The Acolyte
Dark clouds blotted out the evening sky and a light rain fell on the abandoned brick and stone building stretching across the hillside. The structure’s windows were shattered, with only jagged pieces of glass hanging from rusted metal mesh coverings.
Faded paint chipped away from weathered bricks and the rotted, wooden front doors gave the building the aura of a haunted house. The property’s weathered sign read Central Georgia Mental Hospital. The evening was eerily quiet until…
The air stirred, and a split formed over the pockmarked street. The rip in the very fabric of reality expanded in length, swelling into a circular vortex that repelled the rain. Finally, the bright circle stabilized, revealing a lone figure in a dark green traveling cloak.
Jennifer Motombu stepped through the vortex. After a quick wave of her slender hand to close the magical opening, she pulled the cloak’s hood forward and approached the old hospital’s high gate. She removed a talisman from a pocket. It was a crude metal circle with an all-seeing eye at the center.
Holding the talisman high, she waved it near the gate, which unlocked and swung open. Jennifer entered before the gate finished moving, and ignoring the cracked concrete sidewalk, she angled toward a weather-beaten statue of an angel instead. Less than half a dozen steps inside the compound, Grim Hounds padded into view, growling and exposing double rows of razor-sharp teeth.
The doglike creatures were from the Underworld and vicious, yet the beasts kept their distance when she waved the talisman at them.
“I’m expected,” she hissed.
As the creatures backed away, Jennifer turned back to the statue of the angel. Stowing the talisman beneath her cloak again, she took a breath and stepped through the statue’s base—a mirage.
All at once, a set of steps to a tunnel appeared. Peering into the dim opening, Jennifer shivered, wondering why the Rasmussens had summoned her here?
Was it about her cousin? She feared that was the case as she descended into the passageway. At the end of the tunnel, rough-hewn steps led up into the building’s old lobby. That’s when an echoing scream reached her ears. Antwan!
Hurrying through the decayed lobby, she nearly tripped while running along the debris-strewn hallway. Years of dirt, dust, discarded files, rotted wood, and other things clogged the floors.
Another piercing scream caused Jennifer to wince as she reached the doorway to an old operating theater. She shoved the door open, ignoring the squeak of rusted metal hinges, and rushed inside.
Antwan lay on a bare table, bound at his wrists and ankles with thick straps. Sweat coated her cousin’s face and head, and deep spots stained his pale orange shirt at the armpits and chest. Tremors gripped his body and he groaned.
Beside him, floating inches above a second table, was the energy-wrapped body of Fabian Rasmussen, a KIN. The beefy, dark-complexioned Reaper had a head of thick, curly black hair. He wore a black tunic and pants, much like the blue tunics the Alliance Mages wore. The sorcerer’s levitated body trembled and strange ripples played along his arms and legs.
Antwan sucked in a ragged breath before he screamed again. Every time his body writhed in pain, awful, bruised skin showed beneath the restraints. He must have been here for some time, she decided. Finally, Antwan slumped into relative quiet. His chest heaved up and down, and his breaths were labored.
As she took a step toward the table, a cold voice called out.
“Ah, there you are, Apprentice.” Thera Rasmussen stood on the observation balcony. Like her twin brother Fabian, she too wore the black tunic and pants, but she had on her red Reaper’s cloak with the hood thrown back, exposing her face and unruly maroon curls.
Faint scars crisscrossed her face from the ritualistic cuts all KIN sported in the Afterworld. The crossing-over process could never fully hide evidence of the practice.
With a start, Jennifer realized Thera wasn’t alone. A ghostly visitor stood nearby. Though the form wavered from the spell used to bring him here, Jennifer recognized the Alliance Mole by his short stature.
“Your cousin is resisting Fabian and causing himself unbearable pain,” Thera said to Jennifer, slipping into her Eastern European accent, a sign of her agitation. “Speak to him.”
At that moment, Antwan’s body jerked again and he lifted his head to look at her, but it wasn’t Antwan’s face. Fabian’s ghost marred her cousin’s features. “Talk to him, girl, before he ruins the test!” The voice came out with a strange mix of European and African accents.
With everyone’s eyes on her, she moved to the table. “Let me speak to my cousin,” she said in a steady voice, thankful the travel cloak hid her shudders.
Fabian’s features dissolved, leaving Antwan’s familiar face visible. Her cousin’s deep brown eyes stared at her. “Help me.”
Gripping his hand, she squeezed it and leaned close. “I will, but for now, stop resisting. It’ll be over soon.” She tried to whisper this but also knew the others could hear everything. “Please, try to relax, cousin.”
Brave words, Jennifer thought to herself. She wasn’t the one under a forced possession. At least not yet.
“Why are you worried about possessing the boy?” the Alliance Mole asked Thera. “The Wraiths don’t have this much trouble.”
“It’s not about the possession,” Thera said with strained patience. “And we are not Wraiths.”
The mole made an impatient sound, but another wail from Antwan cut his comment short. This one sounded less intense to Jennifer, as if her cousin was trying to give in.
“When we cross over,” Thera said into the sudden silence, “the process wraps our spirit in a mortal body.” She gestured to Fabian’s floating body. “My spell allows us to maintain that temporary body while our spirit possesses a willing mortal.”
“Yes, yes.” The mole sounded testy at her chiding tone. “If the spell doesn’t work, you’re trapped here, in the mortal’s body.”
“No. Our souls are lost,” Thera hissed.
Jennifer suppressed a gasp. She had never known this and wondered that Thera would reveal such a weakness to the devious mole. He was a fallen one, a former supernatural who gave up Afterworld duties in exchange for a permanent mortal existence again. Thera and Fabian were real Reapers and as KIN, members of the Grim Reaper’s inner circle, they hated mortals and would never give up their station.
But they served their master, and he required them to interact with mortals from time to time, hence the need to cross over, gaining a temporary mortal body. What Jennifer couldn’t understand was why Thera sought a way to prolong the time she could remain in the mortal realm.
Glancing at Fabian’s floating body, Jennifer’s eyes widened because she finally recognized the significance of the strange waves rolling across it. Without his soul inside, Fabian’s temporary mortal body would decay and dissolve the same way a dead Grim Hound’s body dissolved into ectoplasm and disappeared. Thera’s spell delayed that process.
“I don’t understand why you bother at all,” the mole said.
The man’s nagging question mirrored Jennifer’s doubts. She gazed at the observation area while stroking her cousin’s trembling hand.
The Alliance traitor had moved toward the balcony railing. “It seems the spell is a waste of time, considering you’ll have to cross back anyway.”
“There are some objects we can’t touch, even in a temporary mortal body. But if I possessed a true mortal with an affinity to touch and use an object like a Protector’s Ring,” Thera stated, her voice full of confidence as she turned to look at Jennifer, “I could overcome that ancient restriction.”
“You mean the Destiny Medallion?” The mole’s voice betrayed his shock. “I warned you the medallion on display in the museum is a fake,” he said. “It’s an Alliance trap.”
“We are aware of the risk, traitor,” Thera responded, “and have prepared.” Her right hand had curled into a fist, like she wanted to hex the mole. “Having the fake medallion and the Tales will ensure we find the real Destiny Medallion.”
The mole stirred. “The Tales are locked away. The Council’s afraid I’ll find a way to steal them. It’s actually delicious to see the confusion and distrust I’m creating.”
“That may be,” Thera answered. “But no matter the distrust you’ve produced, even I know the Alliance Council wants to decipher the ancient book. That means they’ll make it available to the boy. Unless your intel was flawed.”
“My information is accurate. The Alliance can’t fathom how I obtain my information from the primary sources,” the mole answered, sounding smug yet offended at the suggestion. “They’ll give the brat a copy.”
“You had better be right,” Thera warned, “because I’ll bring the Alliance to their knees when my plan works. The Grim Reaper will honor my brother and me above all other KIN.”
“But…” the mole stuttered. “You have someone?”
Thera turned her possessive gaze from Jennifer and merely grinned at the mole before moving to the rail. “Leave him, brother,” she called out. “I’ve seen enough.”
Fabian’s spirit detached from Antwan and returned to his own shuddering body. The sorcerer’s eyes fluttered open, and he sucked in deep breaths as the spell holding him aloft dissipated, lowering him to the table. An attendant rushed forward from the doorway and helped the sorcerer to stand. Fabian snarled at Antwan as he staggered from the room.
Thera and the mole disappeared, leaving Jennifer alone with Antwan. She began opening her cousin’s restraints. When she finished, she pulled out a small bottle of deep green liquid from a hidden pouch. Removing the stopper, Jennifer poured a little bit on her fingertips while muttering under her breath. Antwan let out a sigh of relief when she touched her fingertips to his skin.
Working on one bruised wrist at a time, she applied the thick liquid in tight, circular motions. The concoction glowed for a few seconds and a faint scent of jasmine wafted through the air.
Once she completed the last ankle, she helped Antwan off the table. He almost collapsed, but she managed to lay him down on a discarded, dirty pad. She sat on one end, ignoring the filthiness around them, and cradled his head in her lap.
“It’s okay,” she whispered to her cousin in a soothing tone. “I won’t let her do this to you again.”
Deep inside, Jennifer knew she could never stop Thera. Maybe one day, when she became a full sorceress, she’d have the power to protect her cousin and herself. In truth, her actions in Mount Vernon had come under fierce scrutiny. Although the mole had heeded her warning about Jonah’s power and had saved his butt, the odious man had also moved to shield himself from the Grim Reaper’s fury. She’d been sacrificed instead, and shunned, like Deyanira, until Thera had summoned her.
Jennifer didn’t know why the twins needed her; certainly not for her powers. Hers seemed so meager when compared to theirs. So why did Thera place so much value on her? Was it an insult to her former mentor, Deyanira? Or was it because of Jonah Blackstone? Did they expect her to persuade the boy to change sides?
Yet Jonah Blackstone had helped her.
“You did it to save your cousins,” Jennifer whispered, hating her moment of doubt.
Antwan groaned and opened his eyes, thinking she spoke to him.
“Relax,” she said. Her hate for Jonah overshadowed any doubts about his motives. Deyanira’s failure and imprisonment were his fault. Now, Jennifer served the Rasmussen twins and her cousin suffered. Didn’t she have the right to protect her family? Of course she did.
Jennifer realized she’d have to make a name for herself first. What better way than to defeat Jonah Blackstone and show that he wasn’t so special after all?