Dark Destiny by Thomas Grave Page B

darkness.
    Shifting his attention cowardly to the ground, Guppy moved away as a tall, skinny figure stepped out from the darkness. He appeared older, maybe in his thirties. His pale skin glowed white in the dim light, but his eyes were pure darkness.
    Guppy beamed, still avoiding Jared’s eyes.
    “His name is Rufus,” he announced, triumphant.
    A moment later, like a hound dog, Rufus began sniffing the air. With each sniff, Rufus stepped closer to Jared, eventually nearly touching him with his nose. “I can smell the heart on this one,” he said.
    Jared thought about that statement. With a heavy sigh, he said, “What does that even mean?”
    Rufus eyed him once more. “There is no turning this one.”
    He snapped his fingers. Shadowed figures emerged from the darkness, appearing from different locations in the alley. Some spilled out of manholes, others emerged out of dumpsters, some came from fire escapes and nearby roofs.
    They huffed and puffed as they spread out. Heavy booted steps echoed off the concrete. All of them had different types of weapons: chains, bats, brass knuckles, knives, and one even had a katana.
    “So what, that’s it?” Guppy asked. “You’re not going to make him suffer?”
    “Vipers tend to strike quickly,” Rufus answered. “Question me again and you will find out just how quick.”
     
    Gang members came from behind Sebastian, stepping by him without looking at him, as if he didn’t exist.
    The Elder pulsed in Sebastian’s left hand.
    It’s time for you to don the proper attire for the occasion , it whispered.
    The book dissipated into a purplish, almost black mist. The palm of Sebastian’s left hand tingled. He shook his hand, trying to remove the sensation. The tingle increased to pinpointed spots of stabbing pain. He shifted his gaze to his palm and saw what appeared to be swirling lines of tiny crawling ants, only the lines weren’t ants, but black threads. The threads laced into each other and wrapped around his fingers. He felt the same from his right hand now. The lines pulsed in time to his heartbeat, racing faster and expanding to fully envelope both of his hands. The pulsing stopped, leaving his hands encased in the tight, leather gloves, blacker than any shadow he had seen before.
    Booming thunder vibrated the air, causing the hairs on his arms and neck to stand up. Wind blew in from somewhere beneath him, carrying with it whispers and strange words. He turned slowly as the familiar black and purple mist rose from the ground around him, snaking up his ankles, shrouding his legs in darkness. Lightning struck the ground all around him, splitting the darkness as a black, tattered shirt formed around his chest. Multiple layers of frayed cloth as dark as black holes formed from the darkness, surrounding him and writhing over his body. The final layer formed a thick robe that felt like liquid on his skin, not quite wet, but soft and cool.
    The mist around his head pulsed, growing lighter and darker until he released a deep breath. The mist moved from his face, forming a ragged and deep hood. A final flash of lightning, forked and pure white, struck the earth right before him. As blinding as the light was, it couldn’t penetrate the darkness from his cowl.
    The Elder’s disembodied voice came to Sebastian’s ears like a pair of mystical headphones.
    This is the form of Death. Since the beginning of time, you have walked the Earth, taking the lives of both aged and babe. You took no pleasure in most of those you reaped, and your duty left a heavy weight in your heart. But there were others you enjoyed taking. You stood over their corpses, their Souls quivering in your hands, ready to give them the punishment they rightly deserved. You are one of the most powerful beings that has ever come into existence. You have many names: The Destroyer, Reaper of Souls, Bringer of Death. Taker of life. Mors. Ankou. Dullahan. Azrael.
    The Elder continued on with a few more names, each time