipped his mattress up against the wall. Waiting downstairs in the living room where she saw a new TV sitting on the stand. She had to laugh. Men and their priorities.

    Muse screamed audibly as the phone rang. Laughing at her own jumpiness, especially when she was the one doing all the haunting, she took form and walked to the kitchen. It felt good to actually walk for once. Muse stood and watched the phone as it rang for a while, then stopped¡­ then began to ring again. Shrugging, figuring ¡®What the hell.¡¯ Muse picked up the receiver.

    ¡°Hello - Muse¡¯s farm slaughtering services - you pick ¡®em we stick ¡®em. How can we help you?¡± she drawled cheerily in her best fake southern accent, tapping into all those years of working retail.

    ¡°Inventive,¡± Isaac¡¯s voice came from the other end.

    ¡°I try. How¡¯d you know I was going to pick up?¡±

    Isaac ignored her question. He was in a mood. ¡°You are not progressing in your job as fast as I¡¯d hoped. I¡¯m beginning wonder if you¡¯re doing anything at all, or if you¡¯re even trying.¡± Muse was wondering what the hell she did wrong.

    ¡°Look, dude - I¡¯m doing the best I can! Short of having demons crawl out of his wall and attempt to eat his face off I don¡¯-¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°Aaron is stubborn, and correctly convinced of his own insanity. Go as far as you can. If you do not succeed by tonight, I will have to¡­ reexamine your methods¡­ personally,¡± Isaac replied, haughty and detached. Muse narrowed her eyes and gripped the phone harder, nearly cracking the white plastic in her hand. What the hell had gotten into him?!

    ¡°Isaac I-¡± she snarled as she listened to a dial tone. Growling she slammed the receiver down on the hook and floated upstairs. She floated and began - as usual - to sulk about Isaac¡¯s mistreatment of her.

    Why the hell does he treat me like this?! I swear to the Gods that someday I¡¯ll have that stupid necklace and I¡¯m going to tear him apart piece by ever-loving piece!

    It wasn¡¯t until well after dark that Aaron returned. He went to the kitchen to put the food away in the kitchen and wandered upstairs. Seeing the disarray of his room, he shut his eyes. He let out a long trembling breath before walking in, placing the mattress back on the floor, picking his pillow off of the ground and curling up on the thin slab of fabric and springs.

    Isaac wants a demon? Fine!

    <hr>

    He liked books. He liked books because they brought him to other places, other times. He could lose track of hours, sitting here reading. This one was one of his favorites. He had a pension for anything with dragons, wizards, and elves. He had read this one many, many times over. Parts of it seemed to mirror his own life, others he wished would mirror his own life.

    Aaron sat in his bedroom on the second floor, resting against the wall. He turned a page and was about to pick up a new chapter as he stopped abruptly, gripping the book in both hands. He felt his blood run cold as something began to pound viciously on the other side of his bedroom wall. He stood up and whirled around, unable to do anything but stare.

    He shrunk away from the wall as the pounding got louder, dust from the cracking drywall raining to the ground. Larger cracks started to form, and still, Aaron found that he could do nothing but watch in shock. It wasn¡¯t until a huge section of the wall snapped free and skittered across the floor that he found the will to move.

    He ran. He heard as the noise somehow followed him, now pounding on the underside of the floor. Wood splintered and cracked behind him as he ran as fast as he could.

    All he knew was a huge something in the floor was coming straight at him, splinters flying in all directions. Aaron turned, trying to see what it was that was following him. He should have looked where he was going, he realized, as his momentum carried him into the railing on the ledge that overlooked the second floor. It wasn¡¯t hard for his momentum to carry him through the ill-cared for railing.

    ¡°No!¡± he heard someone yell, although it barely registered.

    The old wood gave way suddenly under his weight, cracking and splintering as he began to fall. Time hung for a moment as he crashed to the ground below, then seemed to speed up as pain shot through his body. It hurt worse than it should have, worse than just the impact of the ground. Something was very wrong. Looking down at himself, he felt a rush of nausea as he saw a large splintered piece of wood, stained dark red with blood, that stuck through his lower midsection.

    ¡°Yes! Hello, 911?¡± he heard from another room. That was weird. He must be watching some silly ER show. Too much beer, maybe rum, left the TV on. Silly. There was no one in his house, certainly not a girl. The voice came again. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m in this house and this guy¡­ he fell from the second floor, he has a piece of wood through him. He¡¯s bleeding¡­ he¡¯s bleeding really bad. No, I don¡¯t know the address - it¡¯s this dirt road off of route six. Please, send an ambulance!¡±

    Aaron knew he was about to die. Touching the wound, he lifted his hand to see it coated in thick red blood. It hurt, but he was ready to die. He had been ready to die for a long time. Shutting his eyes, he waited for it to come. Suddenly he felt a small pair of hands gently touch his arm. He opened his eyes weakly and looked up at a pretty girl with blue hair and a good deal of eyeliner. He suspected that the grim reaper probably didn¡¯t look like a goth punk. Then again¡­

    ¡°Wh¡­¡±

    ¡°Aaron! Hi! Stay with me. Please. Hi. I¡¯m a friend. I swear I am. You¡¯re going to be okay, the ambulance is on its way.¡± The girl was obviously terrified. He watched as she tried to give him her best smile.

    ¡°Who the hell¡­ are you?¡± Aaron croaked out. He struggled to focus his one good eye on the girl.

    ¡°I, uh, my name¡¯s Muse¡­ a pleasure to meet you, just¡­ really bad circumstances.¡±

    Aaron groaned quietly in pain, feeling the muscles in his leg spasm. He had no idea why this girl was here, and he felt kind of bad for her. She would have to watch him as he bled his life out.

    ¡°Why do you care?¡± he asked her quietly.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to let you die.¡±

    ¡°You should.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a horrible way to think.¡± Muse looked down at him with fear, panic, and sadness in her eyes. Muse was an odd name. Oh, well. He wasn¡¯t going to care for much longer anyway. ¡°Death doesn¡¯t solve anybody¡¯s problems. It really doesn¡¯t. Trust me, I know.¡±

    ¡°How do you know?¡±

    ¡°Just - Just trust me. Hey, what¡¯s your favorite kind of ice cream?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Seriously, what¡¯s your favorite kind of ice cream?¡± she asked with a lopsided smile.

    ¡°Rocky road?¡± he replied incredulously after a long confused pause. He was glad at least that if he had to die, he was hallucinating someone nice. Weird, but nice. With a sudden lance of pain, he pulled in a hiss through his teeth.

    ¡°Cool. We¡¯re going to play a game. It¡¯s a really fun game, I promise.¡±

    Aaron blinked away the pain to stare at her like she was nuts. ¡°What¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s called ¡®let¡¯s not die right now.¡¯ It¡¯s great. Do you know how to play?¡± Muse piped, nervousness making her voice crack. ¡°It¡¯s really easy. It only has one rule. You don¡¯t die. That¡¯s it. The prize is a big bowl of rocky road ice cream.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ trying to convince me to fight¡­ for my life¡­ with ice cream?¡±

    ¡°Look I¡¯m really new at this whole ¡®let¡¯s save lives¡¯ thing. Gimmie a break,¡± she almost pouted.

    Aaron began to laugh quietly but stopped as it sent a sharp spike of pain up his spine. That spike of pain made the whole world start to go blurry around the edges. It was just easier to shut his eyes, as the world was getting too dizzying to watch.

    ¡°No. Don¡¯t do this. Stay with me.¡±

    Aaron sighed quietly. ¡°At least you¡¯re really pretty¡­¡±

    Muse laughed and bit back tears as she clutched his hand. ¡°See? That¡¯s funny! Life is funny. Don¡¯t- Aaron!¡±

 Chapter Seven

    ¡°Mister Blinky - you¡¯re the one¡­ you make dish time lots of fuuun. Oh, Mister Blin- What? What¡¯s that Mister Blinky? Aaron fell down a well?!¡± Ezekiel dropped the dishes to the ground with a loud crash. There was an audible groan from the other room as Victor and Eric heard the tell-tale sound of ¡®the time to go to Target.¡¯

    ¡°Ezekiel, fuck-ass, man! How many times do we have to go through this? The dinner plates are not alien spaceships!¡± Victor yelled from the living room without looking away from the video game.

    Ezekiel walked into the room, his shirt covered in soap bubbles, a serious look on his face. When he spoke, his voice was different - calm, and lacking the sharp edge of insanity that it had before. ¡°Get Isaac. Something has happened. He needs to leave, now,¡± his voice rolled out without its usual tremors. Knowing the seriousness of the situation, Victor and Eric shot up from the sofa and tore upstairs, yelling the whole way.

    <hr>

    Muse sat curled up in a ball in a chair by Aaron¡¯s bedside as he lay unconscious, hooked up to several beeping machines. Guilt wasn¡¯t a strong enough word for what ran through her.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she said quietly. He had gone through two surgeries and had barely survived the first. The doctors had told her that his recuperative ability was stunning, bordering on the preternatural. He should, by all accounts, be dead. He had a long road ahead of him to recover, but they predicted that he would eventually be fine. Didn¡¯t make her feel any better about having done this to him.

    She watched as the big man woke up, although he didn¡¯t seem to happy about it. He let out a small grunt as he started to blink, trying to focus on anything around him.

    ¡°Hey there big guy,¡± Muse said meekly.

    ¡°You¡­¡± Aaron reached up and touched his hand to his face, running his hand over his skin slowly.

    ¡°Yeah, I just¡­ wanted to make sure you were alright. Nobody needs to wake up in a hospital alone. It¡¯s just not cool.¡± That and it was her fault. Really, really her fault. He looked at her oddly for a long moment, as if debating whether or not he wanted her there.

    ¡°Where?¡± he asked. His voice was hoarse, dry, and sounded like it hurt like hell.

    ¡°Some stupid hospital. Looks like every other hospital, has exactly the same people who work in every other hospital¡­ that talk the same way that they do in every other hospital.¡± Muse hugged her knees to her chest again. She had a habit of doing that when she wanted to be really small and invisible. Ironic for someone who could really be both if she wanted to. ¡°I¡¯m not honestly quite sure where we are. I think we¡¯re in Kane. I never liked Pennsylvania,¡± she muttered.

    ¡°Who are you¡­?¡±

    ¡°My name¡¯s Muse,¡± she smiled faintly at him. ¡°You probably don¡¯t remember when I found you.¡±

    ¡°I remember,¡± he replied quietly. ¡°How did you find me¡­?¡±

    Muse had practiced this lie for six hours. ¡°I was hiking in the woods with some friends. I was walking to go find the car and I got turned around. I found your place and I heard a bunch of screaming so I came inside. I found you lying there, and, well, you know the rest,¡± she said it without skipping a beat. Damn, that was good.

    He just sat there watching her, and she wished she knew why. He didn¡¯t seem to have any expression on his face. Muse wondered if he had caught her lie. I guess it wasn¡¯t so good¡­ ¡°So-¡° she broke the silence. ¡°The wood came dangerously close to slicing up most of your internal organs. They¡¯ve patched you up pretty well, and they said that you¡¯ll be fine, eventually.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡± He didn¡¯t sound at all excited. Running a hand through his hair, Aaron grimaced as he realized he desperately needed a shower.

    ¡°But anyway, I-¡± she was cut off by a knock at the door. Getting up, she opened the door to be greeted by a wall of wool grey military coat. Lifting her head to meet matching grey eyes, fear rushed her suddenly, and she recoiled reflexively. ¡°Oh. Uh¡­ Hi.¡±

    ¡°Who is it?¡± Aaron asked weakly from the bed.

    Isaac gently pushed Muse aside, his dark figure sweeping into the room. ¡°You left your post without telling me, Muse. You were not supposed to go inside.¡±

    ¡°I - But - He - I -¡± Muse attempted to start a sentence about half a dozen times before realizing she had no idea what was going on. ¡°Wait, what?!¡±

    ¡°You!¡± Aaron sat up quickly and obviously regretted it. Gagging in pain, he collapsed back onto the pillows. ¡°Get out! Get out!¡± Aaron bellowed.

    ¡°Now, now, brother, no need to get so riled up.¡± Isaac calmly pulled the black leather gloves off of his hands, folded them neatly and placed them inside his coat pocket.

    ¡°Brother?!¡± Muse walked up to Isaac and stood in between him and Aaron. ¡°He¡¯s your brother?! You didn¡¯t tell me that!¡±

    ¡°It was not my responsibility to tell you.¡±

    ¡°Leave her alone!¡± Aaron growled, struggling to sit up again but once again failing.

    ¡°I will do no such thing. She belongs to me.¡±

    ¡°Cut the shit, Isaac! You should have told me, and you know it,¡± Muse snarled.

    The only sign that Isaac was at all irritated was a slight narrowing of his eyes. ¡°We will talk. Outside. Now.¡± Leaving no room for discussion, Isaac grabbed her by the arm again and dragged her out of the room.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    Isaac pushed her into the hallway and shut the door behind him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t push me, I can walk.¡± Muse pulled her arm out of his grasp. ¡°You should have told me.¡±

    ¡°You only would have pestered me with more questions.¡±

    ¡°I- Okay, fine,¡± she snapped. It was true, she would have. Muse flopped down into one of the seats outside the room. She was pissed but knew it wouldn¡¯t do any good to yell at him. ¡°But you should have told me. I had every right to know.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°I,¡± she stopped. Taking a breath to calm herself, she got ready for the inevitable fury she was about to meet at his hands. She screwed up, and she could guess that he didn¡¯t take failure well. ¡°I was doing as you asked. And he ran and he¡­ fell through the railing. I didn¡¯t mean to hurt him. I was an accident. I never thought he¡¯d-¡±

    ¡°Quiet, dear. You were only doing what you were told to.¡±

    What the hell? Just when she thought she could predict him, here he was being almost nice to her. One second he was yelling at her in front of Aaron, the next he was being reasonable. She narrowed one eye at him as the thought occurred to her that he might be playing her. Or playing Aaron. Or both. Isaac only twisted his lips in a thin smile in response. She almost wanted to call him on it before she realized that, again, there would be absolutely no point. She didn¡¯t consider herself stupid, but she knew she¡¯d lose that battle of wits. If he wanted to put on a show for Aaron, best she could do was dance in the chorus and follow his lead.

    ¡°You will stay here with him,¡± he said after her long moment of silence.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if he wants me to.¡±

    ¡°He will. He is a gentle heart and needs the company. He was and still is, your responsibility. Not to mention, he is prone to fits of panic. I will not have my brother further embarrassing us by throwing a tantrum inside yet another hospital. Keep him calm. You will stay with him until I tell you otherwise. Take¡­ Take care of him. He is my brother, after all.¡± Isaac reached into his coat and handed her an envelope. ¡°And give this to him with my regards and well wishes.¡± He turned and left without another word, disappearing like a grey shade around the corner.

    Muse turned the envelope over a few times in her hand before walking to the door. She really didn¡¯t want to go in there. It was the same feeling she got when she had to walk into her biology class without having done the homework. Finally, she knocked.

    <hr>

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Aaron said.

    Muse walked in, shutting the door behind her. Aaron watched her, anger welling up in him. She had already lied to him, and he had only known her for a few minutes. And if she was involved with his brother, she was trouble. ¡°You¡¯re still here,¡± he said simply.

    ¡°He¡¯s gone, though,¡± Muse said, trying her best to be helpful. She couldn¡¯t look him in the face. She stood, pressed against the door, curled in on herself, waiting for the anger. She seemed almost afraid of him - or his reaction - and he didn¡¯t understand why.

    ¡°I figured you would have left.¡±

    ¡°He told me to stay here with you.¡±

    ¡°If you want to leave, then leave,¡± he clipped.

    ¡°I want to stay if you can put up with me.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Nobody should have to be in a hospital alone. Let me keep you company for a bit, at least.¡±

    He thought about it for a long moment. He hated hospitals more than anything else in this world, and the constant beeping next to his head was going to give him a headache. He was mad at her for lying to him, but she seemed to care. He had caught the lie easily before, but this seemed sincere. ¡°Fine.¡±

    Finally picking up the nerve to move from next to the door, she walked back to her chair and sat on it, pulling her knees once again to her chest. An awkward silence settled between them.

    Aaron was the first to break it. ¡°That¡¯s how you knew my name.¡± He hated how he sounded. His voice was rough enough without the damage caused by the breathing tube. Muse looked up at him startled, obviously embarrassed. ¡°When I laid there, you came over and you called me by my name. You couldn¡¯t have known it. What were you doing in my home?¡±

    ¡°Isaac told me to spy on you. I was keeping an eye on you.¡±

    ¡°You work for my brother,¡± he snapped.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to!¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°No! I mean it! First, he drags me off without even so much as an ¡®I¡¯m sorry¡¯, then he jerks me around - I¡¯m a freaking coffee table to him. He only talks to me when he needs something - his goons are the only ones who¡¯ve ever been friendly to me. And if he tells me, one more time - just once - that I¡¯m his property, I don¡¯t care what he does - I¡¯ll find a way to hurt him,¡± she ranted indignantly. Embarrassment registered on her face and she scratched the back of her head as she looked down at the floor. ¡°Sorry¡­ I¡¯ve had that pent up in me for a while.¡±

    Aaron frowned, his heart going out to her. Her emotions registered on her face so quickly - so easily, it was kind of amazing to watch. Her rant certainly had been sincere. He knew what it was like to deal with Isaac, and it wasn¡¯t easy. He suddenly had the urge to protect her. All she seemed to want to do was take care of him, after all. ¡°It¡¯s all right,¡± Aaron replied as he shifted in the bed, the metal creaking under his large frame. ¡°I hate him too.¡±

    ¡°So at least we agree on that.¡±

    ¡°How does he control you?¡±

    ¡°He has something of mine, something kinda¡­ really... important. He¡¯s good at getting people to do what he wants.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Aaron agreed morbidly. That had to have been the understatement of the year. He scratched gently at the tape covering the IV where it stuck into his arm. It was sore, but that he could put up with. It also itched like mad, and that was the part that really bugged him. Giving up, he grunted in frustration and took up contemplating the existence of the drop ceiling.

    ¡°Oh. He also said to give you his-¡± she mimicked his voice and held up her hand and made it talk. ¡°¡®Regards and well wishes.¡¯ It¡¯d probably kill him to get that stick out of his ass.¡±

    Aaron laughed, the laugh ending quickly when he remembered that it hurt. ¡°Probably would.¡±

    She reached a small white envelope out to him. ¡°Enjoy, I suppose.¡±

    Aaron took the envelope and slowly turned it over in his hands. Ripping it open was annoying with an IV in the back of his hand, he discovered. It wasn¡¯t long after starting to read that he crumpled the paper into a small ball and chucked it across the room. He hadn¡¯t bothered to finish it.

    ¡°Nothing good I¡¯m assuming?¡±

    ¡°Lies. More lies.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright. I¡¯m used to it. Trust me, you grow up with someone like that around, and you get used to a hell of a lot,¡± he laughed, carefully this time.

    His laugh seemed to calm her down a bit, as she shifted in the chair to dangle a foot off of the edge of the seat. She paused for a long moment before finally speaking what was clearly on her mind. ¡°I know you probably don¡¯t want me here. I know you don¡¯t trust me. I don¡¯t blame you. I wouldn¡¯t trust me. If you want me to leave, I¡¯ll leave. It¡¯s up to you.¡±

    Aaron watched her closely, searching her face for anything that would make him hate her. There was something about her - the sparkle to her eye, her quick wit and her sense of humor that made him like her. There was also a gentleness to her that made him want to protect her. She shouldn¡¯t be subjected to Isaac¡¯s wrath. ¡°No. Stay.¡± He shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillow.

    He wasn¡¯t sure how much time had passed before he fell asleep - but it was welcome when it came.

 Chapter Eight

    Days went by with Muse staying at Aaron¡¯s side. She would disappear from time to time - running ¡®errands¡¯ or things like that - fetching him clothes or other amenities. Muse liked the big man - he was quiet, hard to figure out sometimes, but nice. He worried about her if she was gone for too long. He had already become so protective of her in such a short amount of time. It was a little odd, but Muse shrugged it off. The guy was obviously lonely, and she knew what that was like. So he developed attachments a little too fast - whatever.

    He was slowly progressing, the doctors still amazed at how well he was patching up. He could now get up under his own power and walk across the room, although it was hard. She kept reminding him that he was stubborn, but he insisted on walking at least to the bathroom and back without any help.

    Muse was set on folding bits of paper into little origami swans. She had a small army by now sitting on the table, and had given Aaron a good laugh by naming every single one of them. They both looked up as a nurse walked in with his lunch, which was, in truth, two lunches. Muse quickly discovered that Aaron had an appetite that could have fed a horse.

    The nurse looked over at Muse and smiled. ¡°You should go downstairs to the cafeteria, hun. Get yourself something.¡±

    ¡°Huhn? Oh, no - I already ate. But thanks.¡±

    ¡°I bet this one eats enough for two of you.¡± Before leaving, the nurse patted Aaron on the hand, which made the corner of his eye twitch.

    Turning his attention back to Muse, he furrowed his brow. ¡°You already ate?¡±

    Muse shrugged. She hated lying to him, she really did. But she had no choice at this point. Explaining to him that she was dead would be more than a little awkward. Especially when he put two and two together and realized she was the source of the haunting. ¡°Yeah - picked up a sandwich when I went to pick up your laundry from downstairs.¡±

    ¡°You were gone less than twenty minutes.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a fast eater,¡± she lied. ¡°You. Eat. Stop being silly. I¡¯m really not hungry.¡±

    Muse saw him ready another battery of questions. She knew what was coming. ¡®Why haven¡¯t I ever seen you eat?¡¯ ¡®Why haven¡¯t I ever seen you sleep?¡¯ Luckily she never had to worry about it as she heard a familiar set of voices coming from the hallway.

    ¡°Ow, Mother- Vic you get yer sorry as back here, you little pencil neck imma break your fang-face in sidewar-¡±

    ¡°Maaaal, we¡¯re in a hospital, dude¡­ watch your language.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get on my case, fang-face.¡±

    Muse groaned and slapped her hand over her eyes.

    Aaron was still chewing. ¡°Hmf?¡± he grunted in question.

    ¡°The Goons. I¡¯ll go intercept.¡± Muse walked to the door and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

    ¡°Muse!¡± Victor yelled and ran down the hallway, scooping her up in a hug and twirling her around in a circle. She yelped and clung onto him.

    ¡°Waugh!¡± she laughed as Victor put her down and began to mess up her hair. She punched him playfully and glared up at him as she did her best to straighten it, although she didn¡¯t know why she cared. It always fixed itself.

    ¡°Ey, Blue,¡± Mal pushed Victor out of the way to nudge her in the shoulder hard enough to make her pop back half a step. ¡°You missed your turn at dishes, woman. Three times!¡±

    ¡°Missed you too, Mal.¡±

    The large man grinned broadly and bellowed out a laugh, hugging her tightly - she knew he would have broken a bone or at least dislocated something if she could have felt it.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Eric?¡± she asked with another smile.

    ¡°Eh, little techno-dweeb had to babysit his car. Doesn¡¯t trust it in parking garages. He said to say hi, though,¡± Victor replied, taking off a dark set of designer sunglasses, squinting in the light. He cleaned off the lenses and put them back on.

    ¡°What¡¯re you doing out here in the middle of the day, Vic? Aren¡¯t you going to catch fire?¡±

    ¡°When Isaac told me they were coming to visit I hadda come. Sides, I can sleep later tonight. No jobs planned. And the whole sunlight thing is really just if I stay out in it too long. Five minutes and I start to hurt. It¡¯s like flash-sun-burning. Car-to-hospital isn¡¯t bad,¡± Victor grinned down at her mischievously. ¡°Besides. I just had to tell you in person I beat your score at pinball.¡±

    ¡°You jackass.¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± he said with a broader smile.

    They all turned as Isaac made his way down the hallway, donning a long black trench coat that just dusted the floor - dark grey trim at the cuffs and down each side of the long collar. He looked like something out of a nightmare, the sheer darkness of him contrasting with the bright fluorescent hospital lights. He had apparently chosen to walk while the other two rushed ahead. Isaac approached, looking more and more like an inkblot on a white page. Several employees scrambled to get out of his way.

    ¡°Hello, Muse.¡±

    ¡°Hey.¡± She looked up at him a little nervously, having a hard time trusting him when he looked almost friendly.

    ¡°Have you been taking care of him as I asked?¡± Isaac¡¯s tone of voice sounded like he was asking her if she did her homework. Muse tried not to snap at him. He was being nice. Well, sort of. He was being nice by his standards, and she didn¡¯t want to ruin it too quickly.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t like doctors, but hasn¡¯t broken any necks yet. He should be fine in a few days - or at least good to leave. He can get up and walk around under his own power. It¡¯ll be a while before he¡¯s a hundred percent, but he won¡¯t have to stay here anymore. He seems more than mildly excited about that.¡±

    ¡°You gave him the envelope?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± she said shortly.

    ¡°Did he read it?¡±

    ¡°Mostly.¡±

    Isaac paused, expecting her to continue. When she didn¡¯t, he sighed quietly and took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose and then slowly replaced them back onto his face. ¡°I am going to go talk to him.¡±

    Her small victory of annoying Isaac was dashed away at the idea of him provoking Aaron¡¯s already sensitive temper. ¡°I¡­ is that a good idea?¡±

    ¡°Why, pray tell, would speaking to my own brother be a bad idea?¡±

    ¡°He¡­ really hates you,¡± she said nervously. ¡°He¡¯ll probably pop a stitch - literally.¡±

    Isaac walked around her to the door and knocked on it. ¡°He will cope.¡± Isaac heard Aaron yell inside for whomever it was to come in. Without a parting glance at Muse and the others, Isaac entered and shut the door behind him.

    Muse didn¡¯t move as she expected the sounds of glass shattering and the sound of flying furniture. When none came, she simply shook her head. She would have paid money to be a fly on the wall, but she knew better than to phase out and hide in the room. Isaac would know, and for the time being, he wasn¡¯t absolutely unbearable. She wanted to keep it that way.

    <hr>

    ¡°Go away,¡± Aaron snarled. Shifting, he pulled himself up to a seated position. He moved to get off of the bed, but Isaac held out his hand.

    ¡°Please, stay where you are, brother. I don¡¯t want you to - as Muse so eloquently put it - ¡®pop a stitch,¡¯¡± Isaac finished quietly with a faint smirk. ¡°We must talk, and that is all I¡¯ve come here to do.¡± Isaac walked over to the seat. Moving like a black shadow, he sat down next to the bed, folding his hands in front of him.

    ¡°No. Go away,¡± Aaron repeated, ignoring the pain as the IV in his hand pulled on his flesh as he turned a little too suddenly.

    ¡°Despite what you may think, I do hope you recover. We are family, and though we have our issues, I do not like to see you in pain.¡± Isaac pushed his glasses up on his nose gently with his ring finger.

    ¡°Liar,¡± Aaron replied bitterly. The veins in his arms began to show as he clenched his fists tightly at his sides.

    ¡°Why would I lie to you now? What have I to gain?¡± Isaac crossed his legs idly, clearly unfazed by Aaron¡¯s agitation. He watched the other man with a pensive look - like a therapist¡¯s. Aaron hated therapists with a violent passion.

    ¡°I won¡¯t trust you. You don¡¯t care about anyone but yourself.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps.¡±

    ¡°If you do anything to hurt Muse, I swear¡­¡±

    ¡°So soon you¡¯re protecting her? We¡¯ve been through this routine before with your other ¡®friends.¡¯ You don¡¯t know anything about her. You barely know her - she¡¯s been here a week and a half.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s been nice to me. She cares.¡±

    ¡°You should know better. You don¡¯t know who she is,¡± Isaac said matter-of-factly.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    Aaron remained silent. He always grew quiet when he was defensive and knew he was losing the argument. Muse was his friend. He cared about her, and she obviously cared about him. Isaac was lying, and he knew it.

    ¡°Come home, Aaron. I can protect you from the demons that did this to you,¡± Isaac spoke almost too quietly to hear.

    Startled, Aaron¡¯s head snapped to look at him. ¡°How did you know?!¡± He hadn¡¯t told anyone about what had landed him here in the first place.

    ¡°You forget who I am. I could feel them that night you fell. You didn¡¯t fall, did you? You were chased.¡±

    Aaron could only nod once.

    ¡°I protected you from them when you were a child, I can protect you from them now. Come home.¡±

    Aaron growled and shook his head no. ¡°You scared me with ghost stories and stupid magic tricks when I was a child, brother.¡± Aaron spat out the last word, glaring at Isaac with his one usable eye. ¡°You lied to me about the demons then. You¡¯re lying now.¡±

    Isaac¡¯s face stayed unreadable, almost emotionless. ¡°Do you think they will leave you alone? The only thing keeping you safe is Muse, who I put here to protect you.¡±

    ¡°Muse keeps them away?¡± Aaron asked slowly, she seemed so normal. Normal for Isaac¡¯s standards, anyway.

    ¡°She has her ways. She works for me, after all.¡±

    Aaron growled quietly under his breath. He hated it when Isaac was right. If she was involved with his brother, there must be something strange about her. Isaac only collected freaks.

    ¡°Once you are out of here and she is not by your side, the demons will return. You may not be so lucky next time. They tried to claim you when you were a child. Didn¡¯t you think they would come back for what they missed?¡±

    ¡°No. No. It¡¯s a lie, it¡¯s not real!¡±

    Isaac sighed sadly. ¡°They are very real, my brother. I do not want to have to bury you with your parents.¡±

    ¡°Our parents¡­¡± Aaron corrected, the bitterness never leaving his voice.

    Isaac paused for a moment and shut his eyes. ¡°I do not want to have to bury you, regardless. Take some time to think on it, Aaron.¡± Isaac opened his eyes and stood up, walking back to the door. Pausing at the door, he turned his head to look at Aaron with a rare look of sadness. ¡°Get well, please. I do mean that.¡±

    ¡°Go to hell.¡±

    ¡°Oh, brother,¡± Isaac said with a sarcastic smile. ¡°You know how foolish that is to say.¡± Isaac opened the door and stepped into the hallway, shutting the door again behind him.

    <hr>

    The conversation between Victor, Mal and Muse stopped abruptly as Isaac made his entrance.

    Mal rubbed his hand across his bald head. ¡°So how¡¯s the freak?¡± he asked, with a surprising amount of interest in his voice. Muse looked up at him curiously, wondering why the big man cared.

    ¡°He will be fine.¡± Isaac walked up to Muse and looked down at her. ¡°Continue to stay here with him. I will return on Thursday.¡±

    Muse nodded once. It was Tuesday now, and she didn¡¯t mind the idea of another few days without Isaac bothering her.

    Isaac turned and walked down the hallway, and gestured his hand. Victor hugged Muse goodbye before following Isaac down the hallway. Mal simply whacked Muse on the back hard enough to make her stumble forward. He grinned lopsidedly down at her and took one big hand and tousled her hair. Laughing at the look she shot him, he turned and followed the two other men around the corner.

    Muse watched the men leave, but she really didn¡¯t know quite what to think. She used to believe her ¡®life¡¯ couldn¡¯t get any stranger, but here she was. She had to admit she was sad to see the ¡®boys¡¯ go. They were growing on her. Like mold, she thought to herself with a small chuckle. She wondered why they put up with Isaac like they did. Shrugging it off, she turned and walked back into Aaron¡¯s hospital room.

    Aaron was obviously less than happy. She shut the door behind her, and walked up to the bed and sat down. ¡°Stupid question warning. What¡¯s wrong, Aaron?¡± She knew Isaac - as was his nature apparently - had said something to upset him.

    ¡°Nothing. Nothing¡¯s wrong,¡± he clipped.

    ¡°Liar.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it,¡± Aaron shuffled to lay down, keeping his eyes shut. ¡°I¡¯m tired.¡±

    Muse went silent for a long while. Isaac had said something awful, clearly. ¡°I¡¯ll be here.¡± She watched as he fell into a fitful sleep. Not knowing what else to do, she decided she was also pretty tired. Vanishing, she floated up into the corner of the room and fell asleep.

    <hr>

    Muse watched as Aaron was standing by the window with only a few remaining bandages around his midsection. Gripping his hands behind his back he stretched, groaning as his muscles whined from lack of use.

    ¡°Christ,¡± Muse laughed, watching his muscles ripple in his back. The man was built like a tank. ¡°How much do you bench?¡±

    ¡°A lot. Less than Mal,¡± Aaron said with a wide smile. ¡°He¡¯s bigger than me.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t count. Mal is bigger than most construction equipment,¡± she laughed again, glad to see Aaron in a good mood. She tilted her head slightly, thoughtfully. ¡°Hey, Aaron, can I ask you something?¡±

    ¡°Sure. But I might not answer it,¡± Aaron warned, the humor fading from his voice.

    ¡°Fair enough. Isaac is¡­ okay, Isaac isn¡¯t short. He¡¯s¡­ like¡­ what¡­ 6¡¯1? 6¡¯2? What¡¯re you?¡± Muse had guessed at just under seven feet before, she wondered how close she was.

    ¡°6¡¯9,¡± he replied, and she heard the relief in his voice. She tried to figure out what he thought she was going to ask, and supposed that he was paranoid about the scars. It wasn¡¯t that she didn¡¯t notice, or wasn¡¯t curious - god knows she was curious. But she knew better than to ask. It was obviously a very, very personal subject, and she didn¡¯t want to bust their budding friendship.

    ¡°He¡¯s not nearly as broad as you are. You two are seriously brothers?¡±

    ¡°We are,¡± he said begrudgingly. ¡°We¡¯re born of the same parents. That¡¯s about where the ¡®brother¡¯ thing ends.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re nicer than he is.¡±

    Aaron pulled a green t-shirt over his head, pulling it down around him - carefully tugging it over the bandages. ¡°You don¡¯t know what I¡¯ve done,¡± he finally answered, sadness darkening his features.

    ¡°I just said you were nicer than Isaac.  That¡¯s really not hard to accomplish.¡±

    Aaron had to laugh despite himself. ¡°Good point.¡± He looked over at her with a warm smile. He stretched again, scratching at the bandage absent-mindedly.

    ¡°I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re up and around. You feel okay?¡±

    Aaron nodded wordlessly and turned to look at her. ¡°You already eat?¡± Aaron asked rather darkly.

    Muse returned the silent nod, knowing that the man must be getting concerned by her habits by now. She could only pray quietly to whoever would listen that he wouldn¡¯t call her on it. At least not yet.

    Aaron flopped down onto the bed and smiled. Muse had brought him lunch from downstairs - he had been craving a burger and fries, and she finally gave in. He had barely shoved a few fries into his face before there was a knock at the door. Getting up, she jumped aside as a man wearing every tell-tale sign of ¡®Doctor¡¯ swung the door open and brushed passed her.

    Looking into the hallway, she noticed that the doctor had come with friends. A lot of friends. Heavily armed friends. She swallowed hard, wondering what the hell was going on.

    ¡°It seems we have¡­ an issue.¡± The doctor was peering at his clipboard from behind his glasses.

    ¡°Oh?¡± Aaron asked quietly. Muse walked around the doctor to stand near Aaron, hoping she wouldn¡¯t have to restrain the big man. If she had to, she could wrestle him to the ground. Being dead made her a hell of a lot stronger than she should be, but she really didn¡¯t want to explain that to him.

    ¡°Yes. Aaron, your medical records just arrived.¡± He made a small clicking noise with his tongue as he flipped through the paperwork on the clipboard. ¡°It took us a great deal of time to track them down. You should be pleased the police, the Vatican and their Crusaders haven¡¯t been notified,¡± the doctor continued, looking narrowly at him. Aaron looked like he was trying to set the Doctor on fire with his mind. ¡°A team of specialists is on their way from a private institution that is very interested in speaking with you.¡±

    Muse yelped as she got shoved aside abruptly, landing roughly against the wall. She looked over at Aaron who had pushed her away, growling deep in his throat at the doctor. Aaron was radiating rage and hatred - she could quite literally see it. For the first time in the short period of time she had known him, she realized Aaron was dangerous. There was a glassy, soulless, heartless quality to his eyes, a look that was barely human. Every muscle in his body was taught, and his breathing was hard and shallow.

    Muse jumped, startled again as the tray on the stand next to her startled to rattle and vibrate like it had a mind of its own. It only got worse from there. The tray shot across the room, shattering against the wall. The pictures on the walls began to rattle where they hung, and the window blinds tore loose. The doctor recoiled in fear as the metal frame of the bed suddenly shuddered, crunched, buckled, and folded in like an accordion with a horrendous noise.

    Muse stared agog at the bed. She frantically looked around the room for the source of the chaos, and the only thing she could think of was¡­ Aaron. It seems the security guards thought the same thing, as their guns were drawn and aimed directly at him.

    ¡°Aaron! Aaron, relax!¡± Muse ran over to him, putting her hand on his arm as the glass in the frames in the room began to shatter one by one.

    Aaron¡¯s head snapped to look at her, and she pulled back reflexively as there was no recognition in his eyes. It was like he had never seen her before. In fact, he was barely focused on her - it was like he was looking through her. Everything was vibrating, and from the cries in the hallway, it wasn¡¯t just the room.

    Muse opened her mouth to speak but nothing happened. She looked back at the doctor, whose eyes were wide staring at Aaron with the same fear.

    ¡°I¡¯ll sign his release,¡± came a calm voice from the door. The doctor squealed and turned in shock. In one instant, all of the rattling cut short and came to a halt.

    Isaac stood in the doorway, leaning lightly against the frame. He picked himself off of it and stepped forward and repeated himself to the doctor. ¡°I will sign for him and will be taking him home.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t a matter of signing a release, Sir - there are specialists-¡°

    ¡°I am his older brother,¡± Isaac glared down at the smaller man and tore the clipboard out of his hands. ¡°And I am more than capable of dealing with my brother¡¯s tendencies. You may tell the specialists when they arrive, Sir, that their quarry has exited the building. Do you wish to argue with me?¡±

    Aaron collapsed onto his knees onto the floor, doubled over. Muse approached him slowly, trying to comfort him. She went to go put her hand on his shoulder. Aaron swatted her hand away. Muse stayed there but didn¡¯t reach for him again, afraid of angering him any further. She once again had no idea what the hell was happening, and only seemed to be along for the ride.

    Isaac was reading the paper patiently, seemingly ignorant of what was happening in the room. Flicking the pen deftly around between the fingers of his right hand, he was signing and checking certain boxes as he went through the pages.

    ¡°Sir, this man is¡­ you can¡¯t possibly understand what you¡¯re doing! Security will stop you!¡±

    Isaac raised his gaze but didn¡¯t lift his head, staring a hole into the man above the rim of his glasses. He held the glare for a long moment before he spoke flatly. ¡°Try me.¡±

    Aaron stood up abruptly and snarled in rage. He had a look like he was going to pound someone into the ground ¨C either the Doctor, Isaac or both.

    ¡°It is this or another hospital,¡± Isaac said dryly.

    Aaron moaned in pain and backed away, kicking the crumpled remains of a bed hard enough to send it crashing into the wall, punching a rather large hole in the wallpaper. He started to pace the room again, his head lowered.

    Isaac sighed and resumed reading the papers, unaffected by his brother¡¯s spurt of anger. He spoke as he continued to flip through the pages. ¡°Brother, this is for the best you realize. It solves both of your problems.¡± Muse had no clue know what he meant by ¡®both problems,¡¯ but now was not the time to ask. Aaron only moaned in reply. ¡°And you, Doctor¡­ if you, or any of your armed ¡®security guards¡¯ attempt to interfere with our exiting his building¡­ you will sorely regret it. Get your things, Aaron.¡± Isaac finished the last page, folded it back to the first, and slapped the clipboard onto the chest of the doctor hard enough to sting. Judging by the look on Isaac¡¯s face, if it were worth the trouble, the doctor would be dead where he stood. ¡°It¡¯s time to go.¡±

    ¡°Where?¡± Muse asked quietly, her hands stuffed into her pant pockets.

    ¡°Home.¡±

 Chapter Nine

    Victor slid down the banister into the front foyer, humming to himself. He had yet another tune stuck in his head - and he wasn''t quite sure from where. Skidding to a halt in front of the hallway mirror and looked at himself, and flashed his award-winning smile. He straightened the collar of his dark green button-down silk shirt, twisting to give the rest of his reflection the once-over. Just another day in the ¡®life¡¯ for him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, your ass looks smashing in those pants.¡± Muse appeared, leaning against the wall by the stairs. ¡°But, really, vinyl? I thought that went out of style with my generation.¡±

    ¡°Gah!¡± Victor yelped. ¡°Man, girl, seriously - you really - really gotta stop doing that." He wondered if he could suffer a heart attack as a vampire. Probably not, but he wasn''t looking forward to testing the theory.

    ¡°Sorry, you think you¡¯d get used to it.¡± Amusement glittered in her eyes. He suspected she really actually enjoyed scaring the crap out of him. He didn''t totally blame her, he spent his time getting his jollies doing weirder things.

    Victor shrugged - the momentary frustration vanishing as quickly as it came. He tended not to hold grudges. ¡°Yeah, you think I would. Hey, it¡¯s good to see you finally come downstairs! Haven¡¯t seen you in a while.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been sulking.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Victor blinked.

    ¡°The whole... weirdness with Aaron. Hey, Vic? I have a favor to ask.¡± He watched as she started nervously fidgeting with her necklaces, twisting the chain around in her fingers. Victor frowned slightly. Whatever she was going to ask, she didn¡¯t want to.

    ¡°Anything for you, babe.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell Aaron I¡¯m dead.¡±

    Victor slapped a hand over his face and let out a low sigh, running his hand back over his hair. Great. That¡¯s all they needed. Aaron was a big, creepy freak with a very, very short fuse. If he found out that Muse was lying to him, all unholy hell would break loose. Literally.

    ¡°Why haven¡¯t you told him? How hard is it to say - ¡®Hey, watch this¡¯ and go through a table?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s... complicated.¡± She slouched, staring at the floor. Victor wasn¡¯t exactly the brightest one in the building, but he knew she was hiding something. He¡¯d pry it out of her, but the girl looked upset enough as it was.

    ¡°Fine... fine... I won¡¯t tell him.¡± Victor reached out and placed his palms on either side of her face and tipped it up to look at him. She felt warm against his hands, even though he knew better than to think it was real. Trying to look as serious as he physically capable of doing, he met her blue eyes. ¡°But you know he¡¯ll find out eventually.¡±

    He let go of her head as she lowered it again, and wrapped her arms around herself. ¡°I know. And trust me, you¡¯ll know when I do.¡± Christ, she was cute.

    ¡°Awww, c¡¯mere...¡± Victor reached out and pulled her into a hug, resting his cheek against the top of her head. She really was warm. That was odd. He wondered how that was. But enough of this moody shit. He was in a good mood, and he knew exactly what would fix hers. Victor jumped back and turned to the side, grinning wide at her. ¡°Hey, do you think these pants are okay or should have I gone with leather?¡± Victor said, turning again to look at his reflection. He flicked at his shirt, brushing off a piece of lint.

    Muse laughed, the smile lingering. His pride puffed up as he successfully cheered her up, if even just a little. ¡°Leather pants and a silk shirt? Ew. No. Those pants are fine.¡± She made a face. ¡°So you¡¯ve got a hot date?¡±

    ¡°Nah, going clubbing." Victor picked at one of his teeth. He knew he was attractive. He had always known he was attractive. It was more of a game to him than anything else, truth be told. He wondered if Muse thought he was a complete egotistical prick and found himself truly hoping she didn¡¯t.

    "Again?¡± Muse gestured for him to turn around. Smiling, he did so.

    Taking hold of his shirt, he watched her reflection as she began straightening it out in the back. He stood there with his arms out slightly as she tucked his shirt in. He relished in the attention.

    ¡°What club?¡±

    ¡°Oh, some silly vampire club. It¡¯s fun. Little cliquey, but, whatever. Free food.¡± Victor flashed his fangs. He finally asked what he had been wanting to ask for a while. ¡°Hey, Muse, you oughta come!¡±

    ¡°To a vampire bar?" She looked unsure, scrunching her nose up in an expression he couldn''t help but find adorable.

    ¡°Yeah!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a vampire. And I don¡¯t think I¡¯d make a good... uh.. ¡®party favor¡¯ either...¡±

    He snorted and shook his head, and hopped up and down on his feet. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine, you should come! The music is totally right up your alley,¡± he said with another broad grin.

    ¡°Vampires listening to Depeche Mode and The Cure. Yeah... we¡¯ve come a long way." Muse shook her head, her blue bangs falling in front of her face. "Rain check, next time."

    ¡°Awwww, Muuuuse,¡± Victor whined and kept swaying from one foot to the other, looking down at her with his best pitiful puppy dog expression.

    ¡°No, I promised I¡¯d play poker with Eric and Mal."

    ¡°But Poker¡¯s laaaaaaaaame,¡± Victor whined again, pouting.

    Muse winced at the note that he reached with his whine and punched him in the arm. Victor grumped and reached out, and tousled her hair with both hands. He loved to get into these kinds of matches, and it was a rare thing to find a girl who would play along. ¡°Aughk! Hey!¡± Muse squeaked and went for retaliation, only to have Victor jump back, both hands in the air.

    ¡°Hey, hey, now, don¡¯t muss the shirt. I¡¯ve reached a level of perfection here, y¡¯know. It¡¯s hard work.¡±

    Muse snorted and ran her hands through her hair. ¡°Yeah, yeah, well, I¡¯m still not going.¡±

    ¡°Friday.¡± Victor pointed at her.

    ¡°Deal. Friday.¡± Muse smirked and folded her arms. ¡°I¡¯ll try not to get you beat up.¡±

    Victor laughed and checked his reflection again in the mirror before heading out the door. ¡°Oh!¡± he called, and fished a pair of car keys out of his pocket, jingling them as he poked his head back in. ¡°Tell Eric I borrowed his car. Bye!¡± Before Muse could respond, he shut the door.

    ¡°Oh God," he heard her muffled groan, and it just made his grin all the wider.

    <hr>

    Muse walked up the stairs, an action she still wasn¡¯t used to. Walking up stairs was far more annoying when you had the choice to just drift through them. But, she didn¡¯t want to take any chances floating through random parts of the house like she was accustomed to doing, in case she happened across Aaron at the wrong moment. She wound up on the second floor to Isaac''s study. She examined the wood, trying to decide whether or not this was a smart idea. Grunting once, she finally knocked quietly on the door.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Come in," came his simple reply.

    Walking in, she quietly shut the door behind her. She found Isaac standing in front of one of his bookcases, thumbing through a book. By the narrowed expression on his face, he wasn¡¯t finding what he was looking for. Abruptly snapping the book shut, the sound startled her. She laughed at herself silently for being so wound up. Isaac slipped the book back onto a vacant slot between two other volumes.

    Muse watched, really not sure how she was going to start this conversation. He broke the silence first as he searchingly ran his fingers along the leather spines.

    ¡°Yes?¡± he said without looking.

    ¡°I, uh, I have a weird favor to ask."

    ¡°Oh, hello Muse.¡± Isaac turned his head briefly towards her, then went back to what he was doing. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize it was you. You don¡¯t knock, and I¡¯ve never known you to use a door. What¡¯s troubling you?¡±

    It took her a moment to work up the nerve to ask, but her resolve failed halfway through her sentence. ¡°I was hoping if you, well¡­¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t tell Aaron that you are not of the living?¡± Isaac finished.

    ¡°How¡¯d you guess?¡±

    ¡°It was easy to tell that you hadn¡¯t told him. I can understand why - what with it raising uncomfortable questions about what caused the unusual happenings in the house. And because it means that you were lying to him.¡± Isaac put the book back on the shelf. He tapped his chin lightly as he thought.

    ¡°Not by choice - and I haven¡¯t lied,¡± Muse said shortly. ¡°I just haven¡¯t told him the whole truth, is all.¡±

    ¡°So soon she learns." He sounded amused.

    ¡°Oh, oh no - don¡¯t put me in the same boat as you, Sparky."

    ¡°Sparky?¡± That caught his attention. Isaac blinked and turned to face her, a quizzical look on his sharp features. ¡°Did you just call me Sparky?¡±

    ¡°Yep. Sparky.¡±

    ¡°First ¡®Champ¡¯ and now ¡®Sparky.¡¯ Mm... hmm.¡± That seemed to catch him for a long moment. ¡°You still at times escape my logic.¡± Isaac shook his head, walked to his wooden chair and sat down, swiveling it about to face the desk. Muse could almost see the light bulb switch on over his head as Isaac started to shuffle through the papers with renewed interest. Finding what he was looking for, he picked up his pen and began to write on another piece of paper. The conversation was clearly over.

    Muse walked to the door, finding that she was smiling in spite of herself. He was a quirky s.o.b, that was sure. She was starting to get used to Isaac, and it was getting harder to hate him. She didn''t like him, but she found herself not despising the thought of him - even if it was ¡®his way or no way¡¯ at all times. She shrugged it off and headed to the door. ¡°¡®Night,¡± she said as she walked out. Isaac merely grunted quietly in reply as she shut the door.

    Muse started walking toward the attic. She looked around down the stairs for anyone, and then opened the door to the attic stairs with a loud creak. The noise startled her - she hadn''t ever heard the door before, what with her never having actually used it.

    ¡°Muse?¡±

    She turned around quickly to see Aaron standing at the end of the hallway. His huge form filled the end of the hallway - she wondered if he had borrowed a shirt from Mal, as the simple black shirt was a size too large for him. ¡°Where¡¯re you going?¡±

    ¡°Oh. Uhn. The attic,¡± Muse said with a weak smile.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I... hang out up there.¡±

    ¡°Again, why?¡± Aaron said, a small chuckle in his voice.

    ¡°Keeps me out of foot traffic,¡± she said without thinking. He blinked at her and she quickly stammered. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s a quiet place. Lots of neat books. Records. Comic books. It¡¯s my little tree house.¡±

    Aaron nodded after a second. ¡°I understand. ... I used to try to hide from Isaac too." His scarred features perked up slightly as he processed what she said. "Comic books?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you want some?¡± She motioned for him to follow her up the narrow wooden staircase. She climbed up and heard his heavy footfalls as he followed her.

    Aaron climbed up through the floor, brushing his long curly brown hair back away from his face as he climbed to the top. She had put out a table that she had found out to one side, a few books laying stacked atop it. She had hung up a few of the more interesting paintings, placed a few sculptures of long-dead little-known historians, poets or musicians about.

    Muse had even pulled a sofa up the stairs weeks prior - much to Eric¡¯s dismay, who happened across a floating sofa at two in the morning - and it sat against one wall. An old vinyl record player sat on top of a stack of boxes, next to a bookshelf that she had placed various records, stacks of music scores, books, and other strange things she had taken a liking to.

    ¡°Do you sleep up here?¡± Aaron asked, walking across the floor, ducking his head under a wooden beam.

    ¡°Eh... no," Muse lied. "I spend most of my time here, though." Muse flopped down on the sofa. She still didn¡¯t understand exactly why she rearranged the room ¨C she guessed it was out of a need to feel some sort of connection to the place. It was nice to feel like she ''owned'' something, even if nothing up here was actually hers.

    Aaron nodded once, turning over in his head what was going on. He began asking her a question, but looking down at a box sitting beside the table, his train of thought was suddenly interrupted by what he saw. ¡°Hey!¡± With a laugh he reached down, pulling out a stack of comic books. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen these in, hell, years.¡± He started to flip through them, a broad smile across his face.

    Muse watched the joy cross his features as he searched through them. He seemed so childlike sometimes. ¡°How¡¯re you doing?¡± Muse asked after a few moments.

    Aaron settled down onto the sofa, taking in the faded color of the old comics in his lap. His hair was hanging down, half obscuring his face. As he curled himself over slightly, he seemed to almost shrink. She wondered how someone so big could make himself seem so small. It took him a long time to respond. ¡°The same as you are, I imagine... stuck here. Because of Isaac. I''m not... I¡¯m not happy about it.¡±

    ¡°Yeah...¡± She leaned over his shoulder as he settled on an old installment of ''The Flash.'' She wanted to change the subject quickly - she saw what Aaron had done in the hospital - something she desperately wanted to ask him about. You can¡¯t ask him for the truth when you¡¯re lying, she reprimanded herself as she found another topic. ¡°I¡¯m more of an X-men girl myself.¡±

    ¡°What? Oh.¡± Aaron laughed. Muse seemed to be able to pull him out of his funk. ¡°I have a bunch of those around here somewhere. I¡¯m surprised Isaac kept them.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think he really knows what¡¯s up here,¡± Muse shrugged. ¡°Better for me, keeps me occupied. I like to dig through the boxes up here and see what I can find. Found some neat books, old VHS tapes. I''m kind of afraid to find out what''s on them."

    ¡°Mm.¡± Aaron leaned back on the sofa and it creaked lightly. ¡°I don¡¯t understand why you¡¯re here, Muse.¡±

    ¡°I like the quiet.¡±

    ¡°No, not the attic... I mean... here... with all of them.¡±

    ¡°Isaac has something of mine,¡± Muse said after a moment of debating the best way to phrase it.

    ¡°No, I mean, why... why does he care?¡±

    ¡°Care is a poor choice of words.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but, why you? Why¡¯d he pick you? What''s so special about you?¡±

    Crap... She had absolutely no way of answering that. She sat there unable to answer, staring at Aaron uselessly as thoughts flew through her mind, but none of them were any good. She opened her mouth to stammer out a lame reply when she heard the latch to the attic door swing open. They both looked over as Isaac climbed to the top of the narrow stairs. "Speak of the devil," Muse said with an ironic smile, although in truth she was relieved - she didn¡¯t think she¡¯d ever be happy to see that man.

    Isaac looked surprised to see Aaron sitting there. ¡°Oh. Hello, Aaron. Hm. I like what you¡¯ve done with your room, Muse.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ this is your room,¡± Aaron said to her, his eyes narrowed.

    She stammered uselessly for a moment. ¡°I¡­ okay, fine..¡±

    ¡°You lied.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m in an attic. It¡¯s embarrassing.¡±

    Muse had never thought she would have been happy for Isaac¡¯s constant orders, but she felt relief flood her as Isaac cut off the conversation abruptly. ¡°Come, it¡¯s time for us to go.¡±

    "Us?" Muse asked curiously.

    "I have just discovered the location of something that is of importance to me. I am sorry I did not mention this to you when we just spoke. We''re going to go fetch it. Now," Isaac finished.

    "Right now."

    "Yes," Isaac pushed his glasses up his nose slightly with a shove of his ring finger. "In this particular matter, I am impatient. Aaron, you are coming along."

    "No," Aaron growled, standing up, dropping the comics next to him. "I don''t work for you. You can''t order me around."

    Isaac shut his eyes, taking a moment, and then reopened them. "I do not have time to argue this. Very well. You may stay," he said bitingly.

    Muse watched the muscles in Aaron¡¯s neck spasm as he clenched his jaw tight. He grunted, forcing himself to relax and restrain the obvious temptation of pounding Isaac''s head into the wall. She knew the feeling.

    "Come along, Muse."

    Muse got up off the couch. ¡°Sorry, big guy..." Muse turned and headed for the stairs, almost too excited to get out of the room and away from the conversation. She ducked under Isaac¡¯s arm as he lifted it in surprise to get out of the way of her speedy exit. Isaac turned to leave, turning his attention from her back to the other man.

    ¡°You do not know who you¡¯re ¡®friends¡¯ with, Aaron.¡± Isaac climbed down the stairs and left Aaron sitting in the attic, alone.

 Chapter Ten

    Muse stood outside, leaning against Isaac¡¯s ¡®personal¡¯ car - a shiny black BMW - and watched Isaac leave the house and shrugged on on his long grey coat with the black trim, and adjusted the collar. The man had an uncommon glint in his eyes. He was... amused.

    ¡°What?¡± She didn''t like the look - he was up to something.

    ¡°Did I interrupt an awkward moment between Aaron and yourself?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Muse said ruefully.

    ¡°You are a truly abysmal liar,¡± Isaac said as he opened got into the car, and she followed suit. Muse reached over for the seat belt out of reflex as they started to drive, then laughed at herself internally and let it go.

    ¡°Y¡¯know you don¡¯t always need to be insulting me,¡± Muse narrowed an eye at him.

    ¡°That was not an insult.¡±

    She paused. ¡°Hrmph,¡± was the best she could come up with.

    Isaac was quiet as they drove, tuning the radio to a classical station, keeping it rather dialed down. Finally, he spoke. ¡°You and my brother have become fast friends, it seems.¡±

    ¡°I like him. He¡¯s nice. It''s strange, he''s like an overgrown kid sometimes,¡± she said, gazing out the window with no particular interest at anything she was looking at.

    ¡°He is quick to attach to others. Sometimes, it is not healthy. But, he was always the likable one of the family.¡±

    Muse looked over at him curiously. ¡°If I didn''t know better, I''d say you were jealous." All she got out of him for that was silence. "You two really hate each other, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Isaac kept his focus on the road, pushing his glasses up his nose slightly. ¡°He despises me.¡± A pause. ¡°He has his reasons.¡±

    ¡°Are they good reasons?¡±

    Isaac took in a deep breath. His reply sounded unusually heavy. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Do you regret it?¡±

    ¡°Regret what?¡±

    ¡°Whatever it is you did.¡±

    ¡°Mm, my dear, it was not just one thing I did to him. It was many. I regret most but not all.¡±

    ¡°BLARH!¡± came a loud scream from next to her head.

    Muse screamed loudly, thrashing in the seat. She whirled around, seeing Eric leaning over between the seats, laughing hysterically.

    "Oh - screw you!"

    "The look on your face! Oh, man. That''s revenge, woman! That''s what you get! Now you know what it feels like!"

    Muse realized that Eric wasn''t the only one laughing - a high pitched giggle was coming from next to him. Lifting her head, she saw Ezekiel sitting next to him, holding the jar in his lap. He waved excitedly at Muse.

    "Oh, hey, Ezekiel."

    "Hi! Hi Ghosty! Did the ghost lose her air-guitar?"

    Muse didn''t even know how to respond to that one.

    "Are you pleased with the results of your little prank, Eric?" Isaac interrupted, glancing up at the rearview mirror.

    "Yeah." Eric leaned back and snickered. "You got to admit that was hysterical, Muse."

    "Wait-" Muse turned and shot a look at Isaac in disbelief. "You were in on that?"

    "Hard not to be, what with them being in the back seat of my car."

    She paused. They were ganging up on her now. "Lame." Muse tried her best to look bitter. She didn''t know what was more entertaining - Eric trying to scare her out of revenge, or Isaac quietly going along with it.

    They were in the car for what seemed like forever - they must have driven for hours. Muse was afraid to nod off, as she was worried she¡¯d phase out and find herself alone on a highway somewhere when she woke up. Finally, somewhere around one in the morning, Isaac pulled the black BMW into the parking lot of a building whose sign betrayed it as being a natural history museum.

    "Ooo, are we going on a school field trip?" Muse piped sarcastically.

    "Field trip! I love field trips! I always get to eat the ticket stubs..." Ezekiel''s laugh suddenly faded into a wistful sigh. "They taste like paper."

    "I guess they would," Muse commented as they climbed out of the car.

    Blast goggles secured over his eyes, Eric had a set of metal briefcases in his hands, wasting no time as he walked off into the darkness. He wound around the side of the building and disappeared.

    "Where''s he going?" she asked Isaac.

    "To disable the security system and provide us with any advanced warning should we need it," Isaac pulled his coat closed as a chill wind swirled the dark fabric around him. The night was grey and drizzly, painted an unnatural sickly orange by the street lamps dotting the road.

    Ezekiel planted Mr. Blinky firmly onto the back seat of the BMW. "Stay, Mr. Blinky. Don''t wander off. It won''t be safe in there for you! I know you want to come, but you can''t... No, you can''t do that either! ... Fine, yes, listen to the radio."

    Isaac was walking from the car towards the front of the building, having almost made it the whole distance to the doors while she had been distracted by Ezekiel''s ''conversation.'' Muse jogged to catch up. "Right... so why are we here again?"

    "To retrieve an item of interest."

    "You said that. What is it? Why?"

    Isaac turned his head to her for a moment, as if debating whether or not to tell her. He walked up to the glass door but didn''t attempt to open them, folding his hands behind his back, waiting patiently for some kind of sign. "Very well. I see no harm in telling you. I lost someone of importance. I seek to retrieve them. In order to do so, I need a relic from inside."

    "You lost someone. Lost, as in like, misplaced or-" she stopped at the look from Isaac. "Oh." Muse fell silent as they waited. ¡°Oh...¡± There was a loud click, and Isaac pushed the door open. "For what it''s worth, I''m sorry."

    "It is appreciated," Isaac replied quietly as they pushed through the second set of doors into the main room of the marble-floored museum. His wing-tip shoes made echoing clips on the polished floor as he walked and peered up thoughtfully at a large dinosaur skeleton in the center of the room.

    The displays and statues that dotted the walls cast strange shadows in the dim glow from exit signs and the spare security lights. The shadows looked almost like monsters, the figures of various statues and skeletons looking like twisted childhood nightmares on the marble. Muse stood just barely inside, looking up at the vaulted ceiling and the second story balcony that stretched overhead.

    Shuffling in after them, Ezekiel made an ''ooo'' noise and started to stray off to the right. Muse quickly grabbed the back of his shirt, tugging him back to her. Muse looked over at Isaac again. "Why''d we bring Zeek?" Not that she minded, but it was a rare thing to bring Ezekiel out and about.

    "I need him to identify the correct statue. Come, I need to locate the Egyptian section."

    They walked from room to room of the sizable museum, Muse holding onto Ezekiel''s hand, tugging him along as he babbled incoherently about bacon, footstools, and footstools made out of bacon. Isaac pulled up short suddenly and Muse nearly bumped into him.

    She put her hand over her eyes as a bright light shone on them. Finally squinting past it, she saw that it was a man holding a flashlight just in front of them in the corridor.

    "Owww! The sun is too bright!" Ezekiel whimpered.

    "Freeze! I don''t know who you are, but you''re trespassing," came a male voice that did its best to sound official. Focusing past the light, she saw that a man with every sign of ¡®security guard¡¯ was pointing a gun at them. She wanted to ask when museum guards got guns, but she never got the chance.

    "I would suggest you leave." Isaac began taking slow steps towards the guard, unconcerned by the weapon pointed at him.

    "I said freeze, buddy."

    Isaac took his glasses off of his nose, folded them up and neatly tucked them into his coat. "I will not give you another chance. Leave now," his footfalls echoed against the walls with the same measured pace.

    "I''ll shoot, man!"

    "I would think not." Isaac suddenly moved - Muse had never seen him go that fast. Both Muse and Ezekiel ducked reflexively as the guard''s gun went off, the bullet pinging off of the wall behind them. Isaac grabbed the guard¡¯s arm and wrenched, the gun skittering across the floor under a display of a taxidermy bear. Dragging the man to his knees, Isaac stood over him, the guard''s arm wrenched behind his back.

    Whimpering, the man stammered. "Please, please man - don''t - don''t - I''ve got a wife - I-"

    "You had your chance," Isaac said cooly.

    Muse knew she would spend years attempting to drag the image she was about to see out of her mind and had a sinking suspicion she''d never succeed.

    Isaac placed his palm flat against the man''s forehead. Smoke began to curl off of the man''s flesh, curling into the air in slow wisps as he screamed. Suddenly, the man''s skin caught fire, flames curling up around him. Incinerating, he let out a shriek of pure fear and agony - yet seemed unable to move as his flesh blackened and charred, flaking loose and falling away. His flesh had turned the same color and texture of burned remains on the bottom of an oven. The man¡¯s mouth finally locked open in a silent scream as all sound was taken away. Muscles shriveling and crisping, fire leaped from his mouth and burst through his empty eye sockets. It must have only taken seconds, but to Muse, it felt like forever as the man was reduced to barely anything more than a pile of ash and a few blackened bones.

    If she could have vomited, she would have.

    Ezekiel let out a trembling sigh. "Roasty toasty... someone''s gonna need a dustpan... dustpan, dustpan..."

    Isaac brushed the soot off of his hand and wiped it clean on his handkerchief before retrieving his glasses. Looking back at the horrified Muse, his expression never changed.

    "You forget who I am." He turned and stepped over the mess further into the museum. "Come."

    Ezekiel was the one now dragging Muse along as she forced her eyes away from the pile of ash and the remains of a skull staring up at her. She hugged Ezekiel''s arm to her, needing to hold onto something.

    "S''okay..." Ezekiel said quietly to her and hugged her arm back. "It was scary, I know... But s''okay."

    "How is it okay?" Muse finally managed to drag out of her throat.

    "I dunno,¡± he paused. ¡°Hugs make everything better." Ezekiel threw his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "Ooh, hey! Hey! Shiny!" Ezekiel tore into the darkness suddenly, running down a hallway.

    Isaac adjusted his direction, following the chubby little man. For some reason, this time Isaac seemed to trust Ezekiel''s guidance. Muse didn''t want to walk near him, but sadly realized she had no other choice. She stayed a good distance away, her arms wrapped around herself.

    "I have taken many lives in my time, Muse. Most suffered worse fates than he. I know this troubles you, but you will have to adjust. If you wish to bring this up to me at another time, we can discuss it then." There almost seemed to be a tight look of pain on his face, but Muse blamed it on the shadows.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    "Right."

    She suddenly found herself surrounded by large statues of humans with animal heads, glass cases with beaded jewelry, and ancient pottery. She looked up at the statue of a man with a dog''s head, carrying an ankh in one hand. Anubis, she recognized. She wasn''t a goth from the 80''s without knowing her share of Egyptian mythos. Horus, Ra, Sekhmet, and Thoth had matching statues - scattered amongst the displays.

    "Which is it, Ezekiel?" Isaac asked, his soft voice carrying easily in the large room.

    The chubby little man was pacing from one statue to another, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. "Anubis, Sekhmet, Thoth, Ra. Anubis-Sekhmet-Thoth-Ra. Anuhkmethothra." Ezekiel giggled and waved his hands frantically up at one of the statues. "No, Roger, no! Don''t eat that!"

    Isaac looked up thoughtfully at the large dog-headed statue. "Ezekiel, is it Anubis?

    "Hee, yeaaah... Yeah, it could, could be. Only, only no, ''cause it''s not. Not - because - because Anubis guards the gate to the dead, only guards it. Doesn''t like... he takes them there, he''s not about bringing them back..." Ezekiel stopped in front of the statue of Ra. "Birdy. Birdy makes the sun rise. Sun rises," he croaked as he threw his arms around the legs of the statue. "Cuddly bird!"

    "Can you sense which it is?"

    Muse took a few steps back and propped herself up against a glass case. Looking down at whatever she was leaning on, she was staring into the dried and shrunken features of a mummy. The sight of its decay and watching the man die in the hallway made her mind wander to an uncomfortable place. She thought of her own body, lying somewhere in a moldy coffin. Rotted, gooey. Again, she would vomit if she could. Hating the thought and unable to look at the body any longer, she pushed herself away and walked out of the room, not caring what Isaac and Ezekiel were up to. She needed space. She tried to wrest her thought process away from the image of herself lying somewhere in a coffin, decomposed.

    Walking past displays of minerals and rocks, she shoved her hands into her pockets. Her feet made almost no noise on the stone as she wound her way around a corner. This room had glass panes lining each wall, behind which she could see taxidermy animals in their poorly painted attempts at a display of their ''natural habitat.'' A moose, a bear, a few swans and geese, even a few African animals she thought she might know the names of, although she''d mostly be guessing.

    Flopping down onto a bench, she put her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. She wished Victor were here. He''d cheer her up, he seemed to be good at that.

    The barest flicker of blue caught her attention down another corridor. Standing up, she focused her attention, staring intently into the darkness to see what had moved. She saw nothing. Deciding she wanted to make sure, she vanished and floated down the hallway.

    Another flash of a bluish glow dashed in front of her down another path. That time she knew what she saw. Oooh crap...

    Muse turned around and dashed back to the others, pushing herself through the walls into the room where Isaac and Ezekiel were still discussing the statutes.

    "He''s here! It''s here, whatever!" Muse yelled as she took form.

    "Oooh no silly, he''s not here yet... he won''t be here for a while. You gotta meet him first," Ezekiel snickered and kicked at the leg of the statue of Ra.

    "Who''s ''he''?" Isaac asked calmly.

    "That- That freak in the black rags - Azrael, it''s-" Muse was cut off suddenly by the sound of gunfire coming from the main chamber, followed by a pained scream. A scream she recognized as Eric''s. "Shit!" Muse dissolved and rushed down the corridor through displays and popped into the main room.

    Eric was staggering backwards, his right hand holding his left arm. Well, holding onto some of it. His arm stopped just a few inches down from his shoulder, ending in a stump. Muse cried out and took shape next to him, hoping to help stop the bleeding - only to see he wasn''t bleeding. He was... sparking. Wires curled out from his arm and a strange orange liquid was dripping from a tube that was jutting out from the tangled metal mess.

    Muse couldn''t really register what she was looking at as a gigantic broadsword came whizzing at her face. Throwing Eric out of the way, she managed to phase out just in time as the sword passed uselessly through her.

    Turning, she found herself facing the impossible for the third time in fifteen minutes. Michael towered over her, the dim light glinting off of his gold and red burnished armor. "You''re dead," she squeaked out. "How the hell are you here?! You''re supposed to be dead, I saw you fall out of a window!"

    "What manner of monstrosity are you?!" the man hollered with the same metallic twinge to his voice inside the helm.

    "Well, okay, I guess I shouldn''t bitch. Technically, we''re both dead..."

    "What?!"

    "Boo?" She laughed once, nervously.

    "Monster!" Michael rounded for a punch, but his fist simply passed through her. His swing threw him off balance, and he staggered through her, visibly convulsing as he felt static shoot through him.

    "Muse! Muse! C''mon, we gotta go!" Eric pulled himself up to his feet, pushing off of the ground with his only hand. Muse took form next to him, staring agog at what remained of his arm. "Not now, I''ll explain later!"

    Eric took off running down the hallway, Muse following close at his heels. She heard Michael¡¯s heavy metallic footfalls following them through the darkness. It didn''t sound like he was rushing.  He knows he''ll catch up, she realized with a sinking feeling.

    Staggering into the room containing the statues, Muse looked around and barely registered what was going on in the chaos. The statue of Ra was laying on the ground in rubble, the chest cavity of the stone having been broken to pieces. Isaac stood with his hand out, glaring down Azrael, who was pacing back and forth at the edge of Isaac''s invisible wall. Ezekiel was cowering behind Isaac, hunched over with his hands covering his ears.

    "Eric, leave through the fire exit and get the car if you would."

    Without any hesitation, Eric ran towards the fire exit that glowed from the corner and pushed the door open. He was quickly greeted by a hail of bullets. With a shriek, he ducked and slammed the door. Ducking to the side against the wall, he flinched away as another rain of bullets began punching holes through the metal of the door. "Uriel!" Eric yelled.

    "Three of them, now? God damn it!" Isaac snarled. "Muse, you need to help Eric and Ezekiel get out of here."

    "How?!"

    "Do something!" he snapped at her. "Now is not the time to debate the value of violence!" Isaac let out a low growl as Azrael jumped at the wall again, causing it to spark and crackle as he flew backwards, repelled by the energy.

    Muse yelped as Michael burst into the room, shoving past her and charging straight for Isaac. Muse phased out and appeared between them, not sure what else to do. She only managed to trip him up, crashing him to the ground in a tangle of limbs and metal. "Hey tin-can," she piped from underneath him.

    "Get away from me!" the armored man shouted, pushing her violently as he pulled himself to his feet.

    Disappearing instead of taking the time to stand up, Muse realized she didn''t know where Ezekiel and Eric had gone. Unfortunately, the answer was quick in coming. Shouts echoed from down the hallway, followed by more gunfire.

    Isaac stood in the center of the room, fending of Azrael with his wall, and hurling what looked like small black globes of fire at Michael, knocking him back. "Go!" he shouted. He wasn''t looking at her, but she knew the order was for her. This time, she didn''t complain.

    Rushing down the hallway, she found herself in the same taxidermy display room as before. Broken glass littered the floor and she could see Eric''s legs sticking out from the swan display. Oh lord, she hoped he was alive. Ezekiel was cowering in a corner, his arms over his head, making a quiet pitiful wailing noise.

    A stocky man stood in front of him, green chain mail covering his chest, fishing bullets out of a pouch that was sewn straight to black leather pants. Most notable about the man were a set of large revolvers he had just finished reloading. Clicking the drums back in line with the barrels, he pointed them directly at Ezekiel.

    "I am the Archangel of Mercy. These are your last rites."

    "No!" Muse shoved the man hard at the last second, sending him reeling to the side. The man turned and faced her, firing off both guns. She looked down and saw a small pattern of holes clustered around her heart. ¡°Good aim...?¡± The bullets had gone straight through her - she hadn''t been able to stop them. If he fired at Ezekiel again, she couldn''t keep the bullets from getting to him, no matter if she got in between. "Don''t shoot him, man, he''s harmless!"

    The man narrowed his eyes at her. "What are you?!

    "Whatever. What''re you doing, picking on Ezekiel?! He wouldn¡¯t hurt a fly!¡±

    "God has judged him, so he will die. If my bullets do no good on you, then I will make sure he at least pays his dues." The man, who she only could assume was Uriel, aimed both guns back at Ezekiel.

    Muse''s mind raced. Eric was unmoving, maybe dead. Ezekiel was crying. The hideous noises and flashing lights from the other room made it clear that Isaac was still otherwise occupied. Muse had a choice. Either she hurt this man, or he''d kill Zeek.

    As he clicked the hammers back, the choice was made for her. She acted on instinct, acted out of need.

    Muse disappeared and rushed at the man. Taking form at the last second, her body collided into his. The unnatural inertia of the action knocked him flying back through the air like he had been hit by a car. He crashed through the glass and into another display, toppling over the stuffed corpse of a reindeer. Muse dissipated again and appeared over him as he rolled over, grunting and spitting out blood and what was probably a chunk of glass. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she muttered. He looked up just in time to see her fist come down on his head.

    The man lay there limp but breathing. Muse pulled in a shuddering breath and backed away.

    "Damn Uriel..." Eric murmured from behind her, rubbing the back of his head.

    Muse threw her arms around him, relieved. "Thank God you''re alive!" She was quickly reminded of the fact that while he was alive, he was missing a limb. "I don''t know what the hell''s wrong with your arm, but at least you''re alive."

    "For now," cut in another strained voice. Looking up, Muse saw Isaac stagger into the room, bleeding - and bleeding heavily. A section of his right shoulder had been cleaved through, the wound going past his collarbone and several inches into his chest. Blood stained his grey shirt dark black, sticking it to his skin. He left small bloody imprints on the stone every time he took a step forward.

    Muse had never seen him wounded. It scared her, and she wasn''t really sure why. "Isaac - are you?"

    Isaac stopped walking, and swayed on his feet, his eyes straight ahead but without focusing on anything. "Troublesome." His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his knees gave out from underneath him. Without knowing what she was doing, she suddenly found herself in front of him, catching his weight. She heard the noise of heavy metal boots following through the darkness.

    "It¡¯s time to go! " Eric yelled.

    Muse started to drag the semi-conscious body of Isaac through the room, followed closely by Ezekiel, but they weren''t moving fast enough. "This is stupid. Sorry, Isaac, this isn''t exactly-" Using her unnatural strength, Muse threw Isaac over her shoulder fireman style, holding onto his legs. He was so much bigger than her, it was awkward as hell but better than dragging him. "-dignified, but you''re going to have to put up with it."

    Eric looked behind them as Michael was rounding the corner, the dim light shining off of the steel and burnished gold of his armor. The gold cross on his helm almost looked like it was glowing in the darkness. Pulling a small round object out of his pocket, Eric lobbed it with his only hand at the soldier. The ball clattered and rolled across the floor, letting out a series of beeps. "Go, go, go!" Eric frantically urged.

    They burst out through the door of another fire escape as the explosion rocked the building. The force of the blast knocked them forward. Muse only barely managed to keep her footing with Isaac over her shoulder, but Ezekiel and Eric weren''t so lucky. Scrambling up, they made their way as fast as possible to the car.

    Flames were curling out of the windows of the museum as Muse was trying to speedily, yet carefully, put Isaac into the back seat. The sorcerer was passing in and out of awareness as he slumped into the back of his BMW. Eric climbed into the driver''s seat, Muse in the front. Ezekiel sat curled in the other corner of the car, frantically petting Mr. Blinky and rocking back and forth, muttering unintelligibly.

    "Eric, you only have one arm, how''re you going to drive?!" Muse cried at him.

    "I only drive with one hand anyway, woman1! Eric turned the car over and looked back up in time to see the figure of an armored man storm out through the glass doors and stride across the lawn at them, broadsword in hand, only a silhouette against the fire behind. "Oh, fuck me, really?!" Eric jammed the car into reverse and peeled out of there as fast as he could.

    Muse sat in silence for a long time, in shock over what had just happened. She heard a low pained moan from behind them, the moan turned into something that sounded like a cross between a howl of rage and a sob.

    Twisting around to look back at Isaac, she saw him slumped with his head lying limply against the back dash. It seemed that the bleeding was already slowing down, but he had lost far, far too much blood already.

    She thought it was Ezekiel who had made the noise, but no - it had been Isaac that made the weird noise, as he made it again, wailing at the roof of his car.

    "Isaac... Isaac you alright...?"

    "Mmmh..." was all he could muster at the moment. He lifted his head weakly, bleary-eyed. His face suddenly contorted in pain. "He has it... God damn him!" he roared suddenly, thrashing violently in the seat. Muse recoiled and Ezekiel quickly stopped his muttering, ending in a frightened whimper.

    Isaac stopped thrashing, collapsing his head back against the seat again. "Es war von Anfang an eine L¨¹ge...Eine F?lschung.Sie fertigten eine F?lschung. Aber wie, woher konnten sie das wissen?!" he slurred out.

    "He''s messed up," Eric said to her under his breath, fear tugging at his voice.

    Isaac looked delirious. It scared her. He seemed always in control. Was he going to die? "Isaac, you''ve lost a lot of blood. Just try to relax..." Muse pleaded.

    "Sie verstecken, was ich brauche - sie halten sie von mir. Sie verstecken es vor mir - versuchen mich davon fern zu halten- Wie k?nnen sie es wagen? Ich nehme sein Schwert und ich werde ihn darauf aufspie?en daf¨¹r, dass-" he broke off in another sob.

    "What the - is that German?"

    "Yeah, I think he''s from there." Eric did his best to keep driving and remain focused on the road and not the man thrashing in the back seat.

    "Hey, Isaac-" Muse waved her hand in front of his face, trying to snap the man out of his ranting.

    ¡°Wir hatten eine Abmachung!!¡±

    "Isaac!"

    "Was?!" he snapped in reply, blearily glaring at her.

    "Are you alright in there?"

    "Wir hatten einAbmachung und sie haben mich reingelegt! Daf¨¹r werde ich sie leiden lassen..." Isaac broke off in another growling sob, pounding his good fist into the seat in front of him, causing Muse to pull back further. "Arschl?cher!"

    "Did... he just say what I think he said?"

    "Probably."

    Suddenly snapping out of his violent spell like someone had hit a switch, Isaac laid his back against the headrest. Muse then heard the noise she would have least expected from him. He started laughing. No, it was worse than that. He was giggling. Muse was convinced at this point that the man had not only almost been cleaved in half, but hit his head at the same time.

    "Isaac?" Muse asked nervously as his laughter dissipated into quiet chuckling.

    "Yes, Muse?" he slurred out.

    At least he was speaking English, though his voice had a strange feverish twinge. The last thing she wanted to do was get the man going again, but she had to know. "What''s so funny..?"

    Isaac started to snort out another laugh, lifting his head to squint down at his blood-stained shirt.

    "I''m bleeding on the upholstery."

 Chapter Eleven

    "So... what do we do with him?"

    Muse and Eric stood staring at Isaac where he slumped in the back seat of his car, unconscious. He was still breathing, so throwing him in a hole wasn''t an option - or at least, so Eric had insisted.

    "I don''t know, I guess just... bring him upstairs, or something. Put him in his room. I guess," Eric offered distractedly, staring down at the stump of his arm and the occasional spark that would arc from one wire to another where the metal was exposed. Every time this happened, he''d twitch in pain. "I have to go do something about this."

    "Do you need my help?" Muse reached out and touched his arm curiously, poking at it just above where it ended in jagged shards of metal. She had never seen anything like it, except on stupid science fiction shows. She yelped and pulled her hand back as an arc of electricity shot from the twisted metal to her hand.

    Eric had pretty much the same reaction, jumping back and shooting her a glare. "Hey watch it! And no, really, no offense, you¡¯ll do more harm than good. I can take care of this myself, thanks."

    "Sorry."

    Eric scratched his head with his only hand. Somewhere in the fight, he had lost his blast goggles. "I didn''t mean to snap. I''m just... this hurts. I''m going to go fix this... can you deal with Isaac?"

    "Yeah, sure."

    "Cool¡­ See you later." Eric walked off without another word, heading inside. Ezekiel had long since scrambled off around the edge of the house to the back, leaving her alone.

    She wasn''t quite sure what to do about this. Muse knew she couldn''t - or at least, shouldn''t ¨C just leave Isaac sitting there. Letting out a long sigh, she finally realized she had no other choice. Getting him out of the back of the car was a rather clumsy ordeal, but she was more than strong enough to deal with his dead weight. She threw him over her shoulder again, holding onto his legs. She laughed quietly at what it must have looked like as she walked into the house.

    "Where''re we going...?"

    Muse stopped, realizing after a moment that the voice had come from the man slung over her shoulder. "I don''t know, you tell me." Part of her was relieved he was awake. Part of her was wondering why the hell she cared.

    "Upstairs," he mumbled out.

    "''Kay."

    Heading up the stairs with him still over her shoulder, she stopped. "Where to?"

    Twisting her head to look behind her, she saw him gesture weakly to the left. He spoke up quietly. "This is both... painful... and humiliating."

    "It was either this or dragging you by your feet."

    ¡°Fair enough...¡±

    Heading through the only door she could have figured was his room, she blinked. She wasn''t sure what she expected his room to look like, but what she found was shockingly normal looking. Most of the furniture looked to be antique and well maintained. She brought him over to the large king bed and put him down as gently as she could. Muse waited, wondering if there was anything she should do.

    Muse wasn''t sure how much blood a person was supposed to be able to lose - but she was pretty sure Isaac had lost far more than that. His shirt was stuck to him, the original color of it almost indiscernible beneath the large blackish-red splotch that covered his torso. She had a feeling that he wouldn''t be living now unless he had some help from something else. But, still, he seemed to fear what the Crusaders would have done to him.

    "Why?" Isaac breathed out, laying his head down on the pillow.

    "Huh?"

    "You could have left me there."

    "I don''t think leaving you in the back seat of your-"

    "I mean the museum..." he was talking, yes, but he still sounded feverish, like he wasn''t quite sure what he was saying. He turned his head to look at her, but his grey eyes weren''t focused on her.

    It took her a moment to realize what he was asking her. She opened her mouth to speak, and then stopped - not sure how to phrase her answer. Mainly because she didn''t know what her answer was.

    "If you had left me..."

    "Yeah. I know." If she had left him there, she''d be free of him. She wouldn''t have this sociopath lording over her, bossing her around and electrocuting her like a bad pet every time she acted up. "I didn''t think about it." It was true, she hadn''t. She had just reacted. "You don''t just leave people to die."

    Isaac was silent, lying there with his eyes shut. She had no idea if he was even awake at this point. Not wanting to stand there and think about it, Muse turned and headed out of the room, shutting the door behind her quietly. She needed sleep. She needed to think about all this.

    <hr>

    Life.

    It seems he couldn¡¯t win, either way.

    It seemed that in his life, it was always to be one of two things - either Aaron¡¯s life was mundane and boring, or it was torturous and horrible. At least in situations like this, he could fill his time with reading novels and watching movies.

    He let out a small sigh as he stuffed his laundry into the washing machine. Staying out of the way of everyone else was easy here. He had everything he needed in the basement. He had no real reason to go upstairs and talk to anyone. Except, despite it all, Aaron was prone to bouts of loneliness, like everyone else.

    He had gone upstairs to talk to Muse, only to find out that she had been dragged along on some suicidal errand by his brother. Narrowing his eyes at the thought, he pounded his fist into the washing machine, wishing it was his brother he was denting and not the metal of the innocent appliance. Stopping, he sighed. Breaking the washing machine wasn¡¯t going to do him any good.

    Isaac was abusive, cruel, sadistic, and an empty-hearted sociopath. There was nothing good that he could do to anyone, and it infuriated Aaron that Muse was stuck in his grasp. The goth girl was too sweet-hearted to be around Isaac. He would only ruin her. If he hasn¡¯t already, he thought to himself. He hated when his mind just served to further infuriate him for no good.

    Dumping the laundry detergent onto the clothing, he shut the lid and started pressing buttons. It seemed that even the washing machine was going to give him a hard time.  Jabbing at the start button several times, he changed his opinion. Punching the appliances might do a world of good. Slamming his fist down on the machine, he smiled in victory as the wash cycle started. Turning around, he nearly had a heart attack.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Hey, Aaron.¡±

    Barely managing to keep himself from leaping into the air, he looked down at Muse. She was propped against the doorframe, her arms crossed. She didn¡¯t look pleased. Frowning, he stepped up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. ¡°Muse, what¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°Isaac.¡±

    ¡°Not much of a surprise there¡­¡± Aaron walked past her, waving for her to follow him. He walked to the fridge that he had stuffed in a corner, opened it up and grabbed two beers. Holding one out to her, she shook her head.

    ¡°No, thanks.¡±

    Aaron shrugged lightly and put it back in the fridge. It dawned on him slowly that he had never seen the girl eat, never seen the girl drink. He silently laughed it off. It was impossible for someone to do neither, it was just a coincidence.

    ¡°No worries.¡± Aaron settled down in a chair by a small pocked wooden table he had found. Muse basically fell into the chair across from him. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°So, yesterday, with the fight¡­ Isaac got beat up really badly. I could have left him there. I could have, and then he¡¯d be dead by now, and I¡¯d be in the clear¡­ I guess we both would be. But I didn¡¯t. I dragged his ass out of there, and¡­ I don¡¯t know. I think I wish I hadn¡¯t.¡± She slumped on the table, resting her chin on her arm, talking to the dented wood grain tabletop.

    ¡°Muse,¡± he breathed out with another sigh. He scooted close to her and reached out, running his hand slowly along her hair. He wanted to pull her close, wanted to hold her and make the world better. But his overwhelming shyness kept that merely a dream. ¡°Would you honestly have been okay with yourself if you left him there?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m starting to think so.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t mean that.¡± Aaron stroked her hair again gently, soft under his fingers. He let his hand settle on her shoulder. ¡°I don¡¯t think you could have left anyone behind, no matter what they had done. You¡¯re not like him, and I don¡¯t think you¡¯re capable of sinking to that level¡­¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Muse said with a small laugh.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± he replied with another smile. Leaning back, he pulled his hand off her shoulder. He ran his thumb slowly along his palm, still feeling her soft hair on his hand. Pushing all errant thoughts to the back of his mind, he picked up his beer and took a large swig off of it.

    They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Aaron looked up at her and smiled curiously. What the hell. Worth a shot. "If you want to keep away from the guys upstairs, I''m sure there''s a movie on TV or something..." Oh, yes - win the affection of a lady with crappy television movies. Aaron scolded himself loudly in his brain, preparing himself for the rejection before he even finished the sentence.

    "Sure."

    He hadn''t expected that. He wasn''t even sure now what to do. Maybe stop being an idiot, he yelled at himself in his brain again. Standing up he looked down at her again with the same smile, hoping he was at least somewhat successfully hiding how awkward he felt.

    "Just... no horror movies," Muse said with a small laugh. "I''ve had enough gore for a few days."

    "Then you''re in the wrong place."

    <hr>

    It had been three days and nobody had heard anything from Isaac. He hadn''t left his room. For all they knew, he was dead. Victor and Eric had tried to convince her that she was best suited to go check on him because ''corpses shouldn''t bother her.'' In truth, they really, really did. But she didn''t feel like revealing that she got squeamish at the idea, let alone the sight. Mal pointed out that she was still ''the new kid,'' so, therefore, she had to go check on Isaac. Although the logic of that still escaped her, it didn''t change the fact that she was now studying the wood of Isaac''s door from the other side.

    Looking around her to make sure no one - specifically Aaron - was around, she dissolved and stepped through the door, reforming on the other side.

    "You really must learn to knock."

    Muse yelped in surprise. She had expected to find a rotting body in a bed. What she found was Isaac standing in front of his large dresser mirror, rooting through a drawer. He was only wearing a thin white undershirt, the onyx necklace dangling around his neck. Muse gaped. There was no wound. He looked... fine. She didn''t have time to think about it as he turned to eye her, displeased.

    "Yes?"

    "I. Uh-" Muse coughed. "I was checking to see if you were alright."

    "You mean alive."

    "Well, that still falls under the category of ''alright.''" She crossed her arms across her chest. He didn''t have to get snippy with her.

    "I suppose." Isaac pulled a shirt out of the drawer, and slipping his arms into the sleeves, began to button it up in front of him. "I am alive. You can all breathe your genuine sighs of relief."

    Muse raised an eyebrow. He didn''t even try to pull the sarcasm. "Look, man, whatever. You lost whatever it was you were trying to get and got your ass kicked. If you want to be bitter, fine, but we¡¯re just trying to express some concern here and-"

    "Do not lecture me, Muse," Isaac cut in harshly. He suddenly shut his eyes, put both hands on the dresser for support, and leaned his head forward. It looked like he was going to be sick, fall over, pass out, or some combination of the three. He was suddenly very pale.

    "Isaac..?¡±

    After a long pause, he straightened up. "I''m fine. Enough of this," Isaac abruptly strode towards the door. "We have other things to attend to. Come. And, Muse, I am feeling less than my best. I would appreciate it if once - just this once, perhaps - you would simply do as I ask without any of your usual annoyances."

    Muse stayed silent.

    "Please."

    "Sure..."

    Isaac nodded once and opened the door, heading down the stairs. She followed behind him and found herself contemplating the strange man she was walking behind. He was still horribly pale - well, paler than usual. He was haggard, his eyes glinting in pain and something else - rage. Slowly, she realized that he was holding back on his temper with her. In his own stupid way, he probably thought he was being nice. That, and someone was very quickly going to be the recipient of his temper. Hopefully, she could keep herself from stepping in front of that particular bullet. Rounding into the kitchen, Isaac caught Eric and Mal by surprise.

    "You all have..." Isaac checked his watch. ¡°Two hours to get ready. At sundown, we''re leaving."

    "Okay, Boss..." Eric said quietly, looking at the sorcerer with a startled expression.

    "Where to?" Mal asked gruffly from the table.

    Unimportant. Just be ready to go," Isaac clipped. "And Eric? Inform your brother." He paused, apparently waiting for some sort of protest. "Good,¡± he said as he turned and stepped out of the room, heading back up the stairs.

    Muse followed him. She didn''t really know why. He hadn''t told her to, but something in the back of her brain was screaming that something was wrong. It wasn''t long before the little screaming concern was validated. Isaac''s knees suddenly buckled, and he slammed his palm on the wall in an effort to keep from falling over. She appeared next to him, taking hold of his other arm, keeping him from pitching forward.

    "Isaac,¡± she said quietly. ¡°You¡¯re not okay.¡±

    Standing up slowly, he turned and rested back against the wall, looking down at her. She expected some sort of egotistical rage, some indignant insistence that he was fine, some sharp command to get away from him. What she got instead, shocked her. Pain, exhaustion, and a strange, beleaguered amusement were written across his features.

    "It seems that one cannot lose one¡¯s entire content of blood and expect to be roses so quickly..."

    "No, I guess not." Muse let go of his arm tentatively. "Do you really think, that, whatever it is we''re doing tonight, that it''s a good idea if you''re like this?"

    "I have no choice. I''ve lost enough time as it is."

    "Okay..." She knew better than to press the subject. He wouldn''t be swayed. A voice, juxtaposed to the screaming one in the back of her brain was now asking her why the hell she cared. Running her hands slowly through her hair, she didn''t know which to listen to. The voice that said she should be empathetic, if only because he was suffering, or the voice that wanted to yell some anatomical suggestion and take the moment to kick him down the stairs.

    Isaac straightened back up and started walking towards his room. Unsure of what to do, she simply stood there. Isaac got to his door under his own power and opened it. He looked back at her, and in a rare moment, smiled an odd and morose smile. "I do sometimes wonder why you all put up with me."

    "You have a piece of my soul. And you pay the boys."

    "Ah, yes." He chuckled once, the same odd expression on his face as he shut the door between them.

    Well, that came out wrong. Muse swore at herself in her brain. Good job. Muse let out a sigh, as both of the voices in her head were now calling her an idiot in unison.

 Chapter Twelve

    ¡°No. No, this is a stupid idea. This is a horrible idea!¡±

    ¡°Eric, be silent.¡±

    Muse rubbed her hands on her temples, listening to them fight. Eric¡¯s insistence of the idiocy of the moment was strongly backed by both Mal and Victor, it just happened that the little blond was the loudest.

    Honestly, she didn¡¯t know what to think.

    The five of them stood on the top of a small embankment by the line of trees that marked the transition from forest to field. But it wasn¡¯t the foliage or the grass that were the current concern. It had everything to do with the huge Vatican military base that they were staring at.

    The place looked like a fortress. Roughly rectangular, it was surrounded by a large stone wall. Large spotlights dotted the walls, casting huge circles of white light on the inside and the outside of the wall. Like some bizarre Medieval castle, she saw soldiers walking the line on top. She could only assume they were soldiers. It wasn¡¯t their white and gold tabards that was the giveaway, so much as it was the M16¡¯s they were carrying.

    Muse really rather agreed with Eric. This was a dumb idea.

    ¡°Why does the church have a military base?¡± Muse asked.

    Isaac put his hands in the pockets of his long black coat. ¡°They feel the Retribution never truly ended. When the UN ordered a truce between the undead and the Vatican forces, they succeeded in negotiating the allowed continuance of several sporadic bases. This is one of them.¡±

    ¡°Great¡­¡± she replied.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like this,¡± Eric said again.

    ¡°We gathered, yes, thank you.¡± Isaac let out a slow breath and turned his attention to the other three men. ¡°I am aware that none of you think this is a brilliant decision. But we are going to do this, one way or another. If you disagree so strongly as you would resign, so be it. You may leave.¡±

    Muse watched as Victor, Mal, and Eric stood there, internally debating. Finally after a long few moments and no one had moved, Isaac spoke up again. ¡°Very well.¡± He walked over to a stump and shrugged out of his long coat, neatly folding it up as he continued. ¡°You three are going to be in charge of the infiltration and the retrieval of the object I described to you earlier ¨C the golden container. It should be in the shape of an ankh. It is very old and very fragile... please be gentle with it. They have it somewhere in there, I¡¯m sure.¡± He dropped his coat over the stump, now standing in a well-coordinated vest, tie, shirt, and pants. The man could put together an outfit, she''d give him that.

    ¡°So you want us to just¡­ barge in there¡­ into a heavily armed military base¡­ with a bunch of other soldiers and who-knows-how-much artillery?!¡±

    ¡°No, Eric,¡± Isaac replied sharply, shooting a scathing look in his direction. The sorcerer had been short on his patience the entire day, and Muse wondered how bright Eric was to keep prodding the subject. ¡°You will have assistance from myself and Muse.¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait¡­ What am I doing?¡± Muse blinked.

    ¡°You and I are going to be a distraction.¡±

    ¡°A¡­ I don¡¯t like the sound of this.¡±

    ¡°Come now, Muse ¨C You are the only one here who can be shot without any repercussion.¡± Isaac smiled at her, although it was a rather sick, sarcastic smile. ¡°Would you prefer one of them took your place?¡±

    Nervousness plucked at her. Between the devil and the deep blue sea. Or rather, between the devil and a bunch of heavily armed Vatican soldiers, anyway. Unfortunately, what he said was true. The ones with the bullets couldn¡¯t hurt her. Isaac - on the other hand - would, could, and had readily done so before. ¡°Fine¡­¡±

    ¡°I thought as much. So.¡± Isaac turned to the three men, none of whom looked at all thrilled. ¡°Go around to the other side of the base and wait.¡±

    ¡°How will we know when to go?¡± Mal asked.

    ¡°You¡¯ll know.¡±

    <hr>

    Muse stood next to Isaac, now alone with him. Walking through the grass towards the base, she had that ''spider sense tingling'' feeling again. There they were, like it was nothing, strolling towards what she''d expect Area 51 to look like.

    If Area 51 went to bible camp.

    And had more guns.

    This was not a good idea. "Isaac..?"

    "Yes?"

    "How''re we... going to... distract them?"

    Isaac turned his head to face her. "Simple." He undid his cufflinks. Slipping them into his pocket, he began to roll up his sleeves. "By killing most of them."

    She really wished she hadn''t asked.

    "Now, your job is simple. Because I am... under the weather, you are to draw their attention, and assist in my retreat, should I need the help. Otherwise, I will not expect you to assist in their deaths. I know you are still... squeamish... about unnecessary violence."

    "I won¡¯t kill people."

    "Yes, so I surmised."

    Judging by the yelling and the bright white spots now aimed directly at them, they had been noticed. They stood some thirty or forty feet away from the wall that loomed up over them. "Ooooh... oh crap..." Muse froze in mid-step, looking up at the soldiers that stood on the wall, some fifteen feet up.

    Isaac stopped as well, but he seemed completely unconcerned by the shouting or the many guns now pointed in their direction. Humming a tune under his breath, he began to move his hand in the air slowly - almost like he was conducting whatever music was in his head. The sound of gunfire split the air, and what must have been thousands of bullets began impacting the invisible shield that she had seen him use before. But she knew that wouldn''t last forever. It had failed before, what would keep it from failing now?

    It wasn''t long before she had her answer. Muse had to resist recoiling from him as she felt... something. The power started to roll off of him in waves. It was almost palpable, like the air somehow got thicker, and yet didn''t change at all. If she didn''t know better, she would have blamed her imagination. The world seemed to be getting darker around him, the shadow he cut against the spotlights seemed sharper in contrast.

    Humming the same strange, melancholy tune, Isaac reached out both hands in front of him, fingers spread, and simply curled in his fingers. A horrified noise escaped Muse''s throat as she watched as nearly a dozen of the guards on top of the wall simply... vanished into a mist of blood and flesh. She heard the screams of their compatriots who were forced to watch as the men were destroyed like nothing more than insects on a windshield.

    Muse wished that she was a normal living human and that her eyes wouldn''t have been able to see past the glaring white spotlights. She was given no such mercy, and she could not bring herself to look away from the show in front of her. Blood was now oozing down the outside of the wall, darkening the cement in slow, uneven rivulets.

    Somehow, in a show of bravery that Muse couldn''t even begin to understand, the soldiers were still firing at them, the bullets crackling off of the shield in small bursts of white-blue light.

    Pulling his hands into fists again, Muse looked down to see a glowing white circle appear in the grass around them. The writing around it was in some strange archaic language she had never seen. She tried to read it, but she couldn¡¯t grasp on to the shapes, no matter how hard she tried. It began to swirl to one side, and Muse got dizzy watching. It was easier for her just not to look.

    Humming louder, Isaac opened his hands, palms down. The circle around them suddenly shuddered and some strange low-pitched vibration ran through her. It seemed like the ground itself was somehow moving. A scream caught in her throat. From out of the shadows around her - from the shadow cast by every stick, rock, from Isaac''s shadow, from hers - crawled out what she could only think of as nightmares.

    Darker than the night around them, darker than her own shadow, the shapes that emerged were somehow sentient, somehow living. Flat against the ground, conforming to the shape of the terrain like two-dimensional shadows, their eyes shone like dull white lights. Deformed claws, bodies, each one seemed to be its own twisted doodle. There were dozens of them now - no, must be near a hundred - splitting off from each other. Staring at them in horror, she wrapped her arms around herself.

    Isaac pointed towards the base.

    They moved with a sickening speed, covering the distance like they were only images curling along the ground, projections from some unseen source. The shadows flicked up the walls and seemed to attack the soldiers, instantly vanishing when they reached them when... everything stopped. The echoes of the deafening gunfire rung in the trees in the distance, leaving a throbbing silence in its wake, somehow louder than the noise before. Even Isaac had stopped his strange humming.

    Muse desperately wished the silence had stayed.

    The screams. The screams she knew would haunt her. Thanking whoever would listen that at least she could never revisit this in her sleep, she wished she could throw up, wished she could pass out, wished she could somehow escape this. The howls of twisted agony from the wall and beyond were nearly inhuman, nearly impossible.

    It took her a few moments to realize what was happening.

    Each soldier was screaming in useless horror as their bodies were controlled by the strange monsters. They stood there, clawing at their own flesh, their nails ripping at their faces, tearing away skin and hair. Fingers dug into eyes, tore open throats. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    Those who were armed with knives suffered the easy deaths at the end of their own weaponry. Those who were not so lucky met whatever horror that the nightmares could seemingly think up. Some died gagging on their own fists as they drove their arm down their own throats. Some died after they had pounded their own skulls open on the stone. Some, blinded from their own hands, only collapsed as their bodies went into shock, bleeding out where they lay. Some of the soldiers threw themselves off of the wall, falling to the ground in crumpled, twitching heaps, their bodies gradually going still.

    She wasn''t sure how long this went on. She wasn''t sure how long it took for every single one of the soldiers to rend themselves apart. Slowly the screaming tapered off, slowly silence took over again. Silence, except for a sound that Muse couldn''t recognize at first.

    Sobbing.

    Someone was sobbing.

    Oh.

    It was her.

    She was shaking, locked on the remains of what she saw in front of her. It took her a long time to realize someone was talking to her. Even then, she couldn''t grasp what was being said. Suddenly, she was being shaken by the shoulders, looking up into a face it took her a long time to recognize.

    "Muse?" Isaac was calling her name, trying to get her attention.

    "O-oh God," she stammered out.

    Isaac pulled in a slow breath and let it out. He looked exhausted, his expression thin and pained. Every word seemed an effort. "Muse... I think I may have misjudged. You should not have witnessed that. I should have left you behind or sent you with the others. I should not have thought that-"

    The sky above them shown orange and an angry yellow as the ground shook with a sudden rumbling explosion from over the wall. The spotlights flickered and went black, sending them into darkness, the fireball curling into the sky the only source of light.

    "It seems you may not have been better off with them, after all..."

    <hr>

    Eric ducked around behind the wall, gun raised, narrowly evading the bullet that ricochetted off of the wall across from him. "Goddamn it!"

    ¡°Who puts a turret in between two random buildings?!¡± Victor jumped around past him, grumbling, glaring down at the large hole in his mid-thigh black coat.

    ¡°The Umbrella Corporation?¡± Eric suggested helpfully.

    ¡°Well, clearly the Vatican,¡± Mal yelled from the other side, having taken cover on the other side of the intersection of two alleys.

    "I don¡¯t care, I have bullet holes in my coat!" Victor yelled indignantly.

    "Why don''t you go all... misty and go fug ¡®em up, then, Vic?" Mal rolled his neck to the side, loudly cracking the vertebrae and then his knuckles.

    ¡°You know I can''t turn into mist, dumb-ass. I missed that day in ''Vamp Ed. 101'' okay?" Victor and Eric both recoiled as another volley of bullets rained down the hallway. "So what''re we going to do?¡±

    "I could just... I don''t know. Stomp down there and break their necks." Mal shrugged.

    "Mal, I don''t care how many bullets you can take. I think the phrase is - I don''t know how many it''ll take to stop you, but I know how many they''re gonna use." Eric said, pulling his coat around him tighter and buckling the strap at the neck.

    ¡°You stole that off the TV,¡± Victor smacked his brother in the arm. Eric slapped him back, and he resisted the urge to start a wrestling match while being shot at. Something told him that wouldn¡¯t end well.

    "Yeah.. yeah... You girls hold onto your panties. Gimmie a sec." Mal lumbered down the hallway in the other direction, disappearing around a corner. The two blondes looked at each other and shrugged helplessly.

    Both of the men reflexively ducked as they heard a loud and sudden tearing noise - the unique popping-rending noise of metal being ripped apart. Looking down the alley between the buildings, they saw Mal heading towards them, carrying a large metal blast door - the large metal hinges on one side bent and torn like they were paper. The door was at least six inches of solid steel. Victor and Eric let out whistles at the same time, impressed.

    "Now you two bastards better stop callin'' me names," Mal grunted and put the metal door down for a moment - letting out a puff of air, taking a deep breath after the exertion.

    Victor blinked. "Yeah, okay, Captain Blast-door. Y''aren''t going to hear anything from me for a while."

    "I second that." Eric raised his hand.

    "Right, well, c''mon then. We ain''t getting any younger."

    "I ain''t getting any older," Victor said with a broad grin.

    "Aw, shut up." Mal gripped the door, keeping his fingers as far back away from the edge as he could, and took a deep breath. "One... two... three!"

    Mal stepped into the middle of the hallway and was met by a rain of bullets, impacting the door, causing neat little dents to form on the side closest to him. He roared in rage and began running down the hallway, Eric and Victor following close behind. Mal continued to yell as he barreled along like a freight train. Victor could barely differentiate between Mal¡¯s scream and the screams of the men on the other end as the huge metal door bowled over the turret in the center of the alleyway. Mal kept going, crushing the gun and the man operating it in one go - slamming the unfortunate man up against the wall behind him.

    Victor leaped out to the side onto one man to the left, snapping the unfortunate soldier¡¯s head a full hundred and eighty degrees around in a quick snap. He dropped the man, and dashed quickly around to the side, moving too fast for the second man to see and coming up onto the side and uppercutting the man hard to the jaw. He couldn¡¯t turn into mist - but that didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t useful. He heard the familiar noise of Eric''s heavily modified gun firing a few times behind him. Then, blessed silence.

    The three of them looked up at the large building that was the target of their search. They had covered every other possible building. It had to be this one. Looking up at the warehouse, Victor noticed a window on the second floor. ¡°Hey, guys?¡± Victor pointed up. ¡°I could get in there pretty easy.¡±

    ¡°Hrm,¡± Eric tapped his chin thoughtfully, looking back and forth along the building. ¡°We aren¡¯t going to have much more time. I say go for it. Mal and I will look for the entrance around the side, meet you in there.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m bored,¡± Mal grunted.

    ¡°Yeah, well, then, c¡¯mon, let¡¯s go kill things.¡± Eric slapped his brother on the arm again. ¡°We¡¯ll meet you inside.¡±

    ¡°Word,¡± Victor said as he took a few steps back. The cement side of the building wouldn¡¯t be too hard to scale, but he needed some momentum. Focusing on his goal, he ran towards the building and jumped. Gripping onto the small lip by the window, he pulled himself up. Shattering the glass with his elbow, he rolled inside, and waited.

    Nothing. No footsteps, no alarm noises. Nothing. Man, Isaac must be doing one hell of a show out there. It looked like he had wound up in some office. Standing up and brushing the remaining glass shards off of his coat, he stepped out the door.

    Darkened hallway after darkened hallway, nothing but the red glow of the ¡®exit¡¯ lights to cast shadows on the ground, Victor slipped through the building. Luckily he didn¡¯t need the light to see.

    ¡°Here, stupid little glass thingy... Here stupid little glass thingy...¡± he said in a sing-song voice, barely above a whisper. Although he didn¡¯t know why he cared, there was no one around. He couldn¡¯t smell anyone.

    Rounding another corner, he came across a locked door. It had every sign of ¡®something important is behind here.¡¯ Large ¡®Cleared Personnel Only¡¯ signs, orange and black stripes, everything. The doorknob had one of those fun little keypads with all the little numbers on them. Too bad Victor didn¡¯t have his brother¡¯s passion for puzzle solving. Taking ten steps back, he ran, shoulder-checking the door.

    ¡°Oooowww!¡± he whined and rubbed his shoulder, hopping from one foot to the other in pain. But luckily the impact had done the damage, knocking the door half off of its hinges. Grinning, he kicked the door the rest of the way in, the door landing on the ground with a clatter. Freezing, expecting to hear guns or the familiar shouts of ¡®Die, heathen,¡¯ he heard nothing. Shrugging, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, he walked in.

    ¡°Well slap me silly and call me Sally,¡± Victor said to himself as he stepped into the room. It seemed like some bizarre medical lab, plexiglass boxes, computer systems and metal tables everywhere.

    More importantly, there, sitting on a desk across from him, was the gold-liquidy-ankh-thingy that Isaac had described.

    ¡°Sweet deal.¡±

    Victor walked forward, humming under his breath. He reached out to grab the ankh.

    Beep.

    Blinking, Victor looked down at a large series of angrily blinking and beeping red tubes at his feet.

    ¡°Huh.¡±

    <hr>

    Muse had come to the conclusion that at this point in time, staring at the ground between her feet where she sat on the bumper of the hearse was much better than looking up at Isaac. The man in question was standing there, hands in his pockets, watching the red and orange flickers of light over the trees as the military complex continued to burn.

    They had sat there in silence like that for easily twenty minutes. Muse refused to talk to him, and he wasn''t exactly offering any conversation.

    Muse tried to grasp what had happened, what she had seen. It shouldn''t have surprised her. That is exactly what Isaac was capable of. She was stupid to think any different. She had seen him incinerate a man, toss another man out a window. Mass murder of that scale and... It shouldn''t have surprised her. Pulling in a shuddering breath, she let it out and put her head in her hands.

    "No! Put me down!"

    Muse stood up quickly hearing the shouts. Mal emerged through the trees, carrying a frantically thrashing Eric under one arm. Both of them were battered, and Eric looked like he had suffered burns on his neck and one of his hands - the real one, she noted. Mal put him down, only to have the blond try and rush back into the trees around him, but the bigger man would have none of it. He shook Eric by the shoulders roughly and pushed him back towards the car.

    "What happened?" Isaac asked quietly.

    Eric turned to face them, his face streaked with tears. Muse stepped towards him quickly, her horror over the situation nearly silenced by her worry for someone she had come to think of as a friend. She put her hand on his arm as he stammered and shook his head frantically. "He... He... He.. Oh Christ, Oh god..."

    "What... happened?" Isaac insisted again, slowly.

    "Vic... Vic.. he.. he went into that building, and he... Goddamn it, Isaac! You stupid moron, they knew we were coming! They blew up that whole building! He went in there after your stupid..." Eric broke off in a choked sob and tried to turn to go back into the woods. "We need to go... we need to go get him."

    "Hold up, lil'' man..." Mal stopped him again with a huge hand on his chest. "That place is swarming with guards, helicopters... you''d only die, too."

    "He''s not dead!" Eric yelled. "He''s not dead! We need to go in after him!"

    "No," Isaac said.

    "What?!" Eric rounded on him.

    "We will not be going in after him. Mal is correct. It is too heavily guarded now, and we have no guarantee that your brother is still moving," Isaac said thinly, turning towards the hearse.

    Eric ran over to him, grabbed his arm and whirled the sorcerer to face him. That apparently was the last of Isaac''s patience. The taller man grabbed the blond by the leather coat and slammed him up against the side of the hearse, leaning down to speak harshly, quietly, very close to Eric''s startled face.

    "We will not be going in after him. It is suicidal, and I am hardly in the mood nor the condition to go and correct your brother''s mistakes. Do not test my resolve." Isaac released him and climbed into the passenger door, the resounding slam the final punctuation on the argument. Mal watched the scene with a sad, weary expression. Walking around to the door he climbed in, silently, leaving Eric and Muse alone.

    Muse walked up to the frantic man slowly and pulled him into a hug. She frowned as Eric wrapped his arms around her and sobbed into her shoulder. "I know. I know... C''mon, there''s nothing we can do right now. You''re hurt, and we''re all tired. Let''s just go home..."

    "But Vic, he..."

    "I know... we''ll talk about what to do, okay?"

    "He''s... he can''t be dead."

    "I believe you."

    Eric lifted his head. "You do?"

    Muse nodded. She didn''t know if she was lying. Maybe he was alive, but judging by the size of the explosion, it wasn''t likely. "We''ll figure out what to do."

    Eric silently nodded. She climbed with him into the back of the hearse. Keeping an arm around him, Eric slumped against her.

    The drive home was long and painfully silent. Muse looked out the window at the slowly lightening sky as dawn crept over the horizon.

    Don''t be dead, Vic, Muse silently pleaded. Please don''t be dead.

 Chapter Thirteen

    Eric barely stopped moving after exiting the hearse. The first step was to pack up all the weaponry that he was going to need. Heading into his workshop, he picked a different gun off of the wall and slipped it into his hip holster. Stopping to look at two metal, saucer-shaped disks on the workbench, he grabbed them. Sure, they were prototypes, but even on the off chance that they¡¯d work, it was worth it.

    Running a shaky hand through his hair, he winced as he realized that he hadn¡¯t done anything about the burns on his hands. Okay, one didn¡¯t matter, as it was made of metal. But the other was still flesh and was now reminding him exactly how badly real flesh could sting.

    ¡°Eric?¡± he heard from behind him.

    Turning, he saw Muse standing at the door. He let out a deep sigh. The blue-haired ghost was still a wild card in his book. Sweet girl, but he didn''t know where her loyalties lay. Hopefully somewhere else, for her sake. ¡°Don¡¯t try and talk me out of this.¡±

    ¡°Talk you out of what?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to go get Victor, I can¡¯t...¡± Eric pulled in a shaky breath. He tried to keep from letting it get to him, tried to keep the fear and pain at bay. He felt Muse put her hands gently on his shoulders. Meeting her eyes, he saw nothing but worry.

    ¡°I won¡¯t try and stop you... but... Eric. Is this smart...? So soon?¡±

    ¡°I have to. Before-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just past dawn. If you go and save him, and he¡¯s wounded, he¡¯ll die in the sunlight. You should at least wait until dark...¡±

    Eric pulled in another wavering breath and rubbed fiercely at his eyes with the back of his arm. He was glad at least it was Muse standing here, and not Mal or Isaac. The two other men would only make fun of him, or look down at him, for being so upset. They didn¡¯t get it. They didn¡¯t understand. Mal was an only kid, and like hell, if Isaac gave a shit about any of his so-called family.

    But she had a point.

    ¡°So... so I have¡­ it¡¯s a three-hour drive¡­ so I have like, five hours.. to pack up.. and then... and then I¡¯m-¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to go get him. I¡¯m not letting you go in there alone, and... even as suicidal and stupid this is, well, I¡¯m already dead, so I can¡¯t commit suicide.¡± Muse smiled faintly, making a weak attempt at a joke. ¡°So I should at least go and help you... besides, I can move around in there a lot faster than you can.¡±

    ¡°Even then, you¡¯re going to be at risk.¡±

    ¡°I know. But, hey.¡± Muse pulled him into a hug. He put his arms around her gratefully, resting his head on her shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s what friends are for. And you guys are my friends... Even if Isaac has me here on a leash, I care about you guys.¡±

    ¡°You do?¡±

    ¡°Of course I do, stupid.¡±

    Eric chuckled slightly and lifted his head, pulling in a rush of air and wiping his eyes. ¡°I have a lot of stuff to get done before we go. Thanks, Muse... really.¡±

    ¡°Thank me after we get back,¡± she replied thinly. Flicking her head to toss her blue hair away from her face, she shot him a sympathetic smile. Eric found himself oddly flattered that she was willing to risk herself for Vic, for himself.

    ¡°You¡¯re a cool chick, woman. Even if you do keep trying to scare the shit out of me.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, I think.¡±

    <hr>

    Victor groaned, lifting his head weakly as he felt a burning sensation ripping down his arms. He lifted his head further, blinking to try to focus his eyes. He came to the slow realization that he was not laying down - but upright. He looked up slowly and saw his arms locked in cuffs, suspended from the ceiling by large, heavy-duty metal chains. He could feel spikes on the inside of the cuffs boring into his flesh, eyeing the dried blood encrusted on his arms where it had run down them.

    The first sensation that washed over Victor was the pain. The second was the hunger. The burns from the explosion were mostly gone, but his body had used up everything he had in the process. He groggily tried to remember what had happened. A beep. He moved, fast as he could, but not fast enough. At least it seemed to have saved his life.

    For now.

    He looked down at the floor for a long time, and, with an act of sheer will, put his feet back underneath him, then pushed himself up. He cried out in pain as he felt his legs protest the move, but the pressure on his arms and his shoulders slackened. Even if the motion only transferred the pain, it was worth it. At least it no longer felt like his arms were on fire.

    The gnawing in his stomach and muscles, though, was another matter. The hunger was tugging at him and made it hard to focus on what was going on around him.

    "You''re awake."

    He suddenly realized that a grizzled, middle-aged man with graying brown hair and a grim expression stood in front of him. The bright overhead lights in the room glint off the greenish chain-mail the man was wearing.

    "Uriel," Victor managed to hiss out.

    "Oh, good, good, you can talk as well. I thought you were too burned to heal." Uriel walked closer and walked around him once, surveying the vampire.

    Victor groaned and turned his head, trying to take stock of where he was. Suspended in the center of the room, he could barely see to the edges - the room was dimly lit, and dingy, the paint on the wall starting to crack. He noticed a crucifix mounted on the single door. He made the mistake of looking up at the fluorescent lighting and winced in pain as even the dim light hurt his eyes.

    "Wh''m I alive...?" Victor turned his attention back to the Crusader. Uriel walked over to a table by one wall and started to peruse the various items laying atop it.

    "Bait," the other man said in his gruff, matter-of-fact tone.

    "Isaac won'' be.... be stupid enough..." Victor hissed in pain again as one of the spikes shifted in his arm, grinding against his wrist bone.

    "Honestly, insomuch as it involves you, it''s not Isaac we''re aiming for. Well, not right now..." Uriel picked up a long silver skewer and held it up to the light. "We know it''s only a matter of time before someone from your outfit shows up, and we''re counting on them bringing the spirit."

    "Whuh...?" He felt ill like he wanted to hurl. It felt like his stomach was trying to devour his kidneys. It probably was.

    "We know what the blue-haired girl is. We know she''s a ghost - we¡¯re not stupid, you know. We''ve decided to neutralize Isaac''s new threat before she becomes a larger issue." Uriel walked up to him, still holding the skewer. With a smile that wouldn''t have been cruel if it weren''t for the look in his eyes, he slowly shoved the skewer into Victor''s side, slipping it between two of his ribs.

    Victor hissed as he felt the silver work its way through his ribs into one of his lungs - the burning, tearing, searing pain ripping through his nerve endings. He arched his back, roaring in pain again as Uriel quickly yanked the skewer out. Blood oozed down his side, dark and slow moving. There wasn¡¯t much left for him to bleed. Victor snarled at the Crusader and pulled against his restraints, instantly regretting it. He straightened himself up again as much as he could to try and relieve the strain on his wrists.

    "I''ll assure you that I don''t enjoy this." Uriel turned the skewer over in his hands.

    "Mmm, too bad."

    "Hum?" Uriel blinked.

    "''Cause I do." Victor grinned at him, flashing his fangs, and snapped his head forward - biting at the air. "Do it again, handsome... Don''t be a tease." Victor growled deep in his throat, a deep rumbling purr that was anything but human. If he couldn¡¯t win, he could provoke. And damn, he was good at pushing people¡¯s buttons. ¡°C¡¯mon, sexy... c''mon."

    Uriel wrinkled his nose in disgust and turned and walked away, dropping the skewer on the table and exiting the room. Muttering to himself, he shut the door behind him to the sound of Victor''s shrill, hoarse laughter.

    Ezekiel sat, hunched over the jar in the living room. He was petting the side of it slowly. "Oh, I know. I know," he giggled at some private joke.

    "Ezekiel."

    The little man looked up, snickered and waved. "Hi, Isaac! Whassup?"

    Isaac crouched down in front of him and looked at the man intently. "I need you to do something for me. I want you to tell me where she is."

    "Um? Um... they''re going to go invade a base, and... and... Yeeeeeah..." Ezekiel looked down at the jar in his lap. "It''s going to be like Jack the Ripper had happy hour! Rippy rippy, munchy munchy. Om nom nom nom!"

    "No, not Muse."

    "OoOooohh... her. I told you I can''t... that''s cheating. Things can''t go out of order! Then you''d be like me. I''m all in the wrong order... Or at least, that''s what Roger says. We''re both all out-of-order. That''s why he plays Scrabble with me. ''Cause we''re out-of-order. He keeps eating all the tiles..." Ezekiel sniffed, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose. "You don''t want to be Mr. MacCheaterpants, do you?" Ezekiel squealed as Isaac growled at him, and made a move as if to throttle him. He recoiled and whimpered in fear.

    Isaac only let out a long sigh of defeat and lowered his hand, standing up. "Never mind..."

    "Oh! Oh. Oooooh. See, see, I see what you''re doing... I don''t think it''ll work though,¡± Ezekiel crooned, giggled, and looked down at the jar in his lap. "What do you think Mr. Blinky?"

    "What are you seeing, Ezekiel?"

    "I see... I see him. With her. All blues and blacks and blacks and greens and whites and... a tennis ball. Awwww, how cute. They''re cute in... in a weird ''eat your face'' kinda way."

    "Ezekiel. With whom? With-"

    "Nooo, not her. Not yours. I can''t tell you where she is. I''m talking about his. He''s after her, not her. Heheheee... I like pronouns. Don''t you? No no, silly. Ghostie! Ghostie and him. Together. Together in his world, and... and sooner than you''d think. Sooorrry... Please play again, no purchase necessary!" Ezekiel snickered and hugged the jar closer to him, cuddling it with his eyes shut like it was a stuffed animal.

    Isaac turned, a dark expression across his features. He gripped the doorframe hard enough that his knuckles turned white. "You''re sure?"

    "Uhhuh!" Ezekiel smiled brightly at him.

    Isaac started up the stairs to his study, preparing himself for a long night.

    "My bologna has a first name, is B-A-C-O-N..."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    Victor pulled in a sharp hiss of pain. His back arched back against the restraints holding him dangling from the ceiling. Fresh blood had begun to run down his arms as he struggled against the chains. He looked down at the burning hot branding iron searing into his flesh. Snarling, Victor hissed at the man in front of him, his fangs distended from the rest of his teeth.

    ¡°I am always impressed with how much damage you hellspawn can withstand. Although rumor is your so-called ¡®benefactor¡¯ Radu could withstand worlds more than this. You¡¯re but a child, even to them.¡± Uriel pulled the brand away slowly, watching the skin stuck to it stretch and then rip away from the hot metal. He watched the flesh underneath as it oozed, the smell of seared meat rising into the air.

    Victor remained silent, hate boiling in his eyes. His breathing was stopped completely - he didn''t need to breathe if he wasn''t talking. At the moment, breathing only made the pain worse.

    ¡°Tell me vampire, how many people have you killed?" When Victor didn''t respond, Uriel shook his head. "We have at least three dozen confirmed kills associated to you. That''s not counting anything from your ''employment'' with Isaac. At least three dozen people... who you fed on until they died." Uriel made a ''tsk'' noise and walked away to the table by the wall. "A shame, really.¡± He picked up a knife from the tray, and dropped the brand into a bucket of water, causing it to hiss sharply as it flash-cooled.

    Uriel walked back and held the knife up to Victor¡¯s face, slowly spinning it around, watching the light shine and glint off of the metal. The vampire continued to try to drop him dead with a glare.

    ¡°Seems a shame that Satan put all this effort into a creature who knows nothing but how to cause death...¡± Uriel ran the knife¡¯s sharp edge along Victor¡¯s chest, cutting a red line down the flesh. He slipped the knife under the layer of flesh and pulled, slowly peeling the skin from the muscle. Victor screamed through clenched teeth, forcing himself to cut off the scream sharply, despite the pain. He yanked on the chains, not caring about the pain in his wrists and hissed inhumanly at the Crusader in front of him.

    ¡°I do not delight in torture, vampire - but you will pay for what you have caused - I will return it to you tenfold.¡± Uriel cut the section of skin off of his chest and threw it aside. It fell to the ground with the sound of a damp cloth impacting the stone floor. ¡°Although it looks like you¡¯re running out of time.¡± Uriel chuckled and dug the point of the knife into the pale whitish-pink exposed muscle below.

    <hr>

    Muse could have gone the rest of her existence happy without ever seeing this place again. Looking down at the army base, she let out a long breath. It looked like nothing had happened. They were certainly pretty fast at cleaning everything up. Only a few remaining smears of blood decorated the wall. The bulbs had been replaced, and the only other sign that anything had happened, was the charred gutted skeletal remains of the cement building that had detonated.

    "I don''t think I like this plan. Can I tell you how much I don''t like this plan?"

    "What''re you worried about - it''s not like they can shoot you."

    "They can shoot you, though."

    "I''ll be fine. This is why you''re going first. Go inside, do... I don''t know, something, and I¡¯ll get Victor out.¡±

    ¡°You really haven¡¯t thought this through.¡± Muse looked at him and let out a small nervous laugh. There was no helping the situation. ¡°Fine. I''m going."

    Drifting down the hill, she floated up and over the wall. She looked over at the guards - they were more than a little ominous in their white hoods, fabric tabards, and large vicious looking guns. A gold cross was emblazoned on across each of the guard''s tabards. She tried her best not to remember the sight of what she had seen happen to the other men who looked just like them.

    Moving past the wall into the complex, she took stock of the place. The only building that seemed at all sizable or of any note was a large stone church in the very center of it. It seemed like a good of a place as any to start.

    Slipping through the walls of the church, she found herself amidst wooden pews and flickering candelabras. Marble statues of, well, she could only guess that they were important religious figures, dotted the walls. She recognized the big ones - Mary, Jesus - but after that, she was pretty much clueless. After exploring the first floor and finding no one, she pressed herself down through the floor.

    Popping into what she could only guess was a pantry, she meandered through the boxes of spaghetti sauce and canned fruit out to the other side. The basement looked disappointingly nondescript. It had more security cameras than most, yes, and more large metal doors, but other than that, she saw fundamentally no-one and nothing of interest.

    Another floor down, she finally found something unusual. The walls seemed to glow with a strange, mild, green glow. She had seen a lot of things glow - but never walls, never inanimate objects. Victor was nowhere else to be found. If he was alive, he had to be through here. But she had no idea what else she''d find.

    She had the distinct sensation that this was a horrid, epic, asinine idea.

    Screw it.

    What¡¯s the worse that¡¯ll happen?

    It¡¯s not like I can die again.

    Oblivion?

    Whatever.

    Pain?

    Big deal.

    Christ - once a goth, always a goth I guess.

    Whelp - here goes...

    Muse floated through the wall and instantly contacted the floor with a hard thump. She stood up quickly and looked around in panic as she realized that somehow she was in physical form. She stood there by the wall and found herself staring at men in armor... who were staring back at her.

    The room was awkwardly quiet.

    ¡°... Pizza delivery?¡± Muse cracked a nervous smile.

    She would never forget the huge armored figure that stomped towards her. Before she could react, Michael was next to her, grabbing her by the hair. Her body jerked as he threw her into the center of the room. She hit the ground hard and skidded to a halt. She tried to phase out her body, but couldn¡¯t. She stood up and turned around, her head snapping to the side as Michael punched her in the jaw, the force knocking her again to the ground. He stood over her, one gauntleted hand holding her fishnet shirt, the other still gripped in a fist. Her face jerked to the side as he punched her a second time.

    "Y''know that really isn''t doing any good," Muse said flatly.

    "Are we done yet? I really wanna leave," whined a young female voice.

    "Please, Raphael," came the voice of another woman.

    Muse only laughed. Her head snapped to the side again. "Dude - quit it.¡± Her head rocked to the side again as he punched her for the fourth time. ¡°I can''t feel it. So unless you''re using me as your home gym, cut it out."

    Her head snapped to the side again.

    ¡°Would it help you feel more motivated if I kept saying ¡®ow?¡¯¡±

    The man behind the armor hesitated, then dropped her to the ground. She looked up at him looming over her, staring down at her from behind the gold cross emblazoned on his helm. He was a frightening sight, she had to admit. He was huge in that suit of armor and looked completely inhuman.

    Michael suddenly reached down and grabbed Muse by the arms. Not used to having to dodge things, Muse yelped again in surprise. Whipping her around onto her stomach, she suddenly found herself examining the tile flooring from far too close. Muse heard the snapping of restraints onto her wrists. When she tried to pull her arms apart, she found herself unable to move them.

    She laid there quietly for a moment, then yanked on her wrists a few times. She tried to phase out again, but couldn''t. She seemed somehow stuck in physical form. This was about eight different kinds of ''not good.'' "So, uh, anyone want to tell me how you¡¯re doing this neat trick? Whoa-¡± Muse yelped again as Michael wrenched her back up to her feet and shoved her again towards the center of the room.

    Muse planted her feet, but she weighed barely anything and was no match for the bigger man. She turned to snap at Michael but met his fist instead. She turned her head to glare at him.

    ¡°Seriously - cut it out - enough with the punching. It doesn¡¯t do anything. It''s just really annoying."

    ¡°Unholy undead creature,¡± Michael snarled down at her, his voice sounding hollow and metallic.

    ¡°Um.... uppity bible freak?¡± Muse returned with a cynical smile. She would have piped another one at him, but she found herself suddenly shoved into a chair. Heavy metal boots thumping on the ground, Michael walked around behind her and she heard the click of something else. She tried to stand up and realized that he must have attached her restraints to the chair. She flopped back against the chair. ¡°Whatever,¡± she mumbled.

    Turning her head to quickly scan the room, she finally had time to see who else had been speaking. In the room with them was a young blonde girl - probably fifteen - sitting on a table, wearing a white shirt and red suspenders attached to red pants, loudly chewing gum. Another woman, maybe in her early seventies, leaning on a cane, grey hair pulled back in a neat bun.

    Looking back up at Michael, she watched him pull the helm off of his face. She tried not to laugh at what she saw. She had expected someone fearsome. Not someone so baby-faced. His light brown hair was short, a mop of curls pressed down by the helm he was wearing.

    ¡°Wow. Well hello, Luke Skywalker. Who¡¯d have guessed that the muscle¡¯d be a pretty boy?¡± Muse growled in annoyance as her head snapped to the side as the back of Michael''s metal gauntlet impacted her head. "Sonnova-"

    ¡°Enough," said the older woman to her left.

    ¡°Yeah. What she said.¡± Muse glared up at Michael.

    ¡°I am sorry, Zadkiel. You know my temper...¡± Michael looked down meekly and walked away. Muse sighed and looked up at the old woman and her haggard, worn, yet remarkably kind face. She had more lines from laughing and smiling than frowning. The old woman''s brown eyes held a remarkable amount of sparkle and were focused on the ghost in front of her.

    Muse leaned back in the chair, seeing no way to fight, and no point in screaming or yelling. She figured that this was the chance Eric needed. While she wasn''t really keen on distracting them by being trapped, it was certainly effective none the less. She wasn''t sure how many more of them there were wandering around, but there seemed to be a good portion of them here in the room with her.

    Michael walked up next to Zadkiel and looked at the older woman curiously. ¡°What are you going to do with it?¡±

    ¡°It? Excuse me? I¡¯m a her, thank you," Muse snapped.

    Zadkiel turned her attention back to Muse. ¡°You must excuse Michael, Ghost. What is required of him in the field sometimes removes his social tact.¡± The old woman smiled at her. ¡°You came for your Master¡¯s minion - I am honestly surprised.¡±

    ¡°Master? Isaac?¡± Muse cracked up laughing. It was the funniest thing she''d heard in a long time. ¡°Yeah, no, he¡¯s not my master.¡±

    "Isaac commands her. It must be because she''s dead," Michael observed.

    Muse twisted her head to look at Michael. ¡°Good guess, Sparky. I don¡¯t think they woulda reached that by themselves. Thanks for the input, you saved the day again,¡± she spat out.

    Michael snarled and walked forward, but was stopped by a gesture from Zadkiel. He growled and leaned back against the wall and glared at Muse. ¡°Someday, Ghost - you will rue the day you crossed into darkness. And I will be there to make you suffer God¡¯s wrath.¡±

    ¡°Hey, hun? Look, I hate to break it to you - but you aren¡¯t the star of your own comic book. So you can really stop talking like you are.¡± Muse looked back up at Zadkiel. ¡°And I¡¯m going to guess you¡¯re the one that¡¯s responsible for my being stuck like this.¡±

    ¡°Correct. You say you aren¡¯t Isaac¡¯s creature. Then why do you serve him?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a choice.¡±

    ¡°You are his slave, then,¡± Zadkiel said simply. ¡°Which makes him your Master - willing or not.¡±

    ¡°Then excuse me if I don¡¯t like the term. Makes me sound like a pet. I get enough of that from Isaac.¡±

    ¡°Hm,¡± Zadkiel said quietly, flipping slowly through a book in her hands. ¡°So he sent you after his minion.¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, ''no''?¡± Michael narrowed his eyes.

    "I''m bored - this is really lame," the blonde girl whined.

    "Shut up, Raph," Michael snapped at her.

    "Don''t tell me to shut up, Mike!"

    "Enough, both of you," Zadkiel interrupted firmly. She looked back at Muse with a weary look in her eyes. "You were not sent by Isaac?"

    ¡°I came on my own.¡± Muse shook her head. ¡°I came to get Victor.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s my friend.¡±

    This brought a laugh out of Michael. Muse turned her attention over to him, and she sighed. ¡°What now, Tin-Can?¡±

    ¡°''Friend''? You creatures are not capable of friendship - you are hellspawn, dredges of corrupted humanity, that is all!¡± Michael ranted, glaring a hole into the girl in front of him.

    ¡°... Right.¡± Muse looked back up at Zadkiel and leaned forward. ¡°You better up his meds," she whispered loudly.

    Michael growled from the wall and started walking towards the door. He reached for the doorknob.

    ¡°No!¡± Zadkiel turned to look at him. ¡°Do not open that door, Michael.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m stuck in here?¡± He did not sound pleased.

    ¡°At least until I confine her properly, yes.¡±

    ¡°Open the door, Michael,¡± Muse urged. She almost hoped he¡¯d do it. Pause. A thought. ¡°Wait - confine me? What?¡±

    The old woman smiled again and walked away, limping with her cane slowly to a bookcase by one wall. Zadkiel pulled down a green glass bottle. "Raphael, could you please?"

    The little teenage girl slid off of the table and crossed in front of the room, sticking her tongue out at Muse as she walked past.

    "And you guys come complete with an idiot cheerleader..." Muse muttered. Raphael went to cut a response at her, but Zadkiel interrupted her before she could. This was all starting to make Muse nervous. She probably should be taking this more seriously - but spouting out sarcastic comments is how she dealt with stress. It often leads to more stress, but, too late to change now.

    "Raphael, now, please."

    The blonde picked up a little folding table and put it in front of Muse, shooting Muse a bitter glare before walking away.

    Muse could only watch as Zadkiel walked back up to her and placed the green glass bottle down on the table. She turned her attention to Zadkiel and then shook her head slowly as a feeling of horror crept up her spine. ¡°You have got to be kidding me...¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Zadkiel replied calmly.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to trap me in a bottle?!¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°And then what?¡± Muse asked, struggling against the restraints.

    ¡°Drop you into the ocean, maybe. Or bury you at the bottom of a gorge. Or perhaps launch you into space...¡± Michael growled from the door, staring at her with a glint in his eye.

    ¡°You people are screwed up! You¡¯re worse than Isaac!¡± Muse leaned forward and struggled to pull her arms out of the restraints. She began to thrash. ¡°This isn¡¯t human! I¡¯m not like Isaac! You can¡¯t do this to me!¡±

    ¡°We are the sword and shield of God. We are here to protect the living, breathing innocent. You are dead, unnatural - Isaac uses you for his own perverse goals. You cannot remain in our way,¡± Michael continued.

    Zadkiel opened her book and flipped to what must have been the correct page.

    ¡°No!¡± Muse screamed.

 Chapter Fourteen

    Eric slowly crept along the wall of the hallway, making sure his footfalls were as silent as possible.  Hacking the security devices to get into the basement of the complex was easy. Knocking out the guards was annoying, but doable.  Finding Victor seemed to be the real issue here. He dropped his backpack on to the ground and unzipped it. A small whirr and a click later, and a large, metallic, spider-looking little robot crawled out of his bags.  Each of the cameras mounted on its ''head'' turned and focused up at its maker. Another matching robot crawled out of the bag and sat next to its kin, its metal legs clicking on the floor slightly as they fidgeted from side to side, seemingly eagerly awaiting orders.

    ¡°Find Victor.  Let him loose.¡±  The spiders clicked along the floor, making their way up to the wall and punching their way through the drop ceiling before skittering off out of sight.

    He was nervous - but now he had something to do, at least.  He was fine with anything as long as he was working at a solution.  Standing around doing nothing, that¡¯s what drove him nuts.

    Eric sighed and walked in the other direction, one of his guns unholstered and aimed up as he walked.  He carefully made his way around corner after corner as he searched. He narrowed his eyes as he found the first floor deserted.   Down another set of stairs, he rounded a corner and stopped abruptly - pointing his gun at a man standing in front of him in the hallway.

    "Hello, Eric."

    "Uriel."

    "Come to lose your other arm?"

    Eric narrowed his eyes.  "Maybe come to take one of yours."

    "Let''s see you try."

    Eric dove behind the wall as a rain of bullets ricocheted down the hallway.  Eric was good at counting. That''s what he did. Math. Counting cards. Counting bullets.  Waiting until he heard the last bullet fired out of Uriel''s revolvers, he ducked out from behind the door.  Uriel could reload quick, he didn''t have much of an opening. Firing off his own gun, he swore as Uriel sidestepped into an open door.  He only had a split second. Flipping a switch on the side of the heavily modified gun, he fired again - and nearly fell backwards with the force.  The bullet shot through the wall, leaving a huge gaping hole in its wake - and a matching hole in every object and surface that was in its way.

    Eric waited.

    Silence.

    Stepping forward nervously, he looked around the corner, pointing his gun down at Uriel''s body, a large hole blown straight through his chest.  "That''s what you get, asshole... too bad it won¡¯t take."

    Victor hung in the room, his head spinning.  He had lost track of how long he had been there - it could have been hours, could have been weeks.  He could barely focus, the pain was so intense it made his vision blur around the edges. He couldn¡¯t think around the hunger that consumed him.  Cuts, holes, and burns covered his naked chest. He couldn¡¯t heal them with no blood in his system.

    He suddenly felt as if he was falling.  He thought perhaps that death had taken him, but he was awoken by the sudden feeling of his head thwacking onto the floor.  He snorted and groaned in pain. Death didn¡¯t drop you on the floor. Or at least, he hoped not. He faintly heard a whirring noise.

    Victor pushed himself up onto his knees and then stood up, wavering as he watched two mechanical spiders - undoubtedly his brother''s pets - skitter to a door and start cutting through the locks.  Victor grinned sadistically, his features twisted with rage and hunger. He dashed at the door as the last lock dropped to the ground, breaking through with his shoulder. The burn left by the silver cross adorning the door went unnoticed as he flew up the stairs, the smell of blood consuming him.

    He burst through the door, and found himself in front of the people he wanted to torture the worst - his blood and pain hazed mind barely registering the faces of Zadkiel, Michael, and Raphael.  Standing about gaping at him like idiots, he was clearly the last thing they expected.

    ¡°Good...¡± he growled.

    <hr>

    Eric had many talents, he¡¯d admit that to himself.  Technical savvy was obviously his finest. Dragster, video-game fiend, card shark; they were all titles he coveted.  But one thing he decidedly lacked was a sense of direction. As he walked down the same hallway for the second time, he started compiling plans in his head for a set of navigational goggles.

    Suddenly, he heard a crash and screams from down another hallway. Eric took off running, skidding around another corner, running as fast as he could towards the sounds of havoc.

    Eric skidded to a halt and wondered if he had just staggered onto the set of a horror movie.

    His brain scrambled and scraped to try and wrap around the fact that what he was staring at were bodies.  Human bodies. At least half a dozen soldiers lay dead in front of him. A stump of an arm lay next to his foot.  Its white and gold cloth was stained with blood, but not enough - not enough blood for the wound. The white exposed bone in the lump protruded forth from the broken flesh, resembling a cut of steak left out on the counter too long, the juices having drained out.

    Eric¡¯s eyes wandered from the arm to follow a faint trail of blood that led to a crumpled heap, white and gold in a tangled mess.  A tuft of hair poked out from under the other arm, twisted at an unnatural angle. He swallowed hard. The head of the man was hidden from view, stuffed underneath his lower torso.  The man was broken in half, bent around the wrong way like a discarded toy.

    Another body lay nearby. Eric studied it for a long time, trying to make sense out of the battered form.  Eric¡¯s mind finally made out that he was staring at what remained of Michael. The Crusader''s eyes were locked wide, and his jaw was... his jaw was laying next to his body.  Michael¡¯s throat was torn open like someone had taken hold of his jaw and yanked it clean off. He could see the muscles of his throat, the stump of his tongue dangling to the side where it had torn free.

    The third body was the worst - Zadkiel.  Eric¡¯s mind had gone numb as he stared at the mess. Her ribcage had been snapped open like a lobster.  The organs were.... gone. She was torn open down the center and her insides were missing. He took a step towards the body involuntarily.  It had to be wrong. They had to be there. Eric had to swallow back the bile that threatened the back of his throat. He could see Zadkiel''s spine, with nothing in between.

    He looked away and shut his eyes, but that was when he heard the sound.  It sounded like a dog licking at a piece of meat. It was inhuman. The lapping drove a chill through Eric¡¯s body.  Something was horribly wrong with the noise. Don¡¯t look. Don¡¯t look. Don¡¯t look. He had to look.

    Eric dropped his gun to the ground and took a step back as he saw his brother bent over the body of a female soldier, his eyes shut as he leisurely licked at a hole in the side of her neck.  He was... purring. There was a low, guttural rumble coming from him, like a satiated beast. The soldier''s neck was twisted to one side, the wound was made by simply bending the head too far - ripping the flesh, not cutting it.  The woman was dead, although, from the final frozen look on her face, she had been alive long enough.

    Eric ran from the room and collapsed in a corner, retching.

    It was a long time before Eric staggered back into the room and picked his gun up off of the floor.  His hands were shaking and he had no strength to force them to stop. He looked for his brother and found him sitting against a wall, his knees pulled up against his body and his forehead resting against them.  Victor had his arms wrapped around his legs, hugging them close to his body. His arms were covered in blood, his whole body caught in fits of trembling.

    ¡°Vic...¡±  Eric said slowly, taking a few cautious steps towards him, his hand still on his gun.  His steps were apprehensive.

    ¡°Get away...¡± Victor said quietly, slurring his words.

    ¡°Vic," he repeated.

    ¡°Get away!¡±  Victor roared and flew to his feet in a swift unnatural movement.  Eric staggered back, pointing his gun at his brother. Victor''s eyes locked on the gun, then past it at Eric.  His older brother backed away from him and collapsed against the wall, sobs wracking his body.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    Eric stood there, his body shaking.  It took every ounce of him to lower the gun and put it back in its holster.

    ¡°You¡¯re afraid,¡± Victor said quietly and wiped the tears from his eyes. ¡°You should be.  I couldn¡¯t stop. I couldn¡¯t control it. I couldn¡¯t deal with - I couldn¡¯t. The hunger.  They tortured me, and the hunger took over.¡± Victor began to sob. ¡°Eric...¡±

    Eric wanted to run to his brother - but fear twisted in his gut.  He couldn¡¯t go near him. He stood there and stared at his brother for what seemed like hours.  Finally, he turned and looked around the room slowly. Something was missing. No, someone. ¡°Where¡¯s Muse?¡±

    Victor wiped his eyes and let out a long shuddering breath. ¡°Dunno... I came in here... the old woman was... chanting something...¡±

    Eric tried to ignore the torn up bodies and the blood.  He walked to the center of the room and saw the chair and the restraints.  He narrowed his eyes slightly. How could you restrain a ghost? He saw the table on its side and a tall blueish-greenish-black glass bottle on the ground near it, a cork shoved in the neck of the bottle.  A book lay on the ground, spattered lightly with blood.

    This gave him something to think about - anything else to focus on except the carnage.  Eric walked around the mess to the book and leaned down, peering at the words. Most of it made little sense to him, as it was all in Latin.  He sighed, knowing that the book was a useless clue unless he could read it. ¡°I don¡¯t know where she is... I don¡¯t know what they were up to...¡±  Eric picked up the book, shut it, and tucked it under his arm. ¡°Maybe Isaac can make sense of this.¡±

    ¡°Yeah...¡± Victor forced himself to walk forward, to put each foot in front of the other and to go to the door.

    Eric finally looked at his brother and saw the wounds covering his chest and arms.  They looked like they were healing, but he winced, unable to imagine the pain his brother suffered.

    The trek out of the base took place in silent, the wait in the car was the same.  After an hour without Muse showing up, Eric started the long and wordless drive back to the house.

    <hr>

    ¡°And... so... that¡¯s... about it,¡±  Eric finished quietly. He intently studied the pattern of the carpet and drummed his fingers on his thighs, a nervous habit he shared with his brother.  Anything but looking at Isaac where he sat in his chair. If this didn¡¯t make him fly off the handle, what would?

    Isaac had his eyes shut in the leather seat, his fingers steepled in front of his face.  He hadn¡¯t moved since the story began and Eric would have guessed him for a statue if he didn¡¯t know better.

    Eric looked around at the large library.  He tried not to look at Isaac, afraid that the dark haired man might set him on fire with a thought.  Every muscle in his body was tight. He was worried about Victor, who was holed up in the room they used as a pseudo-infirmary.  He honestly didn''t know how he felt about his older brother right now. Flashes of imagery and memories from earlier in the night rushed forward.  He forced them away, struggling to keep his thoughts on the problem at hand. He was worried about Muse, who was still missing. He was also worried about himself, hoping he would survive Isaac¡¯s ire.

    Isaac slowly opened his eyes and looked over the rim of his glasses at Eric.  He turned his gaze to the table with the various items laying scattered across its surface.  He leaned forward and picked up the blood-spattered brown leather book. Flipping through a few of the pages he found two stuck together by dried blood.  Annoyed with the ill care of the text, Isaac carefully began peeling the pages apart. Finally succeeding, he scanned the text. Letting out a long and exasperated sigh, Isaac stood up and started towards the door carrying the leather book.

    ¡°Um... Isaac?¡±

    Isaac stopped walking but didn¡¯t turn or speak.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry...¡± Eric said quietly.

    Isaac simply resumed walking.

    <hr>

    A gaping black hole - glowing white writing of some archaic origin swirling around the edges - formed on the wall.  Stretching itself larger, the blackness seemed to lead to nowhere. Isaac stepped out of it, the black circle shrinking and then vanishing behind him.

    Isaac stood in the center of the room, staring down at the aluminum chair in front of him.  He wrinkled his nose. The room reeked of magic. Magic and rotting meat. He turned his head to look around the room and could feel the carnage that took place there.  He would have smiled if all the bodies were still there. The bodies of the soldiers lay where they had been discarded, but the bodies he had hoped for were gone. What blood had been spilled onto the floor remained, dried to rusty-brown puddles and streaks.

    ¡°Raphael,¡±  Isaac sighed and shook his head, then started to walk around the room slowly.  The child was starting to test his patience, constantly undoing all their hard work.  Pacing around it once, he stopped again by the chair and looked down at the ground in front of him.  A table was overturned on its side, and he tilted his head slightly as he saw the little glass bottle laying on the ground.  Leaning down, he picked it up by the cork and hissed. Dropping the bottle with a snarl, Isaac glared down at the offending bottle, frustrated.  He looked down at his hand, seeing the burn left by the bottle slowly fade as his body healed itself.

    Isaac pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket with a small disgruntled noise.  Reaching down, he wrapped the silk around the bottle and stood up. Looking around the room one last time before turning to leave, he headed towards the wall.  Without even as much as a gesture, the same black hole reappeared, widening to allow him through. He looked down at the bottle in his hand.

    ¡°Really, Muse... you¡¯re starting to be as much of a burden as the others," he smirked,  ¡°Although - you don¡¯t leave the kitchen a mess.¡±

    <hr>

    Walking into his study, Isaac shut the door behind him and crossed the room to his desk.  He placed the glass bottle atop it and loosened his tie with a small yank to one side. He sat unmoving for a long time, his eyes narrowed slightly at the little bottle in front of him.  This was troublesome to him on more than one level. He found himself with a rather serious internal debate.

    "You realize," he spoke, knowing quite well she couldn''t hear him.  "That it would solve all of my problems to simply leave you like this.  I hope that you would not think it was an act of spite,¡± he reached out and gripped the bottle by the glass - which did not burn his flesh like the cork, and rotated it slowly, looking and the swirling blue-black mass within the green bottle.  ¡°You would not believe me if I told you that more good would come to you, and all of us, to take advantage of this situation and to leave you trapped within that glass,¡± he said with a sigh.

    ¡°I do not know if you understand what is about to happen to you, Muse¡­ I certainly know you would laugh if I told you that I - against all odds - am only attempting to save the world as we know it,¡± he chuckled idly.  ¡°But it seems, that... one does not simply leave another behind, as you said. You did not leave me to the Crusaders, it would be in poor taste to leave you to them." He let out a slow breath and pushed his glasses up his nose with the shove of a ring finger.  "My dear, you are going to cause me no end of trouble."

    Reaching out, Isaac grasped the glass bottle in one hand and the cork in the other and yanked.  Hissing in pain he pulled his hand back from the cork and watched as the charred darkened flesh on his palm slowly faded back to its usual color, wisps of smoke rising from it.  An idiotic attempt, but it was often the obvious that was overlooked in situations like these.

    He placed the bottle back on the desk and thought the situation over for a while longer before standing up from his chair and walking to a bookcase.  Pulling down a jar of black liquid he returned to his desk and took a long paintbrush from a drawer. Dipping it slowly into the black liquid he painted it around the rim of the cork.  The weird substance began to bubble, hiss, sizzle... and then abruptly caught fire.

    Swearing, Isaac rolled his chair sharply back from his desk and blew out the flame.  He sighed and sat back down in the chair and leaned back, his fingers steepled in front of his face again.  Neither of them were getting any older, or apparently had anything better to do, so he took his time thinking over his options.  Then, like the proverbial light bulb, he groaned with a sudden realization. Yes. Often it was the obvious that was overlooked. Even he was the fool sometimes.

    Opening a drawer to the bottom left on his drawer, he began to dig and search for something - glass rattling as he pushed jars and bottles aside.  Pulling out a small wooden box, he leaned back and opened it up. Isaac took a pinch of white powder and dropped it over the bottle. The cork glowed bright, shining white light like a flare - but the bottle did not.  Isaac laughed and groaned at the same time. "Idiots," he murmured to himself quietly. The cork was enchanted. But not the glass bottle itself.

    When the light flickered and went out he picked up the bottle by the glass and stood up.  Facing the other side of the room, he looked down at the bottle in his hands. ¡°You will never know, I suspect, the danger I am placing us all in by freeing you¡­ God in hell, forgive me,¡± and with that, he lobbed the container at the far wall of his office.  The glass shattered and bits of green glass rained down on the wood floor and carpet. The glass touching the cork remained perfectly intact.

    ¡°Shitheads!¡±  Muse roared from nowhere in particular.

    ¡°Ah, yes, good to see you are ever charming as usual,¡±  Isaac said with a smirk and sat back down.

    Muse appeared standing in the middle of the floor and swore.  ¡°Those little sons of bitches!¡± she yelled, shaking.  She shut her eyes and sat down on the floor, feeling suddenly very lightheaded.  She looked worse for wear, seeming to fade in and out of her physical form. Isaac was, though he would not admit it out loud, impressed by her control to maintain it at all.

    ¡°Muse, you should not overexert yourself right now."

    ¡°Good call..." The young ghost put her hand to her head.  ¡°I¡¯m dizzy¡­ How can you feel dizzy when you¡¯re dead¡­?¡±

    ¡°Do not debate it, my dear, and rest yourself.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± She let her body dissolve into nothingness.  Isaac still found it fascinating to watch.

    ¡°We will have a long talk once you have recuperated.¡±

    Muse barely heard him as she floated weakly to the attic and instantly slipped into unconsciousness.

 Chapter Fifteen

    Walking down the stairs was painful, she decided.  It was so slow - so inefficient. And right now, it was dragging on her nerves.  She was still out of sorts after what had happened, but she felt the need to walk about like she was normal - alive - in case of Aaron.  She grumbled about it under her breath as Muse headed into the kitchen. As she walked in, she heard a thump from next to her. She saw Eric sitting on the floor, staring up at her wide-eyed.

    ¡°Seriously!  Stop doing that!  I''m really freakin'' sick of that stunt."  Eric shot her a glare.

    Muse chuckled. ¡°I actually just walked in that time, I swear.  I just don¡¯t think you noticed.¡± She reached down to help him.  He took her hand and stood up with a disgruntled mutter.

    Eric slumped back onto the stool he had just abruptly vacated.  He grasped a half-empty glass in one hand and took a drink. He coughed, then wiped his hand across his forehead.  He looked like he was sick. Muse raised an eyebrow at him, then saw the answer - a bottle of vodka sat on the counter next to him.

    ¡°Is Victor okay?¡±  Muse asked, watching him.  The man was very clearly trashed.

    ¡°I guess,¡±  Eric said and sipped at the glass.  ¡°Sorry," he said darkly, staring down into the clear liquid in his glass.

    ¡°About?¡±

    ¡°What happened to you,¡± he replied, taking another sip of the glass and letting out a long exaggerated breath.

    ¡°Yeah... whatever.  It didn¡¯t hurt,¡± Muse said with a small shrug.  She wasn''t going to tell him how much it had taken out of her.  Bent over a glass of vodka, it looked like he had plenty of his own problems.

    ¡°What exactly happened?¡±  Eric shot down the rest of the glass of vodka, blinked and shook his head.  He poured himself a fresh glass.

    ¡°I¡¯m not exactly sure... The old woman-"

    ¡°Zadkiel," he grunted out.

    ¡°Right.  She stuck me in the bottle, I guess... I¡¯m not sure.  Everything just went black.¡±

    ¡°Huhn.¡± Eric shifted his gaze from his glass to the granite.  His body was caught with a shiver for a moment - some sort of nervous reaction.

    The poor bastard.  Muse walked around to the stool next to him and sat down on it, sitting close to him.  She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, frowning. ¡°What happened?¡± She got no answer.  She sighed and rubbed his back lightly. "You''re going to fry your circuits with all that vodka." That at least got a laugh out of him, even if it was only one laugh.  She paused and stroked his hair back slightly. "Hun, you don''t look like you''ve slept."

    ¡°Haven¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°How long?"

    ¡°Dunno.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡±  Again, nothing but a quiet grunt.  She turned his head to look at her, making him focus his bleary eyes on hers. ¡°Eric.  C¡¯mon. Please.¡±

    ¡°Victor, he," he started, but his voice cracked into a small whine, and he shook his head.  Whatever it was that had happened, he obviously didn''t want to relive it.

    ¡°He¡¯s okay?" she pressed.

    ¡°Yeah, but.. he...¡±

    ¡°He what?¡±

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t human...¡± Eric finally stammered quietly.  He lowered his head even further. Slouching his shoulders over the counter, he gripped the glass with both hands, holding onto it like it was the only secure thing he had in the world.  Muse blinked, completely unsure of what to say.

    ¡°What?  Hun... he¡¯s a vampire," she stated the obvious.

    ¡°No.  I mean, he.. He-¡±  Eric sighed and climbed off of the stool suddenly.  He staggered a bit, and gripped the countertop with one hand, steadying himself.  Picking up the bottle of vodka and started out of the room. His gait wasn''t exactly straight, but he managed to make it through the door by sheer willpower.  He clearly needed to get away - to get out. Muse could only watch. What was she going to do, pin him to the ground and force it out of him?

    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± Eric disappeared down the hallway without another word.

    Muse sat there staring at the door for a long time, lost in thought.  She needed to know what had happened. There was only one person who''d know - really know - what was going on.  Whether or not he told her was another matter entirely.  She really desperately didn''t want to go up there, but she had no other options at this point.

    She sighed and decided it was only a matter of time.  He said he needed to talk to you, anyway.  No use avoiding it. Taking the unusually-long-feeling-walk up the stairs, she stood at his door and knocked.

    ¡°Enter,¡± came the simple reply.

    She rolled her eyes at the formality of it, and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.  She found him at his desk, writing away in a book. As usual. He held his glasses in one hand, slowly spinning the wire between his fingers as he wrote.

    ¡°Hello, Muse,¡± Isaac said quietly and put his pen down.  She wondered how he knew it was her. Probably has committed the sound of knocks to memory¡­ seems neurotic enough for him.  He picked up a glass of water off of his desk and took a sip as he swiveled around to look at her.  ¡°You¡¯re up and around. Good. Faster than I predicted,¡± he said simply.

    ¡°Glad I impress you,¡± Muse replied.  They stayed in silence for a long moment, her not sure what to say, and him waiting.  He eventually arched one eyebrow at her quizzically. "Uh..." she finally spoke. "So... um, Eric''s a mess."  She shoved her hands in her pockets. She hated how Isaac looked at her. Like he was always judging her, always taking stock of her.  It was, if she admitted it to herself, intimidating.

    ¡°He¡¯s having trouble accepting what his brother did, I expect,¡± Isaac said and turned back around to face his desk again, rearranging the papers around on the glass surface, looking for something specific.  "I believe that Eric neither fully understands, nor accepts his brother''s condition. A pity, as they will both have to come to terms with it. They are only prolonging the inevitable."

    Muse let that sink in for a while.  Sure, she would live forever - or, rather, exist forever - but she had no family, no one she was really attached to.  Victor would watch his brother age and die. Eric would watch his brother change into something other than human. Heavy.  She watched Isaac as he shuffled through papers. "So... do you want to tell me what Victor did?"

    ¡°Hrm.  He didn¡¯t explain it to you.¡±  Isaac lifted his head slightly from where he sat for a moment, staring off thoughtfully before resuming searching around through his papers.

    ¡°No.  Think he was too upset to be sober and too drunk to process.¡±  Muse walked over to the fireplace, looking at the pictures arranged on the shelf.  Many of him, posing alone or with others. Some were colored, but most were black and white, aged yellow with time.  She picked up one - it had to have been from the thirties. Some looked¡­ much older. Damn it, he was older than her.  Of course, he always had to be right.  "Cute pictures." She placed the frame back on the fireplace with a small click.

    "Thank you."  He sounded amused.

    Muse smiled lightly, glad she got some reaction out of him.

    "Muse, we need to speak."  He sounded horribly like her father at that moment.  Well, okay, considerably more well-spoken than her dad ever was, and Isaac swore less.  But the tone was there. When she looked in his direction, he motioned her closer.

    She chewed on her lip for a moment, nervous.  She was going to get yelled at, she knew it. Finally working up the nerve, she walked up to his desk and sat down on the edge of it, keeping a few feet from him.  She kept her eyes fixed pointedly on the floor. Her blue hair fell in front of her face, as usual, further obscuring him.

    Isaac leaned back in the chair and looked over at her.  "You endangered yourself, Eric and Victor, by rushing off on that fool¡¯s errand.  You should have spoken to me. This could all have been prevented."

    "I know."

    "I am aware that Eric most likely pressured you into rushing in headlong after his brother.  If something like this were to ever happen again, I expect you to report it to me. I cannot have half of my employees being disabled in one fell swoop.  That would have left me with only Mal and Ezekiel... Truly Muse, take some pity on me."

    Muse looked up at him, seeing a rare smirk on his face.  She was surprised at his joke and found herself smiling. She didn¡¯t feel like telling him that she didn¡¯t exactly fuss about going along with Eric.  She had volunteered and had insisted, no less. That would require admitting that she felt some sort of connection to them.

    "Do I have your word?"

    "Yeah."

    "Good."  Isaac seemed satisfied with her answer and went back to the current problem at hand.  He picked up a stack of papers tied together with a thin piece of string, undid the knot and started to leaf through them.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°So really, what happened?  You''re the only one who''ll talk to me right now.¡± Her attention slipped to the papers Isaac was searching through.  They were all covered in the same handwriting - she assumed it was his. The black script was, as she expected, precise and exact.  She saw various lists, charts, some doodles of circles with strange writing and symbols all over them. She even thought for a moment she saw a grocery list go by.

    ¡°Eric witnessed his brother in a primal fit of hunger," Isaac began, his attention was still on the papers.  "He tore the Crusaders apart, rather literally. Eric is having trouble coming to terms with what his brother is capable of.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    Isaac looked up at her for a moment as if expecting her to say more, then looked back down at his work.  Honestly, she didn¡¯t know what else to say. She couldn¡¯t really comprehend what he had said - ¡®tore the Crusaders apart, literally.¡¯  The only thing she had to compare it to was the violence she had witness Isaac unleash.  She didn¡¯t want to think about Victor being capable of something that matched that level of gore.

    Isaac sighed quietly, clearly becoming annoyed that whatever he was looking for was eluding him.  Muse studied the carpet from where she was atop the desk, lost in thought. There was something she wanted to say, but she couldn''t quite grasp hold of what it was.  They sat in silence for a while, before Isaac gently sat down the stack of papers. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at her.

    ¡°Muse.  Logic or fear has never held your tongue before.  Speak.¡±

    ¡°Huhn?" She looked up at him, caught off guard.

    ¡°Whatever it is you wish to say, go ahead.¡±

    "It''s just that-" Muse paused, attempting to gather her thoughts.  Isaac watched her patiently as she turned them over in her head. She cared about Eric and Victor.  She hated to see Eric screwed up, and she had been frantic over Victor. These people were hit men - monsters and murderers - and she was being held captive by a sorcerer.  She wasn''t supposed to care about them. She remembered there was some kind of name for that symptom when you got attached to somebody who held you prisoner, but she couldn''t remember it now.  That''s what she got for not paying attention in Psych class.

    When she was honest with herself, she liked it here.  And she didn''t know if that was okay.

    "Go on."

    Screw it.  Whatever. He can''t humiliate you any more than he already has.  She took a breath and let out the first few words in a rush of air.  ¡°I''ve been thinking. Especially with what''s just happened - with Eric, and Victor.  I¡¯ve started to like everyone here, more or less. The guys are great fun. It¡¯s... a nice change.  I spent - I don¡¯t know how long - in a graveyard by myself with no attachments. Here... yes... it may not be altogether pleasant, but it¡¯s not exactly... boring.¡±

    Muse kept her eyes fixed on the floor.  Isaac always seemed to know too much about the people around him and their thoughts.  No matter how hard she tried to hide them, Isaac knew. She could only imagine how much that had pissed off Aaron as a child.  She also suspected she showed her emotion easily on her face. She probably should work on that, but a part of her didn¡¯t care.

    Isaac steepled his fingers in front of his face and watched her intently from over the rim of his glasses.

    Muse kept going, suddenly feeling like she was talking to the weirdest therapist ever.  ¡°One of the Crusaders - Zadkiel. She called you my master. She pointed... she pointed out that willing or not, I¡¯m still your slave.  It was kind of a rude reminder that I don¡¯t have a choice here.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t.  As crass as she phrased it, yes.  That hasn¡¯t changed.¡± He stood up and moved to stand in front of her where she sat on his desk.  He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to look at him. ¡°Your current predicament is still as it was months ago.¡±

    Muse pulled her head away from his hand.  To say she felt torn was to put it mildly.  She liked being there... but she didn¡¯t like being forced to be there.

    ¡°But if you prefer to sulk over the terms of your tenure here, and not look at it as the opportunity that it is, so be it.  It doesn¡¯t change anything except how miserable you are. If you choose to be miserable, I suppose that is your prerogative.¡±

    ¡°Hun, I¡¯m a goth.  I¡¯m really good at being miserable.  It¡¯s kind of our job.¡± She shot him a cynical smirk.

    A bare smile crossed his face.  ¡°I never doubted your ability for a moment.¡±

    Muse vanished into mist and slipped across the floor away from him.  It was all overwhelming. She reappeared by a bookcase, folding her arms around herself.  Isaac sat back down in his chair. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean I like this situation," she insisted, if only for her own dignity.  She didn''t want to admit that she liked them at all. She didn''t want to admit that this was starting to feel like home. Muse - as childish as it might be - didn''t want to be ''okay'' with her situation.

    ¡°Of course.  You¡¯re simply making do with the hand you¡¯ve been dealt.¡±  Isaac swiveled the chair around and resumed his work. She thought she saw a smile on his face as he picked up his pen and began to write on a clean sheet of paper.  If he knew the game she was playing with herself, he seemed content to let her play it.

    ¡°Exactly.¡±  Muse paused for a long moment and watched Isaac, thinking.  She slowly resigned herself to the fact there was nothing more she could say and gripping the doorknob, she left him to his papers.

    <hr>

    Eric grumbled under his breath as he focused up at the underside of his car.  He wiped an oily hand across his forehead, further smearing the black substance across his skin.  Pulling the wrench out of his mouth, Eric began to tug and yank on a stubborn bolt on the underside of his precious possession''s front end.  Stay busy. That was the answer to all life¡¯s problems. Or stay drunk. Right now it was stay busy - his stomach finally expressed its annoyance with the latter.

    ¡°Hey Eric,¡± Victor chimed next to the car, watching Eric¡¯s legs twitch in surprise from where he lay underneath the vehicle.

    ¡°Oh.  Hey Vic.¡±

    ¡°You want any help?¡± he asked gently.

    ¡°No, last time you helped me with a project I had to scrap it and start over because you spilled my root beer in it,¡± Eric said with a grunt - glad he couldn''t see his brother from under the car.  He twisted at another bolt, giving up on the stubborn one for the time being.

    ¡°Hey, it wasn¡¯t my fault you left it sitting there,¡±  Victor insisted.

    ¡°Yeah, well, you¡¯re the one who knocked it in.¡±

    ¡°Still.¡±  Eric saw his brother sit down on the ground out of the corner of his eye - sitting with his back against the wheel well.  Victor sat there in silence for a long time.

    ¡°Hey, do me a favor?¡± Eric finally asked.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Victor replied morosely.

    ¡°Hand me that jar next to you, would you?¡±  Eric pointed aimlessly towards a small jar sitting on the cement tile.  It skittered across the cement towards him a moment later.

    Silence fell over the garage as Eric continued to work on his car.  Eric was perfectly happy going on like nothing had happened - that¡¯s how he ran his life.  It probably wasn¡¯t healthy, bottling up all trauma and conflict and putting it on his to-do list, (which usually resulted in broken furniture later on,) but that¡¯s just how he operated.

    Unfortunately, Victor knew better.  ¡°Hey... Eric?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    Victor paused for a long time before he worked up the guts.  ¡°Do you hate me?¡±

    ¡°What the hell kind of question is that, Vic?¡± Eric snorted from under the car.  ¡°If this is still about the root beer I-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s about what I did to the Crusaders.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡±  Eric replied slowly.  "I..." Eric went silent and stared up at the car, glad he didn''t have to look his brother in the face.  He could let the look of disgust cross his features without insulting him. "I don''t know."

    ¡°You do hate me.¡± Victor sighed and shut his eyes.  ¡°I don¡¯t blame you. I mean... that was-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t hate you, Vic.  I just... don''t know.¡± Eric shut his eyes, holding onto the exhaust pipe of his car, glad he had something to squeeze.

    ¡°What do you mean, you don¡¯t know?¡±

    ¡°I just don¡¯t know, man.  I don¡¯t know what to think about what happened.¡±  Eric had just managed to shut out the nightmares - enough booze had done that.  He wanted everything to stay gone, wanted everything to go back to the way it was.  He had to just keep busy.

    ¡°Radu said-"

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what Radu said.  That guy¡¯s a creep and an asshole and I don¡¯t like him,¡± Eric snapped.  That stupid vampire ¡®Prince¡¯ always came up when Victor felt defensive like Victor was some sort of school kid sucking up to a senior classman.  Eric hated Radu, to be honest. Despised him. He never trusted anyone that slick.  And he didn''t like what Radu was doing to Victor.  He was just making him more of a monster.

    ¡°Well, he¡¯s the only one who can tell me about what¡¯s going on with me!¡±  Victor snapped angrily. Part of Eric understood that - the other part didn¡¯t understand why Victor needed the help.

    ¡°Or at least he¡¯s tricked you into thinking that.¡±  Eric knew the argument was useless but didn''t want to admit it.  His brother was Radu''s ''understudy'' of sorts, and he knew that Radu would be there to help him long after - Eric cringed at the idea - he himself had died of old age.

    ¡°He¡¯s helping me.¡±

    ¡°Right.  Sure he is.¡±

    ¡°Eric, you''ve gotta understand.  It¡¯s like I¡¯ve got this thing inside me that I have to keep fed, and if I don¡¯t... it does... it does that.¡±

    ¡°I offered to help you find a cure when you got turned.  I could have fixed you."

    Victor groaned.  ¡°We¡¯ve been over this!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, we have.  And maybe if you had taken me up on my offer!¡±  He clenched the exhaust pipe in his hands, as it kept him from doing what he really wanted to do, which was hit his idiot brother.

    ¡°Offer to what?  Turn me into some cyborg?!  That was your idea. ¡®Let¡¯s replace entire sections of your body and blood with some wacky technology you don¡¯t understand.¡¯  Great. Great idea,¡± Victor railed. "I would have been a freak just the same! I just would have been a toaster oven instead of a vampire."

    "Oh, so being like me is worse than being a vampire?!  You really think that little of me?!"

    "Eric - for fuck''s sake-"

    "It would have worked.  You would be human. Mortal!  You wouldn''t be eating people!"

    ¡°Yeah, it all worked really well on your last girlfriend.¡±

    ¡°Low.  Low, Vic.  Really low.¡±  Eric squeezed the pipe harder - wanting to keep from screaming.  The back of his neck was hot with the rage suddenly flooding him.  He knew he was leaving dents in the pipe with his robotic arm. He''d have to replace the whole pipe, but right now it kept him from breaking something else.

    ¡°It¡¯s the truth," Victor said quietly.

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Eric snapped fiercely.  ¡°You just crossed a line so just - just - shut up.¡±

    Victor sighed and stood up, and began to pace around.  ¡°You still blame me for that, too.¡± He threw his hands up helplessly.

    Eric took a long time to reply.  Too long. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Yes, you do!  Don¡¯t lie. I deserve more than to be lied to."

    ¡°Okay.  Yes, I do blame you for what happened to her,¡±  Eric snapped bitterly. He shut his eyes tightly.  He wanted to wrench the pipe loose with his bare hands and beat his brother with it - just to get him to shut up.  This was all too distracting - too much stupid crap being dredged up at once.

    ¡°There.¡±  Victor picked up a rag and started twisting it in his hands.  ¡°You¡¯re disgusted by what I did to the Crusaders.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.  Yeah, I am.  It¡¯s taken two weeks to get those images to stop showing up every time I shut my eyes.  I still have nightmares. It was messed up, Vic. What you did was messed up.¡±

    "I know, but-"

    "It wasn''t human, Vic."

    "I''m not human!"  Victor chucked the rag at the wall.  He took in a deep breath and let it out, defeated.  ¡°I can¡¯t help what I am, Eric.¡±

    Eric shut his eyes and groaned as he heard the door slam shut behind Victor.  Eric kept his eyes shut - and, knowing he was alone, let himself cry.

 Chapter Sixteen

    "I believe it is high time that something is done."

    Muse rustled her feet against the carpet in the library.  She hadn''t been in this room before, as she never had cause to.  Books weren''t ever really her deal. She wasn''t illiterate but didn''t get the overwhelming urge to plow through a stack of books.  She had no idea why she was here. She didn''t work for Isaac. Okay, he bossed her around, but it''s not like she was an employee. Turning her attention up from the patterned rug, she looked around the table.  Isaac had called this ''meeting,'' and sitting around the table was the entire household, sans Aaron. That didn''t shock her. Aaron ¡®didn¡¯t play well with others,¡¯ said Eric, and always refused to be in the same room with any of them except Muse.  Victor sat to her right, Eric across from her next to Mal. Ezekiel was hunkered down in a corner, muttering to his jar.

    "It is time that the Crusaders were dealt with."

    That caught the room''s attention. Victor looked down from examining the ceiling.  "Whoa, wait - what?"

    "We are going to remove them, as it seems they are set on removing us."  Isaac was standing behind the chair at the head of the table, hands resting idly upon the backrest, watching them with the same detached expression.  If he had any real passionate feelings on the subject, they certainly didn''t show.

    "But, Boss, we can''t..." Mal grunted and shifted in the chair, which creaked and squealed in protest of the man''s weight.  "Raphael. The little twerp just keeps bringing ''em back. No matter what we do to them, she just zaps them right back to life."

    "So we remove Raphael."

    "But she can''t die..."

    "I was not planning on killing her.  We are going to remove her."

    Muse watched as a strange smile crossed Isaac''s face.  The way he had said ''remove her'' made her stomach drop.

    "How?" Eric asked, looking up from his tablet.  Muse half suspected he was playing Tetris.

    "We will remove her,¡± was all Isaac apparently had to say on the subject.  "But I am in need of something to do so. I need an old possession of mine that I, unfortunately... misplaced, I suppose you would say.  A while back I entrusted it to an acquaintance, as I was unsure as to how much longer I would grace this world."

    Muse tried not to laugh at the idea of him ''gracing'' anything.

    "I have attempted to retrieve the item that I need but... negotiations have dissolved.  I am aware that it is held in a burying ground just outside of Boston. Unfortunately, I do not know precisely which grave."

    "No way.  We''re digging up the whole graveyard?!"  Victor spoke up before she had a chance. "Man, I hate digging!  I get... all... up with the dirt in the fingernails..."

    "Oh boohoo, pretty boy," Mal snorted.

    "Regardless-" Isaac interrupted before the room cascaded into further argument.  "We will be leaving on Friday."

    "I have a date on Friday..." Victor moped.

    "Then you have a few days to reschedule it, don''t you?" the sorcerer replied dryly.  He turned and headed for the door. Apparently, the conversation was over. "Friday, sundown."  The door clicked shut behind him.

    "Remove?  Remove how?" Muse asked the room quietly.  It sounded so damn... foreboding.

    "Your guess is as good as ours, Blue.  Maybe he''s, I dunno... gonna turn her inta'' a frog ''r somethin''," Mal replied.

    "I like frogs!" Ezekiel offered from his spot by the wall, giggling loudly.  "I call dibsies on the frog!"

    "Oh Christ," Eric groaned.

    "Fan-freakin''-tastic."   Victor stood up with a sigh.  "Ten bucks says Zeek eats the frog."

    "Crunchy frog!  People won''t expect there to be a frog in there.  They''re bound to think it''s some form of mock frog.  Mock frog? We use-"

    The occupants of the room groaned.

    <hr>

    Aaron''s existence seemed to always include the ever-flickering glow of the TV set.  He knew it wasn''t healthy, but he had nothing else. TV and books. Here he sat in his brother''s basement, hiding away from demons that may or may not be real - monsters outside and inside his head had haunted him since he was little.  It seemed he was doomed to suffer no matter where he went, but at least this time Isaac seemed content to just leave him alone in his dark musty little hole and let him do... functionally nothing.

    Perpetually asking ''why'' never seemed to work in the past, he was pretty sure it would do no good to ask now.  He wondered if his life even still had meaning at this point. So he sat. He sat, he watched TV - and he dreamt.  There were worlds and places inside of his head that he could retreat into. Fantasy lives, fantasy worlds. Worlds where he was a hero or a villain.  He had sometimes toyed with the idea of writing them down, but he laughed that off as quickly as he came up with it. The thought of someone reading his stories made him vaguely nauseous, and he was positive nobody would want to, anyway.

    So.

    Here he was.

    Watching ¡®Chopped.¡¯

    The damn show was always on.

    The trampling sound of footsteps down the basement stairs snapped him out of his reverie - he looked up to see Muse walking towards him, a smile on her face.  He let out a small breath. There was one other thing in his world, one other dream he dared to hold on to. He let himself foolishly harbor some small flickering hope.  That hope had turned into what his brother would call ''attachment.'' Aaron was not sure what it was.

    "Hey big man, whatcha'' doing?" she piped cheerfully, blowing her blue bangs out of her eyes.  He thought that was adorable.

    "Nothing."  It was true.

    "Cool, hey - I''m bored out of my mind.  Let''s go see a movie or something."

    "What?"  Movies?! She had to be kidding.

    "Yeah, y''know... moving pictures.  Big shiny things on a screen with people.  They talk now, y¡¯know, a great advancement in technology.  And I¡¯ve heard they have them in color.  Can you imagine?  Devil¡¯s work!¡±

    "Ahah, very funny." Aaron ran a hand through his curly hair, scratching the back of his head and letting the hair fall back over his face, hiding the side marred with sharp, knife-edged scars and his one useless eye.  "I don''t know. I don''t go out."

    The shine left her eyes as it clearly dawned on her what he was saying.  He cursed himself internally. He was always dragging everyone down around him.  Taking the joy from her was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

    "C''mon, Aar."  She had given him a nickname.  He hadn''t had a nickname in ages.  "No one will care. Besides, if they do?  They can go sit and spin on it. You have every right to go out as much as anyone else."

    She didn''t know, and he wasn''t about to educate her.  After the incident in the hospital with his near outbreak, he was shocked Muse would even go near him.  Of course, the spunky little blue-haired goth girl seemed to fear very little. The way she spoke to Isaac made him proud of her.  The way she carried herself made him want her. He shoved those thoughts down deep into the back of his mind, buried them underneath a pile of other thoughts that would lead nowhere.

    He had apparently gotten lost and was simply staring at her silently, judging by the look on her face.  The smile returned to her face as she resumed trying to convince him. "C''mon. Movie. Popcorn. It''ll be awesome."This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Aaron took a deep breath.  If he never took a chance, he would never get anywhere.  Anyway, some stupid show about cupcakes was on now, and it made him want to end humanity.  He flicked off the tube and stood up, brushing off of his pants. "Um, let me change..." he said quietly.  He could at least put on a sweater to hide the scars that ran down his arm. Short of wearing a ski mask and glasses, there was little he could do to change his face, but he could at least minimize the social damage.

    "Sweet!  I''ll wait for you upstairs," she suddenly hugged his arm.

    He froze.

    Aaron looked down at her.  She was a little spark of electricity in this house.  He, for the millionth time, wanted to know why she was here, what purpose Isaac had in having her here.  But if he couldn''t tell her the truth about him, he wasn''t about to demand it from her. He watched as she turned and ran up the stairs, saying something else that he was too distracted to catch.  God, she was gorgeous.

    He shook his head and growled, pushing the persistent thought away.  Walking to a basket of clothing, he started to rifle through it. At least the theatre would be dark.  They could sit somewhere in the dark, and no one could see him. No one could see either of them. Maybe he -

    He pushed the thought down the third time.  Pulling the sweater over his head, he combed his hands hurriedly through his hair and made his way up the stairs.  Standing in the foyer was Muse, ever in the same outfit. He took a second to ponder her lack of wardrobe but shrugged it off.  She was chattering away with Victor, who was standing close to her. Too close, in his opinion.

    "So what''re you going to see?" Victor asked.

    "There''s a new horror movie out.  I don''t know, some weird adaption of some silly Japanese flick."

    "Oh!  I know the one!" piped the blond.

    Aaron saw trouble the moment before it landed.

    "Can I come?"

    Aaron began to silently swear in his head.

    "Sure."

    The curses became decidedly colorful.  He clenched his fists at his sides and heard the quiet rattling of a picture frame to his left.  Taking a deep breath, he forced his hands to relax and forced himself to breathe. Destroying the house would do him no good, and if he wasn''t careful, it''d get out of hand.  He had so little control over it, to begin with.

    "Badass.  We''ll take my car.  Lead on, girlie."

    Muse headed out the door, leaving the two men in the foyer.  The blond turned to him and flashed a grin - it wasn¡¯t a friendly one in Aaron¡¯s opinion, it almost seemed like a challenge.

    "Game on, man.  Race to the finish!"  The vampire made some strange click noise with his tongue and pointed at him with both hands.  He stood there for a long moment as Victor headed out the door, his mind trying to grasp what just happened.

    When he settled on the meaning of the sentence, he very nearly stepped out the door and crushed the little vampire.

    <hr>

    The night at the movies had gone well.  Muse rubbed the back of her neck, exhausted.  She forgot how tired it made her to spend an entire evening walking around in physical form.  Keeping Aaron believing that she was alive was a challenge. She thought she did well, though - she even pretended to go use the ladies room.  In reality, it was just to get rid of the popcorn that she had ''eaten.'' The kernels had become lodged somewhere in her and it had become really uncomfortable.

    Victor had gone off for the night, as apparently his evening only began around 11:30 pm, leaving Aaron and Muse standing in the foyer.  Aaron was fixedly staring down at his shoes. "Did you have fun?" she asked.

    "Yeah."

    She didn''t believe him.  She nudged him in the shoulder and smiled brightly at him. "Next time, you pick the movie."

    "It wasn''t that."

    "Aah, Aaron, there you are."  They both turned to look towards the living room as Isaac stepped into the foyer.  "I was hoping to find you," he finished.

    If a look could have dropped him dead, Aaron probably would have ended Isaac a long time ago.  Muse chewed on her lower lip, wondering exactly what it was between the two that had inspired Aaron to hate him so.  She had a feeling she was happier not knowing.

    "What?" Aaron clipped.

    "Tomorrow we are leaving to fetch a relic out in Boston.  I was hoping you would accompany us. We will most certainly be ambushed, and I would appreciate the extra help."

    "No."

    The two stood, locked in a silent war.  She found herself being very happy that she was not in between the men.  She probably would have imploded.

    "I hope you reconsider."

    "I won''t."

    Another long pause.  Isaac simply took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, replacing his glasses slowly as a thought seemed to occur to him.  He turned his attention up to Muse. She suddenly had the distinct and unwelcome sensation that she was about to find herself involved in this.  She began shaking her head no, hoping Isaac would relent. No dice.

    "Perhaps you could come at least to keep an eye on Muse.  She is still adjusting to live combat and will need someone to watch her back.  At the very least, come along to keep her out of harm''s way."

    Aaron shuddered in rage.  The veins in his neck popped out as he clenched his fists.  Muse took a step back, remembering what happened last time he had lost it.  She didn''t want to end up like the hospital bed, crunched into an accordion.  She wasn''t sure how Aaron did what he did, but a ''first hand'' experience was not on her to-do list.  Alright, she wouldn''t feel it - but it still had to suck.

    "I do very much hope you''ll reconsider."  Isaac was unmoved by his brother''s rage. He turned and walked up the stairs, slipping past her.  Isaac had a habit of being done with the conversation before everyone else.

    Aaron only turned and stormed away, disappearing down the hallway.  She flinched as she heard the basement door slam shut. She let out a long breath, the room had become considerably less tense.

    "What the hell just happened?" she said to no one.  Somehow, she almost expected an answer.

    <hr>

    This had to be a sick joke.  How many graveyards would she have to visit in her ¡®life?¡¯

    ''Disgruntled'' would have been a way to describe her mood.  Being surrounded by obelisks and stones was getting to be very, very annoying.  This place was at least unique. The graveyard was gigantic and spanned a few centuries, filled with all sorts of styles of stones and art that was new to her.  She even thought she might have seen a kid¡¯s statue in a glass tube. Freaking weird. There was even a large tower that she could see just barely through the trees.  And a pond. What kind of graveyard had a pond? Silly Victorians...

    She looked up at the statue to her left.  A large stone angel stood atop a matching pedestal.  The tips of the angel''s outreached fingers were snapped off, looking like some grotesque torture had been unleashed on her.  The wings, once rich with detail, had been smoothed by time. She had always found statues unnerving. They always seemed to look at you with the desperate need to say something.  Yet whatever information they wanted to convey could never be told. The face of this angel was weathered, grown green with moss. The eyes were smooth, no pupils carved into their surface.  The odd greenish-white of the stone was all at once looking at everything and nothing, and yet it felt distinctly like it was looking at her.

    She really hated statues.

    Shoving her hands into her pockets, Muse stared down at the ground.  She was standing here... alone. Okay, alone with Isaac. Which might be worse.   It was like being sent to the principal''s office. She felt like she was in trouble without knowing what the hell she did.

    The others had scattered - even Aaron, who had decided to come along.  That was a surprise she wasn''t happy about. It had shocked her to find him in the hearse.  It made the evening difficult already, having to pretend she was alive. Eric had almost slipped up and given her away, but had caught himself at the last second.  The whole situation was going to give herself an ulcer. Well, it would have if she had a stomach.

    Isaac had insisted that Muse stay glued to his side.  He had sent everyone away. Aaron had seemed more than a little upset by having to leave her, as he insisted ''that was the whole point of him coming, anyway,'' but Isaac had left no room for argument.

    "I have a question for you, Muse."

    "Hm?"

    "You can pass through objects.  Can you push yourself through dirt?"

    Muse stopped to think about it.  "I guess so? I''ve never really tried."

    "Would you be ever so kind?  It would save us so very much time and digging."

    "Uhm." She wasn''t sure what to say.  He seemed to actually be asking her. Not ordering, but asking. Enjoy the gesture.  ¡°What¡¯m I looking for?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll know.¡±

    She hated when he did that.  But she sighed. ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll try.¡±

    "Thank you."

    <hr>

    Aaron trudged through the grass next to Mal.  He had partnered up with the bigger man, mostly because he didn''t find the constant urge to smash his face in as he did the vampire and Eric.  Truth be told, he liked the mountain of muscle. An unsettling thought was pressing him, finally inspiring him to speak. He needed to know, even if he hated the answer.

    "Mal?"

    "Yah?"

    "Why does Isaac keep her with him?  If it''s a setup, she could get hurt¡­ she should have stayed with us, or in the car," Aaron said quietly, growling low in his throat as he finished his thought.  "He won''t protect her."

    Mal snorted in response.  "She doesn''t need protectin''.  She''ll be fine."

    "Are you so sure?  What is it that she can do?  Why is it he takes her with him almost constantly?"  Aaron narrowed his eyes as his blood began to boil. "Are they...?"

    Mal guffawed out one loud laugh.   "Those two? Pah! Hardly!"

    "You''re all hiding something.  No one will tell me. I''m not stupid."

    "Nobody here''s accusing you of being stupid, Aaron.  We all know better than that. But you gotta understand.  It''s not easy to explain, an'' it''s not for us to explain. Not our right to tell ya.  I know it sucks, man, but believe me when I tell you it''s a little complicated."

    Aaron was nearly knocked onto his face as Mal gave him what he guessed was supposed to be a comforting pat on the back.

 Chapter Seventeen

    Muse rounded the corner of a large stone obelisk and pressed her back against it.  She looked to her left and right, making sure she was out of sight. All she needed was for Aaron to see her vanish.  She let out a long sigh and tapped her fingers against the marble behind her. She wasn¡¯t looking forward to passing herself through the ground.  Rifling through dead bodies and coffins had to be gross. But it might be interesting to see what people had buried with them. She suspected that more than a few coffins went into the ground empty - she was curious to figure out if she was right.

    She looked to her right as she heard a raindrop hit the stone next to her.  Muse watched in idle fascination as the rain began to fall. She never got wet - the water would run off of her as water runs down glass.  She looked up at the sky and wished she could feel the rain. Shrugging off her melancholy, she melted into mist and then vanished from sight.

    Muse spread herself out thin, encompassing a large area of the ground and above.  She moved down, pushing herself into the dirt. It was like she was trying to shove her hand into soft rubber.  It didn''t really hurt, it was just... really weird. Muse had to focus to keep herself there, feeling the earth constantly trying to burp her back out.

    She pushed herself further down until she started to sense the coffins.  She moved along, sweeping up one lane and then another, checking every coffin and tomb.  She did her best not to focus on the bodies, just to sense them as little as she could and move on.

    Dead body¡­ dead body... tires¡­ dead body¡­ dead body¡­ dead baby... dead body.  Hey, nice necklace... dead body... dead body...

    <hr>

    Victor plodded up to Isaac.  The sorcerer looked much like the stone statues around him, only a blob of black instead of a blob of white.  Isaac glanced up at the sky in annoyance, and then popped open his umbrella and held it up over his head. If Victor didn''t know better, he''d have thought Isaac didn''t know he was there.

    ¡°So, you think you''re planning on being nicer to Muse?¡± Victor asked.

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°I mean, she¡¯s really not a bad kid.  You gotta give her credit for dealing with the whole... y¡¯know... ¡®hey guess what, you¡¯re my bitch¡¯ thing you pulled. And check it, she¡¯s even helping now without complaining.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps.  Although she is showing promise at being more of a permanent addition to this outfit, I cannot yet trust her loyalty.  She is still too unruly.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and?  So are all of us.  I think you like it that way," Victor smirked.  He knew Isaac well enough to know that the man, while not exactly what he would call a ''social butterfly,'' wasn''t a complete hard-ass either.  If Isaac was, he would have staked Victor long, long before this point.

    Victor let out a long breath as an awkward silence fell between them.

    ¡°You have taken to her,¡± Isaac said simply, cutting the silence abruptly.

    ¡°Huh?¡± Victor looked up, surprised that he had spoken. ¡°Oh.  I mean. I like her. She¡¯s cool. Funny.¡±

    ¡°You like her,¡±  Isaac repeated with the same tone of voice.

    ¡°I mean... oh.  You mean... like that?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Victor turned to look up at him.  Isaac was almost the same height as he was, only an inch or so taller, but he still always felt like he had to look up at him.  He shook his head at the thought of dating the blue-haired ghost. ¡°I mean... she¡¯s dead.¡±

    ¡°So are you.¡±

    ¡°But... not like that.  She¡¯s like.. dead-dead... she doesn¡¯t feel shit, y¡¯know that?¡± Victor sighed ruefully.  That''s all he really needed, dating a girl who couldn''t feel anything. Emotional love was good and all that, but it felt somewhat empty without being able to enjoy the company of someone in a more... physical sense.  Maybe everyone was right - maybe he was shallow.

    ¡°Hm?¡±  Isaac looked back at Victor thoughtfully.  ¡°No. I did not.¡±

    ¡°¡®Parently she can¡¯t feel or smell or taste anything.  Except like¡­ electrical pain, apparently.¡± The vampire shook his head.  "I think that''d make dating kind of hard."

    ¡°I suppose it would."

    ¡°So doesn¡¯t really matter.¡±  Victor shrugged and began drumming the fingers of his hand on his thigh.  He wished there was something else to talk about. ¡°Man... I hate the waiting.¡±

    ¡°I doubt you will have to wait much longer.¡±

    ¡°I think that¡¯s worse.¡±

    <hr>

    Muse had covered just about a third of the burying ground when a sudden sharp pain wracked her.  It was like someone had driven hot needles into her. She heard a screaming noise that must have been her.  Next thing she knew, Muse found herself laying on the ground, staring up at the orange-glow of the overcast and raining sky.  She let out a groan as the last twinges of the searing burning sensation faded. ¡°Hate¡­ Ow...¡±

    She heard someone calling her name.  Footsteps, and then the familiar face of Victor hovering over her.  ¡°You okay?! What happened?" He took her by the upper arms and helped her get up, steadying her on her feet.  She was grateful for that, as she really didn''t want to attempt to stand on her own.

    ¡°Something hit me... hard.¡±  Isaac was walking towards them in the darkness, and she shot him a sharp glare, finding a scapegoat for the pain still buzzing through her.  ¡°Why¡¯d you zap me?!¡±

    Isaac merely raised an eyebrow.  ¡°I did no such thing," he replied curtly.  ¡°It must be close. Where is it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.  I got hit hard... could be anywhere.  I guess, within... maybe twenty feet.¡±

    Isaac shut his eyes.  He tilted his head back and ran his hand back along his hair, clearly dreading the idea of digging up that much of the yard.

    ¡°Um... Boss?¡±  Victor said meekly.

    ¡°What?¡± Isaac replied sharply.

    ¡°I... uh... think I know where it is.¡±

    Isaac opened his eyes and looked at the vampire, where he stood simply pointing at a stone in silence.  He peered closer to it in the dark and read the writing:

    Isaac Ostheim

    Born December 1911

    Died September 1945

    Lord, Take Him From Us

    For We Cannot Give Him Up To You

    He couldn¡¯t help but groan.

    <hr>

    Muse propped up her elbow on her knee, her chin in her hand.  Sitting on the back of a different stone, she watched as Isaac stood over his own ''grave,'' staring at the stone marked as his.  The man had an unreadable expression on his face. That¡¯s what he always was, though - unreadable. She didn¡¯t think he had a complete lack of emotions - she¡¯d seen enough of him now to know that there was something in there. Just, God help her if she knew what any of it was.

    "I''d give money to know what goes on in your head."

    "Pardon?"  That caught his attention.  He turned his head to look at her, one thin eyebrow arched.

    "I''d seriously give money to live in your head for like... ten minutes.  I really wanna know what goes on in there."

    "I''d fathom you would either regret it or find it sadly disappointing."  Isaac smiled with a thin twist to his lips and looked back at the stone.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say I¡¯d get anything done.  I''m sure it''s all... hitherto, wherefore, suchlike, and... math equations."

    That drew a chuckle from his throat.  "As you are so curious, I was contemplating how strange it is to be looking on one''s own tombstone.  It is a moment of reflection that most are graciously spared."

    "At least you''re not in it," she said flatly.

    Isaac paused for a moment, then twisted his lips in the same small smile.  "I suppose you would know, wouldn''t you."Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    "Lil'' bit."

    "It must be very odd to be as you are, my dear."

    "You have no idea."

    ¡°Ah, I am sure I have experienced something parallel.¡± Isaac shook his head and turned his attention back down to his grave.  For a moment, the fa?ade cracked, and she saw a glimpse of loneliness and sadness cross his face. He held his right hand out in front of him like was warming his hand over an invisible fire.  "Perhaps I will tell you a tale or two someday if we have the time."

    "Looking forward to it."  Look at him - getting all¡­ moody over his own tombstone.  Maybe he is human after all¡­ She didn¡¯t have much time to debate as she saw a flicker of blue glow dash between two stones.  If her heart could leap into her throat, it would have. ¡°Not this crap again¡­¡±

    ¡°Good.  The waiting is over.  Deal with them.¡±

    "Deal with them?!"

    "It is either us or them, Muse.  If you do not fight them, they will not hesitate to fight you."

    Muse let out a small groan and slipped off of the stone.  She didn''t dare vanish, as Aaron was around here somewhere.  She ran down between the stones towards where she had seen the blue glow.

    "Abomination!"

    Muse screamed as a large sword whizzed by in front of her face.  She fell back onto the grass as Michael stepped out from the stones to stand at her feet.  The man looked like something out of a strange nightmare. The rain was pouring off his helm, the gold cross blazed across the face seemed to be glowing the same way it had before.  Wide-eyed, she waited, terrified, for him to do something. He looked down at her and did... nothing.

    "Stand and face me, girl."

    "Huhn?!"

    "I will not fight you on the ground.  Stand and face me." His voice had that same foreboding hollow sound to it.

    "I don''t want to fight you!"

    "Then you accept your judgment."  Michael turned the sword around over his head so it was pointing down.  Gripping the hilt with both hands, the sword flashed a bright white glow, nearly blinding her.  She screamed and, concern for being seen tossed away, vanished as the sword dug into the ground, sending a shockwave across the grass, chipping stones in its pass.

    Muse took form again on the grass and backed up, holding her hands out in front of her.  "Michael, seriously, stop! I really don''t want to fight you!"

    There was no reasoning with him.  He was walking towards her slowly, holding his sword ready in his hand.  Fear tugged at her. Michael was intent on ending her. She wasn''t sure how, or if, he could.  But she was in no mood to find out. She looked over to Isaac for help, but he was standing there unmoving.  His hand was still out in front of him, apparently lost in what he was doing.

    Muse ducked barely in time as the sword passed through the air above her head.  He was trying to lop her head off! Muse let out a small squeal as Michael grabbed her by the upper arm in one hand, turning the sword quickly, running it through her midsection.  Nothing happened, so he tried again, stabbing her somewhere else. She didn¡¯t think it¡¯d do anything, but if he got bored with trying to stab her, he¡¯d try and stab someone else next.

    And she had an issue with being stabbed.

    Call it personal.

    She reacted instinctively, slamming her fist into his head.  His head snapped back abruptly, and he went still. The sword dropped from his hand to the grass, and he collapsed to the ground limply.

    "Oh... oh... oh crap..." Muse put her hand to her head, staring down at the armored man.  She had no idea how hard she actually hit him. She had no idea how hard she could hit him.  She just wanted him to stop.  Her world was suddenly upended again as she rocketed backwards, slamming into the grass.  She looked up to see Azrael, hunched down by a stone. Its white mask shone with the rain, the darkness behind the eyes even more contrasted in the dim light.  The hood was pulled low over its face as it slowly straightened up, tilting its head from one side to the other as it stared at her.

    "Okay, circus freak..." Muse slowly climbed to her feet, keeping her eyes locked on the whatever-it-was.  Gunfire sounded from her right, off in the woods. She heard yelling but hoped that the others could fend for themselves.  She didn''t take her eyes off of Azrael as they were locked in some weird Mexican stand-off. At exactly the same point, the two vanished.  Azrael was heading towards Isaac, and Muse knew she had to stop it. Muse tackled Azrael, taking shape the second before she hit the Crusader.  The two rolled to the ground in a pile of rags and fishnets.

    She shoved Azrael off, tossing the thing a few feet away from her.  Pulling herself to her feet, she wiped her hair out of her face. ¡°Look, Dude, I can see you.  I really can. I know you don¡¯t believe me, ¡®cause you¡¯re all badass and whatever¡­ but really. I can see you.  So stop tr-¡° Muse looked down at a dagger stuck into her chest. Azrael¡¯s white mask hovered barely an inch in front of her face.  She hadn¡¯t seen him move. Not at all. She gulped hard out of reflex, the white mask and empty eyes succeeding in creeping her out, even if she was already dead.

    Azrael twisted the blade, her mind going empty with pain as it sent sharp crackling arcs of electricity through her.  She screamed, collapsing to her knees. ¡°Stupid... Okay, I''m annoyed. Seriously.¡± She looked up slowly to see Azrael was gone.  She looked around to find it but instead saw that Michael had gotten to his feet, and was walking towards Isaac... who wasn¡¯t moving.

    ¡°Isaac!¡± Muse yelled as she vanished, rushing forward.

    Muse couldn¡¯t make sense of what Isaac was doing.  He just stood there, locked, with his hand held out over the grave.  He seemed completely oblivious to the large armored man coming up behind him with the intent of ending his life.

    Michael swung his sword, meaning to decapitate Isaac.  Halfway through the swing, Muse rammed into him, knocking him back onto a table-top tomb, falling with her on top of him.  She blinked down at him and did what she always did when she was scared. She cracked jokes.

    ¡°Well - Hello, sailor," she purred out huskily.

    ¡°Ungodly nuisance!" Michael snarled.   Muse yelped as he shoved her off with his arm, throwing her hard enough to send her flying a good five feet, tumbling over a tombstone onto the other side.  She landed with a hard thump.

    "I... am... so... sick of this." She pulled herself to her feet, glad she couldn''t feel the pain of impact.  Shaking her head, she realized there were figures heading towards them in the rain. Running through the grass and stones were Aaron and Eric.  "Shit." Now she had to stay locked in her body - if Aaron saw her disappear, all hell would break loose.

    Michael turned his attention to the men running towards him and turned to face them.  Eric skidded to a halt and backed up, shaking his head no - the little blond apparently did not want to tangle with the armored man.  Aaron simply slowed to a jog. Muse expected Aaron to be afraid, but instead... the big man looked suddenly mournful as he finally slowed to a walk, then stopped.

    "Aaron, leave here," Michael spoke.

    Muse blinked.  How the hell did Michael know Aaron?

    "I can''t."

    "Why?  You never threw in your lot with your brother before.  Leave. Spare yourself the pain."

    "I... can''t."  Aaron glanced at her briefly.  Michael''s head turned to look at her and then back to him.

    "Aaron.  She is damned.  Leave her to her ends and go.  You do not need to walk this path."

    The tall scarred man shook his head slowly, lowering his head so his hair hid his face.  He looked like a child being scolded.

    "Very well.  Then grieve for her and your brother together."  Michael turned back towards Isaac, lifting his sword to cleave Isaac in two.  Muse ran at full tilt, fighting the temptation to ditch her physical body.

    "No!" Aaron shouted.

    Gunfire rang out through the burying ground.  Muse shoved Michael, checking him sideward into an obelisk, stopping the blow meant for Isaac.  She was about to yell at Eric to do something before she saw Aaron''s suddenly horrified expression.  She blinked at him, confused.

    "What?"

    Aaron could only point.

    Muse looked down and saw three neat bullet holes that went straight through her chest.  The English language didn''t have words for what she wanted to scream out. She looked at Aaron, opening her mouth and finding nothing to say.  The horror on his face made her want to cry.

    "What...  What..." he stammered.

    Muse only vanished completely, unable to stand the way he was staring at her.  He screamed and recoiled, staggering over his own feet and crashing to the ground.  Michael simply stood there as Uriel ran into view, gun still aimed towards them.

    "Ah-hah!"

    Muse had completely forgotten about Isaac, who had apparently rejoined reality.  The turf in front of Isaac began to push up as if something was lifting up from under the ground, pushing rocks, stones, and twigs out of the way, rejecting the object from it like cancer.  A small wooden box, long, thin and flat, stained dark with dirt and mud, slowly came into view. As it hovered under his hand, Isaac calmly took it and tucked it under his arm.

    Turning, Isaac idly gestured his hand at Michael.  The man careened through the graveyard, crashing through trees and landing with a loud thud somewhere in the distance.  He turned and held out his hand, grasping something in the air in front of him. Muse could only watch as Uriel attempted to scream but could only make quiet gagging noises.  Isaac twisted his hand to one side, and Muse heard a sickening crunch. The man fell to the ground. Muse did not need to be told what happened.

    Isaac pulled the box out from under his arm and began to wipe off the dirt and mud from it.  He started to walk through the grass away from them, walking past Aaron and Eric as he headed into the darkness.  "Come, we have what we came for," he said casually as if nothing had happened.

    Muse hovered near him, wishing she could make herself impossibly small and tuck herself into some dark crevice somewhere.  When they arrived at the hearse, Victor and Mal were already there. Muse stopped, shocked - realizing that Mal was holding an unconscious Michael, gripping the back of his armor where it stopped at the neck - holding onto him like he was a doll.  Mal threw the unconscious form into the back of the car with the clanging of metal on metal.

    Without thinking, Muse abruptly took shape in front of Isaac, causing him to pull up short, actually looking surprised for once.  "The hell are you doing?! Are you trying to get them to chase us?!¡± she shouted angrily.  She looked over at Mal or Victor for any help. Mal only shrugged tiredly, leaning back against the back of the hearse with his eyes shut.  The lines in his face were exaggerated with the clear exhaustion the big man was suffering. Victor seemed too occupied with trying to fix his chin-length hair in the reflection of the glass.

    "I take my opportunities when I see them," Isaac replied simply as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  "And this is a lovely opportunity."

    "This is not an opportunity!  He''s a psycho, he tried to-"

    "What are you?!"

    Aaron stormed up to her, grabbed her by her upper arms and wrenched her around to face him.  She was shocked at the anger in his eyes. She vanished, causing him to recoil again, pulling in a sharp gasp.

    "I''m dead," she said from nowhere.  Now she was defensive. She wasn''t going to take being yelled at, even if she was at fault.

    "What?!" he yelled.

    Muse would have given anything to stop time.  Anything to get away from this.

    "I hate to interrupt, as I am sure we would all love to watch this little drama play out.  We need to leave before Michael awakes or a Vatican squadron comes as back up.¡± Muse was suddenly grateful for Isaac¡¯s interruption.  Staying invisible, she hovered by the sorcerer as he climbed into the passenger seat of the hearse. She settled down in the space between him and the zombie Paul.  She looked back at the hearse at Aaron, where he sat almost in a ball, his head lowered and his hands curled into fists. She had screwed things up, and hard.

    "Muse," Isaac said quietly from next to her, adjusting his glasses with a push of his ring finger.  "You can thank me later.¡±

 Chapter Eighteen

    ¡°You can do what you want, Heathen.  I will not give you anything,¡± Michael snarled angrily up from where he sat in the center of the room.  He had been stripped of his armor and lashed to a metal chair - none-too-gently. The muscles in his arms were strained with the odd angle they were yanked back behind him.  His curly brown hair was mottled with dried blood and an angry bruise was starting to color one side of his face.

    ¡°What makes you think I want you to give me anything, Michael?¡± Isaac stood on the last step of the basement stairs, looking at the man in the middle of the room with a thin, malicious smile.

    ¡°Why would I be in one piece, unless you wanted something from me?¡±  Michael yanked at the chains that held him to no avail.

    Isaac slowly pulled the black leather gloves off of his hands and tucked them into his coat, in no rush to answer the man in front of him.  ¡°Aah, there you are mistaken. I only want you out of the way...¡±

    ¡°Bastard!¡± Michael spat at him from his bloodied lip.

    Isaac turned to walk out of the room, taking a few steps up the stairs before stopping.  ¡°Muse, watch him.¡±

    Muse appeared by the bottom of the stairs and looked up at Isaac wide-eyed.  "Wait, what, seriously?!"

    "Yes."

    "Why do I have to watch him?!"  Fear tugged at her voice. She didn''t want to be left down here with Michael - even if the man was chained to a chair, he scared her.

    "Because you do not sleep for weeks.  And because-" Isaac paused as a crash sounded from upstairs.  Muse shut her eyes tightly at the sound of Aaron yelling at someone - Victor''s voice yelling back.  "It will keep you out of the line of fire."

    Muse looked up at him, pain clearly written across her face.

    Isaac looked back down at her, his face stoic.  There was just the slightest flicker of something in his eyes.  Muse wasn''t sure what it was. Isaac turned up the stairs and began to head towards the door.  "There is a direct proportionality between the quantity of time I keep you out of sight and the quantity of broken furniture I will have to replace."

    "I guess." Muse looked up at the stairs, hearing Victor and Aaron still yelling at each other.  As Isaac slammed the door to the basement shut, silence fell over the first floor. She waited nervously for the following explosion - but none came.  There was only an uncomfortable silence.

    So here she was, standing in the basement - with Michael, the Crusader, behind her, and an irate Aaron and Victor upstairs.  Rock and a hard place. She supposed that dealing with the man who wanted to kill her for no reason was better than the man who wanted to kill her and had a reason.  A really good reason.  Muse turned from the stairs and walked into the room, walking to a pole a good ten feet from Michael and sat down on the floor, her back against it.  She pulled her knees up and propped her arms on them.

    Michael was looking at her.  She was looking back at him. She wondered where Eric had gone with all of Michael''s armor, and for that matter - what he was going to do with it.  It still shocked her how... normal he looked. Built as all hell, yes. He had a boyish cuteness to him, like someone you might see in a supermarket who caught your eye.  Sure, he was mottled with blood and bruises, but other than that he could have been... anyone. She couldn''t believe that he was the armored monster that had nearly killed Eric, nearly killed Isaac, and that scared her so badly.  He looked so remarkably human.

    "Let me go," Michael growled out, yanking hard on the chains and then hissing in pain.

    "So... you... can what, kill everyone in the house?"

    "Because it''s the right thing to do."

    "Says who?"

    Michael let out a long moan, which suddenly turned into a burst of rage.  He kicked and thrashed hard in his restraints, tossing from side to side. ¡°Let me go!¡± Michael roared.  He began swearing loudly as he struggled angrily against the chains to no avail.

    "I thought you weren''t supposed to use the Lord¡¯s name like that.¡±

    "Don''t mock me," Michael snapped.  He settled back against the chair again, glaring a hole into the floor.

    "I suppose it-"

    They both jumped at a loud thud as something hit the floor just over their heads, followed by more silence.  Muse looked up at the ceiling and let out a wavering sigh, pulling her knees closer to herself.  Michael looked over at her.

    "You''re at fault for Aaron''s anger, I take it."

    "If I can''t give you a hard time, Tin-can, you can''t give me one either."

    "I''m not sure that''s how these kinds of situations work."

    "Well, you''re the one tied to the chair.  I make the rules."

    That one seemed to get him.  His mouth open to reply, he finally let out a small huff of air and resumed staring at the floor.

    <hr>

    Aaron wanted to kill him, wanted to dash his brains over the walls.  First, the stupid little thing was trying to steal Muse away from him, and now - now it turns out, that everyone knew she was dead, except him.  His hands were clasped around Victor''s throat, clenching down hard.  It would have been more effective if the vampire needed to breathe, but at least he could inflict pain.

    "Aaron, this-!" Victor gagged out.

    "Let ''em go," Mal said by the wall, stepping forward.  Aaron merely turned his head to glare at him, sending the bigger man crashing from one room to the other, toppling over the sofa and landing in a heap on the other side with a grunt - with nothing more than a look.  Aaron wouldn''t be told to calm down by anyone, not when he had every right to be furious. He knew he was losing control, but at this point, he couldn''t care less.

    The vampire was still yelling at him as best as he could with Aaron''s hands wrapped around his throat.  Aaron had long since gone deaf to his words.

    The basement door slammed shut to his left.  He turned his head to see Isaac standing there, a clearly disapproving expression on his face.  Dropping the blond, he turned to face his brother, clenching his fists in anger. He would trade pounding the little man for his brother, any day.

    "Enough, Aaron.  Cease this uselessness."

    "You knew.  You all knew.  No one told me, you all knew she was dead!"

    "Yes."

    "Why didn''t you tell me?!"

    "Simply because that was her request."  Isaac folded his hands neatly behind his back.  Aaron passionately hated how no matter what, Isaac never lost his cool.  No matter what he did, he could never even startle the sorcerer. He wanted to make him feel fear, wanted to make him feel pain, but every attempt failed.  He snarled deep in his throat.

    "She asked you not to?!¡±

    "Yes."

    "Why?!"

    "For that, you would have to ask her.  Perhaps she is embarrassed. Perhaps it raises uncomfortable questions about the circumstances under which you two met."

    Aaron''s blood ran cold, his vision became hyper-clear, in the way that it does when you are about to pass out.  No. No, it couldn''t have been her. The thing that chased him, the thing that tore up his house...

    It made perfect sense.

    The thoughts all started to click together one by one as everything fell in place.  Like looking down at a board game, he could see the linear path from one place to another - and he knew that he had been played.

    "You sent her.  You sent her to do those things to me."  Aaron''s body was no longer capable of keeping up the fury that rolled through his mind.  He put his hands over his face and let out a low moan.

    "Yes."

    ¡°But why?!¡± That always seemed to be the part that he was missing.

    "Because you are safer with me than without.  You are my responsibility, Aaron. The only way to have you peacefully here is to make you believe that you have no other option.  I did not want to cage you like an animal, even if you do insist on living out your life like some sort of vegetable." Isaac shrugged with a simple lift of his shoulders.

    "You never seemed so concerned about taking care of me before!"This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    "Aaron, everything I''ve done has been in your best interests..."

    "That''s what you said then!  When you gave me these-" Aaron pointed to the scars on his face. "In that god-forsaken camp back home!"

    "That was to help you control yourself.  It appears they were in vain.¡±

    Aaron stepped forward, unable to stop himself.  He grabbed his brother by the front of the shirt and threw him - hurled him across the room.  Isaac landed with a hard thud on the ground, a good ten feet away. Fear suddenly pricked Aaron''s nerves.  That was probably a very stupid move. Isaac could do horrid things to him and had proven that fact many times prior.  Unconsciously he ran his hand along the scars on his left arm, the knife-edge marks on his skin.

    To his shock, Isaac only simply stood up, brushed himself off and adjusted his glasses.  "Do you feel better now?"

    "No," Aaron clipped.  He suddenly had the overwhelming urge to do two things - talk to Muse, and get away from Isaac.  Hopefully, they could be solved at the same time. "Where is she?"

    "I will not have you destroying my house, Aaron."

    "Tell me where she is!"

    Isaac let out an exasperated sigh and shut his eyes, rubbing his hand across his forehead.  "She is downstairs, guarding Michael. I would recommend you-"

    Aaron had stopped listening.  Turning for the basement door, he threw it open, and headed down into the familiar dankness, slamming the door shut behind him.

    <hr>

    Muse did not need to guess who it was storming down the stairs.  She vanished, glad that her unique state of being meant that she could easily hide.  Aaron stormed down the stairs, stopping at the bottom and turning about. Aaron stepped forward and looked down at Michael.  "Where is she?"

    "I''m not sure.  She was here a moment ago.  It seems the dead can come and go at will."

    Aaron visibly shuddered, running his hands through his hair and gripping it with both hands for a moment, letting out a frustrated growl.  "Muse?!" he yelled.

    Like hell, she was going to answer.

    He yelled again, but she stayed where she was, invisible and intangible, watching.  She wanted to cry. ''Guilt'' was not a strong enough word to describe what she felt. She had never meant for this to happen, but she shouldn''t have been surprised.  Of course, Aaron thought she had betrayed him. To be honest - she had.

    Aaron walked back to the stairs and sat down on the bottom step.  It seemed he was planning on waiting her out. Shit.

    "Let me go, Aaron."

    "I can''t... I mean, even if I did, do you think you''d make it out of the house?"  Aaron sighed. "Isaac would get you before you made five steps..."

    "At least I would stand a chance."

    "No, you wouldn''t, and I''d get hurt."

    Michael shut his eyes and leaned his head back, apparently coming to terms with the fact that that option was fruitless.  "Fine. Then you should leave."

    "I''m planning on it."

    "If you go to the base at St. Peter''s in the city, you could get help, Aaron.  We can help you control your telekinesis. You wouldn''t take me up on the offer last time when you-"

    "No.  I won''t.  I won''t be your little guinea pig."

    "We wouldn''t...  I know you''re sensitive about-"

    "Shut up, Michael, you don''t know what you''re talking about."

    "I was the one who pulled you out of the wreckage of that hospital.  I''ve seen what you can do. What you have done.  All those people, crushed - do you really think you''re safe to be in public?  We can help you!"

    "No!" Aaron stood up and glared down at the bloodied Crusader.  "I won''t. So give up. Muse!" he yelled, looking about the room.  "Muse, you can''t hide forever."

    Try me.

    "You owe me at least a chance to get some answers," he clenched his hands into fists.  "Muse, goddamn it - after what you did to me, you owe me this much!"

    Muse had the urge to go up through the floors and just forget about this.  She wanted nothing more than to go hide somewhere and let it all go away. But Aaron was right.  She owed him. She put the man in the hospital, nearly killed him. She tormented him for weeks, and then lied to him.  Taking in a long wavering breath, she appeared, standing with her back against the pole.

    As Aaron stormed towards her, she cringed - shutting her eyes tightly.  She wasn''t sure why - it''s not like him hitting her would really do anything at all.  But his hatred was worse. She could almost feel the rage pouring off of him.

    "How could you?!  How could you lie to me?!"

    "I didn''t really lie, I-"

    "Muse!"

    "Look, it''s - I was afraid of what you''d think, okay?!  I''m not-" Aaron reached for her suddenly. She let her physical body slip to transparency, his hand passing straight through her, disturbing her like incense smoke.  He pulled in a gasp and staggered backwards. "See?! You''re afraid of me!"

    "What are you?!"

    "I''m dead.  I''m a ghost.  Been quite dead for a while."

    "Why didn''t you tell me? Do you think I''d care over something so stupidly small as-"

    "Oh so being dead is ''stupidly small''?!  Try it sometime!"  Now she was mad.  Whenever people yelled at her, it just made her angry.  Even if she didn''t have a reason to be. She vanished abruptly, causing him to stagger further backwards away from her, his eyes wide.  Fear quickly melted back into anger.

    "Come back."

    "No."

    "Why?!"

    "Because you''re pissed."

    "Shouldn''t I be?!"

    "Look, Aaron, I''m sorry for lying to you.  I''m sorry for what happened - I didn''t know it''d-"

    "It''d what?!  Didn''t know you were tormenting me?!  Didn''t know you''d put me in the hospital?!"

    "That was an accident!"

    "You work for my brother.  Nothing is ever an accident around him."

    "Shut up, Aaron.  I don''t have a choice."

    "You''re just like everyone else," Aaron ran his hand through his hair, pulling on it again.  He went back to the stairs. "I can''t trust you. You''re just like the rest of them."

    "Aaron, I''m sorry - I didn''t want this to happen. I didn''t want to lie to you, but... it... How could I explain this?!  I didn''t know what to do."

    "You should have tried!" Aaron rounded towards the disembodied voice angrily, wishing he had something to glare at.  "You should have told me before I stupidly let myself fall for you!"

    "Wait - what?!"

    "Don''t be an idiot.  You led me on."

    "I what?!"  Muse wasn''t quite sure what was happening now.  He was yelling at her still, but now it wasn''t making any sense.  Leading him on? How the hell was she leading him on? Muse appeared standing between Aaron and Michael, looking at the scarred man completely flabbergasted.  "What in the hell are you ranting about? Look don''t make shit up just because you''re pissed."

    Aaron snarled angrily.  Muse witnessed something break in him.  Something changed suddenly. The look in his eyes returned - the blank glare, the one that he got back in the hospital.  He looked at her as though he didn''t recognize her. The pipes overhead began to rattle. He stepped towards her, and Muse knew what was about to happen.  She just shut her eyes and let it.

    Aaron rounded on her, cracking her stiffly across the jaw with his fist.  She hit the ground and skid with the force of it, laying on the ground. As she did, she heard the pipes overhead stop their violent shaking.  She opened her eyes and looked over at him, unfazed by the punch. Aaron''s face contorted slightly in confusion.

    "Did that make you feel better?"

    Muse blinked - she wasn''t sure what she just said, but Aaron lost it further.  "That''s it!  You''re his goddamn little puppet!  You''re his little toy!  Now you even sound like him!"  Aaron stormed away, up the stairs.  He slammed the door behind him, nearly breaking the hinges where they met the wood.

    She laid there on the floor, staring up at the pipes and the beams of the ceiling.  ¡°I really wish I knew what I said,¡± she said to no one in particular. I guess it doesn¡¯t matter...

    Muse sat up, pulling her legs up to her chin.  She put her head down on her knees, blocking out the light.  Why did ''life'' do this to her? She was dead. She was stuck on this planet without being able to feel anything, and yet she was forced to go through this - whatever it was.  She hadn''t felt like this since she had lost her friends in high school. Worse, actually. This time it was all her fault. She wanted to go home. That strange sensation that one gets when one wants to go somewhere safe and curl up.  But she had nowhere she could go.

    She began to cry, unable to stop herself.  Hugging her knees to herself tightly, she let all the pain go, not caring whether or not Michael saw.

    "I give you credit... if he hit me like that, I might cry as well.  But - Oh yes, you had mentioned it before. You don''t feel pain."

    Muse sniffed.  That''s all she needed.  She vanished, appearing by the pole she was at before, leaning up against it.  She wiped her eyes, shooting a glare at Michael. "I don''t feel anything. Ever."  She slumped down to the ground, her back against the pole. She stayed there, wiping her eyes again.  She was glad her eye makeup was incapable of running. "Don''t pity me."

    "I wasn''t going to."

    "Hrmf."

    Silence fell between the two for a long time.  She didn''t know why she was even talking to him.  Aaron hated her, probably was never going to talk to her again... she didn''t know if the boys were mad at her for the trouble she caused.  Isaac was - well, Isaac. Michael, the armored boogeyman, was sitting there, looking at her with - if she didn''t know better - a look of compassion.

    "Child, set me free.  I can return the favor - I will find a way to free you of this unnatural state."

    "Tempting, but no."  Muse disappeared.

    "You are not supposed to be like this.  Let me go, and I''ll help you pass to the other side."

    She snorted.  "At least this Hell has HBO."

    <hr>

    Aaron had one foot out the door before he heard his least favorite voice behind him.

    "You''re leaving."

    He figured that would have been obvious.  He had no reason to stay, now. Muse had turned out to be nothing but the cause of his pain.  He couldn''t stay here, not with her. Not with them. Aaron turned to face his brother but stayed silent.

    "You may think me a liar, Aaron, but I am not.  The demons that chased you before will come for you again.  Yes, I tricked you, but the purpose was benign, I promise you that.  They want you, Aaron - and they will have you if you stray."

    Insults, arguments - they all ran through his brain.  They all seemed to boil together into one solid note. The note turned into a strange feeling of calm that washed over him.  It didn''t matter. Nothing he would say would matter. Isaac was unchangeable. He stood there in his shirt, vest, and tie like he was locked in time.  Aaron knew it was pointless.

    His latest attempt at being human, at feeling human - maybe even feeling something more, had been dashed to pieces by the very object of his affection.  All at the whim of the man before him. The idea of staying in the house seemed worse than anything that demons could wreak upon him. Shaking his head slowly, he simply turned and walked from the house, leaving the door open as he headed across the lawn.  His beat-up Jeep sat under a tree, the mild drizzle having painted its windows grey with moisture.

    "You are putting yourself in danger..."

    He didn''t listen.

    "Aaron."

    He didn''t turn.

    "Aaron, wait."

    Aaron opened the door to his car.  He didn''t look at Isaac or at the house as he got in, shut the door and drove away.  The strange calmness that filled him stayed as he drove into the night. There was nothing left of him.  Let the demons come.

 Chapter Ninteen

    Michael had blinked in and out of consciousness a few times. He was unsure how much time had gone by since he had found himself here. His arms stung, burned with a searing pain. No matter what he did, no matter how he shifted, could only seem to lessen the pain for a few minutes at most. He lifted his head, the pounding in his temples worsening with the movement.

    Blinking away the blear in his eyes, he looked up to see that the ghost girl was still there. Sitting against the pole, she had placed a cup on the ground a good ten feet in front of her. She was ripping off little bits of a newspaper that lay next to her and was flicking the balls at the cup. Judging by the large smattering of paper balls around the cup, and the decent quantity that lay inside, she must have been at this for a while.

    "I want to ask you something."

    "Why should I talk to you?" She sounded bitter. Most likely still angry about what happened the night prior. It seemed there was something still capable of feeling remorse in her - good. Maybe he had hope - maybe she still had a soul.

    "Because you were once human."

    ¡°I¡¯m still human, Michael.¡± She balled up a chunk of the newspaper lying next to her into one gigantic wad and threw it across the room as if throwing the piece of paper would relieve some of her anger. ¡°Once you come to accept the fact that I am a person, I¡¯m human, and that I¡¯m not evil-¡±

    ¡°You serve Isaac," Michael interrupted.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to - and I never said I haven¡¯t done bad things," Muse sighed. "I suppose I have. I¡¯m not going to lie. Especially recently, I guess. I may be ''forsaken by God,'' but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m not human. I¡¯m not a demon, a beast, or a lampshade. I''m not an inanimate object."

    "You should not exist," he said quietly. He didn''t mean for it to sound vicious. It was true. He could help her, help her move on to whatever place she was destined to go. Her being locked like this was unnatural.

    ¡°And yet here we are," she snapped. She looked up at him, clearly frustrated with the conversation. "You wanted to ask me something."

    Michael watched in silence for a long time, before finally speaking up. "Why is Ostheim keeping me here?"

    He watched as the girl looked over at him with a quizzical look. The dark eyeliner she wore made her eyes appear bigger than he suspected they actually were.

    "Who?"

    "Ostheim. Isaac Ostheim. The sorcerer."

    "So that¡¯s his last name. Uh. Oh," the girl paused. "I don''t know. He said this was an opportunity. I don''t know much more than you do."

    "What is it that you do know, then?"

    The girl looked at him with a quirked eyebrow, as if debating her motivation for telling him. This girl seemed far less gone than the others. Yes, she had let him fall out of a forty-story window - a memory that still inspired nightmares. Yes, she had given him the bruise on his forehead when she had punched him. But she seemed to be debating the idea of telling him. Either she was na?ve, or she had some semblance of grace left in her.

    "I don''t think I should be telling you."

    "I don''t seem to be going anywhere. I really pose no threat." Michael cringed as he shifted his weight again. Even if he were free, his arms would be too useless to do much of anything. His armor and his sword were nowhere to be seen.

    "Yeah, right now. What happens if you get free?"

    "We''ll discuss it then, I guess."

    The girl snorted at his half attempt at a joke and flicked another paper ball at the cup. Michael watched another whiz through the air, skitter across the ground as she missed. A few moments, and another attempt. The moments ticked by as he watched her throw the little paper balls. Apparently, she wasn''t going to tell him. He was not particularly surprised.

    He¡¯d been wrong before.

    "He''s planning on ''removing'' Raphael."

    Michael snorted out a laugh. The girl looked at him, confused. He guessed he should return the favor. "Raphael cannot die. He can do all he wants, but Raphael is incapable of being ''removed.''"

    "He knows that. He said he wasn''t going to kill her, he was just going to ''remove'' her."

    "How?" Michael blinked. He wasn''t sure how the sorcerer was planning on getting rid of Raphael. But he was worried - if there was anyone who could do such a thing, it would be Ostheim.

    "Hell if I know." He cast her a look and she shrugged. "Really - I don''t. He hasn''t told any of us."

    He shut his eyes, lowering his head. He was stuck here, helpless, as Ostheim was out threatening his companions. It was infuriating. Mustering his strength, he thrashed in the chair, trying to free himself. The only reward was a searing pain that lanced up his left arm and to his ear, causing his vision to swirl.

    "Easy champ, you''re gonna really hurt yourself..."

    He didn''t feel like replying. She seemed to notice his lack of enthusiasm for the conversation, and shrugging to herself, went back to chucking small little balls of paper into the cup.

    <hr>

    "I don''t like this idea!" Victor whined.

    "Just do it already, you wuss." Mal snorted and looked up at the church looming over them.

    Victor looked up at the building through the trees. He was standing here next to Mal and Isaac in some tiny little park, hidden in the darkness across the street from the ominous structure. The building looked old, its gothic spires stretching up towards the dark night sky. A gargoyle on the bell tower leered over them, backlit by the half-moon. Other than that, there was little in the sky. The city lights were too bright to pick out more than just a few scattered, flickering white pinholes.

    Nervousness was turning his stomach over slowly. He was staring at the large circular window that decorated the face of the church, like an ironic bulls-eye. It made what he was about to do even that more annoying. It was like the building itself was mocking him.

    "But it''s going to hurt."

    "Big effin'' deal, Ruffles." Mal cracked his neck from one side to the other. "You don'' have to break down the front door."

    "Enough."

    Their conversation went silent as Isaac approached them. Victor shoved his hands into his coat pockets. The sorcerer had been in an incredibly foul mood since Aaron had left a few days prior. Some days Victor''d find the temptation to push some of Isaac''s buttons for a laugh. Not today. He''d get his ass kicked. He wished Eric was here, but he wasn''t really talking much. When asked to come along, he quietly refused. Victor sighed, another thought weighing heavily on him. They hadn''t actually spoken since they argued by his car, over a week ago.

    "I will retrieve Raphael personally," Isaac said. "I suspect that at least Uriel and Azrael are inside. It is your task to deal with those two. I suspect you should be able to handle it..." Isaac narrowed his eyes at the two of them. "I hope I am not mistaken. Are we understood?"

    "Yeah," Mal grunted out, cracking the knuckles on his hand.

    "Yes Boss," Victor added meekly. Isaac, seemingly satisfied, walked away into the darkness. Victor pulled in a slow breath. "I''ll take Azrael. Seeing as you take bullets better than I do."

    "Deal. I hate that lil'' Cirque Du Soleil reject anyways." Mal patted him roughly on the back. "On yer cue, fangs."

    "Yeah... yeah..." Victor backed up, giving himself a good thirty feet. He rolled his shoulders, hunkered down - and ran. He half heard Mal yelp in surprise as Victor dashed - almost faster than the eye could see. He planted a foot onto a bench as he neared the street - and he jumped.

    It could be debated whether or not he had an impeccable aim - or the worst luck in the world. This was what rolled through his mind as he crashed through the large circular stained glass window. The glass shattered around him in a rain of glittering multi-colored shards. Time almost seemed to slow down as he careened through the glass, putting one hand over his face to protect himself. Going through the window was what Victor had planned - the large statue of the Virgin Mary that he found in his landing path was not.

    Victor''s let out a yell as his body slammed into the statue. It teetered, and he barely had time to register what was going on. He grabbed hold of the statue as it crashed, and the blond rolled to the side. Victor lay on his back in a pile of marble rubble, glass shards and wood splinters. The vampire groaned in pain and looked up at the cross hanging over his head in his line of view. "Why me?" he asked the cross. Rolling onto his side, he picked himself up off of the floor and began brushing glass and marble dust off of his pants.

    He blinked as he heard the familiar clicking of a gun hammer pulling back. He ducked barely in time as a bullet impacted a column where he stood a moment prior, cracking the marble where the bullet dug into the stone. Victor growled and ducked behind a pew. Another bullet thunked into the wood next to his head. Victor moved - dashing down around a corner, coming up behind Uriel and checking him with his shoulder, sending the older man smashing over another pew and to the ground.

    Wincing, Victor reached up and pulled a shard of glass out of his hair and flicked it to the side. "I knew this was a stupid idea..." He leaped in surprise as the front door suddenly caved in like it had been hit by a car. Close enough. Mal came barreling through the wood, brushing splinters off of himself as he walked up to the vampire, flashing his lopsided smile.

    "Wha''d I miss?"

    "Me making an ass out of myself."

    "Oh, so nuthin'' out of the ordinary."

    "Ah hah. Look-" Victor ducked as bullets ricochetted around them. One dug into Victor''s arm. Putting his back to a column, he dug his fingers into the wound and yanked the bullet out, tossing it aside. He watched as the wound closed up on its own. At least the man wasn''t packing silver bullets this time.

    Mal was walking calmly towards Uriel, watching as the man uselessly fired his guns into the bigger man''s chest. Mal simply brushed them off, watching the bullets plink to the ground. "I liked this shirt... c''mere!" Mal ran at Uriel, chucking a pew aside. It crashed against the wall, smashing in half.

    Victor didn''t have time to watch much more of the fight as he found a knife sticking into his chest. Snarling in pain as Azrael twisted the blade, sending arcs of electricity through him, he forced himself to work through it. This time he was expecting it. It hurt like hell, but he managed to keep his footing. "Not this time, asshole..." Victor planted his fist straight into Azrael''s head, knocking whatever-it-was backwards onto the ground, taking the knife with him. Victor gagged in pain as the blade was yanked out, watching his shirt soak with blood. He could already feel the wound healing.

    Not wanting to give Azrael any more opportunity, he leaped onto the black ragged thing and started pounding his fist into its mask, cracking the porcelain. Victor had a suspicion that the only reason they were getting off this easy was that they had caught the Crusaders at home, unprepared. He stood up, looking down at the hopefully unconscious form of the ''Archangel of Death.''

    Victor lifted his head, suddenly realizing that there wasn''t any gunfire. "Yo, Mal, what happened?"

    "He ran off, goddamn coward..."This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    "That probably means he''s coming back with soldiers."

    "Prob''ly."

    Victor sighed and leaned his arm on a large iron candelabra next to him. ¡°Wha-oh!¡± he exclaimed as the candelabra teetered suddenly. He scrambled to catch it, but it fell a second too soon - the iron smashing into the ground and the lit candles rolling across the floor. The two men watched in somewhat idle fascination as a large tapestry against the wall began to smoke. It began to hiss and pop as the threads grew dark and then sparked with flame. They watched as the fire climbed up the tapestry to the roof, spreading from the wall to the ceiling. "Um... Whoops? " Victor snickered quietly. "Let''s just... tell Isaac we did that on purpose..."

    "Tell me you did what on purpose?"

    "Help! Oh god, help!"

    Victor turned to see Isaac step into the room. He had a young girl - he assumed Raphael - the hair, dragging the teenager next to him. Victor had never met her, as the ''lifeline'' of the Crusaders was kept under heavy guard, but he figured it couldn¡¯t be anyone else. The girl was struggling, sobbing, trying to wrench herself free from Isaac, who was dragging her along like she was nothing more than an unruly grocery bag. She was obviously terrified, screaming like a nightmare had become real. To her, it probably had.

    "Um..." Victor blinked.

    Isaac turned his attention upwards at the fire spreading along the wall. "Ah." He shrugged. "No matter. Come." Isaac began to walk towards the shattered door, dragging Raphael along.

    Looking at Mal, Victor shrugged. Mal returned the gesture, and the two men walked after their employer. Victor knew he probably should have cared about the girl - she was just a kid after all - but it was just another job. He had done worse and probably would do worse again in his existence. It wasn''t his place to ask questions like that. Besides, Victor reminded himself - she was a soldier. She was a Vatican freak whose purpose was to destroy things like him. It was eat or be eaten.

    Raphael suddenly dug her heel into Isaac''s shin, causing the man''s knee to buckle forward. Isaac caught himself and turned, glaring down at the girl. Twisting her head roughly to look up at him, he began to talk to her quietly, like he was angrily scolding a student. "Raphael, I have been patient with your insolence to this point. As you have shown that you have no interest in calming yourself, you force me to do the only logical thing; I will do it for you."

    Isaac spun Raphael around so her back was to him. Placing one hand on the front of her head and the other on the back, Isaac snapped his hands sharply - twisting her head to the side. Victor and Mal both winced at the stomach-churning crunch that followed. As Raphael slumped, Isaac caught her and slung her over his shoulder. Letting out an annoyed sigh at the interruption, Isaac simply turned and continued to walk.

    Victor rubbed the back of his neck and followed, looking up at Mal. He wasn''t sure if this was the right thing to do and knew that his expression said as much. The big bald man looked unsettled but resigned. Neither man dared to say anything, and Mal simply patted him on the shoulder. Shoving his hands into his pockets again, Victor decided to follow the big man''s lead. Shut up and get paid.

    <hr>

    Staring at the ceiling got really old around hour whatever-this-was. She had been down here for four straight days, watching Michael. Occasionally she was allowed to let him up to use the bathroom or to feed him. Isaac had instructed her to ''keep him alive.'' So she was doing that to the best of her ability. The man was obviously exhausted and significantly the worse for wear. The last time she had let him up to use the bathroom, his legs had given out under him. He probably would have tried to run, if he could. But he was too weak to even attempt it, it seemed.

    Muse was lying on her back, staring up at a little ball of light hovering over her. The little fuzzy blob of color was another ghost. She didn''t know where the little thing came from, but it was flittering around the room and seemed to like her.

    She picked up a tennis ball she found and tossed it up in the air. She watched as the little blob gripped onto it, held the ball for a moment, and then dropped it. Muse caught it and smiled. She tossed the ball again, watched as the ghost held it for a second, and then dropped it back to her.

    "What are you doing...?" she heard Michael ask.

    "Playing catch."

    "With... what, exactly?" He sounded some mix of curious, nervous, and amused.

    ¡°Who.¡±

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    She threw the ball, knowing that to Michael, all it did was hover in the air for a moment, and then drop back down to her. "With ¡®who.¡¯ Another little ghost."

    "Wait, another-" she heard Michael shift in the chair. "There''s someone else here?"

    "Kinda." Toss, hover, catch. "Not like me, though." Toss, hover, catch.

    "Howso?"

    "He''s... small. He''s not really thinking. He''s just... feeling." Toss, hover, drop, catch. "A blob of emotions and energy just wandering around. Too weak to do much, I guess."

    "Ghosts can become weak?"

    Toss, hover, drop, catch. ¡°Yeah. We fade out with time, or at least, I think so. I didn''t get an instruction booklet." Toss, hover, drop, catch. "All I know is that... it''s like watching someone go senile. Or watching a candle burn when you don¡¯t know how long the wick is. Sometimes happens faster, sometimes happens slower. Then... sometimes, they blink out entirely." Muse let out a sigh. Toss, hover, drop, catch. Yet another thing she didn''t want to dwell on. The idea of turning out like the little thing floating over her was not a comfortable thought.

    "Why is it here?"

    "This happens sometimes. He probably wandered from somewhere and found me." Toss, hover, drop, catch.

    "Why would he care about you?"

    "I''m bigger. I guess it''s a moth-to-a-flame kind of thing." Muse watched as the remains of whoever it was that she was playing catch with got bored, distracted, and floated off through the wall and outside. She was glad she was spared the ''undead ADD'' that most of her ''kin'' suffered. "They''re not like me."

    "Thank God for that."

    "Hey," Muse shot him an injured look, swiveling around to sit up, taking her favorite spot against the pole. She was surprised to see that he had a very mild smile on his face.

    "What made you so particular?"

    Muse tilted her head to the side slightly and shrugged. "I have no idea. Not a flipping clue."

    "Well, what did you do to be condemned to this?"

    She blinked. He asked it so casually. She wondered why he cared. It was probably because he had been down here for a while and had nothing better to do. She lowered her head lightly. "That''s an awfully personal question."

    "I suppose it is."

    There was a long silence. Muse was watching him, trying to figure out this man. A Vatican soldier. An armored force of nature, one she had found herself terrified of. And now, she was sitting here, having a personal conversation with him. Michael was asking her questions that not even Isaac had asked. What the hell. Chances are he won''t be alive for much longer anyway.

    "I don''t know that either. I wasn''t exactly Christian, so I suppose if that condemns you to an existence of floating numb around a world you''re loosely connected to, then I guess that''s it." Muse folded her arms across her knees and propped her chin up on her forearm. Lost in thought, she tried to think back as to what could have caused her to be like this. Where she went ''wrong.'' "I guess I did some stupid stuff - but - hell, who hasn''t when they were a kid? Okay, " she chuckled. "Everyone but you."

    Michael smiled faintly and shifted, hissing in pain as his arm dug into the chair again. "You must have done something. Being a heathen doesn''t help, but there must be something."

    "Not... that I can think of," she chewed on her lower lip. "I smoked some weed. I never killed anybody - never stole. Never screwed anybody over. I don''t know. I really don''t. No one spoke to me, I saw no lights, I saw nothing. It all went dark, and then... I woke up." The last thing she wanted to do was think about her predicament. All ¡®thinking about it¡¯ accomplished was to make it more difficult to cope with.

    "How did you die?" Michael did his best to straighten out, wincing as the muscles in his arms protested to the movement.

    "Christ." Muse let the word out in a sigh. She ran both of her hands through her hair, wishing she could hide from the question. She knew she didn''t have to answer him. "Everybody always wants to know how I died. Million dollar question." Muse lifted her head and watched him. She was surprised at what she saw. His face was almost - not quite, but almost - kind. There wasn''t the cold detachment in his hazel eyes that she saw when she told Isaac. It almost looked like Michael... cared.

    "It''s a sensitive subject, I can imagine... You don''t have to tell me. I-"

    "I was murdered," she said suddenly, blurting it out in a rush. She opened her mouth, paused, and let out a breath she started talking slower. She had to get used to the idea eventually. Yes, she was murdered. Yes, she was stabbed. What else had happened to her after she lost consciousness - she was glad she had been spared. Muse figured she might as well use this as an opportunity to ''talk about it.'' Didn''t they say it got better that way? "I was stabbed." She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, not wanting to meet his eyes. She sat there and watched the scene play out in her head again. "Will, my boyfriend. I loved him. Or at least, I think I did. He brought me out to this place, this graveyard. He murdered me." She shuddered and pulled her knees closer to her as she felt the sensation of the knife on her ribs. She hoped that someday the memory of that feeling would go away. ¡°He... was the only person on this planet... ever... to look me in the eyes and say that he loved me.¡±

    They sat in silence. Michael was staring off thoughtfully. Muse finally moved, sitting cross-legged on the ground. She tried to push the thoughts away, but the harder she tried, the more vivid the memories became. Whoever said ''talking about it makes it better'' could go screw. It didn''t feel any better at all. She got up and walked across the room, just finding the need to move.

    "For what it is worth, I am sorry you suffered. God can be strange in the way he works. We can only have faith in his grand design."

    That caught her by surprise. Muse would normally have mocked someone for claiming God had any sort of ''plan'' involving her getting brutally murdered, but the look on his face stopped her. He was only trying to be nice, trying to be comforting. She wouldn''t throw that back at him.

    "Thanks." Muse took a moment. "I don''t mean to sound rude... But... why do you care? It''s not like we''re best friends."

    "I am a Crusader. A sword of the light. You are my enemy, and when we meet again on the battlefield I will show no mercy." Michael shut his eyes and leaned his head back. He suddenly sounded almost feverish. She wondered if he was going to pass out. He had done that a few times already. "But I can recognize and sympathize with your suffering. I still don''t condone your actions. You were condemned to this for a reason. God would not have done this to you without due cause."

    "Maybe God just gets a laugh out of it."

    "Don''t blaspheme."

    "Hun, at this point it''s become a hobby.¡±

    <hr>

    Uriel stood across the street from his former home. St. Peter''s had been their base of operations in New England for years, and now, half of it lay in ruin. The fire had shattered several of the windows and collapsed the roof in some sections. The firemen had saved a good portion of it, but there was no point in staying. He was gripping the railing of the fence in front of him. Azrael was somewhere close, he was sure. He was surrounded by Vatican soldiers, yet he didn''t feel any safer.

    "He took Raphael."

    "Do we know why?" came a voice to his right, the Irish accent thinner than it used to be, but still a lilting presence in the words.

    "No."

    "Well, then we get her back. Raphael can''t die, no matter what he does. He''s a clever thing, but I don''t see what he could do."

    Uriel turned to look at the man next to him. Tall, white-haired, glasses, grizzled and pulling a drag on his cigarette. Despite the fact that they were on the same side, he still found the man¡¯s presence nerve-wracking. The Vatican sent ¡®the Priest.¡¯ Things must be bad. Uriel had been a part of this contingent since its inception - he was well into his sixties and didn''t consider himself a rookie by any means. But the Priest to his right made him feel like a boy.

    "Zadkiel can tell us where they are... she hasn''t been able to get a read on Michael alone, but if the two of them are in the same spot... we can find them," Uriel muttered out quietly.

    "Good. Then take the squadron and go get your compatriots."

    Uriel felt like he had just been reprimanded.

    "Yes, Father Ramsden."

    <hr>

    Being woken up by being stepped on is one thing. Being woken up by being stepped through is an altogether different level of unsettling. Muse jolted into consciousness as she realized that someone was standing in her. It took her a few seconds to realize that she was in the basement and had accidentally dozed off. It took her another second or two to realize that Michael was standing in her, collapsed on his knees. Pulling herself into a tighter ball, she appeared to the side of him.

    Michael struggled to stand, and tried to make it to the door. She actually felt more than a little bad for him as his legs betrayed him, and gave out underneath his unsteady weight. But Isaac had put her to this job. If he got loose, it would mean hell for her. Sighing, she walked up to Michael and picked him up by the upper arm. His weight was nothing. She was slowly realizing how strong she actually was.

    "Well, good morning," she said down to him.

    "Let me go - Ghost, let me go," Michael pleaded as she dragged him back towards the center of the room and the chair. "You know he plans on killing me. He plans on killing all of my companions, my friends - please!"

    Half of her wanted to let him go, but the other half wanted not to suffer Isaac''s wrath. Lying to the sorcerer wouldn''t do her any good, and she knew if he found out that she had let the Crusader go... she wasn''t sure what he''d do, but she knew it''d hurt. She tried to remember what Michael had done to Victor - and her. Somehow she figured Isaac¡¯s rage would still hurt worse. A lot worse. Self-preservation took over.

    "I''m sorry, man." Muse forced Michael into the chair and pulled his arms behind him. He howled in pain as she did. She clasped the restraints back around him, squeezing together the link of the chain that he had bent out of shape.

    She vanished, not wanting to have to stand there and have him look at her. She couldn''t take the expression on the face, the pain he was in. She hovered by the wall as she heard the basement door swing open. Measured footsteps came down the stairs - it could only be one person.

    "Muse?"

    Yep. She was right.

    She took form and looked over at Isaac. "Yeah?"

    "We''re going to need you for this. Come. Eric will be security."

    "Need me for... what, exactly?"

    Isaac watched her. His face was completely unreadable. There was no flicker of anything, no semblance of any emotion. "We are going to remove Raphael." He turned on his heels and headed back up the stairs. "Come. We have to do this quickly."

    Michael howled in pain, and rage, struggling against the chains violently as he thrashed with renewed energy.

    "Sorcerer! Sorcerer you will suffer for this! Face me like a man, you coward! You will be struck down, mark my words!"

    Muse vanished, heading up the stairs past Isaac, glad to be away from Michael''s suffering, although she had the feeling that where she was going was going to be no better.

 Chapter Twenty

    Muse began to wonder if she was going to be constantly at Isaac''s side. It was beginning to really feel like she was on a leash. Isaac had taken them to a large unfinished office building, and the wind whipped bitterly through the third floor. Nothing existed of the structure but the floors and row after row of iron girders in neat, square patterns. Piles of construction equipment lay scattered around - stacks of iron rebar, copper pipe, big pink rolls of what Muse could only guess was insulation of some kind. White plastic sheeting blew in the breeze next to her, curling around an iron beam as it slipped loose of its mooring.

    Caution tape was tied to every beam and around the edges of the building, and a small yellow strip of tape was tied to segments of iron rebar which were protruding up from the floor along the soon-to-be-wall, sticking up a few feet like a half-finished cage. The yellow tape blew in the wind to one side like streamers - looking like some bizarre holiday decoration.

    She was once again hovered over Isaac''s left shoulder, peering down at him as he flipped through a book. The wooden box that he had retrieved from the graveyard sat on a large spool of wire next to him. Muse had long since given up trying to read the book - it was just gibberish and random scribbles to her. Raphael lay in the middle of the ground in the center of a large circle covered in jagged lines and weird writing. She had no idea what it was designed to do, but she imagined it wasn''t friendly.

    Raphael was tied, her arms behind her back. She was gagged - Victor''s idea - but that didn''t stop her from lying there making terrified, muffled sobbing noises.

    ¡°Muse,¡± Isaac said, too soft to be heard by the other men who stood slightly scattered throughout the building, waiting in the shadows. They knew they were going to have company, it was only a matter of time.

    ¡°Mm?¡±

    ¡°Whatever happens, stay by my side. Do not wander off.¡± Isaac glanced up from the book to look where she was hovering. The look on his face was serious - his grey eyes somehow focused on her despite the fact she had no visible form.

    ¡°Excuse me...?¡±

    ¡°Stay by my side. Do you understand?¡± he repeated firmly.

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Muse said nervously. She didn''t like how he said it. Even when he ordered her around, it never seemed that... important. Something seemed absolutely dire about staying at his side this time.

    ¡°Good.¡±

    Isaac shut his eyes, then shut the book. He placed it down on the spool next to him and reached for the small wooden box. Opening it, he pulled out a long white feather. It looked like nothing Muse had ever seen before. It not only seemed to glow with its own light but seemed almost a step outside of reality. It had an almost opalescent sheen to it, reflecting the light like it was metallic or - something else, she didn''t know. She had a sudden urge to touch it - but never had the chance. Isaac looked at it and twirled it between his fingers as he observed it with an almost removed fascination. Then, he began to talk.

    Muse felt a shudder crawl through her being as she heard the words. She couldn¡¯t grasp onto them, couldn''t hold them in her mind. She knew he was talking, but she couldn''t actually hear the words. The more she tried to listen, the dizzier she got. Something about them actually almost made her feel ill - which she knew was impossible. You can''t be nauseous when you''re dead. She felt the power pour off of him, sending a shiver through her.

    The circle around Raphael, drawn in simple chalk, suddenly flared white with a sharp hiss. The circle grew brighter and began to twist to one side. Muse shook her head. She had to be seeing things. No, sure enough - the circle was moving. Or was she?

    She watched as the space underneath Raphael... disappeared. Simply vanished into nothing. The concrete became like glass or obsidian. Muse couldn''t see the floor below, only a reflective black void. Muse stared at it in fascination as the writing slowly dimmed to a mild glow. Raphael was now howling loudly into the gag, kicking fiercely. Her foot hit the edge of the circle and her eyes went wide. Her body thrashed in pain as she screamed louder. Slowly she curled into a ball and sobbed uncontrollably.

    Isaac held up the feather and let go. It drifted from his hands as if taken by the stiff breeze. The feather flew into the circle and touched down on the ground next to the girl.

    All at once - in a single instant - there was a figure crouched on the ground near the young Crusader. It felt like a fever dream. She had to stop and really think about whether she was conscious or not. She had to be asleep - but no, she didn¡¯t dream. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn''t figure out when the person, or whatever it was, actually appeared. It simply blinked into existence. One second there was no one, the next it was there. With vampires, as far as she could tell, there was always at least a bit of warning, some feeling of movement. This thing just... popped into being. She looked at it, and if she had a stomach she would have retched. Not because of how it looked. It just felt different. It felt wrong. It felt very wrong.

    It appeared male... but at the same time, it didn¡¯t appear like anything at all. As the figure slowly stood up, Muse couldn¡¯t look away. It looked male in the same way that a Ken doll did. Short light-brown hair fell to its chin in picture-perfect curls. That was the problem with it, why it looked unnatural, Muse decided - it was too perfect. Absolutely flawless in the same way a marble carving is perfect. Inhumanly free of flaws, and because of that, its very appearance felt cold and detached. As she gaped, the male figure brushed his hands down its bare chest, and a set of clothes appeared. A simple black button-down shirt and grey pants. Muse continued to gawk, glad it couldn''t see her.

    It looked at Isaac with no expression, no emotion. ¡°Ostheim," the ''man'' spoke. His voice was human... mostly. Muse figured again that if a marble statue could open its mouth and speak, it would sound like that.

    ¡°Sariel,¡± Isaac responded, then clasped his hands behind his back. The sorcerer watched the man in the center with nothing but confidence. Muse had no idea how Isaac could do that - look at something that was clearly inhuman and act like he was ordering coffee.

    ¡°You summoned me.¡± Sariel turned his head downwards and looked at Raphael. The girl was still curled into the fetal position, sobbing. He looked upwards with the first sign of emotion. Incredulousness. One eyebrow arched as he looked back up at Isaac. ¡°What is this?¡±

    ¡°A gift. To you and your masters," Isaac replied with the slightest bow to his head.

    ¡°A living girl. What use do we have for her? Why would we care about such a thing?" Sariel looked down at Raphael and then back up at Isaac. He sighed softly. "What is the purpose to this, human?"

    ¡°Simply a gift.¡±

    ¡°What do you expect us to do with her?" Sariel asked thoughtfully, nudging Raphael with his foot, rolling her onto her back. The girl looked up at the strange figure and began to scream again through the gag. Sariel let out a deep sigh. Muse found herself unable to think about what she was witnessing like she was watching a movie she couldn''t interact with. "You wish us to remove her from your world," Sariel said dryly.

    ¡°Yes. You take her to your plane, and we both benefit."

    ¡°One soul amongst many is nothing to us, Ostheim.¡± Sariel shrugged dismissively. "You overestimate her value. We have plenty of souls, and those that we have are meaningless to us. Why do we care? She is worthless."

    ¡°She is one of the Crusaders. She was created by the Vatican. They have sent many of your own kind back to their respective planes.¡±

    ¡°I see," Sariel said quietly. He stood there motionless - perfectly motionless - for quite some time, his head tilted to one side as if in thought. ¡°Then perhaps I will accept your offer. Perhaps at least she will prove to be amusing.¡±

    Isaac smiled thinly. He opened his mouth to speak as a loud crash resounded from behind him. He turned to see Mal skidding to a stop on the ground surrounded by rolling copper pipes. The pipes cascaded over each other and across the concrete, dinging out an atonal tune as they toppled. The big man was frantically whacking at a white flame that had caught his chest on fire. Uriel stood by an iron girder, both guns pointed at Mal.

    ¡°Damnit!¡± Isaac growled. Muse saw a dim blue glow dart from one column to another, bee-lining straight for Isaac. Muse reacted quickly, moved and formed in front of Azrael, checking her body into its. The force of the impact sent the Crusader crashing into an iron beam with a thud, landing in a pile of debris. Azrael slowly stood up from the rubble and glowered at Muse. Or, at least, she imagined it was. She couldn''t tell with the white mask and only blackness for eyes. Shrugging, she grinned and waved.

    ¡°Hi jerkwad.¡± Muse vanished and hurtled at Azrael at the same time it flew at her - the impact knocked them both to the ground. Muse reacted quicker and threw Azrael into the wall again. She turned in time to see the ¡®man¡¯ Sariel lean over and pick up Raphael by the upper arm, holding her next to him as he straightened up again.

    ¡°Raphael!¡± Uriel screamed and ran forward, firing his guns at the man in the circle. There seemed to be some kind of shield surrounding it - the bullets impacted the force and disappeared in a crackle of white light. Uriel skid to a halt and locked eyes with the unnatural thing that had his compatriot. Fear and horror crossed Uriel''s features at the sight of the figure within the circle.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    "Hello, mortal," Sariel smiled - it wasn''t exactly a pleasant smile. Uriel seemed unable to move. "You are right to fear me. I wonder, will you appreciate watching all of them die around you?"

    Isaac seemed to have had enough. He stepped forward and gripped hold of Uriel, lurching him around to face him. Isaac planted his hand in the middle of his chest. Uriel screamed, dropping his revolvers with a loud clatter as they impacted the stone floor. He tried to pull away from Isaac, but the sorcerer grabbed the neck of his chain-mail tunic - keeping his other hand firmly pressed onto Uriel''s chest as smoke curled up from the metal that started to glow orange with the heat.

    ¡°You have annoyed me for the last time," Isaac snarled at the older man. Uriel continued to scream, his hands wrapped around Isaac''s arms as he tried to pull the other man off of him, but to no avail. Sariel watched the exchange with the same strange detachment as the statues he resembled.

    Muse still really hated statues.

    Muse snapped back to reality just in time to see Azrael hurtling through the air at the sorcerer. ¡°Isaac!¡± Muse yelled and dashed. Dropping her physical form and moving faster than a human could, she rushed straight at Isaac. She knew she didn''t have enough time to make it across the room to Azrael, so did the next best thing she could. Muse formed at the last second and tackled Isaac, body checking him out of the way at the same moment that Azrael flew through the air where Isaac had been a second prior. Azrael reappeared as its knife dug into the field that separated Sariel and Raphael from the rest of them. The Crusader thrashed violently. He made no sound as he collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

    Isaac landed on his back hard and glared at Muse angrily. ¡°I told you to not leave my side!¡±

    ¡°But... but I... he was going to...¡± Muse stammered uselessly.

    ¡°Get off!¡± Isaac snarled and threw Muse off of him and directly into the field around the glowing circle.

    Muse screamed.

    <hr>

    Eeeheheheheheeehehee...

    ¡°Huhn?!¡± Muse sat up, her eyes opening quickly. ¡°Shit! What was that?!¡±

    Hallohallo why hallo there!

    ¡°What the¡­?!¡± Muse stood up and looked around - and found herself... nowhere. She stood in a black void. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. She could see the ground beneath her only as far out as five or six feet. The ground shone like a polished mirror, reflecting back the darkness. It was like everything around her had ceased to exist - it reminded her of the videos she had seen of the depths of the ocean where no light reached.

    HIYA!

    ¡°What¡­ Hello?!¡±

    HALLOTHERE!

    ¡°...Ezekiel?¡±

    nOPE. Wrong! Close, I guess, maybefinesure, but, NOPE.

    ¡°What the hell is going on?!¡± Muse slowly turned around in a circle. Suddenly she wished she hadn''t. She found herself staring at a gigantic set of grinning teeth in front of her face. The teeth were bright orange, pointed, flickering and glowing like the teeth of a jack-o-lantern.

    I CAN SEE YOU NOW.

    The teeth opened and began to swallow Muse whole.

    <hr>

    Muse screamed.

    ¡°Whoa! Down girl!¡± Victor yelled and jumped back a bit. He was kneeling next to her, sitting back on his ankles. He put one hand on his knee and with the other, he reached forward and tousled her hair where she lay. ¡°Calm down, Muse.. calm down. You''re fine.¡±

    ¡°What the hell just happened?!¡± Muse looked up at the concerned faces of Victor and Mal. She felt weird - out of touch - like she wasn''t completely in the moment. She felt almost like she was behind a pane of glass. It was like what a few of the drugs she had used were like when she was alive, but that couldn''t be possible now.

    ¡°You got knocked out... You hit the edge of the circle... you hit the ground unconscious. We couldn¡¯t wake you up, you¡¯ve been out for about two minutes... Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°Y- yeah... I... I¡¯m okay.¡± Muse sat up slowly and ran her hands through her hair. ¡°That... stung.¡±

    Victor helped Muse to her feet, steadying her. She held onto his arm with one hand, watching the room around her spin just slightly. She made a face and shut her eyes, trying to force whatever was clogging her head to go away. You shouldn''t be able to feel ill when you didn''t have a stomach to empty. Victor spoke up reluctantly. ¡°Hate to rush you, girl, but we¡¯re in a hurry to get back.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Well, Raphael got taken away by that weird guy in the circle. They both just vanished... The rest of them ran off. We¡¯re leaving like, now.¡± Victor sighed. "That guy was... that guy was just not right." He shrugged it off and started with the others towards the door.

    Muse started walking and staggered. Victor wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her to him, helping her walk. "Sorry... my feet aren''t working right now..." If she disappeared, she was afraid she still couldn''t move.

    ¡°S¡¯okay, kiddo," Mal said from her other side.

    ¡°I really don''t feel right...¡±

    ¡°Just hold on ''till we get home.¡±

    <hr>

    The familiar silhouette of the long coat cut out against the dim light of the basement like an ink blot was unmistakable. Michael snarled and glared a hole at him. He willed the man to die, but to no luck. If you could drop someone with sheer hate, he should have been able to do it by now. "Isaac. What did you do to Raphael?!¡± he demanded angrily.

    ¡°Raphael is in Hell,¡± Isaac replied, stepping forward more into the light, a thin smile on the man''s sharp features. The look of amusement and pride that ran across his features sickened the Crusader.

    ¡°You lie!¡± Michael roared, yanking at his chains hard, trying to loosen the restraints and snap free. "You''re a liar!" His voice cracked slightly, betraying his nervousness. He cursed himself for showing his fear.

    ¡°Hardly." Isaac smiled a little warmer and stepped up, just outside of the range of Michael''s kick. "Your your little pet healer is no longer at your disposal. Which means, Michael, you can now die.¡± Isaac leaned over slightly, folding his arms behind his back. "If I were to slit your throat, you would die."

    "Why would you do that to her?!"

    "She was inconvenient."

    "You sent someone to Hell because they were an inconvenience?!" The idea defied all his concepts of logic. The sorcerer had done something so horrid because she was an annoyance. Ostheim had sunk to a new level of depravity.

    "Yes."

    Michael stared up at the sorcerer, lost. The man had ceased to be human. He was the devil on earth. ¡°Kill me, I will go to the gates of Heaven where I deserve to be,¡± Michael snarled bitterly, hoping the sudden welling of fear in his throat didn''t show on his face.

    ¡°Mmm... We shall see. You deprived me of that which I desire most - so I think I will let you die last.¡± Isaac said thoughtfully, straightening up and turning his back. Michael could only watch, struggling helplessly as Isaac walked up the stairs. "Muse, resume your post." The door shut behind the sorcerer, leaving Michael alone. Or at least, alone under appearances. He knew that Muse was around here somewhere. So for now, his only course of action was to wait and pray.

    <hr>

    Gabriel was happiest in the trenches. The ¡®Messenger¡¯ tended to get bored, especially since the Retribution had come to a so-called end. But like any good war, it was done in the public¡¯s eye long before the fighting ever actually finished. His squadron was moving through the Ural mountains, hunting a band of werewolves. The creatures had taken to the woods, refusing to fight them in the open. Typical behavior for their kind.

    Gabriel stood, shifting the large rifle that was strapped to his back. He brushed some snow out of his short blonde hair, tired of the constant and incessant snow.

    ¡°Shit for weather up here,¡± said the head of the squadron, a young man by the name of John. He was a good soldier if a bit jumpy. A werewolf had knocked over their Humvee, and the man had been reduced to stutters.

    ¡°Seriously,¡± he replied. He shifted his weight, kneeling down next to a tree. He squinted his eyes, looking through the darkness and the snow. The constant grey wet pelting made it hard to see any movement in the distance. But he thought he saw something.

    John at least knew what his sudden silence meant. With a sharp motion of his hand, Gabriel heard the rest of the men fall into position. He cursed how loud they were. Slinging the rifle from his shoulder, he flicked down the stand attached to the barrel and set it down. Peering through the scope, he caught sight of a flash of black fur.

    Squeezing the trigger, he heard his bullet hit its mark. One of the monsters howled in pain then collapsing in the snow, dead. He had made the shot from two hundred yards. Too easy.

    Gabriel hefted the gun onto his back and let out a sharp whistle. If there was one thing he hated more than standing in snow, it was running in it. Jumping over stumps and rocks, he ducked around another tree, slipping his gun off of his shoulder. This time, not even bothering to brace it on anything, he squeezed the trigger again. Another wolf fell dead.

    ¡°Sir! Look out!¡±

    Gabriel managed not to yell as a werewolf leaped over the rock next to him and tackled him. His rifle slid into the snow next to him. Staring up at the slathering jaws of the gigantic creature, he pulled a silver, gold inlaid shining pistol out of his belt and pressed the end of it between the thing¡¯s eyes. ¡°Go to God.¡±

    Pushing the pile of dead fur off of him, he let out a small huff. The creature was easily five hundred pounds - and it was a small one. He saw that his squadron was dealing with more of the same. One of his men lay dead in the snow next to him, his neck torn open by a large set of claws. The grey snow was starting to turn red. Some of it was his men¡¯s, but most belonged to the monsters.

    Pulling his other matching pistol out of his belt, he started to fire. He was trained to be precise and wasted no bullets. One bullet each, into the brain. Anywhere else was useless on these things, even with the blessings that were placed on his ammunition. They could take entire rounds to the chest without flinching.

    His calm focus was suddenly broken. Someone was standing next to him.

    He had to be hallucinating. He was supposed to be in America. Michael was hunting him. There was no way this man was standing here, now. And, yet, here he was.

    ¡°Hello, Gabriel. It¡¯s been so long. How are you?¡±

    Gabriel opened his mouth, stammered something out. He pointed both pistols at they grey apparition, aiming straight to the chest. Suddenly the wolves and the screams of his men seemed considerably less important.

    ¡°Good, I see. Now, I-¡°

    Gabriel interrupted him by pulling the triggers. Isaac responded simply by raising his hand. Suddenly Gabriel felt something hit him in the chest. Blinking, he turned his head down and saw two holes going through his white tunic. Slowly, they started to ooze red. That confused him. It couldn¡¯t be. This all was just quite simply not happening.

    Isaac sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose with the shove of a ring finger. ¡°You simply had to go and cut this short, didn¡¯t you? You were always the hasty one.¡±

    Gabriel sunk to his knees. The snow felt a lot colder than it had before.

    He really hated snow.

 Chapter Twenty-one

    Now it was a staring contest. Michael was looking down at the strange, grubby little man that sat in front of him, a jar in his lap. He recognized him as Ezekiel, the bizarre mentally shattered ¡®psychic¡¯ that Isaac toted around. Why the sorcerer kept something so obviously useless was beyond him. It certainly wasn¡¯t out of compassion, as the demon of a man knew nothing of the sort.

    Ezekiel had been staring at him for five minutes now. Michael, having really nothing else to do, returned the favor. Muse had not reappeared since the day prior when he had learned of what Isaac had done to Raphael. So it seemed now he was now meant to be tortured by being stared at.

    ¡°I mean, it¡¯s not like you didn¡¯t see this coming,¡± Ezekiel blinked.

    Michael had the sensation that he was coming into the middle of a conversation. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s like a paddle-ball. He¡¯s like a big paddle-ball. I mean, okay, a big creepy spooky paddle-ball. Paddle-ball of dooooom!¡±

    ¡°In the name of all that is Holy, what in the blazes are you talking about?¡±

    Ezekiel sniffed, rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and kept staring at him. ¡°The man is his world. He¡¯s not something that lives in or rules it - he is his world. It¡¯s like if the ball got stuck in something made out of glass. The paddle really really wants to follow, but the hole¡¯s too small. The paddle has to follow. The paddle must follow, so it starts to break the glass.¡± The man paused. ¡°No, no that won¡¯t work. You can¡¯t. They¡¯re the same thing. It¡¯d be like cutting your head off. The paddle¡¯s the bigger part, innit? Do you wanna do that? Nooo, I didn¡¯t think so.¡± He paused again for a long time and shook his head suddenly. ¡°No, see - the glass is breaking. It¡¯s already breaking. Crackidy.¡±

    Michael groaned quietly. Insult to injury, it seemed. Being blathered at by a madman.

    ¡°That¡¯s why everything is going wrong. His world can¡¯t be in ours. He can¡¯t be here. It¡¯s like¡­ physics. Or something. Superphysics.¡± A pause, then he giggled suddenly. ¡°It is now!¡±

    ¡°Muse, if you¡¯re here,¡± Michael called out dryly. Ezekiel was starting to give him a headache. ¡°Could you please tell him to go away¡­ or¡­ at least explain what he¡¯s saying?¡±

    ¡°Your bet¡¯s as good as mine,¡± she said as she appeared by the wall.

    Ezekiel suddenly turned to look at her and let out a small breath. ¡°Imma miss you, Ghostie¡­¡± he sniffled, this time looking like he was about to cry. Muse looked at him in confused concern, walking towards him.

    ¡°Zeek, what¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s the right thing to do. You¡¯re the world to him. No, more than that - you¡¯re both worlds,¡± Ezekiel now was sniffling through tears. Michael watched, flabbergasted with the strange pseudo-conversation, as Ezekiel threw his arms around Muse¡¯s legs, hugging her. ¡°But I¡¯m still gunna miss you¡­¡± he said, heartbroken.

    Muse reached down and gently stroked his hair. ¡°Hey, Zeek, hun - it¡¯s fine¡­¡±

    ¡°But there¡¯s no coming back.¡±

    ¡°Um¡­ where am I going?¡±

    The conversation was seemingly cut short as the basement door swung open. Ezekiel let go of Muse and gripped his jar, standing up and stepping back. ¡°Away, away away¡­ Stamp collector cometh.¡±

    Isaac slowly walked down the stairs and looked around the room. ¡°Am I interrupting something?¡± he asked curiously.

    ¡°Hell if I know. Zeek was going on about¡­ Hell if I know. Something about a paddle-ball and broken glass. Something about worlds and¡­ I don¡¯t know. Said I was going somewhere.¡±

    ¡°Hm,¡± Isaac turned his attention to Ezekiel. Ezekiel met his gaze, blinked a few times, then suddenly started to laugh.

    ¡°Ooooh! Oh! Sorry! Sorry! My bad. Wrong one!¡± Ezekiel kept giggling and hugged his jar to his chest. ¡°Mr. Blinky and I are sorry. We got them all confused. Wrong one. Not time yet.¡± He sniffed again and giggled. ¡°Awkward. Heee. Bye!¡±

    The rest in the room could only watch as he ran stumbling up the steps, giggling as he went down the hallway, leaving the door open. Isaac turned to look at Muse with a raised eyebrow.

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t look at me, man - you¡¯re the one who hired him.¡± Muse held up her hands and disappeared in a swirl of white smoke.

    ¡°Hm,¡± was all the sorcerer had to say in reply. Michael was busy trying to drop him dead with a glare, with the same results as last time.

    Michael watched as Isaac took a step towards him and took a handkerchief out of his pocket. He took something out of it and placed it down on the floor directly in front of him. It took Michael a few seconds to register exactly what he was looking at. Suddenly, he roared in rage and started to scream and kick, howling and hurling obscenities at the man in front of him.

    Isaac only smiled thinly, turned on his heels and walked upstairs.

    A single silver and gold pistol, stained and crusted with dried blood, lay on the floor at his feet.

    <hr>

    Zadkiel lifted the teacup, took a sip, and placed it back down on the table. It struck her how old her hand looked. The skin was starting to sink between the bones, making her look much older than she felt. She thought that it was rather unavoidable to think about such things at a time like this.

    She knew he was there before she saw him. A faint smile crossed her wrinkled features.

    ¡°Hello, Isaac.¡±

    ¡°Zadkiel.¡±

    ¡°Sit, have some tea.¡± She reached out and took the pot, poured the liquid into a second cup. Grey and black like a shade, he slipped up next to the table, looking down at her quizzically. ¡°You¡¯re going to kill me,¡± she scolded him like she was talking to a child. ¡°The very least you could do would be polite about it.¡±

    That seemed to catch him off guard. He paused for a moment before speaking. ¡°I suppose so.¡±

    ¡°There now,¡± Zadkiel smiled warmly as the sorcerer sat down in the chair next to her. She would have in her youth thought him a handsome man, but she knew better than to think him younger than she. It was odd, though, how she still felt that she was somehow older than him. She wondered how he fooled so many people - it was really in his eyes. There in those grey eyes, you could see his age. She often wondered if you could see it in her own, although her lifespan was that of a normal mortal¡¯s. Seventy years, that was a lifespan to most. Chuckling at the absurdity of the moment, she refilled her own glass. ¡°You were raised a gentleman, after all.¡±

    He chuckled once and lifted the glass, sipping the tea. ¡°Your compatriot did not meet his death with such dignity. I doubt any of the others will, either.¡±

    ¡°They lack the¡­ insight, I suppose. And I am old, sorcerer¡­ I am ready.¡±

    ¡°Your insight is stolen, Zadkiel.¡± Isaac¡¯s features darkened for a moment. ¡°Your gift does not belong to you.¡±

    That wounded her feelings. She was surprised at that, that she could still be hurt so easily. ¡°I know what happened, and your grudge isn¡¯t with me. You cannot blame me for what happened to her.¡± Zadkiel watched as his features suddenly grew tired. She herself was familiar with loneliness, and despite Isaac being her enemy, she felt for him. Reaching out a hand, she rest it on his wrist. Grey eyes turned to her, and she saw nothing but a faint glimmer of pain. ¡°Immortality is a strange thing. You didn¡¯t know what you were getting yourself into, did you?¡±

    ¡°I did hazard a guess.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t envy you. For more reasons than that.¡±

    ¡°Only fools envy me, Zadkiel.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    She laughed quietly. The man was so dramatic. He slowly stood up from his chair and walked behind her. She didn¡¯t turn to look. She would rather not see it coming. She felt a hand rest gently on each of her shoulders. ¡°Take an old woman¡¯s advice. It is those around us that make our lives worth living. You have lived more lives than most. Don¡¯t waste them alone, with nothing but your books and spells for company.¡±

    There was a long pause. ¡°I will remember that, thank you.¡±

    Zadkiel shut her eyes.

    <hr>

    Michael roared and spat at the man in front of him, kicked desperately, thrashing so hard for freedom that his wrists began to bleed from the restraints digging into his flesh.

    Isaac slowly set down a necklace - a simple golden cross on a thin chain - next to the bloodstained pistol, turned on his heels and walked away without anything but a simple thin smile. The basement door clicked shut. Muse could only watch as the Crusader in the chair continued to thrash. If she didn¡¯t stop him, he was going to break both of his wrists. She took shape next to him.

    ¡°Michael! Hey, hey - come on, quit it. You¡¯re going to hurt yourself.¡±

    ¡°I swear - I swear by my sword to God that I will get revenge! Isaac!¡± he roared again, thrashing. His heaving tipped the chair - Muse barely managed to catch it in time before he crashed onto his side.

    ¡°Dude!¡± She put the chair back on its feet and held it down. Finally, Michael seemed to grow tired and slumped against the chair weakly. ¡°Okay, tin-can. I¡¯m missing something.¡±

    ¡°Those¡­ were my friends. My companions. He¡¯s killing them - one by one - why?!  He¡¯s a sadist and a monster! He is the devil on earth! Isaac, face me! Coward!¡± Michael wrenched himself again one last time before lowering his head and letting out a low moan. ¡°He¡¯s doing this to torment me¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Muse looked down at the gun and the necklace. She cringed. That was just cruel. Sure, maybe Isaac had a reason. They had tried to put her into a bottle for eternity. But¡­ they didn¡¯t torture her. God knows they probably could have. She looked down at the man chained to the chair and felt pity for him. She put her hand on his shoulder.

    ¡°Let me go, Muse¡­ let me go. He¡¯s going to kill everyone else¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Muse swallowed hard reflexively. She was completely torn. She wanted to, and yet, she knew better. Pissing Isaac off aside, Michael was out to kill her friends and everything like them. She couldn¡¯t.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±

    <hr>

    Annael stood next to his chair, beaming his most charming smile at those around him. He adjusted the collar of his pale yellow shirt and sat down. He turned his attention to the rest of those sitting around the circular table. ¡°Fondest hellos,¡± he said, doing his best to keep his Italian accent to a minimum.

    Most around him replied, except for an older man with a thick beard who sat to his right. ¡°We are surprised that the Vatican chose to send you.¡±

    ¡°The Vatican saw this summit as the highest priority. In the interest of making their presence rather¡­ personal, they sent me. I hope you do not take this as a sign of aggression, Rabbi,¡± he kept the charming smile on his face as he leaned back in his chair, twisting one of the rings on his right hand around with his thumb.

    ¡°No, it just seems that a Crusader would be better used elsewhere,¡± the older man replied. The eight others who sat around the table simply watched the conversation in silence, their faces carefully guarded.

    Annael shut his eyes for a moment. It was typical. Even after humanity faced a much deeper darker threat in those monsters that now legally walked amongst them - some ancient grudges were hard to give up. Opening his eyes again, he turned his attention back to the Rabbi.

    ¡°I could not think of any better use for a Crusader than here. This discussion on the recent uncontrolled outbreaks in Eastern Europe is of the utmost importance to us. It is our opinion that the Romanovs are attempting to subtly invade. We do not believe that-¡°

    ¡°You wish us to go to war, Holy Soldier?¡± said a young woman from the other side. The sheer quantity of necklaces the woman wore told Annael quickly that she was the representative that the Pagans had sent. How the mottled collection of loosely related religions managed to communicate with each other long enough to pick someone was beyond him. ¡°We have already done that once. It ended poorly.¡±

    ¡°It ended because of a lack of Faith.¡±

    ¡°In whom - the Vatican?¡± snapped a rather large African man from the end of the table.

    Annael spun the ring around on his finger again. Damn. This was not going well. It would be no good if he was seen as the villain in the room. Focusing, he exerted just the smallest amount of his will. Reaching into the minds of those around him, he gently soothed the tension in the room. There would be no point in starting an argument. Slipping out of their minds as smoothly as he had entered, he smiled as they all visibly relaxed. ¡°Forgive me, my friends. I fear I have started off on the wrong foot. Please, I have not come to argue the validity of the past. Let us focus on the present and the future.¡±

    ¡°I am afraid you have little future left.¡±

    Annael stood up fast enough that he upended the chair. The voice had come from behind him, from the wall. There was no door there, and he had seen no one walk up behind him. He found himself staring into the grey eyes of a man he did not recognize. The identity of the man didn¡¯t not dawn on him until he noticed the military coat and the swirling archaic circle that was fading away on the wall behind him.

    ¡°Ostheim!¡±

    The man only smiled thinly. ¡°It appears so.¡± Grey eyes turned to the room. ¡°I am rather offended I did not receive an invitation.¡± Annael wondered if he was attempting to make a joke. ¡°I am sure it was misplaced by the post. Regardless, you could have called.¡± Ostheim gestured with his hand.

    Annael only heard a small gurgle and a strange snapping noise from behind him. Curiosity being too much for him, he turned.

    He nearly fainted at what he saw.

    Everyone was dead. Everyone had died in that instant. Annael knew who had killed them, but how was a mystery. On each of them, blood poured and oozed out from a large circular hole under their jaw, in the soft spot under their chin between the bone. Something had punched through the flesh into the skull. Blood was pouring, seeping into expensive clothing and robes. Flecks of bone and grey matter were swept along with the flow. The red liquid, like from some overturned glass, pooled across the table and dripped off the edges, oozing into the carpet. Vacant, blank eyes. They had been watching Annael and the sorcerer when they died, and they watched them still.

    ¡°Ahem.¡±

    Annael turned to face the sorcerer - his own eyes wide with terror. They were met with nothing but calm grey. ¡°Ostheim, think on what you are doing.¡± He attempted to reach into the other man¡¯s mind, attempting to persuade or to break. But it was no use.

    ¡°Ah, now - do you think your hypnotism would work on me? How quaint,¡± he said casually, almost friendly. The sorcerer reached out and adjusted the collar on Annael¡¯s shirt, brushing some lint off of the shoulder. Annael shuddered, fear paralyzing him. ¡°I suppose you would not know any better,¡± Isaac said thoughtfully. ¡°They never do tell you soldiers where they learned their clever little tricks, do they? No matter.¡±

    Annael could only watch - eyes vacant, unfocused - he felt no pain as the blood poured from his neck. He collapsed to the ground and watched his own blood seep into the rug. It was odd. It all struck him as perfectly strange. He felt no pain, he could not scream or move. And yet, he lay there, watching his own lifeblood seep into the carpet. Slowly his vision began to blur, grow fuzzy around the edges. It was so¡­ slow.

    He would awaken, he knew. Raphael would resurrect him.

    He would wake up.

    <hr>

    Michael¡¯s rage had gone beyond words or reasoning. There was nothing but one resonating note in his mind. He wanted to pound the thing¡¯s face in. He wanted, as he had never wanted anything before, to maim Isaac. Pound him to a pulp. To cause him pain.

    Bloodstained ring, a simple golden cross on a thin chain, a silver and gold pistol.

    Michael made a vow. He would hurt the sorcerer.

    He would pay.

    <hr>

    ¡°Ghost?¡±

    Nothing.

    ¡°Muse?¡± Michael asked quietly.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± The girl appeared sitting against the post.

    Michael rolled his shoulder, trying to get the blood flowing to his forearm. Two emotions ran through him now. Hatred and fear. Fear took the precedent right now, as the object of his hatred would not face him like a man. ¡°What is it like to die?¡±

    It took her a long time to speak. ¡°Why do you want to know?¡±

    ¡°Because I find myself standing at the precipice. I thought that perhaps you had some particular insight into what happens. Perhaps it will give me some peace of mind.¡± He hoped his voice didn¡¯t sound as sullen as he felt. He focused down at the bloodstained trinkets still lying on the middle of the floor in front of him. Gabriel. Annael. Zadkiel. Gone.

    The room was silent as he turned thought after thought over in his head. Even as he mourned his friends, the hatred for Isaac grew. He would make that man regret what he had done. And here Michael was, trying to appeal to some shred of humanity left over in a dead girl. What had become of him? ¡°I should never have asked-¡°

    ¡°It¡¯s dark.¡±

    Michael turned his head up to look at her.

    ¡°It¡¯s dark,¡± she continued. ¡°It¡¯s not¡­ it¡¯s not dark like night or anything, or a dark room or like when you shut your eyes. It¡¯s not warm, or cold, or painful. It¡¯s nothing. Just numb. You don¡¯t fall¡­ and it¡¯s very quiet. Peaceful, I guess. Very full of nothing.¡±

    He shut his eyes and in some part of his mind, tried to picture what she was talking about. It still made his stomach churn. He hoped that his compatriots were spared the time to think about their own deaths.

    ¡°Dying itself is¡­ It¡¯s like going to sleep or being put under for surgery. I died slow, so the world kind of¡­ faded out. Everything just got blurry. The exact moment I died is impossible to pin my finger on - kind of like how if I asked you to remember the exact point you fell asleep, you couldn¡¯t.¡±

    Michael was very quiet, and he opened his mouth to say something. She cut him off, somehow knowing what he was going to ask.

    ¡°And no, it doesn¡¯t hurt,¡± she finished. He lowered his head again and sat there, thinking. He was afraid when he admitted it to himself. He feared death. He didn¡¯t know why - he had done his service to God. Surely Heaven awaited him. But just the concept of it made him ill.

    ¡°Correction. Whatever causes your death? Yeah, that part hurts¡­ but it all goes away pretty quick.¡±

    Michael opened his eyes and found Muse gone. ¡°Muse?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± she replied from nowhere in particular.

    ¡°Thank you¡­¡±

    ¡°No problem.¡±

 Chapter Twenty-two

    ¡°I think I am going to die soon.¡±

    Muse looked up from where she was sitting on the floor. Michael had sat there in silence for hours now, staring at the ground. She had done the same, not wanting to look up at him. It only made her more confused than she already was. That was all she needed, confusion on top of all the other messes she had to deal with. Running a hand through her blue hair, she pushed it back away from her face - why she bothered, she didn¡¯t know. It always wound up exactly where it always was.

    ¡°Oh,¡± was all she could think of to say.

    Michael cracked his neck to one side and shifted with a painful look on his face, tilting his head back to look up at the beams of the ceiling. ¡°God chose this for me. I shouldn¡¯t second-guess him.¡±

    ¡°You honestly think God chose for you to be tortured and maimed?¡± Muse snorted. ¡°You¡¯ve got one messed up God, then, Champ.¡±

    Muse tried not to laugh as Michael shot her a glare that she could only presume was supposed to be threatening. ¡°Don¡¯t blaspheme.¡±

    She began debating the texture of the floor again. ¡°You think God cares what I say? He gave up on me a long, long time ago.¡± She could feel his eyes still on her, and she hated it. She felt like she was being judged. It was the same kind of feeling she got when Isaac would stare at her. She decided not to tell the Crusader that.

    ¡°You really think that.¡±

    A statement, not a question.

    Finally looking at him, Muse wished she hadn¡¯t. She had expected a cold detachment like the sorcerer¡¯s, or righteous superiority. She could have dealt with those - was prepared to deal with those. She was not prepared to deal with the wounded look on his face.

    ¡°Well¡­ I mean, look at me¡­¡± Muse shuffled her boot, kicking a piece of gravel across the cement. She felt almost embarrassed for her comment, he had taken it so personally. ¡°Dead, numb, being kept in the service of an asshole who¡¯s confusing at best.¡±

    ¡°We all have choices. You could choose not to obey him.¡±

    Muse snorted. ¡°Oh, sure, easy for you to say - you don¡¯t get electrocuted. That hurts, y¡¯know? It hurts a lot. I really don¡¯t have a choice.¡±

    ¡°Yes, you do.¡±

    ¡°I could, what? Fight? He¡¯d destroy me.¡±

    ¡°But you would have stood up for what you believed in,¡± Michael shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s the choices we make that lead us to where we go.¡±

    ¡°So you chose to wind up as a Crusader, tied to a chair.¡± She had trouble believing that. But she was glad to get the conversation away from herself.

    ¡°I was chosen by God.¡±

    ¡°So we make our own choices unless God chooses for us.¡± Muse leaned back against the pole and picked at the fishnets on the back of her arm. ¡°That¡¯s kind of hypocritical, Mike.¡±

    ¡°Maybe my dogma isn¡¯t perfect, Muse¡­ but it¡¯s certainly better than living in the service of a madman. He doesn¡¯t care for you at all, you realize. Once you¡¯re useless to him, or worse - once you get in his way, he¡¯ll dispose of you.¡±

    ¡°You were trying to put me in a bottle, jackhole.¡±

    Michael paused. ¡°I¡¯m not being very convincing, am I?¡±

    For some reason, that made Muse laugh. She was surprised to find him laughing with her. That was one thing she also couldn¡¯t cope with - he had a sense of humor. He was human. He wasn¡¯t some tin-armored boogeyman trying to lop her limbs off. It would be so much easier if he was.

    Then she wouldn¡¯t feel so horrid for letting him rot.

    She stood up, walked across the floor and sat down in front of him, Indian style. Looking up at him, she hoped her doubt wasn¡¯t as obvious on her face as it felt. ¡°I know Isaac¡¯s not going to win any Nobel Prizes for humanitarianism¡­¡±

    That drew a snort out of his throat.

    ¡°But I¡¯m damned if I do, and damned if I don¡¯t,¡± she finished.

    ¡°No, Muse¡­ you¡¯re wrong.¡± Michael leaned forward as far as he could before the restraints stopped him. Suddenly, Muse felt like she was nailed to the spot, pinned there by nothing more than the man¡¯s apparent concern. ¡°You are damned if you continue this way¡­ thinking that just because you are told to do these things, you aren¡¯t responsible for it. You will suffer if you resist him if you choose to do the right thing¡­ but God will see your sacrifice. God will reward you.¡±

    Muse shut her eyes and vanished. She was glad that she could hide when she wanted to. ¡°I wish I could believe you, Mike.¡±

    ¡°I hope you do, someday.¡± Michael leaned back, growling in pain as his muscles tensed up suddenly. ¡°I hope that I am around to see it,¡± he chuckled bitterly.

    Muse drifted back to the wall and settled down, trying not to think about what he had said. But, like watching scary movies at night and wondering if the zombie was hiding behind the shower curtain, the spectre of her ¡®choice¡¯ was looming at the edge of her mind. Muse tried to shove it to the back and let her thoughts wander away. She didn¡¯t make it far.

    Raucous footsteps came crashing down the stairs, pulling her out of her mind and back to the present. She looked up at Victor, who was walking across the concrete, grinning his usual flashy smile at Michael.

    ¡°Hey asshole, how¡¯s it goin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Unholy beast, leave me be,¡± he snarled up at the vampire.

    ¡°Yo, Muse-¡± Victor called, turning his head around to look for her. She took shape near him, causing him to leap back. ¡°Damn, girl! C¡¯mon, you gotta stop doing that.¡± He ruffled her hair playfully, grinning down at her. ¡°How are you holding up?¡±

    ¡°Eh, I¡¯m tired¡­ otherwise fine.¡± It was a lie, but she told it well. Michael was starting to get to her, but not in the way she would have expected. Irritated she could have dealt with. ¡®Gut-wrenching¡¯ was probably not the proper turn of phrase when one didn¡¯t have intestines.

    ¡°Can¡¯t imagine. Well don¡¯t worry, it¡¯ll be all over in about-¡± He checked his watch. ¡°Ooh, half an hour or so.¡± Victor grinned back at the Crusader, flashing his fangs. ¡°We¡¯re going to finish these dickweeds off once and for all.¡±

    Michael began to struggle with whatever strength he had left, thrashing against the chains and swearing at the blond vampire. Victor only snickered and slung an arm around Muse¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Hun, I don¡¯t know how you dealt with this dude all week. Isaac ought to give you a medal or some shit.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± was her brilliant reply. ¡°Half an hour?¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah - Eric caught on to a signal about Uriel and Azrael coming to save Mikey-boy here. They were paging backup. Somehow, we don¡¯t know how, they managed to figure out where we are. So we¡¯re going to get ¡®em before they get us.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± Half an hour and the rest of the Crusaders would be dead. Michael included, she had no doubt.

    ¡°Isaac said he wants you to keep guarding Mikey. We¡¯re going to come down for him in a bit, and then you can buck off and sleep.¡± Victor ran his hand back over Muse¡¯s hair, smiling down at her with a strange, soft look in his eyes that Muse couldn¡¯t grasp the meaning of.

    Muse only nodded in reply. Victor patted her on the back and turned, heading up the stairs. She could only stand and watch Michael as he struggled. As soon as the door shut, Michael¡¯s rage vanished, his head tilting down, his frame shaking with the silent sobs.

    Muse disappeared. Somehow not being visible made it less awkward.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± she said. She knew it was meaningless, but she meant it. She wasn¡¯t even sure if Michael had heard her.

    <hr>

    ¡°Wait fer the cue.¡±

    ¡°But they¡¯re right there.¡±

    ¡°It don¡¯ matter, wait for the goddamn cue, Fangface.¡±

    ¡°Will you two shut up? Seriously.¡±

    ¡°Eh, go sit on it, Gizmo.¡±

    ¡°For - Oh. Aw crap. Here we go.¡±

    ¡°Fuggin¡¯ predictable.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡­. Wait¡­¡±

    ¡°Go!¡±

    <hr>

    Every once and a while you get one of those moments in your life where you try and trace back the domino effect that led you there. Where it all started, where it all went right - or most likely - where it all went wrong.

    This was one of those moments.

    Muse stood next to Victor, half-hiding behind the vampire. Everyone was called out for this. Standing in the grass behind the house, she watched the scene before her like a scene in a movie. It was too bizarre to be real.

    Uriel, the short-haired older Crusader, was on his knees in front of Mal, arms tied behind his back and shirtless. Next to him knelt Azrael, who was bound in a similar fashion, although stapled - yes, Muse realized to her disgust - stapled to its chest was a piece of paper with some strange writing and a symbol on it. Whatever the paper did, she didn¡¯t dare ask.

    Michael was kneeling in the grass in front of Victor, his hands chained behind his back. Victor was gripping the Crusader¡¯s shoulder, keeping him from lunging forward. Although Muse knew it was pointless, Michael was too weak to stand up under his own power - let alone attack anyone. Although if anything could make him muster the strength, his obvious hatred for Isaac would do it.

    Suddenly reminded of the sorcerer, Muse turned her attention to him. The look on his face was the same stoic detachment that he always seemed to have. She would have been happier if Isaac looked even somewhat smug about this. Maybe an evil laugh and a nice line from a Vincent Price movie. Anything but the inhuman glassy nature with which he stood there, arms folded behind his back, observing the scene in front of him like it was a daily occurrence.

    ¡°You have become too much of an annoyance,¡± Isaac said quietly, looking down at Michael. ¡°And it is time for me to finally rid myself of you.¡±

    Michael struggled weakly and made a small cry of pain as Victor dug his fingers harder into his shoulder. ¡°Isaac, stop and think about what you¡¯re doing! Murdering-¡±

    ¡°Ah, Michael¡­ ever trying to be the savior. Ever the hero. Ever the knight in shining armor.¡± Isaac reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ivory handled pocket knife. Giving it a clean flick, he smiled thinly down at him. The smile never reached his eyes. ¡°Yes. I will let you die last.¡±

    Muse repressed a shudder at the sight of the knife. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to look away, tried to count the blades of grass between her feet. But like passing a train wreck, she couldn¡¯t help herself. Especially not when she heard a familiar noise that set her on edge.

    The sound of a knife entering flesh.

    Looking up, she saw Isaac standing behind Azrael, one hand pulling its head back, the other having stabbed the blade through its neck. Blood, darker than the red that it should have been, gurgled and spurted from the wound, soaking the grass around Azrael¡¯s knees.

    Isaac yanked the blade out of the Crusader¡¯s neck, the liquid dripping off of the blade. He pulled out his handkerchief and began to clean the blade as Azrael slumped lifelessly to the ground, blood pooling and oozing around the blades of grass, making them look like miniature reeds sticking out of some grotesque pond.

    Muse¡¯s mind was blank. What she saw in front of her completely emptied her of all her thoughts. She felt detached like she was now watching someone else. Idly, Muse wondered if this was what a panic attack felt like.

    Isaac stepped up to Uriel, who was struggling violently and thrashing. One hard punch to the back of the shoulders from Mal stopped any progress he might have been making. The older man wheezed in pain and would have doubled over if the bigger man had let him.

    Twirling the blade deftly through his fingers with practiced ease, Isaac looked down at the Uriel. ¡°It will make me sad to see you go, as you were one of the first¡­ A shame, really. What now that Zadkiel is dead as well. Ah, the curse of being immortal.¡±

    ¡°Damn you, you soulless beast¡­¡± Uriel snarled through the pain at the grey figure that loomed over him.

    ¡°Most likely too late for that.¡±

    Isaac reached down and dug the tip of the blade into the Crusader¡¯s chest. Red liquid pooled and oozed down his skin slowly like water down a pane of glass. Isaac slowly pulled the knife up, drawing a neat red line from below his ribs to the center of his chest. He slowly dragged the knife up to one side, and then returning to the point, drew the knife up again, creating a large oozing Y across his chest.

    Uriel seemed to be doing his best to stay conscious. ¡°What the hell are you doing?! You sick bastard!¡± Michael roared. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    All eyes were suddenly on Muse. Blinking, she tried to figure out why. Muse suddenly realized that she had spoken. She hadn¡¯t meant to, but she had.

    ¡°What was that, my dear?¡± Isaac asked her.

    She stammered uselessly before realizing what it was that she had said. Swallowing hard, she repeated herself.

    ¡°Autopsy¡­¡±

    ¡°Very clever. Indeed, you are right.¡± Isaac almost sounded pleased with her, like she was some student who finally answered a question right. It only succeeded in making her feel the more ill. ¡°I thought perhaps I would save the Vatican¡¯s coroner some time, seeing as I have most certainly overburdened him - or her. Call it professional courtesy.¡±

    If that was a joke, it seemed to go unappreciated by everyone. Muse stepped forward without realizing it, staring down at the blood that ran down Uriel¡¯s chest, soaking into his dark pants. Shaking her head, she tried to clear it, tried to get back into her own mind. She felt like she was lost in some weird dream.

    Michael¡¯s shouts of rage became sobs once again as the man hopelessly thrashed. He let out another howl of pain as Isaac lifted the blade, ready to drive it through Uriel¡¯s throat.

    Before she realized it, a pair of sharp grey eyes were angrily glaring at her. It took her a moment that someone was holding onto Isaac¡¯s arm, preventing the strike. That ¡®someone¡¯ was her.

    ¡°Yes, Muse?¡± Isaac clipped.

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± she choked out.

    ¡°This is hardly the time to become squeamish. If you are wanting to discuss my treatment of them, we can do so at length in a few moments, child.¡± Isaac shoved her back roughly, causing her to stagger and land in the grass.

    Face down, she groaned and pushed herself up to her knees. She heard Eric next to her make some sort of disgusted noise. She pulled her hands up and looked down to see that they were covered in blood. Dark red, too dark - like it was half coagulated.

    She had landed face down in what remained of Azrael. She looked down at the blood that covered her and let out some broken moan. Muse vanished, reappearing a few feet away, shaking her head no as she backed away from the puddle of blood. In a small miracle, the blood had not traveled with her.

    Something in her snapped. Something had had enough. She turned to Isaac and tore the blade out of his hand. He began to talk, but she cut him off. ¡°No. I will not be party to this!¡±

    ¡°Then go inside,¡± he growled fiercely. He pulled the glasses off of his face and stepped towards her dangerously. Whatever in her that had broken had removed any fear from her. ¡°And we will talk later.¡±

    ¡°No. I can¡¯t let you torture them¡­ I can¡¯t let you-¡±

    ¡°You question us now?! Look around yourself, child! You have been part of this little family of murderers and monsters for some time now.¡± Isaac grabbed her by the hair. Letting out a small squeal, Muse was suddenly wrenched around so that she was forced to face Victor and the others. With his other hand, he wrenched the knife from her grasp and held it up in front of her, the moonlight glinting off of the metal blade.

    Her back to Isaac, he held the edge of the knife to her throat. She let out a quiet sob as he did, shivering in his grasp. Somewhere in her mind, it registered that the knife couldn¡¯t hurt her - but it didn¡¯t matter. The blood on the blade looked all too familiar. Isaac bent his head down and began to talk, his words an angry hiss. ¡°Your conscience has come a little too late. These are what you call friends. You are a monster like they are. Or have you forgotten that? Have you forgotten what the Crusaders tried to do to you? What they tried to do to your little fanged paramour?!¡±

    ¡°I- I-¡± Her conviction suddenly seemed pathetic. Empty, weak, useless, she felt any strength she had leave her. ¡°I can¡¯t¡­ let you¡­ Isaac, please.¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± Isaac pushed her forward roughly. She staggered again and found herself being held up by Victor, who had rushed to catch her. She looked up into his green eyes and saw nothing but worry and fear.

    ¡°I will not have you further jeopardizing this.¡± Isaac touched the necklace through his shirt. Muse screamed as pain crawled through her body. Victor jumped back suddenly, letting out a startled cry of his own.

    Muse expected it to stop, expected it to lessen as it always had. But this time, it didn¡¯t. The pain continued, worsened. Suddenly, blissfully, her world went to blackness.

    <hr>

    Victor watched helplessly as Muse slumped to the grass, he himself shaking his hand to try and get rid of the weird electrical prickling. Isaac had hurt her. Hurt her bad. But now was not the time to speak up. Kneeling down, he shook her shoulder lightly but got no response. Suddenly, she vanished altogether. Victor jumped back reflexively.

    ¡°Now, if we are done with our little interruptions¡­¡±

    The sound of a gunshot rocked through the field, causing the men to duck. Life apparently was just insisting on getting more and more complicated.

    ¡°Get down!¡± Mal yelled as more gunfire unloaded into the field.

    Victor looked up as Isaac snarled in anger. A bullet had gone straight through the sorcerer¡¯s shoulder, opening a hole a good two inches in diameter clean through him. Victor winced again as another volley of bullets rained into the field. This time he was thankful for Isaac, as the other man had held out his hand, the bullets now pinging harmlessly off of an invisible shield.

    ¡°The Vatican¡¯s soldiers - there are - are fifty of them,¡± Eric said from his crouched position, his heavily modified gun in his hand. He pulled the goggles down over his face sharply, fidgeting with the dials on the side.

    ¡°Well, that juss¡¯ proves it. They know where we live!¡± Victor stayed low, swiveling his head around. ¡°Where¡¯s Muse?¡±

    Isaac ignored him. ¡°Move.¡± Isaac began walking back toward the house. ¡°And I suggest quickly. I can¡¯t hold the shield much longer.¡±

    Victor started running towards the house, Eric close behind and Mal jogging ahead. Isaac simply walked, his back to the gunfire, completely unconcerned. The man never seemed concerned about a damn thing. Victor didn¡¯t know if that was comforting or just further proof the man had checked out of humanity a long time ago.

    ¡°What about them?!¡± Mal yelled over the gunfire, pointing back at Michael and Uriel.

    ¡°We will get another chance,¡± Isaac replied quietly. The look on his face sent an uneasy feeling through Victor. He wasn¡¯t stoic. The look on his face was one of dark rage that he¡¯d never seen before. Victor suddenly wished he¡¯d go back to being stoic.

    Isaac walked through the back door of the house. He stood still for a moment and shut his eyes. Holding out his hands, he tilted his head back slowly.

    ¡°Hey, Boss? Boss?! The soldiers are advancing on the house!¡± Victor yelled over yet another reign of bullets - the window near his head shattered. He dropped low and hissed angrily, his fangs out. He watched as Eric ducked down behind the counter in the center of the kitchen, and let loose a clip out the window.

    ¡°Boss!¡± Victor yelled - and found himself screaming through absolute silence. He blinked and cautiously peeked out the window. All the noise from outside had stopped. He stood up slowly. It was sunset. How was it sunset? It was pitch black just a few seconds ago.

    He blinked suddenly as he realized Isaac was walking away, towards the stairs. Victor knew that wherever Muse was, Isaac was about to hurt her. Victor wanted to scream. Isaac was furious, and that only spelled pain for her. But if Victor did anything to stop the sorcerer, all he would succeed in doing would be causing himself pain alongside her.

    ¡°Perhaps you should all go for a walk, the sunset looks like it will be spectacular. I do love watching the sunset over the ocean,¡± Isaac said calmly, but Victor could hear the undercurrent of rage under his words.

    ¡°Yo Boss, are you nuts?! With them outside?!¡± Mal scoffed.

    Eric shook his head slowly, staring at the backyard. ¡°Dude, look at the sky¡­ it was dark a second ago¡­ and¡­ shit¡­ the sun doesn¡¯t set into the ocean in New York¡­¡±

    ¡°But they were just shootin¡¯ at us a second ago!¡±

    ¡°They are quite a ways away. I highly doubt their bullets reach that far,¡± the sorcerer replied.

    Isaac walked up the stairs and all Victor could do was watch. Victor gripped his hair in both hands. There was nothing he could do. Nothing. Muse was about to enter a world of pain and he was helpless.

    ¡°Boss¡­ what¡¯re you going to do?¡± he asked quietly.

    ¡°There is a lesson to be learned, Victor,¡± Isaac replied. ¡°And I plan on teaching it. I would recommend not getting involved.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ don¡¯t mess her up, please.¡±

    ¡°Only if I have to.¡±

    And with that, Isaac was gone. Victor heard the door to the study click shut. He sat down on the kitchen floor, his back against the cabinets, his head in his hands. He prayed to anyone who would listen that she¡¯d be okay.

    Mal grunted and got up, and walked to the kitchen door. Opening it, he walked outside. ¡°Shit¡­ guys¡­ come out here. I don¡¯t believe it.¡±

    ¡°Did he teleport them away?¡± Eric asked and took a step outside. Whatever they were talking about, Victor didn¡¯t really care.

    ¡°Not¡­ fuggin¡¯ exactly.¡± Mal replied. ¡°Vic, Vic get off your ass and come see this.¡±

    With a grunt, Victor stood up and took a step outside and looked out¡­ at the ocean. He looked to the left and the right and found that their cemetery-side house was now a hundred feet from the ocean.

    ¡°He moved the whole house¡­ The whole goddamn house¡­¡±

    <hr>

    Isaac stood in the center of the room. He touched the necklace around his neck and with a loud thump, Muse impacted the ground in the middle of the carpet. ¡°Get up,¡± he snarled. ¡°Get up,¡± he demanded again.

    Muse groaned and rolled onto her side, then shuddered as slowly the last remaining twinges of pain started to recede. Consciousness was slowly returning to her, and she honestly wished it hadn¡¯t. It hurt. ¡°What¡¯d you do..?¡±

    ¡°I shut you down.¡±

    Muse looked up and saw him staring down at her with a furious look in his eyes. He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over the back of his chair, rolling up the sleeves to his shirt. She wondering if he was planning on beating her with his bare hands. If anybody could make her feel pain, it certainly was Isaac.

    ¡°You can do that..?¡± Muse groaned and pushed herself up to her knees. ¡°Of course you can do that.¡±

    ¡°What do you think you were doing?!¡± Isaac grabbed her by the hair and yanked her to her feet. She yelped, and the pushed away from him, rubbing the back of her head - suddenly reminded she couldn¡¯t feel that anyway. ¡°What do you think you were doing, you stupid creature?!¡± Isaac yelled. ¡°I could have ended them all!¡±

    ¡°I- I-¡° She wanted to curl up in a corner and vanish. But she knew there was no hiding from him.

    ¡°Explain yourself,¡± he demanded again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, okay? I couldn¡¯t stand there and watch you torture people. Watch you-¡° stab people. She couldn¡¯t finish the sentence out loud, but she knew that was part of it. The blood. The knife. It was all too familiar. Not to mention, Michael. She couldn¡¯t watch the poor bastard suffer anymore. She was right, she knew she was. She had made a choice, and she was sticking to it. ¡°I don¡¯t care what you do, you can¡¯t make me stand there and watch you do something like that.¡± Muse ran her hand along her throat. ¡°Kill them if you have to, but torturing somebody like that is just not right.¡±

    Isaac turned around and punched his desk hard enough to put cracks in the glass top. Muse jumped at the sudden outburst. Fear crawled up her spine as she stood there frozen in shock. She had never seen him lose his temper. He was almost always frighteningly calm. Now he was¡­ she was afraid to think about what he was right now. She wrapped her arms around herself. Isaac had lost his temper, and it was her fault. He was angry and she was on the receiving end of it. If she woke up in the morning, she¡¯d be shocked.

    Isaac stood there with his head lowered, long hair in his face, his fist still resting on his cracked desk. Slowly he began to talk, his voice was dark, hissing with anger. ¡°I had hoped that you would have come around. That with time you would have become part of this¡­ ¡®family.¡¯ That with time you would have learned your place.¡± Isaac turned his head to glare at her. ¡°I had hoped that with time, Sasha Larue, you would have learned respect!¡±

    That was what did it. Any fear and sensibility were drowned in a matching flood of anger. ¡°Don¡¯t you ever - ever - call me that!¡± Muse clenched her hands into fists.

    ¡°Whatever for?¡± Isaac sneered and stood up, turning to face her. ¡°Whatever about your name torments you so? Or is that how you feebly deal with what you have become?¡±

    ¡°Screw you.¡±

    ¡°Ah, that is it, isn¡¯t it?¡± Isaac walked up to her, staring down at her with his piercing grey eyes. ¡°You didn¡¯t die. She did. You disassociate yourself from your life so that you can cope with the fact that you were murdered,¡± he let out a low, sickening chuckle. ¡°How weak minded of you¡­¡±

    ¡°Shut up, just - just shut the hell up!¡± She shoved him hard, succeeding in nudging him back a step. She shook her head and wished desperately she could punch him. The worst of it was, he might be right. ¡°And what¡¯re you, Isaac?! What have you become?! At least I¡¯m numb on the outside! I¡¯m dead. What¡¯s your excuse for wandering around feeling nothing?!¡±

    ¡°You have no idea what you are talking about, child.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Do you even feel emotions? I guess you do, sorry. Hate, rage, and nothing. Screw you, Isaac - you mass-murdering psychopath - you don¡¯t get to judge me,¡± she snapped at him furiously. ¡°You don¡¯t get to look down on me, you heartless asshole!¡±

    Isaac snarled at her and tore the glasses off of his face and stepped towards her, grabbing her by the throat. ¡°That is enough. It was a mistake bringing you here. A mistake I will easily enough rectify!¡±

    He threw her away from him - hard enough to make her stagger. She managed to catch herself before she fell, and watched him as he turned his back to her and reaching around his neck. He pulled the necklace out from under the shirt and yanked, snapping the chain. He slammed it down onto the desk and, picking up a large carved rock from one side, brought it down onto the necklace.

    The necklace shattered. Shards of crystal skittered across the desk.

    Muse felt heat rush her body.

    Heat.

    Noise.

    She fell to her knees and screamed - she tried to scream - but something was caught in her throat. Something wouldn¡¯t work.

    Isaac turned to watch her blankly and dropped the rock onto the carpet. He took a step towards her, a hand outstretched.

    Heat.

    Noise.

    Drumming.

    Muse tried to stand up. She stood up, and moved - and pain shot up her right leg.

    She fell to the ground, and pain shot through her limbs. She kept trying to scream, but there was something burning in her. Why was there burning inside of her?! She pushed herself to her feet and felt the world spin dangerously. Staggering, she fell towards the door.

    Heat.

    Noise.

    Drumming.

    Pounding.

    Pain - it hurt. She hurt. A horrible ache - an ache that went down to her core, down to her bones - her bones.

    Heat.

    Drumming.

    Her hands hit the door and pain shot through her hands. She tried to get rid of her body, make it go away - and couldn¡¯t. She tried to pass through the door. Nothing.

    Heat.

    Drumming.

    Pounding.

    Burning.

    Isaac took a step towards her, his hand out to touch her. All rage was gone from his face, all anger lost. Concern and worry - maybe even fear replaced them, but she couldn¡¯t register it. Burning. ¡°Muse¡­¡±

    Muse fumbled at the doorknob and finally threw it open. She staggered into the hallway - each step was sheer agony. The world spun around her as she headed towards the stairs.

    ¡°Muse!¡±

    She couldn¡¯t hear over the drumming in her head. The pounding. She felt heavy.

    Heat. Then something else. A sudden cold rush hit her as she reached the top of the stairs. Her body prickled with the strange chill that poured through her. Suddenly everything seemed hyper-focused, all too clear.

    ¡°Muse¡­?¡± Victor stood at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up at her worried, seeing the panic on her face, her ragged breathing. ¡°Muse are you okay..?¡±

    Pounding.

    Drumming.

    And now this horrid prickling chill. She began to shiver - it was too cold.

    It was too vivid.

    Too sharp.

    The world around her began to go black, the floor rushed up to meet her.

    <hr>

    Victor yelped as he saw Muse¡¯s eyes roll into her head. She tilted and begin to fall down the stairs. He rushed up with inhuman speed and caught her, and saw Isaac walking down the hallway towards them. Victor lowered her gently to the ground and cradled her in his arms. He looked down at her, and reached out and stroked her hair back. He pulled his hand back in shock. He could feel her pulse. He could smell her blood.

    ¡°Victor. What-¡±

    ¡°What did you do?!¡± Victor roared up at Isaac.

    Isaac stood there blankly, staring down at Victor dumfounded.

    Victor shook his head and leaned down. He leaned his head in close and heard her short, ragged breaths. He could hear something else, something low and rhythmic. He stroked her hair again gently and looked up at Isaac.

    ¡°She¡¯s alive¡­¡±

 Chapter Twenty-three

    I BROKE IT.

    Quiet.

    BUT I BORKED IT. I BORKED IT GOOD. IT¡¯S BUSTED!

    Silence.

    BROKENBROKENBROKENBROKENBROKEN-

    SILENCE.

    But- but- ...sorry. I love you?

    This does not have to be to our disadvantage¡­

    Whaddayamean?

    The solution is simple.  Things are not as they should be.

    But it¡¯s busted, and things didn¡¯t go the way they were supposed to!

    So fix it.

    But the only thing that¡¯ll ¡®fix¡¯ it is¡­. oooooooooh¡­.

    Exactly.

    But it¡¯s not going to like it!

    Most likely not, no.

    But it isn¡¯t going to like me.

    I can¡¯t imagine why¡­

    But you like me right? Right? Riiiiiiiiiiiiiight? Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight?

    Just go¡­ Yes, fine, I like you.

    YAY!

    Now stop looking at me like that ¨C go.

    <hr>

    Michael never liked watching people get stitched together.  Anything to do with needles or the smell of rubbing alcohol always made him woozy.  It was worse when it was someone he knew, even worse when it was someone he liked. Uriel seemed to be doing his best to ignore the fact that a medic was slowly stitching the Y shaped wound in his chest shut.  The scar it would leave would be a constant mocking reminder, an insulting gift from the sorcerer.

    They were rolling down the road at a decent clip.  He wondered if it was safe for the large medical van to be moving that fast.  Propped up against the side of the van, he sighed. The occasional bump reminded him exactly how sore he still was.  A thin mist of rain coated the side window of the truck, hazy in the early morning light. Michael cringed as the medic next to him prodded at the bruise on his shoulder.  ¡°Ow! Please, leave me be¡­ I¡¯ve had enough of being prodded at.¡±

    ¡°Now, Michael, be easy on the man.  He is only trying to-¡° Uriel stopped, a brief pause the only indication that he registered the pain at all.  Michael felt his stomach swirl as the medic attending to Uriel threaded the needle through the layers of his flesh, tugging on it like he was mending a shirt.  ¡°Help.¡±

    ¡°I know, old friend¡­ I know.¡±

    ¡°I suppose I owe that little blue-haired demon some gratitude, don¡¯t I?¡± Uriel snorted.  Michael didn¡¯t laugh, and simply let out a tired breath, looking out the window of the large army vehicle they had been in the back of for some time now.  Uriel may have meant it as a joke, but it was true. He did owe the ghost his thanks, and quite possibly his life.

    ¡°She is not fully gone like the others,¡± he said.

    ¡°She may have some humanity left in her, Michael.  But she¡¯s unnatural, ungodly. You can¡¯t save her. There is no salvation for her.  The only way to save her is to set her free of this world. That would be a gift enough.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps at the Vatican, if we took her there - they could¡­¡±

    ¡°Could what, boy?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Sympathy for her isn¡¯t wrong.  Her compassion saved our lives. But she is a dead soul, trapped on earth by unnatural means, against the Lord¡¯s design.  She is suffering, and you cannot change what she is. No one can. Her only hope for peace is to be set loose from this world.¡±  Uriel grunted in pain as the needle went through his skin again.

    Yes, the laws and rules that he lived his life by demanded that she be removed.  The code he held close to his soul said that she could not be saved, not as she was.  Michael shut his eyes and remembered the conversations that they had had - the sadness that radiated from the ghost like a cloud.  He would help her, if he could. He would make sure she moved from this world to the next, whichever direction she was chosen to go, was not up to him.

    ¡°You¡¯re right, as always¡­¡±

    ¡°Michael, the others¡­ they¡¯re all dead, or¡­ God help Raphael.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± he growled low in his throat, rage and hatred returning to him like old friends.  ¡°Ostheim will pay for this¡­ That demon will die by my hands!¡±

    ¡°Easy, now.  We can¡¯t fight him like this.  Not with the two of us. We have to piece ourselves back together and think about this.  We need a plan. We- Mother Mary, boy! Watch what you¡¯re doing, would you?!¡± Uriel snapped up at the now very startled medic standing over him.  ¡°I don¡¯t need you making this worse.¡±

    Michael had to laugh.  The gruff older man was scowling up at the wide-eyed young medic, still holding his needle.  ¡°Now, Uriel, be easy on the man. He is only trying to help.¡± With a grin, Michael returned the jab that Uriel had paid him only a few moments prior.

    ¡°Bah.  That¡¯s all I need,¡± Uriel chuckled, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes.  ¡°A bunch of kids giving me a hard time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a kid,¡± Michael insisted for the millionth time.

    ¡°When you have as many battle scars as I do, you can call yourself a man,¡± Uriel said, Michael joining in, repeating the phrase with the older man.  He had heard it a million times before, and hoped he would hear it a million times more. The two Crusaders began to laugh, tired smiles on their faces.  Yet another battle, yet another hurdle. But no other battle Michael had seen had ever charged them the price that they had paid.

    ¡°You old codger.  Let the man finish stitching you up.  I¡¯m tired and I don¡¯t want to hear you whine anymore,¡± Michael laid down on the cot, glad to stretch his arms out.  The numbness and the pain in his arms and legs would take some time to leave, but the burning ache he felt from moving them was a world away from the pain of being chained to that chair.

    ¡°Bah,¡± was Uriel¡¯s ever popular reply.

    Michael shut his eyes, let out another chuckle.  ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re alive, Uriel.¡±

    ¡°You too, boy.¡±

    <hr>

    If Victor could have broken tile flooring by simply walking over it, he would have about forty laps earlier.  Pacing back and forth in the hallway, the vampire looked the worse for wear. In the same clothes he had been in yesterday, he turned and paced again.  The glaring florescent lights overhead did nothing to hide the ragged expression on his face, the tired lines under his eyes.

    ¡°Man, you gotta quit this pacing¡¯ shit.  I¡¯m gunna puke watchin¡¯ you.¡± Mal rubbed a large hand over his bald head.  ¡°It ain¡¯t gunna do her no good anyway.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to do her any good by pacing, Mal, it¡¯s keeping me from breaking things - or people,¡± Victor muttered.  Letting out a ragged groan, he collapsed into a chair next to Mal. He watched as a woman in pastel pink scrubs wheeled a cart down the hallway in front of her.  He hated these places. The acrid smell of chemicals mixed with human waste, all trying to be covered by some lame attempt at air freshener. To him and his inhuman senses, it just smelled like somebody stuck some daisies in a puddle of urine and rubbing alcohol.  And the beeping, good God, the constant beeping.

    Putting his head in his hands, he doubled over and shut his eyes.  ¡°Christ, Mal¡­¡±

    ¡°I know, man.  I know¡­¡±

    Victor felt the big man place his hand on his back.  The two fought all the time, but truth be told, Victor didn¡¯t know what he would do without the mountain of muscles and tattoos.  Mal always seemed to take everything and roll with it, something the vampire wished he could do.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Gizmo?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know where Eric is.¡±  It was a good question. Sitting up, he fished into his pocket for his cellphone.  ¡°He should be here.¡± A few buttons, and the phone was to his ear, ringing. It rang a round before he heard the click of the voicemail picking up. Victor sighed again.  Great.

    ¡®You¡¯ve reached Eric, techno-god of the universe and exotic male dancer.  Leave your number to book a reservation. Ladies only, please.¡¯Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Dude, seriously.  Where are you?¡± Victor rubbed his eyes with his hand. ¡°We could use you here.  She needs you. Hell¡­ I need you here, man¡­ C¡¯mon. Call me.¡± He flicked the phone shut and found himself looking at the tiles but not really seeing them.

    ¡°She¡¯ll be okay, Fangs.¡±  Mal leaned back in the chair, causing it to groan under his weight.

    ¡°You so sure?¡±

    ¡°No, but¡­ tha¡¯s what people say when this shit happens, innit?¡±  Mal snorted and watched another nurse go by. ¡°Maybe you should call Aaron.¡±

    ¡°What?  Why?¡±

    ¡°Well the dude had a thing for her, he cared ¡®bout her.  Yeah, they got into a fight, but shit - how many friggen times has he forgiven Isaac?  He should know what his brother did, an¡¯, maybe he¡¯d wanna be here¡­¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re in goddamn Oregon.¡±

    ¡°Asshole can take a plane.¡±

    Victor matched Mal¡¯s stubborn look, the two staring at each other for a moment.  God damn it, the man was right. ¡°Fine,¡± he let out with a rush of air. ¡°Fine.¡± Flipping his phone back open, he started to fish around in his list of contacts.  Crap. He had meant to call that girl back. Oh well, too late now. Finally getting to Aaron¡¯s number, he pushed the button and held it to his ear. It still amazed him that the freak actually owned a cellphone.

    ¡°He¡¯s not gunna answer, y¡¯know,¡± he muttered.

    ¡°Is¡¯ worth a shot.¡±  Mal started to bite on his fingernails, clicking them against his teeth.  Victor tried not to slap him - he hated when the oaf did that, but it wasn¡¯t worth starting an argument now.  He certainly had enough on his mind, and he was already too damn tired as it was.

    Ring.  Ring. Ring.  Ring. Ring. What the hell, did the man not have a voicemail set up?  Ring. Ring.

    ¡®Hello?¡¯

    He sounded as confused as Victor felt. ¡°Hey, Aaron¡­ It¡¯s Victor.¡±

    A long pause.  Good God, this was awkward.  ¡®What do you want?¡¯

    ¡°Man, look¡­ I know you and I aren¡¯t buddies or anything, but¡­ shit, you have a right to know what¡¯s going on.¡±

    ¡®Okay.¡¯

    ¡°Muse is hurt bad.  Isaac screwed her up pretty hard.  She¡¯s¡­ she¡¯s in a coma, in a hospital.  The doctor¡¯s don¡¯t know if she-¡° is going to live.  No.  Victor couldn¡¯t deal with the idea of her going away.  ¡°Is going to wake up.¡±

    ¡®She¡¯s dead.¡¯  Aaron sounded like he thought he was talking to an idiot.

    ¡°Um,¡± he froze for a second, not sure how to say it.  When in doubt, be blunt. ¡°Not anymore.¡±

    Another long pause.  ¡®What?¡¯

    ¡°Yeah, dude.¡±  Victor stood up and began pacing again, his nerves on edge as he thought about what had happened.  ¡°I don¡¯t know either. Isaac did something messed up, and¡­ I swear to you, she¡¯s alive. Somehow. At least¡­ at least for now anyway.  Look, man, I know you¡¯re all pissed at her, and, Christ, you¡¯ve got good reasons, but¡­ You know Isaac was the source of that.¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°Dude, she needs all the support she can get.¡±

    ¡®She has you.¡¯  That sounded more than a little bitter.  Victor stopped walking and shut his eyes, running his hand through his hair and gripping it with his other hand.  He resisted the urge to scream at him over the phone. It wouldn¡¯t do any good.

    ¡°Fine.  Whatever.  Show up or not, it¡¯s up to you.  I just thought you might care that she¡¯s in a goddamn coma,¡± he snapped.  Silence was all that met him on the other side.  ¡°Man, sorry¡­¡± He slumped into the chair again, although he couldn¡¯t sit still.  He got fidgety when he was nervous. ¡°I haven¡¯t slept, it¡¯s been a long two days.¡±

    Silence.

    Checking the screen of the phone, he saw he was still connected.  The man was freakishly asocial. Isaac looked ¡®well-adjusted¡¯ next to his younger brother, and that was saying something.  ¡°We¡¯re at the Bay Area Hospital, Oregon. It¡¯s¡­ like, I don¡¯t know¡­ a hundred miles north of San Fran.¡±

    Silence again.  ¡®Oregon?¡¯

    ¡°It¡¯s a long goddamn story.  Short of it is, Isaac moved the house to the middle of goddamn nowhere Oregon.  Coos Bay or something.¡±

    ¡®Huh.¡¯  Silence.

    ¡°Are you going to come?¡±

    This time there was a click, and Victor nearly threw his phone against the wall.  Letting out a growl of frustration, he tried desperately to restrain himself from throwing chairs around.  Getting kicked out would do no one any good. ¡°Goddamn stubborn-¡°

    ¡°You tried.¡±

    Glaring down at his phone, he flipped through his contacts again.  He called a number. It rang once, and then it went quiet. One simple beep, no message.

    ¡°Isaac, where the hell are you?! You need to come deal with this.  This is your fault!¡±  He slammed the phone shut again and went to stand up to hurt something.  A large hand on his arm pulled him back down to sitting.

    ¡°Ease up, Fangs.¡± Mal released him.  ¡°You wanna take rage out on somethin¡¯, you can throw punches at me.¡±

    ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s fine.¡± He forced himself to sit back down.  He hated being fidgety, but his nerves were absolutely shot.  He¡¯d never felt this helpless before. There was nothing he could do but sit.  Sit and wait. Sit and wait and stare at the ugly-ass watercolor pastel painting of flowers that hung in a tacky-ass frame across from him on the wall.  It looked like every other watercolor painting he had ever seen in any hospital, ever. He wondered if there was a ¡®tacky hospital painting superstore¡¯ online.

    ¡°So I guess it¡¯s us, huhn?¡±

    ¡°I guess so¡­¡±  Victor looked up as Mal stood up out of the chair, straightened out the t-shirt he was wearing, and started off down the hallway.  ¡°Where¡¯re you going?¡±

    ¡°Goin¡¯a get some cards from the store downstairs.  Hell if I¡¯m going to be doin¡¯ nothin¡¯ and be bored at the same time.  At least I could be takin¡¯ all your money in poker.¡± A nurse pressed herself against the wall to make room for the big man.  She didn¡¯t really need to, but Victor understood. With the size of him, people often felt like they needed to get out of Mal¡¯s way.  ¡°Hey darlin¡¯,¡± he heard Mal say to the nurse sweetly.

    Victor snorted and folded his arms, settling back into the chair.  Here they were, alone, waiting for their friend to either die or wake up¡­ and he¡¯s hitting on women and thinking about poker.  Victor shook his head, wondering how Mal did it.

    Left with some time to himself - and really not grateful for it - he took his phone and glared down at it, willing it to ring.  Willing it to beep. To do anything. No such luck. He wished that just by shaking his phone he could will people to call him, to contact him.  To care. Giving up his attempt to rearrange the forces of the universe, he sat back and resumed staring at the hideous painting across the way from him.  He took the opportunity to get his mind off of things, fantasizing about setting the painting on fire.

    Or maybe even the painter.

    <hr>

    Eric found himself wishing his Pontiac GTO had better storage.  Diagrams and blueprints began to roll through his head for some detachable undercarriage storage unit.  Another bag shoved into the trunk, another one into the back seat. Stopping, he took off his goggles and ran his hand tiredly through his hair, scratching his head.  Frustration boiled through him, giving him the express need to break things. He knew being tired wasn¡¯t really his issue. It was about the dozen other things that were running through his head.  Putting the goggles back on his head, he started back to the house for more of his stuff. Hearing his ring tone, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw ¡®V-Bro¡¯ written over a ridiculous picture of his brother in a ten gallon cowboy hat, splayed over the display of his iPhone.  For the eighth time in three hours, he pressed the button on the top and sent it to message. Letting out a sigh, he slipped it back into his pocket.

    ¡°Sorry, Bro..¡±

    Stepping into the foyer, he reached down to grab a few more bags.  Then came the very last voice he wanted to hear.

    ¡°And where are you going?¡±

    Goddamn him, he sounded amused.  Putting the bags down he looked up and saw Isaac stepping out of the living room, watching him with that same detachment he always had.  It made him want to pound his face in. Or shoot him. Or something. Anything. ¡°Away. I can¡¯t be here.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡±

    Great, now he was resorting to being passive aggressive.  He suddenly felt like he was four, yelling at his dad. ¡°It¡¯s okay?!  Do you even want to know why?¡± The sorcerer shrugged lightly, adjusting the cufflink on his left sleeve.  It was obvious the other man didn¡¯t care. That just made Eric all the more furious. ¡°You¡­ you douche bag.  You are such an epic douche bag.¡±

    Isaac looked up at him over the rim of his glasses, raising one eyebrow at him.

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t you dare give me that look.  You know it, too. There¡¯s no way you don¡¯t know you¡¯re being a jackass.¡±  Eric picked up one of his bags and threw it over his shoulder. ¡°I can¡¯t be part of this¡­ this¡­ ¡®organization¡¯ anymore.  Not after what you did to Victor.  What you did to Muse.¡±

    ¡°Whatever did I do to your brother, now?¡±

    ¡°This- this is all your fault!¡±

    ¡°Do tell.¡±

    ¡°Vic wouldn¡¯t be like this if it weren¡¯t for you.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s becoming a monster.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t bite him,¡± Isaac smirked.

    ¡°No!  But if it weren¡¯t for you, he¡­ he¡¯d never have been screwed up by the Crusaders.  He¡¯d never have - have eaten them, he wouldn¡¯t be like that!  He could be going on like a bunch of the other vampires - just, going on like a normal person.  You¡¯re making him loose his humanity, like you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, here we go again,¡± Isaac muttered and pinched the bridge of his nose.  ¡°More people questioning my humanity. I am quickly tiring of that insinuation.¡±

    ¡°Well maybe you should think about it, douche bag!¡±

    ¡°Please pick another phrase, Eric.  I really do dislike that insult.¡±

    ¡°Fine!  Whatever!¡±  The man was so damn infuriating.  Just looking at him was staring to make Eric feel ill.  Gripping the strap of his bag tightly with his ¡®real¡¯ hand hard enough that the knuckles turned white, he glared a hole into him.  ¡°You drag everybody down around you. Everyone around you does nothing but get worse and worse! Look at Aaron, look at what you did to Zeek, look at Vic, at Muse!  I¡¯m leaving before you drag me down to hell with you.¡±

    Isaac remained silent now, just staring at him emotionless.

    ¡°So fuck you, Isaac.  What you did to Muse is just the final straw.  She¡¯s lying in some hospital bed because of you, and all she did was have an ounce of compassion for someone else.  If that¡¯s what you do to people who have compassion¡­ screw it.¡± He was ranting, he knew it. Isaac would probably stop his heart, dropping him dead on the spot.  He didn¡¯t care. If this was his last stand, he¡¯d die happy. ¡°She¡¯s probably gonna die. Everything around you dies, Isaac. You do nothing in this world but cause people pain.  You¡¯re a goddamn disease!¡±

    Isaac shut his eyes, standing there.  Eric wondered if he had made a dent. Some emotion crossed Isaac¡¯s face for a brief moment, but whatever it was, Eric couldn¡¯t catch it.  He picked up his other bag and stormed out of the house, heading to his car, not wanting to stay to find out. He was done. Done with it all.

    Sitting behind the wheel of his car, driving down the road - he debated where he was going.  To the hospital? No. He couldn¡¯t face Victor right now. Then to where?

    A single thought rang through his head.  It was one that he had a day prior, but he had dismissed it as suicidal.  But now, suddenly, it seemed like the only option. The only logical choice.  Turning down the highway, he made his choice. God help him, he made his choice.

 Chapter Twenty-four

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Victor sighed, leaning over the railing of the bed from where he sat, his thumb gently stroking over the back of the seemingly frail hand he held in his own.  He had never thought of her as frail or fragile, but¡­ there she was. It put a painful lump in his throat that he had no idea how to deal with. Mal was snoring in the chair out in the hallway, and other than that - Victor was alone.  Him, her, and the machines.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Muse¡­¡±

    He half expected her to answer.

    ¡°You gotta come through this, I swear, or¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ I¡¯m going to come looking for you,¡± he laughed quietly, looking down at the needle stuck in her arm.  Tubes and wires, twisting together with her body like some strange creation of his brother¡¯s. That reminded him, Eric hadn¡¯t called. Pulling out his phone, he checked the time.  It was late, almost three in the morning. No messages, no emails, nothing. It was probably impossible at this point to feel any more worry than he already was, but it didn¡¯t seem to stop him from trying.  He had a strange sensation of abandonment that he wasn¡¯t quite sure if he was justified in feeling.

    Stay with Muse, or go hunt down Eric.  There was no chance he could find his brother if he didn¡¯t want to be found.  What if Muse woke up? What if something happened to Muse? Sure, Mal was here, but - it wasn¡¯t the same.  Running his hand through his hair slowly, he shut his eyes. Damned if he stayed, damned if he went.

    ¡°Muse¡­ you have to wake up.  If you can hear me, you have to wake up,¡± he said.  His head still down, he spoke to the tile floor. ¡°You ¡¯n I, I mean, we were just getting to know each other, and¡­ hey, I beat your score at pinball, and¡­¡± -and I don¡¯t know why my heart feels like it¡¯s going to explode at the thought of you never waking up¡­

    There was another problem he had.  Mixed into his muddled thoughts and frantic emotions was yet another question.  He didn¡¯t know how he felt about her. He cared about her, that much was obvious.  But whatever else was there, he didn¡¯t know.

    ¡°Look, Muse, you¡¯d better be okay because I never got a chance to really ask you out on a date, girl, and¡­ being in a coma for our first date is just¡­ really tacky.¡±

    Silence.

    Victor sniffed, feeling a sting in his eyes.  He could hear the rumbling from the hallway that told him Mal was still asleep.  Knowing he was alone, he shut his eyes and let the tears come.

    <hr>

    The scratching of pen on the paper of his journal was a familiar sound.  He had long since reached the point where he no longer heard the noise. He had little idea of how long had passed since he had sat down to write.  If he was to judge by how low the wood in his fireplace had become, the answer was quite some time. Focusing only on the words he was writing, Isaac¡¯s mind was on other places, other things - a natural state of being for his mind.

    Everything around you dies, Isaac.  You do nothing in this world but cause people pain.  You¡¯re a goddamn disease!

    Isaac smirked to himself as he wrote.  More of a bitter sneer than a smirk, perhaps.  All his years and it seemed that the very same issues were bound to return and haunt him.  He sat now in an empty house, only him and perhaps Ezekiel - although where that particular member of his operation was, he could not say - within its walls.  He was fundamentally alone. His only company was the slightly musty collection of books, jars, and oddities around him. It was peaceful, save the scratching of his pen on the paper.

    And the thoughts that came forth unbidden.

    You are a curse on this family!  Everything that loves you, dies! Nicklaus has been damned because of his sympathy towards you.  He named his son after you, and the son will die within the year. You are spat from Hell itself!  You are nothing but a plague upon us!

    Isaac slammed the pen down upon the desk, leaning back into his wooden chair and pulling his glasses from his face in exasperation.  If there was but one thing that he despised above all else, it was losing his focus. Dwelling on that which could not be changed was a futile expenditure, and it frustrated him.

    He held up his hand in front of his eyes and turned his palm down.  There, on the back of his hand - if you looked just right, you could see the copper carefully inlaid in its intricate shape underneath the skin.  No one ever noticed it - but it was always there as a constant reminder of his choice. He chuckled once at his younger self - so eager and willing to suffer through pain and torment for his quest and goals - never once stopping to think about what he would do if he succeeded.  And he had succeeded - he had the power after which he sought. After which he killed for. But there is no end of the book - there is no stopping. It always continues - the suffering, the struggling, the loneliness.

    Lowering his hand to his desk, he sighed.

    Oft he asked himself why he bothered - why spend so much trouble playing the dangerous game of chess in which he was locked - and had been locked for almost a hundred years?  To save a world that begrudged him so desperately?

    Pushing himself up from his desk, he turned to leave the room.  His melancholy was crippling his efficiency, and there would be no use continuing his work this evening.

    <hr>

    Aaron sat hunched over the bar, staring down into his drink.  The clinks of glasses, laughing, and conversations attempting to be heard over the rest of the din surrounded him, but he largely ignored it.  If Aaron was good at anything, it was ignoring things. Which was good, seeing as this particular bar had a funk of body odor and whisky that nearly made his eyes water.

    But it was okay.

    Nobody here stared at him.

    It took him a few days of intermittent searching, but he finally found a bar that catered to freaks and didn¡¯t ask questions.  The Retribution had a few pleasant side effects. It put vampires, ¡®shapeshifters¡¯ and all sorts of other things that go bump in the night into the public eye - it had allowed people like him to have a place in the world and even start small businesses and societies.  Albeit this particular place in the world was small, dingy and reeked. He added ¡®piss¡¯ to the list of sources of the smell with a wrinkle to his nose.

    At least the drinks were strong.

    Staring down into the amber liquid in his glass, his mind poured over the news he received earlier in the day.  Isaac had done something, somehow, and now Muse was alive. It was impossible, but then again in a world of vampires, ghosts and his brother - very little was really truly impossible.  He was still mad at Muse, yes. Part of him would not forgive her for lying to him, for hiding it from him for so long. But the other half, the half of him that had fallen for her, was worried sick about her.  The current cure for this situation sat in the glass in front of him.

    Running away again, Aaron?

    Aaron stopped and spun around, a growl forming in the back of his throat.  He knew that voice - it sounded familiar. But who was it? Glaring around the dingy bar, he saw no one.  He blinked in confusion. It had sounded like his brother. No - it was too frenetic for Isaac. Turning slowly back to his drink, he downed the rest of the glass.

    Tisk, tisk, always running from your troubles.  Getting trashed? It really is bad for you, y¡¯know.  Especially when you can crush people so easily.

    Aaron whirled around again, rage and panic tensing his muscles.  But no one was there. No one had spoken.

    ¡°You okay buddy?¡±  The bartender. Aaron looked at him and nodded his head weakly, pushing the glass away from him.

    ¡°I think I¡¯m done for the night¡­¡±  He had never had voices in his head, but it didn¡¯t seem like a far stretch for someone who¡¯s sanity was a very thin line.

    ¡°Prob¡¯ly for the best.¡±

    And really, Aaron - the voice was chiding him now - Seagram¡¯s?

    Clenching his fists at his side, he lowered his head and shut his eyes.  It was a figment of his imagination. Nothing was wrong. He heard nothing.  Just playing tricks on himself. He took a deep breath, and reaching into his pocket, left a small wad of cash on the bar and headed for the door, letting the cool night air hit him in the face, hoping it would drive away the voices.  He needed to sleep. That¡¯s all he needed - rest.

    <hr>

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Beep. Wakeup.

    Beep.

    WAKEUP.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Bored now!

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Beep.

    <hr>

    ¡°You¡¯re kidding me!¡±  Mal flinched as Victor snarled and paced around the foyer angrily, obviously trying not to kick any more inanimate objects.  The yelling was making Mal¡¯s headache worse than it already was. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me. This is what was so important?!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Vic.  I just got the page. I don¡¯t know what to tell you.¡±  Mal leaned back against the wall and sighed, staring down at a stain in the rug he didn¡¯t remember.  He wondered if it was new, or if he had just failed to see it previously. Debating the origin of the stain was a lot better than getting caught up in the vampire¡¯s angst.  He wasn¡¯t exactly happy either, but Mal knew better than to get involved.

    ¡°He¡¯s not kidding¡­ He¡¯s not kidding¡­ Isaac never kids¡­  The shadow is coming..¡± Ezekiel giggled from where he sat at the bottom of the stairs, rocking back and forth lightly.  He looked up at Mal and squinted. ¡°Have you met the shadow king? He¡¯s funny. Plays piano. Kind of scary though¡­¡±

    ¡°What are you talkin¡¯ bout, boy?¡±  Mal grumbled down at Ezekiel. He had never believed the weird little man was ¡®psychic.¡¯   Whatever Isaac had done to the man had broken his gourd, and Mal seemed to be the only one in the building who had a hard time matching ¡®crazy¡¯ with ¡®psychic.¡¯

    ¡°¡­. Bacon,¡± Ezekiel snorted and abruptly cracked up laughing.

    Mal sighed.

    ¡°I miss Muse¡­¡± The greasy-haired man let out a long exaggerated sigh and looked down at his pet jar.  ¡°But that¡¯ll all be over with soon. Won¡¯t it, Mr. Blinky? Soon she¡¯ll be back. Ghostie doesn¡¯t laugh at us.  Although ghostie¡¯s not a ghosty no more, is she?¡± Ezekiel giggled again and tilted his head to the side as if debating the subject.  ¡°I wonder if she¡¯ll still let me call her Ghostie. I suppose so. I mean, it¡¯s not like she¡¯s going to be Not-Ghostie for much longer.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±  Victor walked up to Ezekiel and crouched down in front of him.  ¡°Zeek - what did you say?¡±

    ¡°Huh?  I uh¡­¡± Zeek blinked a few times, clearly struggling with the attempt of remembering what just came out of his mouth.  Letting out a long breath, he smiled his missing-toothed smile broadly in triumph. ¡°I said it¡¯ll all be over soon.¡±

    ¡°How - is she going to be okay?¡±  Victor asked intently. ¡°Ask the jar.¡±

    ¡°Depends on how you define ¡®okay.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Is she going to wake up?¡±

    Ezekiel grinned broadly and let out a short laugh at a joke only he understood.  ¡°Depends on how you define ¡®wake up.¡¯¡±

    Victor groaned loudly and pressed both palms over his eyes.

    If there was one thing that pissed Mal off about anybody who claimed to be psychic, that was it.  The games they played. Always with the stupid riddles - they couldn¡¯t just come out and say anything.  ¡°Man, let it go¡­ you know how he gets,¡± Mal grunted. ¡°Look, Isaac said we had a job. That we¡¯re going out on said job.  We oughta focus on the task at hand.¡±

    Victor grumbled.  It was obvious that the little vampire was miserable.  And for good reason. They were taking everyone - which now just meant Mal, Victor, and Ezekiel, which meant Muse had been left alone.  Victor also didn¡¯t like the idea of going out on a hit-for-hire with Isaac. Nobody had even seen the German since the whole incident went down.

    Mal lifted his head as he heard footsteps descend the stairs, although any greeting he had thought to say to Isaac was stopped when he saw every muscle in Victor¡¯s body tense up like a racehorse at the gate.

    ¡°You¡¯re all here.  Good,¡± Isaac said simply.  ¡°The job we have is simple.¡±  He sifted through the manila folder in his hands.  ¡°Reclusive millionaire. The interesting part is that he apparently suffers a severe paranoia complex.  His house is secured tighter than a military base. We will meet¡­ resistance getting inside.¡±

    ¡°Gee.  Too bad we don¡¯t have someone who could¡­ Ooh, I don¡¯t know, just slip through walls,¡± Victor snapped bitterly.  Mal threw up his hands. Of course, the little blond couldn¡¯t just keep his nose out of trouble. No, that¡¯d be too easy.

    ¡°Do we have a problem, Victor?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you could say that.¡±  Victor matched Isaac¡¯s glare and took a step towards him, issuing a silent challenge.

    ¡°Nuh-uh,¡± Mal grabbed Victor by both arms and yanked him back.  ¡°Don¡¯t do it.¡± Mal hoped the vampire would realize he was doing him a favor.

    ¡°Get off me, Mal!¡± Victor snarled and shoved Mal backwards - sending the huge man slamming into the wall.

    Mal straightened up from where he had hit the wall and grinned.  ¡°Heh. I ferget - tiny guy¡¯s got some muscle on him.¡± Mal ran his hand across his bald head, cracked his neck and then his knuckles.  Getting into another pitching match with Victor would only be another Friday night, and maybe then Isaac wouldn¡¯t put fang-faces head through the drywall.  He knew that any bruises he gave to Vic would be a pleasant day in the park compared to what an angry Isaac could do.

    ¡°Vampire.¡± Victor reminded Mal with a snarl in his direction and turned his attention back to Isaac - whose gaze hadn¡¯t left the blond in front of him.  Any other day and Victor would have been intimidated. But his rage was clearly getting the better of him. ¡°And yeah, we¡¯ve got a problem,¡± Victor repeated, staring at the German.  ¡°You haven¡¯t done shit since-¡±

    ¡°Since what?¡±  Isaac interrupted, his lips turning into a slight, thin smile.

    Victor sputtered in rage and clenched his fists at his sides.  ¡°Since you went and messed up Muse - she¡¯s laying there in th-¡±

    Isaac shut his eyes and shook his head with let out a small ¡®tsk¡¯ with his tongue.  ¡°Muse learned a valuable lesson: not to challenge me. She was stubborn enough that it apparently had to be her last lesson.¡± He opened his eyes, turning his sharp grey gaze onto the vampire in front of him.  ¡°Do you want to make the same mistake, Victor?¡±

    ¡°Is that a threat?¡±  Victor snarled.

    ¡°A reminder.¡±

    ¡°Are you even going to do anything?!¡±  Victor yelled again.  Mal didn¡¯t like the fact that Isaac was willing to leave Blue laying in a hospital bed, he knew better than to try and pound sense into him.

    ¡°We have a job, does that count as anything?¡±  Isaac smiled a little broader at the snide half-joke.

    ¡°You know what I mean!¡±  Victor shouted.

    ¡°It is not my responsibility,¡±  Isaac said with a mild shrug.

    ¡°Not your - your - It¡¯s your fault!¡±  Victor roared.

    ¡°It is no one¡¯s fault but her own.¡±

    Victor snarled and moved towards Isaac quickly, but stopped and grunted as Mal wrapped his arms around the vampire and pulled him backwards.  Mal gave him a hard squeeze. ¡°Settle down, kiddo,¡± he grumbled lowly. ¡°Save yerself the pain.¡±

    ¡°No.  Let him go.  Apparently, he could benefit from a reminder as well,¡±  Isaac said, his tone and expression unchanged.

    Mal shrugged and let go of the struggling vampire and took a step back.  Victor hissed at Isaac, baring his fangs. Isaac simply chuckled and held his arms out slightly, bowing ever so slightly at the waist.  ¡°Come, Victor. Consider this a free shot. You wish for me to realize the error of my ways - come, fledgling. Beat some sense into me.  Let us see what you can do.¡±

    Victor snarled in rage and dashed at Isaac - faster than the human eye could see.  All too prepared for the movement, Isaac thrust his hand forward and an invisible force crashed into Victor¡¯s chest.  It sent the vampire flying backwards, shattering the front door. His body careened across the dark lawn, finally smashing into a tree. Victor fell to the ground with a thump, groaning low in pain.

    Isaac walked through the shattered remains of the front door, stepping carefully over the splintered wood, seemingly more concerned with scuffing his shoes than being involved in the fight.  Victor stood up, bared his fangs, and dashed at Isaac again, leaping into the air. The sorcerer simply sighed and held out a hand towards him, an almost bored expression on his face. Victor let out a gurgle as he found himself suspended in the air, caught in what, Mal had no clue.  Victor struggled, but his rage was useless against the invisible force.

    ¡°Really, Victor.  You simply think your speed can win against me?  Do you think I could be so easily wounded? You have no idea with whom you are dealing, dear boy.¡±  Isaac slowly started to close his open palm, curling the fingers inward. Victor started to scream in pain, his back arching as he hovered a good five feet off of the ground.  A small line of blood rolled out of the corner of his mouth.

    Ezekiel started to whimper from next to Mal, hugging the jar tightly to his chest.  Mal sighed. ¡°Stupid fang-face had to go ¡¯n do something dumber than usual¡­¡±

    ¡°You have no idea with whom you are dealing, Victor,¡± Isaac repeated.  ¡°Neither did Muse. She learned the lesson at a steep price. I can only pray you are less stubborn than she.¡±  He flicked his hand, and Victor flew through the air, hitting the ground hard, and rolled to a stop a few feet from the hearse parked in the driveway.  Isaac brushed off the cuffs of his coat, straightened his collar and began walking to the car.

    ¡°C¡¯mon¡­¡± Mal grumbled at Ezekiel and stepped through the shattered door and headed after the sorcerer, stepping out into the crisp night air.

    Isaac stepped over Victor¡¯s fallen body and started to walk around to the front of the hearse.  ¡°Ah, and Victor?¡± He looked down at the fallen vampire and smiled. ¡°The door is coming out of your paycheck.¡±

    <hr>

    He read the words on the piece of paper.

    And re-read them.

    And read them again for the ninth time, as if thinking it would change what was written.  Michael took in a slow and wavering breath, rage making his skin flush.

    Crusader Michael,

    By order of the Conclave, yourself and Crusader Uriel are to return to the Vatican at once for reassessment and reassignment.  With the sudden grievous loss of life, it would be unwise to continue the pursuit of Isaac Ostheim. Travel arrangements have been made.  Report to District HN-OR-23 Headquarters immediately.

    A simple golden seal sat at the bottom of the page, though the note was unsigned.  It didn¡¯t matter, Michael knew the source. Pulling in another wavering breath, he folded the paper.  Suddenly letting out a roar of rage, he tore the paper into tiny bits, chucking them into the grass next to him.  Turning stiffly, he headed back into the small church that he and Uriel had taken up as a temporary base. The grey clouds overhead seemed to only mirror his mood.

    Uriel was sitting in a pew, slowly polishing his revolvers.  ¡°What¡¯d the missive say?¡±

    Michael looked up at the faintly glowing images on the painted windows overhead.  Figures of saints, of Mother Mary and Jesus decorated the walls, figures of the angels for which they were named.  He kept his gaze on the glass, hoping that there would be some shining light within him that would show him the way.  Michael wished that God would reach into his mind and give him the answers. None came.

    It left a void in him.  The path in front of him was empty.  For the first time in his life, he didn¡¯t know what he was supposed to do.  The Vatican was demanding his return, but how dare they let Ostheim escape after what he had done?  Michael could not accept the fact they were to simply give up.  He was the Avenging Angel, the Warrior of God. His purpose would be meaningless if he walked away.  He kept staring at the windows, praying fiercely for guidance.

    For forgiveness.

    ¡°We are to bring Ostheim in at all costs.¡±

    <hr>

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Beep.

    WAKEY WAKEY EGGS AND BAKEY!

    White light.

    Pain.  Swirling movement.  Make it stop. Make-

    Beep.

    Make the noise stop¡­ Beeping.  Voices. Noise - too much noise.

    Darkness.  Blessed sleep.

 Chapter Twenty-five

    Muse slowly blinked as consciousness gradually washed over her.  She woke up. Or at least that¡¯s what she thought she did. She turned her head and the room swam - everything was far too beige.  Beige and white. Beige, white and bright. The pounding in her head was making it hard to think.

    She thought she might have let out a weak cry, but wasn¡¯t honestly sure if the noise that she heard was her.  She choked out a pained sob, her eyes shut tight. All she wanted was for the pain to stop¡­

    ¡°Hello there¡­¡±

    She blinked, turned her head up slightly and squinted against the light.  She saw a dark blot overhead - a dark blot that resembled a person. She shuddered slightly as whoever was there began running a hand down across her hair, smoothing it back.  When the hand touched her, the pain seemed to slowly fade to an ache.

    ¡°You are all right, my dear¡­ just try to stay calm.¡±

    She went to speak but felt nothing come out, just air.

    ¡°Shh.  I know you are overwhelmed right now¡­ I will do what I can to help.  Rest.¡±

    Muse felt her eyelids grow heavy.  She felt a pair of lips press a kiss gently onto her forehead.

    Blessed sleep.

    <hr>

    Victor sat on the front steps of the hospital, his head in his hands.  It was quiet outside, as it was only an hour until dawn. He had taken up calling Eric every half an hour, desperately trying to reach his brother.  It was the only way to hold back the panic that he felt gripping him. Picking up his phone, he hit send and put the phone to his ear.

    ¡®You¡¯ve reached Eric, techno-god of the universe and exotic male dancer.  Leave your number to book a reservation. Ladies only, please.¡¯

    He hung up with the push of a button.  No point in leaving yet another message.  Letting out a wavering breath, he watched as the light started to leak into the sky.  He pushed the send button.

    ¡®You¡¯ve reached Eric, techno-god of the universe and exotic male dancer.  Leave your number to book a reservation. Ladies only, please.¡¯

    He hung up.  Every fiber in his body wanted to scream.  Rubbing his hand across his forehead and slowly through his chin-length blond hair, he pushed the send button.  Once again, the message picked up.

    ¡®Victor, I¡¯m fine.  I just need some space to think.  Really, I¡¯m fine. Don¡¯t touch my stuff.¡¯

    He shut his eyes, let out a low growl and hurled his phone across the lawn.  Getting up, he stormed inside. He¡¯d get his phone later, but, right now, he didn¡¯t want to be anywhere near it.  He was going to punch Eric¡¯s teeth out the next time he saw the little bastard, he firmly decided. No way in hell was he letting him get away with this bullcrap.  Muse needed Eric here, hell, he needed his brother here.

    <hr>

    Muse found herself staring at a faded violet curtain attached to a track on the ceiling.  The room was more in focus this time, albeit barely. Her head swam, and her mouth tasted coppery.  And goddamn that beeping noise.

    Taste.  She could taste copper.  She was lying down, propped up at a slight angle on a white bed.  A tube ran from her left arm, up to what looked like an IV. Slowly, she tried to put together what she was looking at.  Wires ran from the patch to set of metal boxes and a monitor next to her on the wall. It seemed she had several of these patches stuck on her, as more sets of wires ran from the box to somewhere under the sheets.  Try as she might, she couldn¡¯t figure out what the hell was going on.

    She shifted, and let out another groan as she felt the fabric against her.  She could feel the pressure of the bed, she could feel the pillow behind her head - she could feel everything around her.  It suddenly registered all at once.

    Muse screamed.

    The room spun as she ran out of air.  She laid her head back and felt the burning in her lungs.  She heard footsteps getting louder, heard the door to the room fly open.

    ¡°Muse!¡±  She looked up and saw the bleary image of someone who looked like Victor.  ¡°Muse - you¡¯re awake! Hey..¡± He crouched down next to her and put his hand on her arm.  His eyes were wide with some bizarre combination of relief and panic.

    She could feel his hand on her arm.  It hurt like hell, sending pins and needles up through her shoulder.  Muse began to cry with another choked sob.

    ¡°Hey¡­!  Hey now.. don¡¯t cry¡­ why¡¯re you crying¡­?¡±  Victor reached out to stroke her hair back, but stopped himself, suddenly realizing what was happening.  The last thing he needed to do was make it worse for her. ¡°Oh god. Oh god, oh god.¡±

    She stammered uselessly.  No matter what she seemed to try, nothing formed sensible words.  Finally, after what felt like forever to her, she got one out. ¡°Hurts¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, hun¡­ I¡¯m so sorry¡­ I¡¯m so, so sorry¡­¡± Victor turned his head as Mal thudded into the room with a nurse.  ¡°Mal! Mal she¡¯s awake.¡±

    ¡°I can see that,¡± Mal snuffed.  He rubbed his hand over his head.  Muse couldn¡¯t remember ever seeing the big man with a look of worry on his face.  ¡°¡¯Ey, Blue¡­¡±

    She wanted to say something.  She wanted to ask questions. Nothing seemed to work through the strange haze she was in.  She seemed disconnected from the room, but not in the way she was used to. It was like tripping on acid, only she never really remembered it being this miserable.  The nurse rushed to the bed, checking on the wires and the readouts on the screen next to her head.

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ It¡¯s all going to be really weird, you¡¯re on a lot of medication¡­ just try to relax,¡± Victor was gripping the metal railing of the hospital bed with both hands like it was the only thing holding him back.  From what, she wasn¡¯t sure.

    She swallowed hard, tasting that awful coppery thing again.  Taking in a slow deep breath, she focused. It took all her will, but she finally managed to form more than a few shattered syllables.  ¡°It all hurts¡­ I can feel¡­ Why¡­? Why.. can I¡­? The pounding in my head¡­¡± She took in a shuddering breath. Her voice sounded weak and hoarse.  It hurt to talk, but, then again, everything hurt at this point.

    ¡°Ssshh..¡±  Victor said quietly again, chewing on his lower lip.

    ¡°Yer okay, Blue¡­ we promise.¡±

    She didn¡¯t believe them.

    ¡°It¡¯s so good to see you awake,¡± Victor said from next to her.  She forced herself to open her eyes, taking a while to focus on him.  He was trying to smile, but it really didn¡¯t make it too far on his face.

    It dawned on her slowly that she must have been unconscious.  ¡°How long¡­ was I?¡± Muse coughed, unable to finish. It felt like something was stuck in her throat.  That reminded her. Why could she feel her throat?

    ¡°A week and a half, give ¡®er take,¡± Mal said quietly from where he stood by the wall as if he was too nervous to get closer.  Why was he acting like that? What was happening? Muse found herself suddenly trying desperately not to panic. The nurse said something, but she missed it, as the woman walked out of the room.  ¡°Why can I¡­ what happened¡­?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that now,¡± Victor replied, reaching out and gently stroking her hair back.  She flinched slightly as she felt his hand run across her hair.

    ¡°No.  Tell me¡­ why¡¯m¡­ why the IV¡­ painkillers¡­ what-¡±  Panic started to leak into her voice. Something was wrong, something was horribly wrong.

    ¡°Just - please, stay calm.  We don¡¯t know how - Isaac - he did something, we don¡¯t know what - and you¡¯re alive.  You¡¯re not dead anymore.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±  Muse shouted with a croak, staring at him.  She turned her head sharply as she tried to sit up.  Her vision swam, the image seemingly lagging behind the motion.  ¡°No. No, I can¡¯t be alive¡­¡±

    ¡°You are,¡± she felt him reach out and gently press her back against the pillow.

    She was too weak to fight.  Her mind was reeling. She wondered if she was going insane.  She probably was. ¡°No¡­¡± Muse began to cry again. ¡°No,¡± she rasped.  Another weak attempt at sitting up only caused another shooting dart of pain to rush up both arms.  She fell back against the pillow uselessly.

    ¡°Sssh¡­ Muse, c¡¯mon¡­ now¡­ don¡¯t cry¡­ Hey¡­¡± Victor leaned down and hugged her.  All he wanted was to make it better - and he had no idea how.

    ¡°Stop!  Stop.. please.¡±

    Victor pulled away from her.   ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I¡­¡±

    ¡°No.. it just¡­ I can¡¯t¡­ I can¡¯t deal¡­ it,¡± she choked out as her head swam again.  She felt a thumping in her throat, her heart racing. She couldn¡¯t quite breathe, and the room was beginning to make her nauseous with constant swerving.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Blue¡­ just try ¡®ta stay calm, okay?¡±

    Trying to do her best to listen, Muse shut her eyes and let out a trembling breath.  Victor reached out to touch her again, but stopped, and pulled his hand back and stood up slowly.  ¡°It¡¯s good to have you back, Muse¡­¡±

    <hr>

    Aaron sat behind the wheel of his Jeep, staring at the dingy motel in front of him.  He debated sleeping in his car again, as he had done the past six days. His neck was starting to ache from a muscle cramp as a result.  Letting out a long breath, he shook his head. He didn¡¯t have any money - all he had was the credit card his brother had given him a month prior.  Turning the card over in his hand, he let out a long sigh and rested his head back against the seat.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    He hated his brother.  He hated his brother passionately.  But even now, he found himself dependent on him.  Aaron wondered if Isaac would track him if he used the credit card - he wondered idly if it mattered.  Isaac could find him anyway, it didn¡¯t matter if he hid or not. All he¡¯d need to do is go looking. Another painful twitch from the back of his neck made the decision for him.

    Finally turning his Jeep off, Aaron climbed out of the car, the gravel of the driveway crunching underfoot.  The buzz of the parking lot lights instantly grated on his already shot nerves. Checking into the sleazy motel, he wandered into the room that the man behind the counter had indicated.  He collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. Even the shitty mattress was better than the jeep.

    Running away.  You know, you can¡¯t really run from something that¡¯s in your head.  Unless you cut your head off and then ran away from it, but¡­ that¡¯s a trick.  Trust me - I know.

    Aaron shot up from the bed, a growl forming in the back of his throat.  That strange, almost familiar voice again. But who was it?

    ¡°Isaac?!¡±  Aaron snarled.

    No answer came.  But memories did.

    ¡°Isaac!¡± he yelled.  ¡°Isaac, you promised!¡±

    The sound of footsteps coming down the hallway was followed by the door to his bedroom opening.  There, standing in the doorway, was his brother. Aaron had just turned nine, and it confused him how his bigger brother was so much older than him.  He had tried explaining it once, but it made little sense to him.

    ¡°Did I now?¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh.  You said if I did like you told me, and didn¡¯t get mad and break anything, you¡¯d tell me a story,¡± Aaron insisted, folding his arms across his chest.  He wasn¡¯t going to let Isaac¡¯s obsession with his weird books and smelly objects distract from what was really important. ¡°And I didn¡¯t break anything!¡±

    ¡°I suppose you are right.  Woe, I have been defeated by your faultless logic,¡± Isaac said with a small laugh.  ¡°Forgive me for forgetting, little brother. I was listening to the radio. It seems the Versailles Treaty has just been signed, which I find-¡°

    ¡°The what? They did what to the what?¡± he blinked.  Isaac always talked over his head. He had a suspicion that he did it on purpose.

    ¡°Yes.  Right, well, never mind.  So¡­ you want a story do you?¡±  The older man walked into the room, unbuttoned his vest and sat down on the edge of Aaron¡¯s bed, a thoughtful look on his face.

    ¡°You never finished the one from last week, I wanna know what happened!¡±

    ¡°Want to.  You want to know.  Really, Aaron, you must not slur your words so.¡±

    ¡°Hrmf,¡± Aaron pouted, shooting Isaac a glare through his curly hair, eliciting a chuckle from him.

    ¡°Very well, let¡¯s see¡­ where did I leave off¡­ Ah yes.  There Dante and Virgil stood at the gates to the City of Dis.  But they could not enter, as the gates were locked to them. Then, there over the gates, appeared three furies-¡°

    ¡°Furies?¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Isaac blinked.  ¡°¡¯Erinyes¡¯ in the Greek mythos.  Winged female monsters who sought vengeance against those who broke promises, vows, or other such things.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a good thing you didn¡¯t break your promise.¡±

    ¡°I suppose it is, isn¡¯t it?¡± Isaac chuckled.  ¡°Now stop interrupting me, or we¡¯ll never get through this¡­¡±

    Aaron put his palms over his eyes and let out a slow, wavering breath - using every ounce of control and trick that he had been taught.  The memory came back too vividly. He could still almost remember the smell of that room, of the house - all dust and old paper. As much as he hated Isaac, he missed those times.

    Aww, how cute¡­ Canto nine makes the weirdest bedtime story ever, but, whatever.

    It was a figment of his imagination.  Nothing was wrong. He heard nothing. Just playing tricks on himself.  All he needed was a good night¡¯s sleep.

    <hr>

    Beep.

    Muse pulled in a breath and opened her eyes.

    Beep.

    ¡°Nngh,¡± she grunted and turned her head to try and focus on the offending machine.  She realized through the drug-induced haze that the goddamn machine was what woke her up.  She imagined herself shutting the machine off several times - actually convincing her through the haze that she had done it.  But, then the bubble would pop, and it would beep again, revealing her mind had made up her success. She stared uselessly at it as it kept beeping.  She slowly reached out, wincing slightly as she did and fumbled for the off switch. She finally, with far more effort than she should have needed, managed to press the switch down, the noise and the lights dying out with a small flicker.

    She laid her head back and looked up at the ceiling.  The room smelled like cleaning solvents and that acrid odor that comes with hospitals.  That¡¯s where she could only assume she was. But why?

    She was alive.  Was she? She didn¡¯t know what else was happening.  Maybe she finally went crazy. Whatever had happened, she quickly decided one thing.  It wasn¡¯t fair. All this wasn¡¯t fair. It hurt, and she wanted nothing more than for the pain to just go away.  She let out a huff of breath and struggled to sit up. Three attempts later, and she finally succeeded in pushing herself upright.  Her head - and her stomach - swirled in response. She groaned and sat the for a moment as the room quieted down.

    Muse looked down at her arm and wrapped her right hand around the IV in her left.  Preparing herself for what was about to happen, she took in a slow breath. Yanking, she nearly gagged in pain as the needle tore out of her arm.  She watched as a small dot of blood formed where the needle had been. She poked the spot of blood with her finger.

    Blood.  She was bleeding.  That about proved it, didn¡¯t it?  She was alive¡­ she supposed. The sight of the blood made her want to cry, but it only succeeded in creating a hard lump at the back of her throat.  She quickly wiped the blood off on the sheet, desperate to be rid of it.

    Letting out a resolute sigh, she pulled the rest of the tubing and patches with wires off her body and tossed them aside weakly. Shoving the covers aside, she turned in the bed and felt her feet hit the floor.  It was cold. She looked down at herself - why in the hell was she wearing pink pajamas?!

    She sat there for a moment, trying to piece her memories together.  Clearly, she had done something to piss Isaac off. Oh, right. Michael.  She had interrupted Isaac. Then, she remembered Isaac yelling¡­ then she was yelling¡­ and then everything got blurry.  She rubbed her hand through her hair slowly, wincing at the feeling of her hair against her hand. She remembered waking up and seeing Victor.  Everything was hazy - she couldn¡¯t tell quite what was a real memory and what was a hallucination. Something about Mal coming in and insisting that ¡®the best he could find was pink leopard print.¡¯

    Muse sighed.

    Christ this is humiliating¡­ Alright.  Muse. Focus. You can do this.

    Muse pushed her hands down onto the bed and struggled to stand.  She failed the first few attempts, then finally got herself vertical.  Gripping hard onto the IV stand to hold herself up, she let her weight settle onto her bare feet.  She took a deep breath as her stomach swirled.

    Okay, good¡­ vertical¡­ progress¡­ now walk.

    She slowly, teetering, made her first few steps forward.  Letting go of the IV, she wavered and crashed to the ground with a hard thump.

    ¡°Ow¡­  Hello, floor..¡±  Muse rasped out quietly.  She sighed and rolled onto her back.

    Fail.  Okay. Try again.

    One limb at a time, she managed to slowly get back to her feet - the room¡¯s spinning and wavering threatening to send her back to the floor at any moment.  She felt so goddamn weak.  She walked slowly towards the sink by one wall and gripped the counter.  She ran her hand along the metal, feeling its cold, smooth surface. Still, she couldn¡¯t help but focus on one overwhelming need.  She desperately needed to be away from here.  Okay, that and she needed to fix the dry lump in her throat.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t fair¡­¡±

    HmmmmmMM? What¡¯s not fair?

    Muse spun around and nearly toppled to the ground.  Once again, she found herself gripping on for dear life.  Peering around, she realized no one was there. But she had heard someone.  She had to have.

    ¡°Hello?¡±

    No one.  Now I¡¯m really losing my mind¡­

    Muse slowly turned back around and twisted the knob on the sink.  Dry lump in her throat first, walking out of here second. Seeing as the later was probably not going to happen, she could at least try for the former.  She watched the water flow down around the drain, her mind wandering away. She stuck her hand under it and shuddered, feeling the cold water run through her fingers.  She cupped her hands into the sink and bent her head down. Drinking water was a lot more intense than she had remembered it - the cold water stung in her throat. She lifted her head to look in the mirror.  Brushing her blue hair back away from her face, she saw the blonde close to her scalp.

    ¡°Figures¡­ you don¡¯t believe you¡¯re alive¡­ until you notice your roots have grown out,¡± she quietly said to her reflection.

    She shut her eyes and dropped her head slightly, biting back tears.  She shook her head. It was pointless to cry, as it didn¡¯t help anything.  Suck it up. Muse stumbled towards the door. Leaning heavily on the wall, she started to slowly stumble down the hallway - fighting for each step.

    She somehow made it down the hallway without anyone seeing her - it must be pretty late.  The windows were dark, that was her only indication of time. Gripping onto anything she could for support, she finally came across a door labeled ¡®Parking Lot.¡¯  She heard the sound of rain pattering outside, and had the sudden urge to be outdoors. Using all her weight, she pushed the door open and stepped out, protected from the rain by the short overhang.

    Holding her hand out, she felt the rain hit her skin.  Pulling her hand back sharply, she couldn¡¯t repress a shudder.  No.  You have to do this.  Taking a slow wavering breath, she put her hand back out into the rain.  She shut her eyes, focusing on the sensation of the cold wet rain running onto her hand and dripping off.  She forced herself to feel it, forced herself to deal with the sensation, listening to the rain plinking off of the metal bench next to her and the sound of traffic somewhere nearby.

    Taking a few slow, nervous steps out, she felt the grit of the stone under her feet, the smell of wet grass and the cool press of damp air.  The rain started to hit her, the cold drops like small needlepoints. Her vision swam dangerously, threatening to give out on her. No.  Willpower alone kept her vertical.  Trembling, she stood there in the rain, the feeling of the water hitting her for the first time in twenty years almost too much for her to take.  The scent of the grass - she only remembered it before.

    The lamp overhead cast a pale circle onto the pavement.  Past that, she could only see the circles of light cast by the other lamps in the parking lot.  Everything between, everything behind - black. Nothing but darkness. She took another staggering step forward, and another.  Each step was a task, each step was a struggle. She started walking smoother, finding the will to stay balanced. Finally, after how long she didn¡¯t know - she made it to the last circle of lamplight, staring out into the woods by the parking lot.

    Standing in the grass, she felt the cold wet blades of grass curl around her feet, clinging to her skin.  The rain was starting to soak her, but she didn¡¯t care. She needed to see it, to see the darkness in front of her, hear nothing but the sound of rain.

    Before - no matter how dark the night - she could always see.  The trees, the grass, everything gave off a glow. All she could see was the rain, and a patch of wet grass.  Beyond that? Nothing. Just a cold, damp darkness. Her mind was all at once a flurry of every possible thought and yet and none of them at the same time.  She couldn¡¯t latch on to a single thing, no matter how hard she tried. It was all too much, all too strong to focus on.

    Muse fell to her knees into the wet grass, feeling the water pour down her body.  She wasn¡¯t sure when she began to cry - wasn¡¯t sure when she began to sob - wasn¡¯t sure when she began to shake from the cold.   She wasn¡¯t sure when she felt a blanket wrap around her body, and two large arms slip around her and lift her up off the ground, holding her like a small toy to a much larger frame.

    ¡°C¡¯mon Blue¡­ no sense havin¡¯ you get pneumonia¡­¡±

 Chapter Twenty-six

    Machines were easy. It was people he had a problem with. They were always so unpredictable. Math, wiring, electricity - those were easily forecasted. People were a whole different matter.

    Eric stood by the side of the road, looking down the street into the darkness. At least the weather decided to cooperate tonight. Clear, not too hot and not too cold. Shuffling his foot in the gravel, he began tapping his fingers on his thighs. It would work. Well, okay ¨C the electrical part of it would work. He had no idea how the rest of this idiotic endeavor would end.

    At least it¡¯d make for a good story.

    If he survived.

    Beginning to idly whistle some random tune he had heard on the radio, he waited. He began to run over calculations in his head ¨C the average speed of the vehicle, terrain quality, even the wind velocity. He knew when they were going to arrive. Turning over his wrist, he glanced at his watch. They were fifteen minutes late. That was impossible, absolutely impossible.

    Fifteen minutes ago, Michael and Uriel were set to pass down this road on their way to their new base of operations. Best part, they were traveling alone. Shifting from one foot to the other, he sighed. Fifteen minutes late. His calculations were flawless.

    Then it hit him. Rest stop. They probably stopped for food or to use the can. Eric whapped his palm off of his forehead ¨C that was what always got him, the human element.

    Pulling the goggles from off his head down over his eyes, he fidgeted with the dials on the side. Shifting the scope to ¡®zoom¡¯ and infrared, he waited and picked up the tune where he left off, rocking from the balls of his feet to the heels slowly.

    Idly, his mind wandered to the one last variable. He really hoped that Michael didn¡¯t drive around in full battle armor. I mean, who would seriously do that, anyway? It wouldn¡¯t be horrible if he was in full armor, it¡¯d just be decidedly more awkward than it already was going to be.

    There ¨C finally ¨C there they were. Flipping the switches to ¡®off,¡¯ he shoved the goggles back up onto his head and took a few steps back into the woods. The waiting was killer - he hated this. The vehicle was in sight now, the headlights starting to faintly illuminate the sides of the trees as the van pulled over the small hill half a mile away.

    Pulling the trigger out of his pocket, he waited. The timing had to be perfect. He sucked in a breath and held it. He had no idea why - it wasn¡¯t like it helped any. But it somehow made him feel better.

    The van¡¯s front tires passed over his mark. Pressing the button, the spike strip activated, blowing the van¡¯s front and back tires at the same time. Whoever was driving slammed abruptly onto the breaks. The van lurched to a halt, accompanied by the screeching of tires and a shower of sparks as the metal rims dug into the pavement.

    Stepping out into the middle of the road, he flicked his wrist. A small metal disk flew through the air, and, with a small thunk, adhered itself to the side of the van. It was only seconds before both doors swung open, and out stepped Uriel and ¨C thankfully not in armor ¨C Michael.

    Swallowing down the lump at the back of his throat, he aimed his gun. ¡°Hey guys, I-¡°

    He shouldn¡¯t have been surprised as bullets whizzed past him, far too close for comfort. Jumping to the side, he hit another button. The disk attached to the van made a small whirring noise. Eric struggled for his gun, finally pulling it out and aiming it at the two men in front of him. He wasn¡¯t trying to shoot them, but he wanted the option if he changed his mind.

    Uriel let out a small shocked grunt as his revolvers were yanked out of his hands, shot through the air and stuck to the side of the van with two loud thumps. Eric smiled meekly. ¡°Electromagnet. Now ¨C guys, seriously, calm down, I-¡°

    Michael - who apparently had a good deal of pocket change which was now decorating the side of the van - had reached into the back seat and pulled out his sword. Eric swallowed another hard lump as Michael stepped towards him, eyes darkened in rage.

    ¡°Huh¡­ your sword isn¡¯t¡­ magnetic¡­ great,¡± Eric let out a nervous laugh and started to back up. He suddenly wished the man was wearing his armor. At least then he couldn¡¯t move. More importantly, that way he couldn¡¯t lop his head off. ¡°I guess I didn¡¯t think of that.¡± He really didn¡¯t want to shoot Michael. After all, that wasn¡¯t the purpose of being here. ¡°Mike, seriously, I¡¯m not here to fight.¡±

    ¡°A shame. Because I was rather looking forward to it!¡± Michael stepped forward and swung his sword. Eric barely had time to duck and stagger backwards.

    ¡°Please! Hear me out!¡±

    ¡°I would rather hear you screaming in pain.¡±

    Michael swung again. Eric didn¡¯t have time to dodge, but at least he had another option. Thrusting his left arm up over his face, he used his mechanical arm to stop the blow. Unfortunately, the blow cleaved almost halfway through the metal and wiring. Eric screamed, thrashing in pain as the wires crossed paths and began to spark. His legs giving out, he landed hard on the pavement.

    ¡°Hrmf. It didn¡¯t come all the way off this time,¡± Michael snarled. ¡°My arm must still not be a hundred percent after you and your ¡®friends¡¯ left me strapped to a chair and tortured me.¡± Moving to stand over the tiny blond, the crusader turned the sword, ready to thrust it through Eric¡¯s chest.

    ¡°Wait!¡±

    Michael finally let out a disgruntled sigh. ¡°And why should I?¡±

    Eric found himself in the rare position of being unable to form words. Maybe it was because he was staring at the business end of a broadsword. More than likely it was what he was about to do. Taking a deep breath, he did his best to steel his resolve. It was now this or the grave.

    ¡°Because I¡¯m here to help you kill Isaac.¡±

    <hr>

    Aaron lay on his back, the crappy springs of the worn-out mattress jabbing into his already sore muscles. The room was dark, save for the orange glow of the street lamps outside. He was awake, unable to sleep no matter how many times he tossed and turned. He couldn¡¯t shut his mind up. Thoughts rattled around in his brain, uncontrolled. Isaac had ordered Muse to haunt him. Why? In an attempt to get him home and under control again? So the demon then was a lie? Were they all lies? How far did the lies go?

    Lies, lies, lies, lies..

    Great. Now the voice in his head was all sing-song. Aaron groaned loudly and placed his hands to his face. ¡°Leave me alone!¡± He shouted into the dark room. All he got in reply was a furious pounding on the wall from his neighbor, and a muted ¡®shut the hell up in there!¡¯ from what sounded like a very disgruntled old woman. Aaron sighed and rolled onto his side, shutting his eyes tightly. He wished the whole world would go away.

    It could, you know.

    ¡°Leave me alone¡­¡± Aaron hissed quietly and shoved another pillow over his head - trying to drown it all out. All he got in response was laughter. A strange, sharp-edged laughter that sounded far too much like his brother¡¯s. Sitting up, he wandered over to a brown paper bag and pulled out the bottle of vodka he had purchases a few hours prior. Unscrewing the cap, he downed half the bottle in one go. Slowly, the laughter ceased.

    Letting out a low grunt, Aaron dropped the bottle back onto the counter and walked back to the bed, falling face first onto the pillows and wishing he¡¯d never have to move again.

    ¡°Stop moving, Aaron.¡±

    ¡°It hurts - it - Oh God-¡°

    ¡°It won¡¯t hurt as much if you would stop moving!¡±

    Recoiling from the wrath of his brother, Aaron pressed his face back down onto the metal table. Face down on the cold slab, he felt the knife press into his shoulder. Hissing in through his teeth, he desperately tried not to flinch as the metal divided flesh and muscle. Tears stung his eyes.

    He repeated over and over in his head that this was all for a reason. It was all for a good reason. It would help him control his anger - control how things somehow moved around him inexplicably. People got hurt last time. Isaac was doing this to help him. Letting out a low moan of pain, he bit into his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. The thin scalpel hit a nerve, causing the muscles in his back to spasm, drawing another cry from his throat.

    ¡°You are nearly a man now, Aaron. You shouldn¡¯t whine so. This will be over shortly, so please - Aaron - lay still.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll try¡­¡±

    With a howl, Aaron threw the bottle across the room. The bottle shattered against the wall, sending shards of glass and clear liquid into the carpet. Laying back onto the bed, he pressed the palms of both hands over his eyes.

    <hr>

    ¡°I¡¯m worried about her,¡± Victor muttered quietly, ruffling his hand through his chin-length hair. He was pacing back and forth over the living room carpet.

    ¡°I know you are, Vic. We all are,¡± Mal grumped from the sofa, staring down into the bottle of the beer in his hands.

    ¡°Who¡¯s we? The three of us? You, Ezekiel and me? Eric - I don¡¯t know where Eric is - and Isaac hasn¡¯t done jack shit since this all went down!¡± Victor slumped down into the overstuffed chair, putting his head in his hands. Everything was working out so well until recently. Why did nothing good ever last? He felt out of control, the helpless feeling hadn¡¯t left him since everything had gone down.

    ¡°Look, man, better us than nothin¡¯. That girl¡¯s whole existence just got screwed,¡± Mal snorted and lifted the beer to his lips. ¡°An¡¯ I don¡¯t know what¡¯s up with your brother.¡±

    ¡°And - and to just cap this all off? She¡¯s refusing to eat, now!¡± Victor yelled at the floor.

    ¡°She¡¯s goin¡¯a kill herself you mean.¡±

    ¡°Pretty much! Ever since we¡¯ve gotten her home, she just sits there! She barely talks, and won¡¯t eat or drink anything¡­¡±

    ¡°So what¡¯re our options?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡± Victor moped.

    ¡°Maybe we pin ¡®er down and shove a burger down ¡®er throat.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah, ¡®cause that¡¯s a great idea.¡±

    ¡°Any use talkin¡¯ sense into her?¡± Mal lifted his beer again and let out a grunt as he remembered it was empty. Chucking the empty bottle into a nearby bin, he got up from the table and lumbered across the room and across the foyer into the kitchen to fetch another beer.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°I¡¯ve tried. You¡¯ve tried. Hasn¡¯t worked, and Isaac doesn¡¯t seem to give a rat¡¯s ass!¡± Victor growled suddenly and stood up, pacing around. Whatever remained of his temper snapped suddenly. He kicked a wooden chair that sat by the wall, sending it crashing across the room. ¡°I can¡¯t believe him! Goddamn asshole!¡± Pulling in a wavering breath, he forced himself to calm down. ¡°Sorry¡­¡±

    ¡°S¡¯all right¡­ you¡¯re just sayin¡¯ what I was thinking¡¯,¡± Mal said as he popped the top off of the beer by placing it in the crook of his elbow, squeezing his arm around it and giving the beer a stiff yank. Victor wondered if Mal knew that trick was only supposed to work on ¡®twist top¡¯ beer bottles - but as the cap clattered to the ground, he figured it didn¡¯t matter.

    ¡°Have you tried talking to him? He won¡¯t let me into his study.¡± Victor muttered.

    ¡°Same.¡± Mal snorted.

    ¡°He¡¯s apparently content to just let her starve to death.¡±

    That was it. That was the end of it. Shutting his eyes and letting out a low growl, Victor had enough. He stormed out the door and down the hallway. Dashing up the stairs with inhuman speed, he stopped at the door to Isaac¡¯s study. Victor pounded his fist on the door.

    ¡°Isaac! Open up!¡± Victor glared at the grain of the wood and got no reply. He snarled. ¡°I know you¡¯re in there! Open the door!¡± he roared at the wood. When still no reply came, he snarled. ¡°Coward! You bloody stupid coward! You¡¯re letting her starve to death - why - why ¡®cause you screwed up and you can¡¯t admit it?! Or are you doing this shit on purpose?! Coward! Open the damn door!¡± Victor venomously glowered at the wood for a long time before his shoulders slumped. It was useless. He turned away from the door, the knot in his stomach returning.

    He started down the hallway towards his room to go sulk in private. His ears perked at the faint sound of music. He stopped and craned his head to listen. The music was soft, even for his unnatural hearing. Opera, or something like it. Following, the sound, he wandered up towards the attic. Looking around, he quickly found Muse, sitting in the window with her knees pulled up to her chest, staring out the glass into the late-twilight of the yard. The sky was a purple-blue, casting faint shadows across the floor of the attic.

    ¡°Y¡¯know¡­ for someone who can barely walk, you really do get around,¡± Victor said quietly and walked up to her, slumping down onto a box by the window. Muse didn¡¯t reply, simply staring out the glass with a strange, troubled expression on her face. ¡°You have us worried sick,¡± he continued. ¡°I¡¯ll be honest¡­ I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re going through¡­ but Muse, you¡¯ve got to eat something¡­¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± Muse said quietly into the window. The truth was, he didn¡¯t. And neither did she. It would be one thing if somebody understood what was happening, but he was positive that she was just as lost as everyone else.

    ¡°Then help me understand!¡± Victor moved closer to her, kneeling down on the ground next to the window. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do to help you, Muse - I¡¯m out of ideas. I even thought about getting Radu and-¡±

    ¡°And what?¡± Muse turned to look at him. ¡°Getting Radu and what?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know what he¡¯d do. I just want someone to do something that¡¯ll help you.¡±

    ¡°You want someone else to make it all okay for you,¡± Muse said flatly, turning to look back through the glass. The look on her face broke his heart. It was like she was searching for something out there, but God help him if he knew what it was.

    ¡°Yes! I mean, no. I mean-¡± Victor stammered. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that. Muse¡­ please. Talk to me. Why are you doing this to yourself? You¡¯re not like this.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± she snorted once, bitterly. She rested her forehead against the cold glass. ¡°Exactly. I¡¯m not like this. I¡¯m not supposed to be like this.¡±

    Victor lowered his head. It all made no sense to him. The whole situation just flabbergasted him. Here she was, allowing herself to waste away. But why? ¡°Muse. You¡¯re alive. Isn¡¯t this what you wanted?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± She opened her eyes and turned to look at him with a crook to her eyebrow.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you want to be alive? I mean¡­ you always used to say you couldn¡¯t feel anything or¡­¡±

    ¡°Victor,¡± Muse let out his name in a rush of air. ¡°I¡¯ll try to explain,¡± she paused for a moment. ¡°I spent¡­ twenty years¡­ being dead. Getting used to being dead. Not having any purpose, direction, or function in my existence. Just simply being. I got used to it. I wasn¡¯t ¡®okay¡¯ with it, but there wasn¡¯t anything I could do.¡± She shut her eyes and rest her head back against the frame of the window.

    ¡°Right, but¡­¡±

    ¡°I died, Victor,¡± Muse said before he could continue. ¡°I mean, I am really truly dead. I still am. I¡¯ve still died. Just because I¡¯ve¡­ Just because I¡¯m¡­ like this now doesn¡¯t change the fact that I died.¡±

    ¡°But now you¡¯ve got another chance to-¡±

    ¡°To what?¡± Muse interrupted and turned her head to look down at him.

    ¡°To¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ do¡­ things.¡± Victor waved his hands and grunted. ¡°I¡¯m not good at this shit, Muse,¡± he grumbled, pouting. He really wasn¡¯t. He wasn¡¯t smart enough to convince people of things, it wasn¡¯t what he did. And if ever he felt stupid, now was the moment.

    A faint smile crossed her face. ¡°Let me try to put it to you this way¡­ Mal came up here yesterday, asked me what I wanted to eat. I told him I didn¡¯t want to eat anything. He asked me what my favorite food was¡­ and I couldn¡¯t answer.¡±

    ¡°What? Why?¡±

    Victor watched her face dissolve into that same gut-wrenching pain that had been there before. She took in a slow wavering breath and finally spoke. ¡°I didn¡¯t know. I just didn¡¯t know. I couldn¡¯t¡­¡± She turned, swinging her feet off of the windowsill, cringing in lingering pain.

    Victor shook his head helplessly, opening his mouth to say something. Exactly what, he had no idea. Before he had to figure it out, Muse put a finger on his lips, silencing him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember what my favorite food is. I couldn¡¯t tell him because I don¡¯t remember.¡± She lowered her head and shut her eyes. She turned her head away and wiped fiercely at her eyes, obviously fighting the urge to burst into tears. She was shaking.

    ¡°Oh¡­ God¡­ Muse¡­¡± Victor stood up and pulled her into his arms, holding her small, warm frame against his chest and wrapping his arms around her. He felt her tense, then slowly relax, her head against his chest. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Muse¡­ I didn¡¯t realize. I don¡¯t think any of us did.¡±

    He held her there for a while, feeling her shoulders shake. He knew she was probably crying, but he didn¡¯t know what else to do except simply hold her. He rested his cheek down on the top of her head, rubbing his hand up and down her arm slowly. He could still smell some of the hospital on her, but beneath that was her smell - something she had never had before. He shut his eyes and vowed to himself he wasn¡¯t going to let that go away. ¡°Muse¡­ let¡¯s make a deal¡­ Okay?¡±

    ¡°Hnn,¡± she replied without lifting her head.

    ¡°Here¡¯s the deal¡­ you come downstairs¡­ you fight this, and I promise you won¡¯t fight it alone. You won¡¯t be alone in this. I swear. Just stop¡­ stop scaring us, Muse¡­ you¡¯re stronger than this,¡± he pleaded with her. His voice cracked despite his best efforts. Goddamn it if he was going to cry in front of her.

    Muse finally pulled away slightly from the hug and turned her head to look up at him. She watched him for a long time, then with a defeated sigh, let her head fall back against his chest. ¡°You¡¯re not going to let this go, are you¡­¡±

    He ran a hand slowly through her blue hair, his idiotic grin returning to his face. ¡°Nope. Mal¡¯s ready to strap you to a chair and force-feed you.¡±

    Muse looked up at him, and he saw a slight sparkle in her eyes. She started to laugh, which only made his grin broader. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll try,¡± she said through a smile that stayed on her face this time.

    Victor pulled her close again, careful not to squeeze too hard. Letting her go, he walked to the stairs with her stiffly following him, holding onto his arm for support.

    ¡°Hey Vic¡­ can I say something?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°You wear way too damn much cologne.¡±

    <hr>

    DAAMNIT

    Discouraged already?

    Um, no. Well, okay. Maybe. Okay, yes.

    A shame it wasn¡¯t that easy - but I¡¯m not surprised. They were bound to meddle, and she is not so easily defeated.

    Soooo¡­ whadda we do now?

    Simple. Do the deed yourself if you must.

    Howzat?

    Your effect on their world is limited¡­ but enough.

    Listen, Bub. I¡¯m not sure if you get exactly how this bizniz works, so-

    Be creative. She can see you, now.

    Well! Why didn¡¯t you just say that?! That changes EVERYTHING.

    I thought as much.

    <hr>

    On the road again. Going where, Aaron didn¡¯t know. He didn¡¯t particularly care. Away. He clenched the wheel of the jeep in his hands, looking out at the night and the small patch of road illuminated by his headlights. Unfortunately, his mind always wandered when he drove. Usually it went to places that he had made up, people and worlds that were better than this one. But not tonight.

    Aaron stood against the wall of the annex that Isaac used as his ¡®office,¡¯ standing in the shadow cast by another building. Arms wrapped around himself, he tried to make himself as small and invisible as possible. Even at the age of seventeen, he was well towards six and a half feet. Being invisible was hard, not counting the array of fresh scars and healing cuts that ran up and down his left arm. He wouldn¡¯t normally stand outside, where people could see him - but this time he had a reason.

    Her.

    Standing with whom Aaron assumed were her sisters, she was hanging up laundry on a thin line between two buildings. At this particular camp, at least, they were mostly just relegated to physical labor. Aaron had heard rumors of what happened at the other places, but he tried to force those images from his head. Here, at least, she was safe. As safe you could be with Isaac around, true, but there was little he could do about that.

    Aaron knew her name was Nuri. He thought it was perfect for her. Of course, he didn¡¯t know her name because he asked - he had never actually spoken to her, never dared. But he heard other people call her that. Her blonde hair fell around her face in slight waves, and despite the unflattering issued clothes she wore, she was beautiful.

    So here he stood in the shade, doing his best to ignore the dust and the heat and the noise of various vehicles and machinery. Here he stood, watching Nuri. He dreamed in his head of the conversations they¡¯d have, of exactly how he¡¯d approach her, how they¡¯d meet and what they¡¯d do. Aaron knew bitterly in the back of his mind that his dreams was probably about as close as he¡¯d ever get. But at least he had his fantasies.

    ¡°Aaron, what are you doing out here?¡±

    Turning his head, he saw his brother standing next to him. Even though Isaac was now shorter than him, Aaron still felt smaller. Isaac cut an imposing figure of black and red against the bright summer light. He swallowed hard and fixed his gaze on the ground between his feet. ¡°Nothing.¡± He dared to look back up, and saw the incredulous and unamused expression his face.

    Isaac turned his head to see where the women were hanging up laundry. ¡°Ah. I see.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not-¡°

    ¡°Aaron, how many times have I explained this to you? Do not get attached. Do not think for a moment that she would be interested in sharing some kind of amicable relationship with you.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know that¡­¡± He knew it was useless to argue. But he had to defend himself somehow.

    ¡°In fact, yes, I do. First of all, she is Romani. They do not associate with others outside of their own clans. Second, she is a prisoner here. Third, you¡­¡± Isaac trailed off for a moment, and let out a small sigh. ¡°Third, she is on my patient list.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± Aaron yelled louder than he had intended. Several heads turned towards them. Aaron saw the muscles in Isaac¡¯s jaw twitch, and knew that he had angered his brother. ¡°I-¡°

    ¡°She is on my patient list, Aaron. I warned you not to get attached. Now go inside before you get dust in your wounds and they get infected again.¡±

    Aaron felt like he wanted to scream, or cry, or punch Isaac. He knew it was pointless to do any of them, so he pushed his frustration down inside and desperately tried to keep the angry force that bubbled up from leaking out. Causing a scene and wrecking more property wasn¡¯t going to help his situation. Taking a deep breath, he slowly let it out. ¡°Yes, Isaac¡­¡±

    Everything was Isaac¡¯s fault.

    So fight him.

    The jeep swerved on the empty road - but he managed to keep it from peeling into the ditch. He let out a roar of rage, shutting his eyes and pounding his fist into the wheel. Why wouldn¡¯t it stop?! Why wouldn¡¯t it end?! Finally giving up with a broken sob, Aaron leaned his scarred forehead against the wheel of the jeep, shutting his eyes. He wished for death, but knew better than to try and take his own life. That never worked, and was always more pain than it was worth. He aged slowly and healed quickly, but every time he found himself near death - somehow - someway - he would be brought back.

    He wondered if Isaac was to blame for that, too.

    He figured he had nothing to lose by putting that on his older brother.

    Slowly leaning back into his seat, he looked out at the mid-morning road ahead of him.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± he demanded. Nothing. ¡°Are you a demon?¡±

    He wondered what defined madness, hearing the voices or talking to them.

    ¡°Hello?¡± Again, nothing. Aaron sighed deeply, gripped the wheel and turned the jeep back onto the road, heading back in the direction of where ever it was he was going. He had a distinct feeling he wasn¡¯t going to like it when he got there. Could you hate a destination before you even knew what it was?

    I am slowly going crazy - one two three four five six switch!

    Aaron only let out a small defeated sob as he drove. Flipping on the radio, he tried to drown out the voice in his head as it began to sing.

    Crazy going slowly am I¡­

 Chapter Twenty-seven

    ¡°I don¡¯t trust him.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve said that three times already.¡±  Eric turned his hand over to look at his watch. ¡°Three times this hour.  And I¡¯m sitting right here, y¡¯know.¡±

    He¡¯d had a feeling he was going to be treated like he was a spy or something of the like.  He hadn¡¯t expected Uriel to keep a gun trained on him nearly constantly for the second straight day.  They had taken all his gadgets, and he didn¡¯t really know what they expected him to do. At least they let him fix - and keep - his arm.  Uriel wanted to take it from him, but he convinced them that the arm ¡®doesn¡¯t just detach.¡¯ Here he sat in their temporary military base, surrounded by idiots in white robes and armor.

    He had never seen a Vatican operation up close before.  Sure, he had invaded that base once. But he never really got to see how they operated.  It was actually kind of interesting. They were incredibly well organized, although that didn¡¯t shock him.  Apparently, all the little markings on the squadron¡¯s armor meant different things - specialization, rank, things like that.  Eric had always thought they just liked to look pretty.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice, Uriel,¡± Michael sighed from where he sat across the room, polishing his sword.  ¡°He¡¯s right. We need him to fight Isaac. We don¡¯t know where they are. He does.¡±

    Eric smiled at Uriel.

    Uriel apparently spent whatever remained of his temper trying not to put some bullets in Eric¡¯s brain.  ¡°I don¡¯t care! He¡¯s playing us, Michael! He¡¯s going to give us up to Isaac the first chance he gets.¡±

    ¡°No, I won¡¯t,¡± Eric insisted.  Again.

    Michael sighed and rubbed a hand over his face and through his curly brown hair.  ¡°Okay, Eric. If you want us to believe you, you have to tell us why you want Isaac dead.¡±

    Eric sighed and sunk into the chair.  At least they hadn¡¯t chained him up. He was sure Michael really wanted to and silently thanked the fact the Crusader was apparently taking the high road.  He really didn¡¯t want to tell them why he wanted Isaac dead, partly because he knew that any information they had would probably get his friends into trouble.  Also, he was still trying to convince them that he only to wanted to take the sorcerer down, no one else. Not to mention, he had trouble admitting it to himself that he was sitting here in the middle of a Vatican base as a turncoat.

    ¡°Eric,¡± Michael said sternly.  ¡°If you want us to trust you, you have to be forthcoming with us.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Eric breathed out and rested his head on the back of the chair, staring up at the ceiling.  White. Like everything else around here. ¡°I just¡­ I can¡¯t take what he does to the people who are loyal to him.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°Like, Victor.¡± He stood up suddenly, needing to move.  Uriel lifted his gun suddenly, his eyes narrowing. Eric smiled nervously at the older crusader.  ¡°Easy there, Champ.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me ¡®Champ¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Please-¡° Michael interrupted.  ¡°Just let him talk.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Uriel said with a grunt.

    Michael motioned for Eric to continue talking.  Shoving his hands into his pockets, Eric began to pace.  It was another habit he shared with his brother. Their mom always yelled at them about it, about making her dizzy.  He didn¡¯t think she¡¯d care this once, as he felt he had every excuse. Pivoting to retrace his steps again, he gathered his thoughts.  ¡°Vic hasn¡¯t been a vampire for a long time, only¡­ like¡­ sixteen years. Isaac¡¯s making the whole thing worse.¡±

    ¡°Worse?¡±

    ¡°Vic¡¯s becoming a monster¡­¡±

    ¡°He became a monster when he was turned,¡± Michael replied simply.

    Eric tried not to roll his eyes.  ¡°Right, sure, but - he wasn¡¯t some - he wasn¡¯t like he is now.¡±

    ¡°How has he changed?¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t use to eat people,¡± Eric shot him a narrow look.  He saw Michael visibly go pale at the memory of what Victor had done to him.  ¡°He never would have done that if it weren¡¯t for Isaac. First, he left Victor behind¡­ and that douche not only makes it okay for Vic to do things like that, but he encourages it!  Encourages him to like.. jump through windows and kill people¡­¡± Eric trailed off. ¡°I know we¡¯re hits for hire, but¡­ it was his idea, not mine.¡±

    Eric slumped down into the chair and put his head in his hands.  He knew he was rambling, but at this point, he just needed to get it out.  ¡°I don¡¯t like killing people. I really don¡¯t. I stayed out of the Retribution because I didn¡¯t want to get involved.  Vic fought for you guys, believe it or not.¡± He ignored the scoff that he heard come from Uriel. ¡°Then he got turned. At first, he was afraid of what he was and just¡­ lived a normal life.  A few years later, Isaac approached us with an offer - work for him, and he¡¯d pay us a crap-ton of money. It was hard to refuse¡­ I said no, but Vic won the argument. After that, I¡¯ve seen him just slide further and further downhill¡­¡±

    ¡°So you want Isaac dead because you believe it will keep your brother¡¯s grasp on humanity from further slipping away,¡± Michael said.  Eric had expected him to laugh, or to tell him he was stupid. But the tone of his voice was quiet, almost sympathetic. Eric looked up with an eyebrow raised.  ¡°I suppose that is noble.¡±

    ¡°Oh, for Christ¡¯s sake!¡± Uriel snapped and stood up, rounding on Michael.  ¡°You¡¯re falling for this tripe?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not - It¡¯s not tripe!  I¡¯m not lying to you! Why would I?!¡± Eric shouted.

    ¡°To con us into a trap, that¡¯s why!¡±

    ¡°If Isaac wanted to kill you guys at this very instant, don¡¯t you think he would have by now?!  The man moved a house from one coast to another.  He offed your friends without breaking a sweat!¡±

    ¡°Then why hasn¡¯t he?¡± Michael asked the logical question to which Eric had no answer.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.  I don¡¯t know why he didn¡¯t just kill you all.  He can, I know. I¡¯ve seen what he¡¯s capable of.  He opened a gate to Hell. I¡¯ve seen him walk through walls and I¡¯ve seen him bleed out, only to get up and keep walking.  He could will us all dead with a thought. Something¡¯s going on that he¡¯s not telling us about, I know it. There¡¯s some game going on, and we¡¯re all pieces in it.  That¡¯s part of the reason I can¡¯t take it anymore. I can¡¯t trust anything he does because it¡¯s all a lie in some grand scheme of his. The man plays us all like pawns, and it drives me nuts!  I¡¯m apparently the only one around him that can see it!¡± Eric ranted.

    That seemed to do some good.  Uriel slowly sat back down, and the anger in his eyes seemed to have faded some.  Eric clenched his fists. ¡°There¡¯s something going on. Just under the surface, and he won¡¯t come out and say it.  I¡¯m sick¡­ I¡¯m sick of being used. And Christ, what he did to Muse-¡°

    ¡°Wait, what?¡±  Michael cut in abruptly.

    Eric swore.  He didn¡¯t mean to give that part up.  Wherever Muse was, he hoped she would forgive him.  He put both of his hands through his hair and was shocked for a moment to not find his goggles.  Right, they had taken them. He had forgotten that.

    ¡°What did Isaac do to Muse?¡±

    ¡°That poor girl is suffering because of you.  I mean¡­ the worst possible thing you could imagine Isaac could do to her, he did.  She did it because Isaac couldn¡¯t beat a heart out of her. I can¡¯t¡­¡± Eric snarled angrily, unable to finish his sentence.  Muse was such a sweet kid, he thought of her as family. To see what Isaac did to her turned his stomach, and was the last straw.

    ¡°What did he do?¡± Michael insisted.

    ¡°He¡­ brought her back to life.  Somehow. Smashed that necklace that had a piece of her in it, and¡­ she¡¯s alive.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s impossible,¡± Uriel snorted.

    ¡°Yeah, you tell that to her,¡± Eric shot Uriel an angry glare.  ¡°She¡¯s in a coma in some hospital by now, if Isaac hasn¡¯t flayed her skin off and turned her into wall art.¡±

    Silence fell over the room.  Michael had a strange expression on his face that Eric couldn¡¯t read.

    Finally, the younger Crusader stood up and gestured to Uriel.  ¡°Come on.¡± Michael turned his attention to where Eric sat in the chair. ¡°We¡¯re going to go talk this over.¡±

    Uriel stood up and followed Michael out of the room.  ¡°Don¡¯t try anything stupid,¡± he snapped.

    ¡°Oh, like betraying Isaac and coming to you guys?  How do I get any dumber?¡±

    The only response was the door clicking shut.

    <hr>

    With a small grunt, Muse sat down in the kitchen chair and stared at the bowl of soup in front of her.  Pushing the noodles around with her spoon, she dejectedly began to eat, lamenting her situation. God damn, she was sick of noodle soup.  ¡°Vic - it¡¯s been a week now¡­ I think I can get off the Gerber food.¡±

    ¡°Not until I¡¯m sure you¡¯re okay,¡± Victor replied from his spot by the stove.  He was doing his best to cook - of the three ¡®boys¡¯, somehow Victor wound up the best cook of the bunch.  It wasn¡¯t exactly fantastic, Muse quickly discovered. Although she admittedly didn¡¯t have much to compare it to.  Noodle soup tasted like noodle soup, no matter who made it. She hoped, anyway.

    ¡°Aww, damn, Fangs, c¡¯mon - chick¡¯s been eatin¡¯ for a week now as she said.  You still all up playing nursemaid?¡± Mal grumbled from where he sat next to Muse and smirked with a wink.  Mal slid his beer across the table to her. Muse turned to Mal and raised an eyebrow. Mal only grinned silently in reply.  Shrugging, she took the bottle and took a sip. Screwing her face up, she coughed.

    ¡°Goddamnit,¡± Muse wheezed.  ¡°I forgot what that tastes like.¡±

    ¡°Mal!¡±  Victor snapped from the stove, glaring over at the bigger man.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Oh, get off it, Mom,¡±  Mal snickered. Muse could only laugh as a fight ensued between the two men - bickering back and forth.

    Ezekiel walked in, grinned broadly at Muse and sat down next to her, throwing his arms around her in a tight hug.  Muse found she had missed the weird little man and hugged him back. He looked up, sniffed, and giggled suddenly, whispering loudly up at her with an unusual look of sanity in his eyes.  ¡°Daddy and daddy are fighting again.¡±

    And thus, the two-way argument ceased and a three-way argument ensued.

    ¡°Oh, shut up, you prissy stupid little silk-wearing-¡±

    ¡°At least I¡¯m not an overgrown steroid bomb!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t use steroids you-¡±

    ¡°Dweeb!¡±

    ¡°Frog-face!¡±

    ¡°Bacon!¡±

    Muse got up from the table, steadied herself on her feet, and quietly excused herself - although she wasn¡¯t honestly sure if any of the three men noticed - as the argument continued.  Halfway up the stairs, she grumbled under her breath about how obnoxious it was to use legs that didn¡¯t feel like being used, as it took her much longer to go up the stairs than she liked.  She was so used to being able to just simply move through space without gravity taking hold. This wasn¡¯t just an annoyance, but a painful annoyance.

    Yawning, she rounded the corner down the hallway towards her attic room.  Passing by Isaac¡¯s study door, she stopped. Shutting her eyes and steeling herself, she stepped up to the door.  It had to be done. It was only a matter of time. This had to happen. Whether or not it wound her up in a grave again, she couldn¡¯t keep tip-toeing past the door.  Gripping the knob, she gave it a twist.

    To her surprise, the door wasn¡¯t locked.  She opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind her with a quiet click.  She looked around the room and saw Isaac standing by his lit fireplace, a book in his hands, reading.  One of his many coats hung on the coat rack by the door, and he stood in a simple white button down shirt, cuffs were undone and rolled up to his elbows, and a thin black tie hanging loosely around his neck.  His black hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail at the base of his neck.

    ¡°You should knock,¡±  Isaac said simply, turning his gaze to look at her from above the rim of his thin-crammed glasses.  He - at least for now - didn¡¯t sound annoyed. But the look in his eyes made her want to disappear through the door again.  Before, when she could walk through objects, maybe she could have. Now? Not so easy.

    ¡°Knew you wouldn¡¯t answer if I did,¡± she replied quietly.  Fear made her stomach curl into a knot. Even though she had spent nearly seven or eight months living in the house with him, something was different this time.  He wasn¡¯t safe before, but now the gloves are off, she thought to herself and chewed on the corner of her lip.

    ¡°Generally that means I do not wish to be interrupted,¡± Isaac said again matter-of-factly.  She searched the tone of his voice for any irritation and surprisingly found none.

    ¡°Right.¡±  Muse waited for something, anything, to come out of the man¡¯s mouth.  Nothing. He simply continued on like she wasn¡¯t there. It figured that he would make her do all the talking.  Of course, he probably didn¡¯t think there needed to be a conversation. She watched as he turned with the book and walked back to the desk and resumed his ever-popular position of sitting at his desk with his back to her.  Placing the book down, he picked up a pen and began to write in another book slightly to the left. She had never noticed he was left-handed before. Brushing off the idle thought, she took a deep breath and tried to gather her nerve.

    With everything in her telling her to just leave and save herself the pain, Muse walked up to him and stood behind him, watching him.  Honestly, she couldn¡¯t think of what it was she was wanted to say to him. Okay, she knew what, but didn¡¯t know how. Especially not how to start.

    ¡°Yes?¡±  Isaac said quietly, lifting his head from the book but not turning around.

    Muse clenched her fists for a moment and took a slow breath.  She wished she could somehow reach into his mind and give it a hard shake.  He was acting like nothing had happened. How dare he?! ¡°The boys tell me they haven¡¯t seen you in a while.  I think they were concerned you were dead.¡±

    ¡°Concern isn¡¯t the word.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t say I blame them.¡±

    ¡°Hrm.¡±  Isaac lowered his head and continued writing.

    Muse stood there for a long moment and finally lost her temper.  ¡°Isaac. Look at me,¡± she said, trying to sound firm. She wondered if she succeeded.

    With a sigh, Isaac slowly placed the pen down and swiveled the chair around to look up at her from where he sat.  ¡°Yes?¡±

    Muse shook her head slowly, shocked, as he just sat there, waiting.  ¡°Nothing? Really? You¡¯ve got nothing to say?¡±

    ¡°Why would I have anything to say?¡±

    Muse shut her eyes and cracked her neck to the side.  Opening her eyes, she clenched her fists and slowly let her body relax.  Whelp, I don¡¯t know if this counts as suicide, but you¡¯re about to find out.  She smiled oddly down at him, a sharp, bitter smile.  Then, she slapped him hard across the face.

    Isaac reeled to the side, not having expected the blow, his glasses falling to the carpet.  He stayed there with his head to the side for a long time before leaning down to pick his glasses up off of the floor.  Slowly, he stood up.

    Muse hadn¡¯t realized how tall Isaac was - maybe being dead put a different perspective on height when one was almost always hovering above floor level.   She had spent so much time floating up and over his shoulder that she didn¡¯t realize exactly what kind of visual impact the man had. The knot in her stomach that had already formed took another hard twist.  She tried her best to hold her ground.

    Slowly and with all the time in the world, he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and began to slowly clean his glasses.  Carefully stuffing the handkerchief back into his pocket, he casually replaced the glasses on his face, pushing them up his nose with his ring finger.  He finally turned his grey eyes down at her, the light from the fireplace glinting off of his glasses, giving a rather bizarre orange twinge to his eyes.  How it was possible to make him look even more dangerous, she didn¡¯t know.

    Muse suppressed a shudder.  She was famous for stupid moves, but this was probably one of her better ones.  And probably one of her last. But nothing happened. Isaac just stood there, staring at her like a statue.  ¡°Go ahead,¡± she said finally.

    ¡°Go ahead what?¡±

    ¡°Hit me - kill me - whatever - just go ahead.  Do it. You can¡¯t zap me anymore, so you have to do something.  Just get it over with,¡± she said a little too fast.

    ¡°You are afraid of me,¡± Isaac said - his eyes narrowing slightly - tilting his head quizzically to one side.  ¡°You are¡­. I can sense it. You¡¯re hiding it well. But you are. Curious.¡± He took a step towards her, moving to close the small gap between them, and Muse took two backwards too quickly, stumbling.  ¡°Ah, yes, look at that¡­ you are terrified of me.¡±

    Muse barely caught her feet under her, straightening up.  ¡°I-¡°

    ¡°Was I unable to sense it before?  Were you always afraid of me?¡± He took another step forward.

    Muse kept backing away from him.  ¡°Maybe I had nothing to lose¡­¡±

    ¡°I think this proves that everyone always has something they can lose,¡±  Isaac said with a small, thin-lipped smile.  The smile wasn¡¯t his most threatening she¡¯d ever seen, but something about it twisted the knot in her stomach again.  ¡°And here I thought that through your cloud of audacity, I could never intimidate you.¡±

    Muse twitched as her temper took hold.  That was a bad habit of hers. Fear quickly turned to anger, which got her into trouble.  Okay, she did a lot of things that got her into trouble. At this point, she¡¯d be surprised if she walked out of this room.  Snarling, she suddenly shoved Isaac hard in the chest with both hands - knocking the startled man off balance and slamming him back into his chair.

    ¡°Is that what all this is about?!  Is it?! Some goddamn superiority complex?  Is that why you did this to me?! You just wanted to prove you were bigger than me?!  You want me to fear you?!  You wanted to be the boogeyman, huh?!  Is that it?!  Fine!¡± she fumed.  Unfortunately, she felt her rage start to slip.  At this point, it was the only armor she had, and now she was losing that, too.

    In the absence of anger, everything else that sat at the edges rushed in to fill the void.  Fear and pain began to muddle into one big ball that made her want to turn and run. ¡°Fine. You wanted to prove to me that you were superior?  That you could torture me because I had the ¡®audacity¡¯ to disrespect you? Fine¡­ Yeah, I¡¯m afraid of you. You win, Isaac. You win. You terrify me.  You give me nightmares. I don¡¯t know what to do with myself now that you¡¯ve done¡­ I want to starve to death, but they won¡¯t let me. You messed up my - my whole existence.  To teach me a lesson. Congratulations.¡±

    She quickly spun to leave and felt his hand wrap around her wrist.  She turned her head away and shut her eyes tightly, wincing - waiting for the pain, the blow, anything.  Part of her mind envisioned him just tearing her arm off right there to a bleeding stump. She started to cry again as a well of emotions rushed over her.  She angrily wiped her free hand furiously across her eyes. More tears. Why couldn¡¯t she stop crying?!

    She could almost feel the grey eyes boring a hole into the side of her head.  Muse heard the chair roll away, felt the shift in weight on her wrist as Isaac stood up.  ¡°Look - great. One more victory for you.¡± Muse wiped at her eyes again furiously, anger at herself welling up in her chest.  ¡°I¡¯m so sick of crying and-¡±

    ¡°It was an accident.¡±

    Muse stopped short and opened her eyes, but couldn¡¯t bring herself to look at him.  Isaac slowly let go of her wrist and stood there for a long time before he spoke again.   ¡°It was an accident, Muse. I acted in rage. To be truthful, I am not entirely sure how I did what I did at all.¡±

    ¡°An accident.¡±  What he was saying wasn¡¯t quite sinking in.  She avoided looking at his face, as she couldn¡¯t take what she saw there, no matter what it was.

    ¡°Mmhm.¡±  He motioned to a carved rock that sat atop the desk - the one he had used to smash the necklace that a piece of her soul used to occupy.  ¡°Mixed magics have always been dangerous. In the heat of the moment, I simply grabbed the closest thing I could. It apparently had unfortunate side effects.¡±

    ¡°What was it you were actually trying to do?¡±

    ¡°I am not entirely sure.  ¡®Kill¡¯ you, I believe.¡± He let out a small chuckle, finding some strange humor in the situation.

    ¡°I¡¯m - was - already -¡±

    ¡°You know what I mean.¡± Isaac waved his hand slightly, gesturing as he talked.  ¡°Send you to oblivion. At that point, I wanted nothing more than for you to cease to exist.¡±  Muse felt her jaw twitch. She wasn¡¯t sure where she stood with Isaac - but hearing that for some reason felt like a sucker punch to the gut.  She turned toward the door. ¡°Do not ask questions you do not want the answers to,¡± Isaac said quietly from behind her.

    ¡°What now¡­?¡±

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    Muse turned back to look at him and met his eyes for a long moment before looking down at her hands and picking idly at the sleeve of the button-down shirt she had borrowed from Victor.  Fear of another kind pulled at her. ¡°What now? I¡¯m useless to you. There¡¯s no reason for you to keep me here, now that I-¡±

    ¡°Muse,¡±  Isaac sighed out her name and walked up to her.  She reflexively twitched and took a step back as he placed his hands on either side of her head, resting on her shoulders, his thumbs on her neck.  He held her in place as she tried to fix desperately on his tie, wanting to look anywhere but his face.

    ¡°Muse,¡± he repeated firmly.  He took one of his hands and gently tilted her head to look up at him.  ¡°I was right to be angry at you when you interfered. I should have punished you in some way.¡±  Muse turned her head away from him and he gently turned it back with his hand. His grey eyes almost seemed to look through her, and it was unsettling.  ¡°Listen to me,¡± Isaac smirked suddenly, laughed once and said something quietly in a language she didn¡¯t understand. The humor left his face, leaving only the same stoic seriousness as before, but now with something that looked like sorrow in his eyes.  ¡°I am sorry.¡±

    ¡°What¡­?¡±

    Isaac chuckled quietly under his breath.  ¡°Of course you would have me repeat it. I am sorry, Muse - for having done this to you.  It was not what I intended. I am not sure how to, if I even can, rectify the situation. You may discover that returning you to your previous state is not what you truly want.¡±

    Shrugging lightly he turned, walking back to his desk.  Sitting down in the chair slowly, he turned his back on her again but did not resume writing.  ¡°You are welcome to stay here, Muse. I understand that you functionally have nowhere to go - and the ¡®gentlemen¡¯ downstairs would miss your presence.¡±

    Muse tried to pin a finger on just one of the emotions spinning around in her mind, but she failed.  It was like grasping for balloon strings. Whatever. Walking towards the door, she placed her hand on the knob and twisted it, opening the door.  She stopped to look at him again. She opened her mouth to say something, but couldn¡¯t think of the words. She shook her head and walked out the door.

    ¡°Goodnight,¡±  Isaac said from his desk as she was shutting the door.

    She stopped, paused, and shut her eyes.  ¡°Goodnight, Isaac.¡± She shut the door and rested her head against it for a long moment before turning and starting the long walk up the stairs to the attic.

 Chapter Twenty-eight

    Nameless bar, nameless city.  At least Aaron knew the name of what he was drinking.  He sat, his head resting against his palm as he twirled the glass of whiskey in his fingers.  He suddenly found himself missing Mal. He wished the big man was here - he always seemed to make things make more sense.  Somewhere a few miles back he realized all this time he had been driving towards Oregon. He thought he might be in Idaho.  Odd that he didn¡¯t remember turning that way, didn¡¯t even know how he knew the directions. It was like he wasn¡¯t in control of his own mind anymore.

    Aaron lifted the glass and drank what was left.  Somewhere over the next few minutes, the bartender must have refilled it, as the next time he went to take a drink, it was once again full.  He had no memory of anyone filling it. He let out a long wavering sigh. He was starting to lose sections of his memory - he wondered if it was like that all the time, or just because he was drinking.

    He wondered if it mattered.

    Ah, alcohol - the answer to all of life¡¯s problems.

    Aaron gripped the glass hard in his hand and winced, realizing he had shattered the glass in his palm.  Whiskey flowed across the counter mixed with blood from his wounds. Staring down at his palm, he idly added those few extra scars to the total count - what¡¯s a few more in the long run?

    ¡°I can¡¯t see!¡±

    ¡°Yes, you can.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ my¡­ my eye¡­¡± Aaron touched his cheek under his left eye, looking into the mirror.  The eye was white, underneath all the red. He couldn¡¯t see out of it. Everything looked flat around him, the left side of his world now a stinging, inky blackness.  He struggled not to give into the panic that pulled at him.

    ¡°Aaron¡­¡±

    The mirror was taken out of his hand, and he was turned to the frowning face of his brother.  Panic bubbled up, and no matter what he tried to do to suppress it, Aaron couldn¡¯t help it. Nineteen years old or not, he began to sob.   He expected to be slapped, to be shaken violently and reminded sternly not to whine.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry¡­¡±

    That was the last thing he would have expected.  Daring to open his eyes - now mismatched and half as useful as they were when he was put under the anesthesia - he looked at his brother.  He saw a broken-hearted sadness on his face. Aaron wondered if it was healthy - that rage and anger would have been perfectly normal, but the concern was a shock.  Aaron couldn¡¯t think of anything to say.

    ¡°I did not know this would happen.  It is a side-effect I didn¡¯t predict.  I didn¡¯t intend this, I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°I hate you,¡± Aaron hissed angrily through broken sobs.

    ¡°And you have every reason to, little brother¡­¡±

    Barely hearing or registering the exclaims of the bartender, Aaron lifted himself off of the barstool and headed for the door.  Pushing himself into the cold night he pushed a shaking hand back through his curly hair. He was drunk, but he didn¡¯t care. So what if he crashed?  He wandered to his Jeep and pulled himself into the driver¡¯s seat, finally making it back onto the road and heading out into the night.

    <hr>

    His state as an immortal and arguably asocial sorcerer aside, it seemed Isaac fell prey to some strange human reflexes the same as anyone else.  Currently, it was that of staring into a fridge without any idea as to what to do with its contents. Walking into the kitchen, Victor was on a mission to fetch his breakfast of choice - beer.  Victor looked over to see Isaac standing by the fridge, staring into it blankly.

    If Isaac noticed Victor was there, he made no indication.  He tried to resist the urge to fly at Isaac and pound his head off of the linoleum.  It wouldn¡¯t do any good. Victor learned that he couldn¡¯t win those fights. ¡°Well, look who came out of his tower,¡± he clipped bitterly and walked up to the fridge.  Reaching over the door, glaring at the man, he grabbed a beer and walked to the counter to find a bottle opener.

    Nothing but a quiet sigh came as an answer.

    The urge to scream came over him again.  He ought to get some kind of award for self-restraint.  Fumbling around in a drawer for the bottle opener, he took a moment to wonder where they all went.  They owned nearly a dozen at this point, and yet he could never find one. Finally giving up, he shut the drawer and put the lip of the cap against the counter, and slammed down the top with his hand, popping it with a small hiss.

    Silence.

    Victor wanted to push Isaac into the goddamn fridge and slam the door.  Noticing the rather large pile of dishes in the sink, Victor snorted bitterly again.  ¡°You¡¯d think at this point we could afford a dishwasher.¡±

    ¡°I suppose we could,¡±  Isaac replied and closed the door to the fridge.  Turning to face the vampire, Victor wasn¡¯t surprised to see a complete lack of emotion on Isaac¡¯s face.  He knew the man better to think that there wasn¡¯t anything going on in there - but he wasn¡¯t going to give the man any credit for anything he didn¡¯t display.

    ¡°Muse will be staying here indefinitely,¡±  Isaac said simply.

    ¡°You talked to her?¡±

    ¡°We talked, yes.¡±

    ¡°So you finally went to see her.¡±  He knew the anger was clear in his eyes, and he didn¡¯t care.

    ¡°No, she came to me.¡±

    Victor rolled his eyes, his beer forgotten.  ¡°Whatever, Isaac. I¡¯m still not cool with you.¡±  Victor watched as Isaac dug through his pocket and pulled out a credit card, and put it down on the counter next to him.  The sorcerer started to walk out of the room. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°Debit card.  Has your name on it.  If she¡¯s going to be here for a while¡­ she¡¯s going to need clothes of her own.  Shopping and¡­ fashion¡­ seem to be your jurisdiction,¡± Isaac said, the corners of his mouth just barely twisting into a smile.  Victor glared at Isaac¡¯s back as the sorcerer left the room. Picking up the card off of the counter, he turned it over slowly in his hands.  He grumbled under his breath and shoved it into his pocket, not one to turn down a gesture of kindness, or maybe pity, no matter how too-little-too-late it was.  And besides, Muse shouldn¡¯t suffer for his anger at the sorcerer.

    <hr>

    Eric was starting to go stir-crazy.  This room was so damn boring. The least they could have done was left him his phone.  He could play games on it or something. Anything. At least they hadn¡¯t forgotten to feed him, that¡¯d suck.  What they hadn¡¯t done was give him a change of clothes. He looked down at the same ¡°The cake is a lie¡± T-shirt he had been wearing for days now.  He was sure he was starting to smell a bit ripe at this point.

    He nearly leaped a foot in the air as the door clicked open, Michael walking in.  Surprisingly, the Crusader came alone. Gesturing for Eric to follow him, he pushed the door open wider.  Shrugging, Eric figured he had nothing to lose.

    ¡°You going to take me out back and shoot me like Old Yeller?¡±

    ¡°Hrmf,¡± was Michael¡¯s response.

    Eric sighed.  They had no sense of humor.  ¡°No, really, where are we going?¡±  Michael abruptly walked out of the room.  Eric followed after him, catching the door before it shut and locked behind the Crusader.  ¡°Okay! Okay! I¡¯m coming! Sheesh.¡± Falling in step next to the larger man, he shoved his hands in his pockets. ¡°So-¡°

    ¡°We¡¯ve decided to trust you¡­ for now.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s nice,¡± Eric said a little more sarcastically than he intended.  ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s been a dull few days.¡±

    ¡°At least you aren¡¯t chained to a chair.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re still bitter about that? That¡¯s all¡­ last month.¡±  Eric grinned, unable to help himself. ¡°I mean, I haven¡¯t done anything horrible to you since at least August.¡±

    Michael shot him a look that might have been angry but might also have been amused.  Eric wondered if he was making progress. Probably not. ¡°We¡¯re going to need you to tell us the location of Isaac¡¯s home.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no, no.  I¡¯m not telling you where it is, because then you¡¯ll just kill me and go stomp in there on your own.  I have no guarantee for my safety.¡± Eric was not a dumb man. He knew what he was doing. Well, mostly.  Okay, he had watched a lot of action movies.

    Michael grunted.  ¡°Fine. Then what do you propose is our first course of action?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to need help.¡±

    ¡°I have sufficient troops, Eric.¡±

    ¡°And they¡¯ll all die.  You need people with a bit more firepower than a bunch of lame-o¡¯s in white robes and tin armor.¡±  Eric looked to his left to the lame-o in white robes next to him and coughed. ¡°No offense.¡±

    Michael squeezed his eyes shut like he was attempting to keep himself from slapping Eric upside the head.  ¡°Whom exactly?¡±

    ¡°Not like there¡¯s a short list of people who hate the asshole.¡±

    ¡°No kidding.¡±

    They rounded a corner down another hallway.  ¡°Radu, for example.¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Hey, look, dude, man.¡±  Somewhere in his mind, Eric wasn¡¯t sure how he just said those four words together without exploding into flames.  ¡°Second-oldest vampire there is, you really don¡¯t think he¡¯d be helpful?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Michael insisted firmly.  ¡°We are not going to enlist the help of a vampire lord for this.  I will not sink so low.¡±

    ¡°Fine, well,¡± Eric let out a puff of air and thought it over.  Then it hit him like the proverbial light bulb. God, he was brilliant.  ¡°How about Aaron?¡±

    <hr>

    Muse stood in the changing room and stared at herself in the mirror.   She shook her head and turned sideways. Fashion had changed since the last time she went shopping, and she wasn¡¯t sure if she liked it.  She had tried to buy a bunch of clothes that resembled what she used to own, but Victor wouldn¡¯t let her. Seeing as he was the one holding the card, she really didn¡¯t have a choice in the matter.  He went off on some lecture about how while the 80¡¯s were supposedly in fashion again, he didn¡¯t want to be walking around with a girl who looked like she was out of a bad David Bowie movie.

    Muse didn¡¯t see what the problem was.  She liked David Bowie.

    ¡°What¡¯s taking so long in there, woman?¡±  Victor called.

    ¡°Hey, you took a girl clothes shopping.  You should have known what you were getting yourself into.  And I¡¯m hurrying.¡±

    ¡°Life lesson:  Never bring a girl shopping.  Check.¡±

    Muse snickered.  She went back to staring at her reflection in the mirror.  This was probably the sixth outfit she had tried on - she wasn¡¯t one to refuse free clothes.  She opened up the changing room door and walked out, and did a turn for him. Victor whistled.  Muse tried not to laugh but decided it was better to laugh than blush, which was her other option.

    ¡°Hey, I got you something,¡± Victor said and tossed her a cellphone.  She caught it, and looked down at it blankly, then raised an eyebrow at him.

    ¡°You mean you got me something with Isaac¡¯s cash.¡±  Muse turned it over, staring at it as though she had never seen one before.  Namely, because she hadn¡¯t. It was smooth on one side with a little white fruit on the back, and the whole ¡®front¡¯ of it - if that¡¯s what it was - was a smooth surface, with only one or two buttons that she could find.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a cellphone, Muse,¡± Victor reached forward and turned it on for her.  She watched as the screen lit up. She knew what cellphones were, and decided not to stiffly remind him of that fact.  But she had never used one before, never had a need to.

    ¡°Hun, seriously,¡± she leaned forward and said quietly.  ¡°I died in 1989.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and?¡±

    ¡°We didn¡¯t have cell phones then.  The closest thing I used was a car phone.  And I didn¡¯t even own it. I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t know how to use this damn thing.¡±  She poked one of the buttons and blinked as it lit up and made a weird chime noise.  She waved it back and forth in front of his face slightly. ¡°All I know is it¡¯s cute and it lights up.  Where are the buttons?¡±

    A baffled pause.  ¡°It¡¯s a touch screen.¡±

    ¡°1989,¡±  Muse repeated.  She said it again slower.  ¡°Nineteen¡­.. eighty¡­ nine.¡±

    ¡°But I-¡±

    ¡°1989.¡±

    ¡°Look it¡¯s-¡±

    ¡°1989.¡±  She waved the phone in his face again. Victor started to snicker, which sent Muse into giggles.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, fine, I¡¯ll show you how to use it later.¡± Victor slowly stopped laughing and kicked his feet up on the bench, looking at Muse with a gentle smile. ¡°Oh, and Muse - dig the skirt.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡±  She smirked and went back into the changing room.  She blinked for a moment as she tried to figure out what exactly the look on Victor¡¯s face meant.  Shaking her head, she decided that was a thought for another time.

    ¡°You really don¡¯t know how to use a touchscreen?¡±  Came the still-baffled voice from the other side of the dressing-room door.

    ¡°Dude.¡±

    ¡°Fiiiine¡­¡±

    ¡°Hey, Vic?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, chickie?¡±

    She let that one slide.  Smirking, she asked him a question that had been bothering her ever since she had woken up from the coma.  ¡°Where¡¯s Eric?¡±

    The silence from the other side of the screen told her more than she probably needed to know.  Victor finally answered. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s nothing personal, Muse. He just¡­ had to take off for a while.  He¡¯s got to sort some stuff out. It¡¯s not you.¡±

    ¡°Oh.  I miss him.  I was looking forward to playing video games with the nerd now that I can touch the controllers without frying the TV set.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    Silence fell over them again, and Muse knew that the blond was sulking.  She kicked herself for ruining the mood. Good going, stupid.

    She started to pile up the clothing that she was buying.  She took a moment to study her reflection in the mirror. It was such a normal thing for people to be able to change.  Change their hair, makeup, clothes - get a makeover, anything. Twenty years she spent looking exactly the same. The freedom to change what she was blew her mind.  But she was dealing, one day at a time.

    She blinked, and tilted her head slightly - something seemed¡­ wrong.  She curiously took a step towards the mirror. There was a black¡­ dot¡­ in the center of the glass.  It seemed to be¡­ growing. Stepping forward, she slowly raised her hand and reached out to touch the black spot.  It started to slowly ooze out from the glass, forming a point that came straight out, then slowly started to bend down.  Another spot began to appear, and then another - forming points and bending down. It looked¡­

    ¡°Like fingers¡­?¡±  Muse said.

    ¡°What?¡± Victor asked from the other side.

    A large, black hand shot out from the glass - the oversized hand was nearly as big as Muse¡¯s entire torso.   The hand - more of a talon - shot forward towards her, its nails indiscernible from the rest of its hand. The pointed ends came towards Muse as she screamed and staggered backwards, slamming into the opposite wall.  The huge black hand stopped at the wrist, fading off into - nothing. It wasn¡¯t attached to anything.

    ¡°Muse - what¡¯s wrong?!¡±  Victor burst into the changing room and knelt down next to her.

    Muse pointed at the hand as it hovered overhead.  Victor turned to look - but simply saw empty air. Muse watched as the hand waved at her, and then pulled back and vanished through the glass of the mirror from where it came.

    ¡°I¡­ did you¡­ did you see that?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ What happened?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ a hand¡­¡±

    ¡°A hand?¡±

    ¡°A big... a big black hand.. the fingers were points¡­ Came out of the mirror¡­ it..¡±

    ¡°Muse¡­ you¡¯re probably tired¡­  You sure?¡± Victor asked quietly and stroked her hair back.

    ¡°Yeah.. I¡­ I must be tired¡­¡± Muse let Victor help her up off of the floor.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±

    ¡°S¡¯okay, girl.¡±  Victor ruffled her hair.  ¡°C¡¯mon. Let¡¯s pay for this stuff and go home, yeah?¡±

    Muse nodded and leaned against Victor¡¯s arm.  The vampire smiled and hugged her gently. He reached down and picked up the pile of clothes and started out towards the register.  Muse walked out and stopped - turning back to the mirror. Feeling a shudder run through her, she let herself be distracted by Victor¡¯s ramblings, the excitable vampire already forgetting about the incident.  Muse knew what she saw. Hopefully, he was right. Hopefully, she was just tired.

    <hr>

    Muse walked up to her attic room - and looked at the array of bags and boxes that sat scattered just about everywhere.  She started to snicker to herself. Every girl¡¯s dream - a shopping spree.  And yet¡­

    Victor had offered her another room downstairs - a ¡®real¡¯ room.  She declined, having grown fond of the attic. Mal insisted on getting her a real bed at least - that she gladly allowed.  Sleeping on the sofa - which was now pushed up against the wall - wasn¡¯t exactly comfortable. She started to fold up the clothes and put them into a dresser she dug out from the back of the attic.

    Life.  That¡¯s what she had right now.  Life. Staring down at the clothes that she was putting away, it still felt so odd.  It was more like she was watching something else, that she was putting away someone else¡¯s things.  But all things considered, she wasn¡¯t miserable. Something still nagged at her in the back of her mind, but it was easily silenced.  Mal was quickly becoming like her bigger brother, teaching her how to play cards. Victor was¡­ Victor was Victor, and she¡¯d figure that all out later.

    Heeee...

    Muse whirled around and looked around the room.  There was no one there.

    Dunn-nah.

    ¡°Hello?¡±

    Dunn-nah.

    ¡°Who¡­ who¡¯s there?¡±  No answer. ¡°Hello?¡± Muse tried again, slowly pivoting around in a circle.

    Dunn-nah.

    She blinked and looked around the room again - looking for the source of the voice.  If it was a voice. It kept changing pitch, the laughing a strange, insane giggle. Finding no one, she shook her head and started to walk towards her bed, and stopped as a¡­ black¡­ shark fin¡­ went past her on the floor.

    A shark fin.

    An actual honest-to-God shark fin.

    DUNN-NAAH!

    It sunk beneath the floorboards, then bobbed back up to her left.

    ¡°The hell?!¡±

    She skittered to the right to avoid the fin as it darted closer to her feet.

    ¡°Oh god¡­¡±

    She skittered to the side again and tripped, landing hard on her side.  ¡°Ungh.¡± She pulled her legs back to avoid the fin as it moved closer to her.  She scrambled up onto the sofa and gaped at it.

    RRHWWARR!!!

    Muse screamed as the fin came up from the floorboards - attached to a gigantic black shark.  Its teeth were gigantic, sharp, and bright orange - flickering like a jack-o-lantern. Letting out a small cry as the teeth bore down on her, she ducked her head and shut her eyes¡­ and waited.

    Nothing.

    She lifted her head and looked around the room.  There was nothing around her. No shark, no fin. Nothing.  Muse pulled her knees up to herself and shuddered. She sat there, afraid to move.  Muse lowered her head onto her knees and shut her eyes tightly, shaking.

    <hr>

    I am slowly going crazy, one two three four five six switch!

    The voice had started singing into his head again.  It had been at it for at least two hours now. Aaron was sitting in the corner of another hotel room, holding onto his head.  The booze wasn¡¯t helping him shut any of it out this time.

    Crazy going slowly am I, six five four three two one switch!

    ¡°Shut up, shut up, shut up!¡± Aaron groaned out desperately.

    You do realize, dear boy, that you¡¯re wasting time.  You could be murdering your older brother, saving your dear little damsel in distress, and being the hero you¡¯ve always wanted to be.  Oh, wait, no, you couldn¡¯t be, because you¡¯re too sad and pathetic to actually get up and do anything.

    ¡°Shut up, please,¡± he begged.  He started slapping the side of his head, trying to maybe knock the voice out of his ear.

    I wonder if she and Victor have had sex yet¡­  Now I suppose those two just make a charming couple.  She¡¯s not dead anymore, you remember?

    ¡°No, no, no, stop it!¡±  Aaron felt that anger bubble up in him again.  He was slipping. He knew he was. Part of him just wanted to give up and let go.  It would be such a relief.

    Only girl in a house full of men¡­ And now she can¡¯t even defend herself¡­ I wonder who has slaked their frustrations on her¡­ for shame.  And you¡¯re not there to save her from them.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Aaron howled, thrashing in the corner, kicking out in front of him in a useless attempt to fend off the voice in his head.

    You are the only common denominator in all of this, you realize.  You¡¯re not good enough for her. You¡¯ve already failed her. How do you honestly think that she would have ever accepted you when you¡¯re such a coward?

    It was all slipping loose.  He could feel it starting to snap.  The furniture around him was starting to rattle, the glass in the frames shattering.

    Look at you, sitting in the corner and crying like a child¡­

    The TV exploded by the wall, the phone on the nightstand was suddenly pushed through the wood top and through the floor below with a loud crunch.

    She would never love you!

    Aaron howled in pain as his world - and the motel - came crashing down around him.