I wanted him to say it out loud. I wanted to hear from him the words, "I take you, Aramis Rayne as my familiar, through thick and thin, for better or for worse..." Ugh! Erase! Erase! That didn't sound quite right, did it? Sigh.

"Focus!" Vincent yelled as the woods blurred past us, interrupting my train of thought.

"W-what?" I whipped my head to his direction, flustered.

"Watch out!"

It was too late when I saw the huge oak tree in front of me. Vincent threw himself toward me and caught my hand, pulling me closer to him. I slammed hard on his chest while his back banged against the giant trunk. I tried to blink the wooziness out of my system and looked up. The tree creaked loudly and started to sway.

"Oh, snap," I barely managed to mutter before the tree tipped over to us.

Vincent, yanked me and we rolled away from it before we were turned into immortal mush. The tree fell to the ground with a loud crash which made the ground shake, accompanied by the scurrying of terrified animals. My head was pounding and when I opened my eyes, I saw Vincent under me, flat on his back. His neck was warm against my face. His breathing was ragged. Other than that, he looked okay.

When he opened his eyes, his forehead slowly creased. I gulped then awkwardly crawled away from him as silent as I could. My cheeks burned as I sat on the ground, waiting for him to go ballistic like the four other times I messed up. That was my fifth try and it seemed to me that draughting didn't like me very much.

"Congratulations! You just killed a tree which is probably more than five times older than you," he grunted sarcastically, sitting up to give me a tired look. "I give up. You're worse than Byron Flynn and he doesn't even speak English. I guess some people are just... not trainable."

If it was his idea of being polite, it wasn't working. "Way to go to rub it in," I muttered sullenly.

"Okay, so now what do we do?" he said while brushing the leaves off his coat without much success so he just left it off. "Run all the way to Centralia?" he scoffed.

I got up, snatched his sleeve and towed him back on track. "Actually, we're not that far."

It took us less than ten minutes to get there on foot without draughting. Vincent looked a little annoyed but he didn't say anything either. Maybe he was rethinking his decision of taking me as a familiar. He didn't actually say the words or else he wouldn't be able to take it back. Reaper's honor. I just assumed. All this time, maybe he was just humoring me so I wouldn't bug him anymore. But I didn't talk to him about it mainly because I was scared to hear that my fears were the truth.

We started to the southern part of the Borough where there would be fewer wraiths. In theory. Vincent led the way to the same Gates we went to every night. The town was jarringly silent save for the creaking hinges here and there. It was giving me the creeps. The kind of feeling when you're riding a bus heading for home, knowing that you would be grounded forever once you get there. Only, this was worse. I missed being grounded.

We pressed on until we reached the backyard where the large sinkhole was situated. No Strays tonight. I wondered where they went.

Vincent bent over the edge of the sinkhole, muttering in an ancient language I didn't recognize. I served as a lookout on the rooftop, maintaining the Transference link intact. I was so used to it now that it was almost spontaneous. If I closed my eyes, I would get a vague idea of where Vincent was; his movements, his breathing. Even inside the safety of the mansion, sometimes, I would find myself searching for his presence and unconsciously establishing the link. Which was stalker-creepy.

Once he finished reciting the incomprehensible words, he kicked the ground angrily and started over again like he did the past few nights. When he finished, still, nothing happened. No surprise there. He cursed under his breath and bounded onto the roof to join me.

"I can't reopen the Gate," he rumbled in an undertone, although no one would've cared if we went on screaming like we were in some horror flick. "Our mystery dude must've used some powerful incantation to block it off. Let's move."

We started to the next Gate to the other, leaping from one roof to another, the thin sheet of ice making it slippery. It was snowing lightly, our breaths fogging up as we hurried to our next stop. Vincent abruptly halted in front of me and held a hand up. He signaled me to stay low, so I dropped down on my chest. The moon was reflected in his silver eyes, so it looked more magnificent and unnatural at the same time as he surveyed the area vigilantly.

In the main road, not too far from us was a huge kidney-bean shaped pit surrounded by toppled wedges of concrete. Grass sprouted from the big cracks on the street and on the rim of the hole. Around it, not just hundreds but thousands of Strays gathered like wisps of grayish blue smoke. The ghostly crowd moved sluggishly, swaying in a silent, mindless chaos. They reminded me of sad goldfishes in a fish tank-swimming without anywhere to go. Just looking at them was already depressing.

When I died and became a Stray, I nearly lost all my memories. I wondered if it was the same for all of them. It made me sick to my stomach just thinking about forgetting my past life and those people I learned to care about.

"Why aren't they moving in?" I whispered to Vincent who shook his head and put a finger in front of his mouth.

This Gate's still active. He said through the link. But the Strays are confused. Normally, Nirvana would pull them in. But I don't think that's the case here.

I nodded and kept looking. The Strays seemed to be clustering into small groups. I caught something in my peripheral vision. Something like a faint flash of light. It was very small and dimmed almost instantly before I could look harder. It must be my imagination.

"Follow me," Vincent said before jumping off the roof and startling the Strays.

The souls dispersed immediately as we made our way to the Gate but after a little while, they assumed their positions, huddling together as though they were planning a gameplay. Some of them lingered closer, staring at us with dull, vacant gazes. I felt colder here than under the snowfall, shifting my eyes constantly for the fear that I might recognize a familiar face. My head had suddenly developed a heartbeat and I realized I was holding my breath.

When we reached the edges of the hole, Vincent started muttering low again. I stepped closer to him and looked around. There was no one around, yet, I could feel that someone was watching us. As though invisible eyes were drilling holes into my skull. I clenched my teeth, fighting the shiver that ran through my spine.

"Something's wrong," I croaked through my rattling teeth.

Vincent didn't break his concentration and kept reciting in the unfamiliar language. Once he was finished, a dim bluish glow emanated from the Gate. The air suddenly smelled of sweet flowers and freshly cut grass it almost made me smile. It was Nirvana, pulling on me. Not me, but my soul. I fought the euphoric feeling and tried to breathe regularly. It wasn't my time. I refused to go there. Vincent would make me a familiar and I wouldn't have to forget him.

I felt lightheaded, tempted to jump into the Gate. But when I leaned over to look, I saw something. A pair of fiery globes coming right at me.

"It's a trap!" I screamed at Vincent, barely able to catch his hand before we plummet to the ground.

Something black and tattered swooped over us with a screech the sounded like a bat. I felt a force coming from the Gate, tugging at me like a vacuum that grew stronger as time ticked.

We scrambled to our feet and looked up. Through the dark, I couldn't make out anything at first. But when I focused on the flying creature, I saw it clearly. It looked like a wraith but smaller, with contorted human-like features. Big hollow gray eyes. Long dirty wild hair. Pale emaciated face. Bony hands warped like talons.

"Swarth," Vincent muttered under his breath.

My eyes widened in horror as it hovered closer to us with a bloodcurdling shriek that weakened my knees. Not just any Swarth. My Swarth. The one I killed just a few days ago.

"How-" I started to shout in the middle of the chaos of terrified Strays before the creature glided right in front of us and grinned.

I froze. I had never been more terrified in my life. The she-creature looked more gruesome now, with one of its eyes and an ear missing. There were strips of torn flesh connecting its neck to the shoulders. Black blood oozed out of the fresh slits. I couldn't believe my eyes. A double-dead evil spirit? How could that even be possible?

"Aramis!" Vincent shouted a few yards away from me as he tore right through the stampeding Strays. "Your scythe!"

Move! I shouted inside my head when my arms didn't follow my brain's commands. Before I could touch the insignia on my neck, the Swarth closed in on me and swatted me off the ground. My back slammed on the hard concrete. As I was getting up, the Swarth swooped over me and knocked me down again.

I gasped for air and staggered up, touching the number thirteen mark on my neck, harnessing the Bind. As I focused all my will power to conjure my scythe, I saw the creature lunging for another attack. The black glassy rod started to materialize out of thin air, frozen mist creeping over my right hand. Just two seconds more.

But then, I spotted the enemy right in front of me. It raised its gnarled talons, ready to rip me to shreds.

In a blink of an eye, Vincent was in front of me, his left hand suddenly transforming into a red Cataclyst which he used to block the attack. It was huge. A crimson metallic shell that covered up to his elbows and scaly claws that could only belong to a monster. Sparks burst like small fireworks when the Swarth's talons grazed against it.

"Hurry!" he yelled, barely able to look over his shoulder.

"I'm trying!" I shouted back. My scythe was still halfway through. Ugh! Even my dial-up internet was faster than this.

Once the stick was fully formed, I raced to Vincent's side and rammed the end against the Swarth's chest. The creature staggered backward, wailing in agony as black slime oozed from its misshapen torso. Quickly, it regained its balance and lounged toward me with a hateful shriek.

Slowly, I felt the wraith inside me trying to resurface, thrashing wildly, screeching viciously, wanting to rip the Swarth piece by piece. I locked gazes with the creature, loathing everything about it. I could barely contain the rage. My whole body shook. My mind was in a turbulent chaos of shrieking noises.

"SHUT UP!" I screamed aloud as I thrust the end of my staff against the ground.

The icy blade instantly swung out of the tip of the staff with a metallic clink although it just appeared out of thin air. I grabbed the snath and hacked the Swarth's body into two. It was severed on the waist when I approached to look as it dropped to the ground. But after a moment, the parts twitched, seeming to crawl to its other half to reform.

"The head!" Vincent yelled. "Cut off the head!"

Before the Swarth could reform, I slashed off its neck. The dead creature's head rolled on the street and got stuck on the cracks in the concrete. Panting, I dropped on my knees, staring blankly at the Swarth's single eye. Then it blinked at me.

"It's still alive!" Gritting my teeth, I sprinted to the creature's head and raised my weapon.

Before I could chop it again, Vincent was already in front of me, holding my trembling arm with his Cataclyst and shaking his head. His eyes were bright and soothing as he pulled me gently.

"The others are going to be here any minute," he whispered, wrapping his normal arm around my shoulders while his red dragon claw Cataclyst dangled beside him. "It's dead."

"But it blinked, Vincent! Archie already killed that Swarth! Why... How-" I cried, trying to push him away, unable to tear my eyes from the creature's head. I could barely catch my breath. "It came back! It came back to get me!"

Vincent arm tightened around my nape. "Sshhh... I'm here. I swear I won't let anything happen to you," he whispered.

There was something in his voice and his subtle tone that reassured me so I stopped thrashing. Instead, I buried my face on his chest and choked back the lump in my throat. When I finally calmed down, I looked up at his face.

I gently pushed him away and this time, he let me go. "You've got to stop saying that," I muttered, backing a step away.

"What?" he murmured, letting his Cataclyst falter after scanning the perimeter and making sure that there were no other threats around.

I squared my shoulders and imitated his tone. "I won't let anything happen to you. It's so wrong. I'm the familiar. I should be the one saying those things."

He shook his head with a quiet snigger. "Well, I'm stronger and you're a girl after all so won't it be fitting that I rescue you every once in a while?" he said as we stepped aside and let the Strays fall back in line for the Gate.

I never felt he ever thought of me as a girl. I gaped at Vincent while he jogged over to the Swarth's decapitated head and gingerly shoved it inside a small opaque sack. He was abnormally calm as though having a Swarth doing a Gandalf reappearance was something ordinary. When he returned to my side carrying the sack, I let my scythe disappear.

"It's the same Swarth, isn't it? The one we caught in Carter's house." My voice nearly cracked.

Vincent just sniffed and gave me a sneer. "What are you talking about? You're being paranoid," he scoffed, furtively glancing at his glow-in-the-dark sports watch.

My lips quivered. "I know what I saw! And it's that-"

The gap between his brows furrowed, the casual air washed away in an instant. "There are tons of Swarths in the world, Aramis. I can't have you freaking out every time we encounter one of them. So they all look ugly and scary. Live with it," he growled darkly.

"Let me see it then," I demanded.

"What?"

"Let me see it!" I pressed on. He was definitely hiding something from me.

Vincent shook his head again and threw me an exasperated look. Seconds later, I saw Amyr draughting to us, tearing through the multitude of Strays, followed by Byron Flynn. Without a word, Vincent tossed the bag to Amyr who caught it with a hint of disgust.

"Another one?" the familiar asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Head back to Archie and let him take a look at it," Vincent replied blankly. "Leave Byron Flynn to us. These Strays might take a little while to crossover."