The Deathwaker, Chapter 2

A tall, older woman stood in front of a ruined chapel. She was wearing a tattered, forest green robe, her gray hair falling in ringlets upon her shoulders. The roof of the chapel had long since been gone, and nothing but the stone walls remained; stone intertwined with vines and several mighty trees that now grew at the front. A former church // turned into a coven’s meeting place. A coven devoted to nature magic.

“Willow Lockwood.” The robed woman called. She smiled at Willow who, slunk down shyly in her seat, motionless for a moment, before taking a deep breath, and finally teetered into isle of weathered pews. The faces of her family and friends, all in similar robes, turned to look at her as she proceeded. They were here for her, after all.

“You turn nine only once, you know,” her mother told her before the induction into the coven. A coven and family she would find herself ostracized from ten years later. Ostracized not because of anything she did, but because of what the coven would become. Poisoned from the roots, a deterioration of ideals taking hold and bringing something that had once been beautiful and full of hope to dust.

To ash.

And it all started the day that Julian Gray had been admitted into the coven. That was when Willow was sixteen, and already a semi-accomplished witch in her own right. The Temple of the Sacred Oak had a long and distinguished line of witches and all of that was erased the moment Julian was voted in to take control. He had only been in the coven three years before he found his way to the top, convincing the others that Willow’s grandmother was powerless, that she didn’t know true magic.

The imagery shifted, and Willow saw her friend, Haley, putting on her ritual robe.

“You’re just jealous, Willow.”

Willow stood, staring at her. Haley was the one who always stuck up for her when the others in the coven gave her a hard time. The one who would always watch the horrible movies she was into, like her favorite, The Terminator. Willow was the granddaughter of the high priestess. She had to perform on a level higher than everyone or else be replaced. She couldn’t watch garbage sci fi movies and fool around. But the truth was, sometimes the magic didn’t flow like you wanted it to, and you simply had to work with what the Nature Goddess was willing to give. Some days proved bountiful. Others, not so much. It was just the natural way of things. Sometimes it may rain for days, other times, there won’t be a cloud in the sky. Humans were resourceful and had to work with what was given to them. It was the way of the coven, after all. All until Julian arrived and started performing miracles. The Lockwoods understood where the magic was coming from, however, at least, Willow’s grandmother Tessa did. Julian’s admittance to the coven turned many away because of his disregard for the rules. But the Lockwoods were outnumbered and powerless in the end.

“Jealous?” Willow scoffed. “My grandmother says Julian is only able to perform the magic he does, these so called ‘miracles,’ because he’s pulling energy from a very dark place. Pulling energy from places that require payment.”

“He just…” Haley said, smiling her usual sad smile whenever Willow just didn’t get what she was talking about. Haley was a certifiable genius. Well on her way to a doctorate in physics, of all things. She of all people should understand that energy is never simply created.

It always has to come from somewhere.

“Julian just knows his stuff.”

“He can never tell you how he does what he does. Doesn’t that concern you?”

“He cured me, Willow. Brought me back from the brink of certain death. That’s a fact. And there were no strings attached.”

It was true. Haley had been given a few weeks to live after a terrible car accident had left her in a coma. Julian had visited her in the hospital, and moments after he entered her room, she had awoken with no injuries to her brain or spine whatsoever. The doctors were more than astonished as they had seen the damage to her spine, and knew for a fact that if she woke up, she’d never walk again. But here she was, five months later and you would never would have guessed.

“That you know of.” Willow countered, though she knew her friend would never see it.

“Would you rather me have died then, Willow? Or have me on a ventilator for the rest of my miserable life? Huh? I’m so sick of the way you treat Julian like he’s some kind of interloper.”

He was an interloper, and Willow and her grandmother could see it so clearly. Haley would die six days later in a gruesome murder that would go unsolved, at least to the authorities. Willow knew who had performed the awful act, the brutal sacrificial ritual. This was the payment for Haley’s recovery, and more importantly, what Julian attained because of it. It was the way he operated. This was the reason why Willow was in Black’s Grove, Pennsylvania, visiting her grandmother.

And that’s why she died.

xXx

A faint pink glow began to show on the horizon, causing Owen to stir. Morning was slipping over the night and he looked over to Willow. Panic seized him as he saw her paleness in the dim light, but it soon subsided when he saw the faint rise and fall of her chest. As the misspent adrenaline slunk back into whatever cave it had emerged from, Owen couldn’t help but think about how he was going to be extremely late for work today. He laughed at the thought of trying to make it in.

It would be a no call no show, and he would surely be fired. Whatever. He had much bigger problems to deal with at the moment. Serving tables wasn’t really his thing anyway. Owen hated wearing the fancy suit despite not getting paid enough to keep up the façade out of work, hated the stuck up customers that treated him as an item to get what they wanted instead of, you know, like a real living person just like themselves. He more so hated the owner of the place who thought he could micromanage Owen’s life. Owen understood he had control over his own life, but looking at Willow, he realized he had much more control of himself than he realized. He brought her back to life and he didn’t have even an inkling of how he had managed it.

Fuck you, Jerry. He thought with a snort of suppressed laughter.

I brought someone back to life. You do that, you shit bag.

As the dawn grew brighter, Willow began to stir. She opened her eyes and glanced out at the morning light. A small smile came to her face.

“It wasn’t a dream after all.” She said, then glanced over at Owen. The flickering light in her blue eyes was gone now but the sickening paleness of her remained. Her lips were blue, as if she had been cold for much too long.

Cold, but alive.

Hell, Owen supposed he looked just as bad. He was wearing tatters for jeans and it was freezing.

“Let’s, uh, find our way to civilization.” Owen said, stretching.

Willow nodded and Owen stood up, then promptly staggered, feeling a wave of wooziness wash over him as stars danced across his vision. He nearly fell back down and had to catch himself on a nearby tree.

“Whoa, stood up too fast. One sec.” He said, gathering himself to help her to her feet, but Willow managed just fine. Despite her healing his grievous wounds from the night before, his thighs were sore as hell. They made the day after a grueling leg workout seem like a cakewalk. Every step was punctuated by a bite of pain that radiated through his entire body.

“Where are you from?” Owen asked as the two made their way towards the rising sun. She looked at him curiously.

“If you… don’t mind me asking, I mean.”

She looked down at the ground.

“I live in a town called Haven. It’s in New Hampshire.”

“Damn.” Owen said. “You’re quite a ways from home. At least I think so.” He added, looking around. “I think we’re still in Black’s Grove.”

“That’s where I was when Julian kidnapped me. I was visiting my grandmother.” She grimaced. “She’s probably worried sick.”

“Well, let’s get you there first.” Owen decided, smiling. “Now, all we need to do is figure out where the hell we are.” The two of them laughed.

“Heading East, because of the rising sun, so…” Owen mumbled to himself, watching as the forest began to lighten ahead of them. A field emerged from beyond the trees. Over the field hovered a thin mist and Owen wondered how much of it was smoke from the barn. The smell of it still tinged the air, or maybe it was just their clothes. He used to run around in those woods all the time as a kid and had never once come across an abandoned barn like the one from last night. Though, honestly, he had never gone looking for such a place. He supposed it would have helped him orient himself if he had known, because the town of Black’s Grove was surrounded by random fields and bare patches of land.

Willow pointed over the field towards the outline of a large house looming in the distance.

“Want to try there? See if they can help.”

“Nah, that place is abandoned. It’s the old Cowell place, but some people around town call it the ‘House of Broken Mirrors’ or something like that. It’s haunted and full of broken glass apparently.” He said with a shrug.

“Either way, there’s no one with a phone to help us, but nearby is the road so…” Owen turns to the north, “town must be this way.” He declared, and the two set off across the field until they found the main road that led them into town.

It took them a half hour before they saw any sign of Black’s Grove. As Owen crested the hill, he sighed with relief upon seeing the tiny town sprawled out below. The tallest thing there being the white church steeple right in the center of town, in front of the small roundabout.

“Where’s your grandmother’s place?” Owen asked. She glanced over at the town below.

“Willow Street. Just like my name.” She smiled, though Owen could tell it was a sad and distant smile.

“Oh, cool. I actually live just a few streets over.” He laughed. “Come on.” He said, leading the way.

Suddenly Owen was weighed down with questions. He was going to need help.

Serious help.

And pants.

He looked down at the blood-stained tatters and began to wrack his brain for a plan. He couldn’t go back to his apartment. That was out of the question as that’s where Julian had picked him up in the first place. All he wanted in that moment was a change of clothes and a nice, hot shower, but getting Willow to her grandmother’s place was more important than his appearance and hygiene at the moment.

Priorities.

They walked down the sidewalk towards town with no words passing between them at first. The truth of it was, what did you talk about with someone who you had quite literally brought back from the dead? The whole situation was beyond weird, and he supposed his natural awkwardness wasn’t helping.

“So, after this, what are you going to do?” Willow asked. The words surprised Owen. He turned to Willow, unsure of what to say, he didn’t really think about it. What the hell was he going to do? Julian wasn’t dead, and he was definitely going to try to find him, there was no doubt about that. Would he go after Willow as well? What did he say about having claim over her soul? What the hell was that all about?

“I… I’m not sure to be honest.” He said. She looked at him, then back down at the cracked concrete of the sidewalk. “It doesn’t seem like I have much choice but to skip town.” He frowned. “But my family all lives here.” He remembered the words Julian had spat at him, about how he was adopted, and how he was a Gray, just like him. Well, if Julian was a representation of the rest of his family, he would take the love and warmth his adopted parents gave him over anything those snakes could possibly give.

Julian’s face hovered in his mind, grinning at him like a ghost, a face he knew would haunt him. He could only imagine how Willow felt.

“I won’t let him come near you again.” He said suddenly, fiercely, and even he was surprised he had spoken it aloud. She turned to him.

“I know.” Was all she said. He turned to her. She had some color in her face now. Her cheeks were flushed from the long walk in the morning cold.

“I can only imagine how mad Julian must be right now.” She said.

Owen snorted, “Julian’s just mad that he got showed up by a noob.”

She turned to him. “I don’t think you get it. No one in recorded history, besides Jesus and maybe a handful of others in myths and legends, has ever just brought a corpse back to life. Like, for real. He found a person who could do that, and he just slipped right through his fingers.”

“Wait… are you telling me that I’m the second coming? I’m Jesus?” He said with a wry smile.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath.” Willow laughed.

“Regardless, what I did was pretty miraculous.” He said, walking a little taller.

“Yes, it was, though now we both have to focus on staying alive.”

The true test. Owen thought as Willow stopped in front of a white single-story house with an oak front door with a chicken-shaped mailbox. Owen couldn’t help but laugh. He had driven by this house countless times and the chicken mailbox always cracked him up. Willow looked at him, confused. He pointed at the mailbox and she smiled, but still looked puzzled.

“I’ve passed this crazy mailbox so many times. I can’t believe that the person who it belongs to is your grandmother.”

Willow laughed.

“Yeah, she has a thing chickens for some reason. Wait ‘til you should see her kitchen.” She laughed and the two of them walked up to the front door.

“I don’t want to just barge in.” She said, knocking lightly on the door. “She excites pretty easily. I don’t want to freak her out more than I already have.”

“Yeah, of course.” Owen agreed, stepping behind Willow, mostly to hide his tattered, bloodstained jeans, and glanced out over the front yard. He began to feel cold, and that worried him. He felt this way shortly before being kidnapped, shortly before anything horrible, really. It was only the past few days that he began to zero in on the feeling as being anything significant to pay attention to. Before he could mention it though, Willow had opened the door and already stepped inside. She stopped right on the threshold and looked around, obviously feeling as though something wasn’t right.

“Something’s wrong.” She murmured, worry and fear etched on her face as she tried to peer through the dark interior of the living room.

“Yeah, I can feel it.” Owen agreed, stepping in behind her.

“Willow.” An older woman’s voice called out from the darkness in a sing-song way. Willow’s blue eyes caught Owen and he understood all he needed to know.

“Willow…” The voice came again, cracking this time, followed by a forced, racking cough. The sight of the old woman emerging from the gloom caused Owen to jump slightly, stepping backwards off the tiny front step and nearly twisting his ankle. Willow didn’t move, just stared intently at the old, hunched over woman.

“Come inside, dear.”

“What did you do to my grandmother?” Willow simmered, her voice shaking.

“Whatever are you talking about, dear?”

“My grandmother always made it a point to stand tall. And she sure as hell never called me ‘dear’.” Willow answered, her voice shaking.

“Fair enough.” A deep, male’s voice said, and the old woman fell to the floor with a sickening thud, like a marionette whose strings were simply cut. Standing behind the old woman was the outline of a bald, muscular man who stepped into the dim morning light, smiling, stroking his gray streaked goatee. His pale, predatory eyes leveling at Willow.

“I couldn’t let you actually see her. We roughed her up pretty good before you got here. Died just a few minutes ago, in fact.”

Willow tried to run to her grandmother, but Owen caught her in a bear hug and dragged her outside.

“No! It’s what he wants!” Owen growled, trying to pull her away from the front door. She kicked and began to scream, tears streaming down her pale face.

“You’d be proud. She put up one hell of a fight. Nearly got me twice. I can see where you get it from, girl.”

Owen had never met Willow’s grandmother, but that didn’t matter. This was just another crime on Julian’s tab that would eventually come due. Owen would make sure of that. He glanced at Willow, who he had still locked in a bear hug. He could feel an uncomfortable amount of heat radiating from her as she struggled, though he held onto her.

I won’t let him come near you again.

He planned on keeping his promise, and he realized there that he would have to die to keep it. There was no other choice. In his peripheral vision, Owen saw a tall, slender lackey around the corner of the house making his way quietly in their direction. Before the man could grab hold of Willow, Owen pulled her to the side and aggressively tossed her into some nearby bushes, using the momentum of their combined weight to propel himself into a rib-crushing body check, sending the guy into the side of the house with enough force to crack the nearby window.

“Ow…” Owen breathed, holding onto his shoulder that now hung limp to his side.

“Come on!” Willow said, getting up and grabbing his good hand. Owen was tugged along, but suddenly stopped when another hand, this one large and calloused, grabbed ahold of his neck.

“I figured it out.” Julian said, and shoved Willow to the ground again, hard. Owen’s vision began to tunnel, and he fell forward onto his knees, the hand of his good arm grasping weakly at the hold Julian had on his neck. He was cutting off his carotid artery with his massive thumb.

“Her soul had been bound to me, but you stole it when you revived her, you little thief. I’m not sure how you managed any of this, but I figure, if you’re dead, there’s no way she can be tied to you - she’ll mine again.” Willow ran at him, but she was caught by another one of his lackies, who pinned her arms behind her.

I won’t let him come near you again.

The promise echoed in his dulling mind as darkness began to wash over him. The pain in his shoulder and legs were vanishing in this darkness, a deeply welcome darkness.

There was calm there.

Peace.

Peace unlike anything he had ever known. He fell into it, welcoming it, feeling the pain fall away from him as he did so. His vision fell to a small pinprick of light, his life a single glimmering distant star in a vast sea of atramental black.

Then came the swirling void. The glimmering eye of dark red. A rising doom. A realization that death isn’t the end and what lies beyond and, at least for him, wouldn’t be peaceful at all, but instead a realm of tortuous pain and agony simply because of what he was.

An abomination.

A deathwaker.

One who never truly dies, but awakens from the dream of life, this construct,

to understand,

to know the true horrors waiting beyond the boundaries of the cast-off remnants of universal consciousness.

Cursed from birth.

A soulless abortion of nature.

Never to be reborn.

He felt a surge of heat and the single glimmering star became a searing blaze of unimaginable brightness as it zoomed toward him, encompassing all he could see.

Owen gasped for breath as the world around him seemed to be ignited with fire once more.

Was he still in the burning barn?

A hand reached down and grabbed his good arm and pulled him to his feet. The world spun in a sea of stars and biting pain as he followed Willow away from the house that was now engulfed in flames.

The two of them ran from the blaze as shouts and curses chased them up the street. They didn’t need to look back to realize that they were still being chased, the sounds of footsteps on pavement echoing off the nearby houses. Julian, however, was nowhere to be seen.

“We need to get to my car.” Owen said weakly and began to lead the way down a hidden alleyway, wincing with each footfall as the pain from his legs was dwarfed by the searing throb of his dislocated shoulder. He was back again, the speckles of faintness ebbing with each grueling step.

They ran down the gravel-lined alley and came out at a small, rundown apartment building. Running up to a small blue car, Owen pulled out the keys from his bloody torn pants and unlocked the doors. They got inside and Owen turned the key, half expecting the thing not to start, but it fired up on the first try and they sped away into the early morning.

Owen drove, not saying anything, his left arm still dangling painfully. He couldn’t think of anything to say as Willow stared out the window. She wasn’t crying, but it was hard for him to zero in on how she was feeling.

“What the hell happened?” He asked finally, and Willow turned to him. She looked at him for a minute then looked back outside.

“The whole yard exploded, or it seemed to.” Willow finally said. He turned to her and couldn’t help but see her translucent reflection in the window. He could see the subtle blue glow in her eyes as she stared off at the passing bare trees.

“How did you—”

“I didn’t do anything.” She cut him off, looking at him again. This time she looked scared.

“You did it.” She said. “You pull from the darkness, just like Julian.”

“No way.” Countered Owen, shaking his head. “I was nearly knocked out, I almost died. What darkness are you talking about?”

He knew damn well what darkness she was talking about, but he couldn’t bear to bring what he saw in his fading moments to his lips.

“You muttered something as you were going down. I didn’t hear what it was, but you spoke something and Julian’s arm… It went up as if it were drenched in gasoline. Completely engulfed him. I’d be surprised if he wasn’t covered head to toe in third degree burns. The way he screamed… Then the entire yard went up, including the house.”

“Just like the barn…” Owen murmured. Looking down at his dashboard and noticing the gas light had just come on. He needed to get fuel soon.

“Holy shit!” Owen yelled as he glanced up. He slammed on the brakes, propelling the two of them forward. Someone was standing in the middle of the road. It was a man wearing forest green cloak. Whoever it was glanced up. A thin older man, possibly in his sixties met Owen’s eyes and smiled. In his arms were a rather large collection of wild mushrooms.

“Owen!” The older man said, staggering up to the window and making his way into the back seat.

“Do I know you?” Owen asked, perplexed.

“I’m awfully glad you two showed up, I could really use a ride up the driveway. Ah, Willow, it’s good to finally meet you!” He said, settling into the seat and transferring his mushrooms into a linen sackcloth.

“Who are—?”

“Nick Aster.” He said without looking up. Owen hesitated, glancing over at Willow who looked positively stunned.

“Go on, head up the drive, before Julian finds you again. Twice you’ve escaped, but the third time you might not be so lucky.” The old man chuckled in a way that was much too lighthearted, considering the situation.

Owen turned to Willow, “Do you know this guy?” He queried, honestly unsure of the validity of anything anymore. Which should have made seeing the slight grin on Willow’s face less surprising.

“I’ve heard of you.” She said, as she readjusted herself to face the rear of the car. “My grandmother knew of you, but not much. She said you were a very gifted mage, though very secretive. You were once part of my old coven, the Temple of the Sacred Oak.”

At this he merely nodded, though Owen saw he didn’t look up to meet her gaze, seemingly too preoccupied with his mushrooms. Owen was kind of thrown by hearing Willow speak of a coven but disregarded it, given the old wizard making himself at home in his back seat. She turned to Owen and whispered, “I have a good feeling about this.”

“Ok. Here goes.” Owen said, with only slight trepidation as he cut the wheel and turned onto the pockmarked driveway.