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𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 : 𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋

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Ken laughed.

Loudly. Like it was a boom just his chest, thunder clapping.

It made me want to kill him slightly more than before. His stance shifted entirely with the news that we would kill him. His hands found his pockets, his shoulders hunched forward, even his head hung lower.

"We're serious, dude," snapped Winker with a growl. "We're here to really kill you."

Ken was wiping fake tears from his eyes. "I doubt it," he said between a hiccuping laugh. "This was a good joke, like, honestly, but John–" He looked around. "–if you're here, come out, man! This was really funny, but jokes over!"

A scowl worked its way to my lips as hope crawled into my head. He worked for John. He knew him, personally it seemed. "John isn't here," I snapped, holding up one of the knives. "This was a set up."

The door upstairs slammed shut and the sound rattled and echoed off the cold walls. With the slam, Ken flinched, noticeably. His eyes shifted from between the three of us, skeptical.

"Really? Three, what? Twelve year-olds are going to kill me?"

Blondie scoffed with a gasp. "Are you serious? I'll have you know I'm eighteen, asshole. Luke is too and Blaire–well, Blaire was held back a year so, guess what, dick? She's nineteen. You're gonna get killed by seniors."

Ken's face shifted. A menacing scowl replaced his doubting mouth and his brows furrowed downward, casting a dark glint in his shifting eyes. "I don't care how old you are," he hissed, "but I'm not going to be killed tonight by some reckless kids clearly experimenting. I'm bigger, I'm faster, and I'm stronger than the three of you combined. Some silly knife won't scare me and neither will you."

"I don't think you're really grasping the situation here, man," said Winker with a glare. "Do you have any idea who she is? Do you know who you're even fucking speaking too?" When Ken didn't speak, Winker took a step forward and snarled, "Has John told you nothing?"

He fixated on us with a perfect scowl, clearly not taking the bait and guessing. Did he really not recognize me? Had John not told them who I was? What I looked liked? Or was he playing dumb? Or did I look that bad right now?

Winker let out a laugh. "She's the necromancer, you moron!"

I was knocked back in the matter of seconds and I guess he was right. Ken was stronger and faster. I was on the ground before I could've even said a word, my back arching with the impact as I gasped. The knife was lost somewhere on the ground and I heard the metal skit away from my grasp. Beside me, Ken knocked Winker off his feet and down onto his side. The impact left a groan escaping the boy as Blondie raced forward with the second knife.

Ken pressed his arm against my throat, batting Blondie away with his free hand as he snarled in my face, "John has told me a lot about you, actually. Even said we weren't allowed to kill you, but he didn't say anything about your friends." He looked up with a wild gaze. "I'm going to have so much fun with you two."

I slammed both hands against his shoulders to try and relieve the pressure but he wouldn't budge. He had both knees pressed deeply against my sides, digging into my ribcage as he wacked Blondie back for a second time with easy strength. She landed awkwardly on her butt as Winker wrapped an angry arm around Ken's neck, trying to pull him back. It eased Ken up slightly, the arm on my throat giving me just enough room to breathe properly.

Winker, with a knife in his hands we hadn't seen before, slammed it down into Ken's shoulder with a sickening thunk. The demon blades we'd made were still scattered about, one on the floor and the other in Blondie's dazed hand. When Ken looked down at the knife, he chuckled.

"Didn't anyone tell you that you can't kill a demon with one of these?" he asked, knocking Winker back hard enough to send him stumbling as he reached for the knife. He pulled it free, black coating the blade, and he laughed again. "John is going to give me the promotion of a lifetime when I bring you to him," he said to me, holding the knife up as if to subdue me with the fear of it alone.

"Tell us where John is, you bastard!" cried Blondie, racing forward.

She slashed with the knife, a surprisingly powerful swing, and it missed Ken's face by a centimeter as he dodged. He rocked off of me as I pushed him off with my hips and thighs, but he only scattered to the side on all fours like some deranged animal.

"You really think I'd tell you anything?" he spat at us. "I would never go against my king."

"King?" said Blondie with a high pitched laugh. "John isn't a damn king, he's a fucking court jester!"

I scrambled to my knees and launched myself towards Ken as Winker did the same. With a great struggle, we got a hold of his arms. It didn't do much but it made Blondie's objective much more obtainable as she snarled again, "Where is John?"

"I'm not telling you shit!" Ken thrashed and I had to lock my arms tightly against his arms, crossing them to keep him in my hold.

"Wrong answer."

She got closer with her knife and something shifted in the way Ken was fighting back. He began to move frantically, trying to shake us off of him as she raised her knife and stared down at him like some avenging angel.

"Listen, I swear, I don't know where he is," rambled Ken, knocking me loose from his arm to hold a hand up in front of his face. His shield would do nothing against our girl. "We can't just tell you, he's got us spelled–"

"Then you're useless to us," she said, unblinking. "But I'll give you one chance to get out of this free," she knelt down, "and all you have to do is answer my question honestly."

She held up the knife in front of her face and Ken nodded.

"Tell me, are you a floater?"

Ken's shoulders slumped and I saw the fear ignite in his eyes. "No."

"Aw, boo," said Blondie with a pout, standing over him. "You just love giving wrong answers."

She raised the knife above her head with both hands and I saw nothing of the fear I'd seen in Ken's eyes cross over her face as she swung her arms down, letting out a scream. Ken held his hand out in front of his face as Winker jerked him more upright, bending the demon's arm behind his back. The knife plunged through the center of Ken's palm and collided with his face, sinking deeply into his left eye.

He was frozen in position, kneeling in front of a god.

When Blondie pulled the knife free, with a sickening pop, golden light began to creep its way out through the cracks on Ken's skin. It wasn't as blinding as the lights I'd seen before, but it shone through all of him until his body was toppling to the side with a dead thump. He didn't disintegrate, he didn't vanish, he didn't turn to magical ash. He stayed whole.

And dead.

Blondie took a step back and let out a horrible gasping shudder, looking down at the bloodied knife and then at the body. I could sense her dread, her terror, but she kept herself standing up straight even as her body shook with every breath she took. She was not scared but she was filled with dread from what she had to do. Terror and fear are synonyms of themselves but the hold they had over her were two different things entirely.

"It works," she breathed shakily as we all came to stand before the body, staring down at our kill. This would not be her burden alone. "Not–not as well as yours but it gets the job done."

"Why is the body still here?" came a voice from the stairs and we turned. Macabre didn't look as pleased as we did.

"It killed him," said Blondie, her eyes wide, "and shouldn't–and shouldn't that be enough?"

"No," said the man as Monroe and Eva followed him into the room, "because we'll have to dispose of him."

"Isn't that what a normal killer should be doing anyway?" asked Blondie with a hand on her hip and I could tell she was actively trying to be normal. But how could anyone? After witnessing death? After committing it with your bare hands? "Like, isn't that what you were doing before all this? Being–being murderous and burying people in shallow graves?"

"We like to burn them," said Eva, crouching down to inspect the wounds. "He'll be a hassle to drag up the stairs."

"We did the spell right," muttered Winker, sweeping his hair back from his forehead.  He had one hand on Blondie's back, keeping her steady. "We followed it right off the page, so why is he still here?"

"The magic isn't as strong as the one connected to your blade," said Macabre, glancing towards me. He gave us all a small smile, finally appreciating our work. "I'm proud of you three, regardless. Ken was no easy feat."

"Good thing we're friends with the guy who runs the morgue," said Blondie with a happy grin, slightly forced but her eyes were softer then before. "No need to drag him up the stairs, you got a freezer right there." She walked proudly across the room with Macabre trailing her, his brows pinched in only mock irritation.

Monroe regarded me and Winker, arms crossed. "Did he tell you anything we should know?"

"About John?" said Winker before shaking his head. "It seems like all of his demons are spelled not to remember where his location is. We asked and he genuinely didn't seem like he could answer."

"Did you wait for him to answer?"

"Yes, dude, duh."

I nodded, stepping up beside the boy as I wiped my sweaty palms across the back of my pants. "He told us he was spelled and it was, like," I looked at Winker and sighed, "it was painful to think about answering. He also told us that his demons can't kill me, John wants them to save me for him."

"Not much of an advantage there," muttered Eva as she approached, "but at least we know your life isn't in any immediate danger."

"They can't kill her," said Winker, with a scowl, "but he said nothing about hurting her."

A chill swept through the air and ran up my spine, tickling the hair on my neck before it was gone. I wanted to turn, to look for whatever had grazed me but Monroe was already speaking, and swiftly.

"Just means we need to train you harder. We need you to be able to defend yourself without any help. If they can hurt you, that means they can take you right to the brink. We can't risk that."

"Then what do you want me to do?" I asked, scowling. "Go running again? Work on how fast I can run away?"

An awful smile fell upon his lips.

We ran for the next thirty minutes.

~

Finishing up an hour later, after more sparring and jabs and elbow throws, Blondie and Winker dispersed the new knives we had made amongst the demons. Monroe, while we were running and trying not to puke and as Macabre and Eva disposed of Ken's body, bought more knives for us to use with the incantation. In total, we had about ten amongst us. Each demon getting two, Blondie getting a second, with Winker and I both carrying one.

Once everyone had a careful place to keep their knives, Blondie and Winker went off to do homework and catch a light dinner while I stuck around to practice more light sparring with Eva who was always more than willing to compete.

She danced and paraded on light toes, barely making a sound, as she circled me with eager intent. I let her hit me, I let her foot come kicking out at my ankles and backs of my knees. It was more realistic than the gentle arm work, the slow progression of learning how to throw a punch successfully.

Sometimes, when she'd throw her arm out to jab at my neck, it was hard to get lost in her beauty. Her long, silk hair moving together like a sheet. Her eyes narrowed and sharp, clean from rage and aggression stored beneath her tanned skin. It was easy to forget this was just pretend.

When we were done, my chest heaving and a fresh bruise sprouting against my shoulder, she asked me a question that startled me.

"What is your relationship with him?"

Blinking, I asked, "Who?"

"Archer."

My brows furrowed and I leaned back against the table to ease the pain and tension off my aching feet. "Well, uh, he's been an ally."

"An ally?" she asked, taking a long sip from her water bottle. She didn't seem convinced by my answer. "That's all?"

"Why?" I asked in a sharp tone, far sharper than I realized. It made my skin crawl, wondering what she thought of me. She was this superior being, a goddess, a snake in model's clothing.

"You seemed really determined when attempting the summoning."

"How did you know I tried that?" I hadn't told everyone my failure, only Blondie and Winker and Macabre. I didn't need her or Monroe judging me.

"I could read it all over your face," she said with a shrug. "Your...despair is easy to sniff out. You tried your best, but sometimes it just doesn't work out."

Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I scuffed the ground with my shoe before speaking in a small voice, "Do you think he's alive?"

It took her not even a moment of thought before speaking. "I do."

There was a swell of reassurance that overcame me as I nodded. If she believed he was still alive, so could I, right? If this badass, this warrior, this hauntingly horrific creature could have hope and faith, then so should I.

"I think you care for him," said Eva as she headed for the table. She began to grab her things, shoving them in a gym bag. The last thing she reached for was the knife, wrapped tightly in towels and tape. "I think you might even care for him more than you think." She slung the bag over her shoulder. "You worry about him, you stare at that office door more times than I'd like to count when we meet, you fidget when we speak about him and your brows furrow when we mention the possibility that we might never get him back. You care about him. Deeply." She regarded me with a long look before heading to the stairs, throwing over her shoulder, "One might even call that love."

I didn't get a chance to process before I followed her up the stairs and out of the church to our cars. Crow's car waited patiently and hummed perfectly when I slid the key into the ignition and I had to sit there for a moment before leaving.

Was Eva right? Was all this worry for love? Could the ache in my chest when I enter the cabin and know it's empty be from that or from the incessant need to feel wanted and no longer alone?

I knew, as I entered the cabin, it wasn't for the need to feel wanted or even the reassurance of not being alone again. It was far deeper than that and it made me sick. I had never loved someone, not in the way Eva had been describing. I had familial love, friendship love, platonic love that stretched further than friendship, but never this. Never this awful tightening in my chest, the nasty lonely feeling that didn't feel normal. It didn't feel the way it had always felt.

Beatrice had been right and now Eva too.

John had taken the one thing I cannot live without.

I set my bag down on the counter and as if on some paranormal cue, the hair on my arms rose and a chill settled over my shoulders. It was like I had stepped into a freezer as the gray shifted and the beautiful woman swayed gently from her spot resting against the wall near the fridge.

"Two visits so soon," I murmured. "I'm starting to think you might actually miss me as a roommate."

Beatrice smiled warmly and I could feel that heat from her. She was lively today. Active. "You've been thinking about me."

"You can really sense that?"

"Of course," she said, pushing away from the wall and gliding into the living room. "Must get lonely out here all secluded without him."

Was everyone going to mention him today?

She continued, "Something has changed here, like something has been lifted. It doesn't feel as stuffy as it usually does when I pass through."

"There's something that blocks you?"

"Sometimes," she said with a nod, running her hand over the back of the couch before patting it gently. "Come, I've found something we must discuss."

I followed her into the living room, coming down the small step to settle in the strangely warm room. Even in the gray, it was warmer than it was supposed to be. Was this what home felt like?

"There's a letter," said Beatrice, folding her hands in her lap as she sat down. "Something Crow wrote to you and it's time you read it."

My mind stuttered into a blank. "Huh?"

A letter? He wrote a letter?

"It's hidden," she explained, "deep in his closet, one you've seen before."

I licked my lips and nodded because I'd forgotten about it. It was addressed to me in that little box he kept in the back of his closet and while I'd been tempted to read it, I'd held off. It was private, I couldn't just go in and read it. That was an invasion of privacy–

But what if he's dead?

"Read it before this Friday comes along. It's important for you to...to understand."

"What do you know about it?"

Beatrice rubbed her hands together as if cold. "That it's important, Blaire. Crow made arrangements if he were to ever..." She sighed. "...get into the wrong hands."

"Kidnapped? Killed?"

"More or less." She was nervous, anxious. "The spirits on the other side have been whispering. You know the truth about yourself, about the prophecy and it's important you know the truth about your father. It'll explain everything, it'll..." She reached out and took my hand. "It'll help clear your mind of any doubts."

"But what if I don't want to know?" I whispered, surprised to hear the words leave my lips. My doubts, my fears, I didn't want any to come true. I was already twisted up inside with the way I felt for him and I didn't need a letter hazing it over any more. "What if it's all just bad?"

"Then it's bad," she said, "so what?"

"I don't want to get hurt!"

"Getting hurt kind of comes with the job, Blaire."

"I don't need to be emotionally hurt." You already are. "I don't need to read a letter to hear what I already know."

"And what if that exactly?"

"That Archer Crow is a massive dick," I snapped back. "That Archer Crow is dead and he's never coming back. I don't need a stupid letter to clarify anything else. He killed my father, he manipulated me, and now he's gone."

"And what if he's not?"

"Not what? An asshole?"

She shook her head. "Not dead?"

"Then–"

Then I'd be screwed. I'd be forced to face what I feared most and it wasn't the fact that he could be dead, that he could just be another corpse in the ground. It was love. Love and her terrifying nature of warmth and comfort and hurt.

"Read it, okay?" said Beatrice before leaning back against the couch. "Doesn't have to be tonight but sometime before Friday."

"Do you know something I don't know about the package I'll be getting?"

She crossed her leg at her knee, bouncing her foot. "I know it could be dangerous, that it could get you killed. It'll have a false face, ruined by magic, but...but there's still hope. You need to have hope, even after the blows you'll receive. This package...it'll be good, you just have to wait it out."

"How dangerous are we talking, though? Like, immediate death or will it surprise me?"

"Just don't be alone."

A small smile curled its way to my lips. "Come on, Bea, haven't you heard? I'm never truly alone."

"Pandora Basks will not be able to stop the magic that's coming," said Beatrice with a roll of her eyes. "But she can help you with the instructions that come. She and all the friends you've made on the other side," she leaned closer and whispered, "which haven't been a lot, mind you," she leaned back, "will help you, but we won't be here forever."

I looked down at my lap and whispered, "How bad is this all going to be? Really?"

Beatrice didn't hesitate to speak. "Awful."

"And my chances? Are they really that bad?"

She nodded and when she saw my expression, she reached out and took my hand gently in hers, like the cold embrace of snow. "You have to hold on just a little longer. Fight only a while more and it'll be okay."

"Can you see things on the other side that I can't?" I asked. "Futures and glimpses of things we'll do?"

"Sometimes," she said with a nod and then a shrug. "We get glimpses, little dancing images of things that could happen if we play our cards right. I'm sure there were little ghosts following me around, catching glimpses of my death before it ever happened. We see yours, Blaire, fragmented bits and pieces of realities that could occur but never do and some that are cemented."

"And you can't tell me?"

"It'd be wrong," she admitted. "It'd turn you mad, insane with possibilities and outcomes that might never happen. You might go your entire life sheltered just to avoid the little things. We're here to guide you and for you to guide us home, that's our purpose. We can be a friend, a glimpse into a life you've never lived, but in the end...we're here to be sent home."

I squeezed her hand. It laid in my hand, heavy like lead. She was just a block of ice. A block of air that felt heavy because my mind was tricking me. "And do you want to go home?"

"Not yet."

"But someday?"

"Soon, I hope."

I pretended that didn't hurt me, that once she left I'd be alone. I'd be all alone once this whole madness finally finished. Blondie and Winker had their own lives to get back to, Macabre and Monroe had a home to return to after each night, Eva her own life filled with what I could only guess were lavishes. But me?

My family was dead. My home, empty. My Crow–

My Crow. My Crow, gone. Just like the rest of this life I was scheduled to live out. Destined to fall, destined to die, destined to live out a life of solitude. No one would understand this gift (could I even call it a gift?). I was the last of my kind, forever alone.

One day, which I feared would come far too soon, Pandora would leave me. She'd ascend and I'd be left with a half empty shell. She made me feel whole, she took care of the parts I'd left to rot once my mom died. How could I keep going once my flowers and sun were finally stripped from me? Once all the veins and thorny things came creeping back in?

"But I'm here now," whispered Beatrice and I met her eyes, surprised to find my lashes wet. "I'll be here with you through the rest of this. You won't be alone, Blaire."

But I will, I wanted to argue back but she was already fading and the color was returning.

In the end, I was just as alone as I was when I first entered the cabin. But now, I was just holding an invisible hand no longer attached to this world and the familiar cold was snuffed out like a candle.

I'd be alone in the end, no matter how many ghosts took my hand. I'd be alone to face death, to take her rotten hand and hope she didn't hurt me too badly on the way down.

let's ignore the fact that these chaps are kinda filler until we get to the package arriving ok? ok.

next chap might b out sooner than u think but until then pls enjoy some memes 

blaire, always:

ken that entire time in the basement:

pls pls vote/comment!!!!!!!!!!!