“I can’t believe you dragged me into this,” Carter mumbled, dishevelling his sandy blond hair with his hand.

He nervously sat beside me, laying his left arm on the table. His face looked as white as paper, turning to a hue of green. It was obvious that he didn’t want to do it. I didn’t try to force him into it. But he kind of insisted. Guessed it was his way of manning up. He couldn’t have people thinking he chickened out on me. Not with two hardcore dudes—with tattoo sleeves and piercings in nearly every part possible—watching us.

I lifted my gaze to him, letting it linger for longer than normal. “It does sting a little. You totally don’t have to do it, I mean if you’re—“

“I’m not scared,” he cut me off, sounding too defensive.

“Okay, okay. I was gonna say, if you’re not ready,” I shrugged, trying not to smile. “But since it looks like you’re already decided…”

Eagerly, I waited for Rico—the tattoo artist—to finish the final touches. It was exactly as what I had asked for—a three-inch long rosary on the inner aspect of my right forearm. Not too flashy. Not too noticeable either. That is, if I didn’t raise my arm or deliberately showed it to someone. Dad would totally freak if he saw this. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. And before I knew what I was doing, Rico was almost done with my tattoo.

“There,” Rico said, lifting the tattooing instrument so that the needle pointed to the ceiling. “Are you sure you don’t want any anesthetic on that?”

I felt a smile twitch the corner of my lips as I gazed wistfully at my new tattoo. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

It hurt a bit but not the kind I minded. It healed almost instantly as the needle left my skin. I could only hope Rico hadn’t noticed. The pain was good. It kind of felt nice to feel something after a long time. Five long months, actually. Five long months of thinking and worrying and being left hopeless. Too much time wasted with so little accomplished.

Every day, I thought of them—the people I had left behind. And each passing minute reminded me that I didn’t deserve to be here. Alive. Without having to worry about greater good and things like that while all the others had to suffer in another world only I knew existed.

Compulsively, I searched inside me for Vincent’s presence. Or at least, the piece of his soul that he supposedly shared with me. It was a habit I did whenever I got really anxious. But like any other time, all I found was a blind spot somewhere deep within me. Like some barrier was preventing me from exploring the spaces where the Transference link—my only connection to him—used to be. Vincent was impossible to reach. And he made sure of that when we parted ways in Roselle’s Labyrinth.

I want you to forget about me. About my kind and what we do. Never try to find me. Don’t ever try to come back. I want you to live. Live a long human life… That’s an order.

Those was his last words to me. A Master’s order to a familiar. Doing otherwise would trigger the Bind—an invisible force similar to your very own disciplinary committee, maybe worse—to punish me. He was so impossible. Despicable for telling me to forget him. How could I? It would have been easier to forget. Move on. But even the Bind seemed not powerful enough to erase my memories.

Not knowing how he was doing on the other side was the hardest part. I was sure he had been captured after I caught a glimpse of his mind last January. But after that, I got nothing more.

Mindlessly, I touched the Diviner’s Charm on my left ear. It’s an enchanted pair of earrings that lets us communicate telepathically. Vincent and I had each one of the unique pair. Normally, a fully resurrected familiar should be able to hear his master’s thoughts and vice versa. My case was different because I wasn’t properly resurrected. Thus, the Diviner’s Charm.

I still wore the earring every day in the hope that maybe I could catch images from his mind. Though, I doubted the sentries hadn’t already found out that Vincent wore one.

“A rosary, huh. I never pegged you for the religious type,” Carter muttered, eyeing on my arm. He uneasily shifted himself on his seat as Rico started to prepare the new set of instruments on the table.

My heart sank, the image of Rosario suddenly touching my mind. “Yeah,” I murmured, lost in my thoughts. “Let’s just say, I’ve been saved once or twice and this is all I can do now to show how grateful I am.”

Yes. It was all I could do. I couldn’t say everything there was to say to her anymore because she was dead. Rosario’s blood was in my hands and I would have to carry that burden.

Something in me wished that she hadn’t sacrificed her life for me. That I was the one who died and not her. Because she gave me a gift but made sure that that gift would haunt me for the rest of my life. She hated me that much. At least, she was consistent until the end.

Wearily, I struggled to clear my mind and focused on the present. Rico was already working through the outline of the tattoo on Carter’s forearm. With a heavy sigh, I silently watched Carter. It seemed to be a huge effort for him trying to keep his face straight until the tattoo was done. But I didn’t try to tease him or anything. What he did today was really brave. And sweet. Sort of. So I thought, maybe I would give him a break for once.

I didn’t even know how we ended up in a tattoo parlor. After class, he just asked me if I wanted to go out. Since I didn’t have much of a life besides lurking in the woods and sneaking to Centralia every night, I said yes. It was something to look forward to. Eating somewhere nice, going to the movies. Normal human stuff.

When Lindsay cancelled at the last minute, Carter didn’t even look disappointed. Maybe because I had been spending more time with Lindsay nowadays. After all, she was the one normal person on earth who knew my secret.

“That was… fun,” Carter said wryly as we got out of the tattoo parlor. “Not to mention, impulsive. My mom will kill me once she sees this.”

At first glance, his tattoo didn’t look too promising. Looking closer, I saw a series of symbols I didn’t recognize tattooed around his wrist. It was made to look like a thin bracelet.

I bit my lower lip. I sure hoped Dad wouldn’t try to kill me for getting a tattoo. Not again.

“If we both skipped school tomorrow, then we’re probably both dead,” I replied, pulling my sleeves down.

Fixing his clear blue eyes on me, Carter let out a hesitant chuckle. It was getting dark, wisps of indigo slowly taking over the orange of the sky. The last rays of the sun danced on the tips of his wispy blond hair. I found myself smiling back at him. Somehow, I didn’t feel that much tired anymore.

“I hadn’t seen that in a long time,” he said in an undertone, I barely heard him.

I gave him a confused look. “What?”

Uncomfortably, he pocketed his hands and stared at his sneakers. “That smile.”

It was a long time since I had a reason to smile. And this brief moment, I owe to him. Even if it was a bit awkward, I couldn’t erase the smile on my face. For once, it felt nice doing normal stuff, worrying about normal things.

“So what do you want to eat?” he asked.

“Actually,” I started, glancing up to see that the sun had already set. The dark was spreading quickly, like the unsettling feeling that began creeping in my chest. “Dad’s expecting me. I think it’s late.” Late for me.

Wraiths usually come out at nightfall. They couldn’t harm me, but I was more worried about Carter. He had been involved with a Swarth once so I didn’t want to take any chances. And without the Sinclairs’ cabal patrolling the neighborhood, humans should totally be afraid of the dark.

We didn’t talk much as Carter drove me home. Once or twice, I tried opening a conversation that died before it actually even started. Carter just kept his eyes on the road, his jaws stiff. Honestly, I didn’t know what I did that made him react as if he was almost angry. He had never acted like that before.

As his red bug car slowed down to a stop in front of my house, I saw Dad peer from the gap of the window curtains. Silently, Carter got out of the cab and opened the car door for me. Vincent never did that, so it kind of surprised me a bit.

“So… see you tomorrow,” I said to him, sounding unsure.

“Okay.” That was all he said, civilly nodding at the direction my father was supposedly hidden, spying on us. Then he left.

Usually he would hang around for an hour or two and watch TV with me. Or we would make homework while playing cards. Lindsay always lost and we would rub it in her face for the rest of the night. Whatever went wrong, I had no idea.

Gently, I shook my head. I hurried to the front door, momentarily pausing when I felt the protective barrier—the one Vincent created to protect me and my Dad from wraiths—brush against my skin. It was like there was a slight resistance as I went through. Like a permeable membrane that almost wanted to throw me out of its boundaries. Strange. It had never done that before.

My heart doubled its pace. Had something happened to Vincent? Was that why his barriers were malfunctioning?

I raced into the house, heading straight for the narrow wooden stairs leading to my room. I had wasted too much time on such petty things that I had almost forgotten my sworn oath. The second I reached my room, I closed the door behind me and weakly slumped on the wooden floor.

“Aren’t you going to have dinner?” Dad called out from the living room.

“No, Dad. Not feeling so well.” I tried to level my voice even if I couldn’t breathe.

The panic was so overwhelming it made the edges of my eyes hurt. I pressed a hand on my chest, blindly searching for Vincent’s piece of soul inside me. Still, nothing.

Vincent! Please, please tell me you’re okay… Please…

I heard the noise of cupboards being opened and closed. It seemed like Dad was rummaging in the kitchen. Hurriedly, I jumped in my bed and closed my eyes. When he came running into my room, a small medicine kit was already in his hand.

“Err…” he began, his clear brown eyes scanning my room. “Want me to take you to a doctor?”

“No Dad,” I moaned, pulling the covers off of my face. “I just need to… sleep it off. Don’t worry.”

Blankly, he stared down at the medicine kit then blinked at me as though he just remembered something that confused him. “Oh… okay. But if you need anything…”

With guilt gnawing at my insides, I nodded. I could only breathe once his footsteps faded away. Lying had always made me uncomfortable.

Dad had no memory whatsoever that he tried to kill me last fall. He wasn’t kidding either when he said he didn’t remember Vincent, but I got this gut-feeling that he was beginning to notice the lapses in his memory. A few days ago, he just started asking roundabout questions about the past few months. What I did. What he did. That kind of stuff.

When I asked why, he just said, “Because, Aramis. I write every day. That’s all I remember doing. It’s just strange that didn’t make any progress with my book at all.”

How his memories were altered was still a mystery to me. But maybe, that was for the best. Dad had known too much for his own peace of mind.

As soon as the lights were off, which was about 11 PM, I automatically woke up, just like every other night since I came back from the Halo. Sleep rarely even came by these days. My body felt more excited, more alive during these wee hours. I was never a night person even when I used to patrol Centralia with Vincent. Now, for some reason, the dark offered me some comfort.

Quietly, I slipped into my draughting boots, shrugging a black jacket on. I opened my window carefully so it wouldn’t make any noise. I closed my eyes, feeling the gentle night breeze caress my face. The silence, the gloom was welcoming, offering some sort of calm I had been longing for.

Without thinking twice, I climbed over the ledge, scanning the empty road before leaping onto the lawn with barely a thud. Instead of taking the usual routes, I took the next turn and spotted the blue-roofed duplex where Sherry Carlton—a girl from my class—lived. I vaulted the waist-high white-washed fences, making sure that no one was around.

The lights were still on in one of the rooms in the upper floor so I was forced to scale the apple tree in the front yard. Its top branches hung over the roof, leaves splayed like an empathic hand.

I perched on a branch before catching on the edge of the roof. A tile slipped from its place, crashing as it fell to the ground.

Oh, shoot!

I hauled myself up as fast as I could then leapt toward the neighboring houses’ roof. Stealthily, I crossed one property to another, heading west for several minutes. The woods soon stretched before me, signalling that I was near my destination.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my fingers around the teardrop-shaped diamond pendant hanging on my neck. I hid it under my shirt before heading forward in a leisurely pace. When I saw the familiar path, my steps mechanically sped up to a sprint. Next thing I knew, I was draughting, weaving through trees easily without slowing down.

I had been practicing draughting since I came back. Honestly, I used to think I was hopeless. Vincent thought so too. But then, as time passed, it became much easier as if it was an innate ability I wasn’t aware of. Maybe it was the Alessandra in me who helped me learn because whether I liked to admit it or not, she was part of me. My soul used to be hers after all.

I was in my top speed; half-way to the barren patch of land where Sinclair Mansion was supposed to be standing up when all of a sudden, an invisible crushing weight fell on my back. The unforgiving force slammed me to the ground. I could barely breathe, the ground underneath me crushing my ribs.

Insolent!  The stern voice of the Bind accused loudly inside my head. Heed your master’s orders. Concede.

Instead of fighting back, I let the Bind have its way. Let it punish me. After so many nights of being Bound, it became something I could put up with though, not being punished would be a lot nicer. I learned to not focus on the pain. I focused on the goal—the invisible mansion.

My theory was that it was still there. The Bind was just messing up with me to make my brain think that it didn’t exist anymore. There were brief instances before when I thought I saw the mansion materialize momentarily like a hazy mirage that disappeared as soon as I actually paid attention at it.

I was out of breath when the punishment ended. Cursing silently, I pressed a hand on my left side and felt something slightly poking out of the skin.

One rib. I thought, breathing out. Good.

I had been through worse. I groaned extra loud as I pushed the fractured bone back, flinching when my ribs started to mend. Every night, I had to endure this. The only reason why I kept doing it was because it felt like the Bind was getting soft as time went by. That soon, Vincent’s control over me would completely wear off with the distance between us and all. That I could someday defy his orders freely and punch him in the face for everything he did.

Of course, it was just another theory. It could just be me getting used to the gravity of the punishment. Going to Centralia wouldn’t help either. Once, I tried to open a Spirit Door. It was easier this time since there was virtually no wraiths around due to the recent Purge. However, once the Door was opened, I didn’t know what to do.

I could crossover to Nirvana and hopefully withstand the torture of its destructive force. Then what? I had no idea when or if the Gate to the Halo would ever open for me there. I could be stuck there for who knows how long. Or worse, I might never come back alive. No. I had to use the Spirit Door in Sinclair Mansion if I was to get there alive.

Once the horrible part was over, I got up and backtracked about a hundred feet away from the spot where I was Bound. My body left an indentation in the ground. When compared to the one I made the previous night—yeah, the dent was still there too—the one tonight was closer to my goal by about ten feet more.  I was making progress but too slow for my liking.

Just forty yards more and I could finally bear out if my theories were right. Again, I began to draught, facing the pain head on, pushing through the walls Vincent set up between me and him. I wasn’t ready to give up on him just yet.

Wait for me Vincent. Wait for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey there! So the VOTING for WATTY AWARD will be tomorrow. I hope you keep supporting Reapers-Thirteen Brothers til the end. I'll be back after 4 days (earlier if I don't get lazy haha) Thanks to everyone who commented and voted the prologue. I so love love love u all!

xoxo ~shim :)              PS. Dedicated to the genius who made the Reapers 1 trailer to the left. :)