I opened my eyes, and the flames were gone. I wasn't in the firestorm anymore. I was outside, lying in the middle of a thick, grassy area. All I saw above me were blue skies without a cloud in sight. It reminded me of home, not the old factory, nor the Chasse house, but my real home. It was what it felt like back in Texas when I was a kid.
I arose from the ground, not recognizing the place where I stood. I looked down at my body, and I didn't see the monster. I was me again. All of my clothes were back on like before I had transformed. My shirt wasn't even ripped. I remembered feeling the heat, the flames, experiencing the extreme torture that came with the hellfire, but something else happened there at the end. I felt a fog wash over me, like the night I was attacked. The night I was changed into this creature that craved death. I thought it was what I felt back then… like I was dying.
I heard the crack of a gunshot behind me that echoed for too long. I spun around to look, and I saw someone. It was a man wielding an old-looking rifle, aiming down into a vast field. He never looked at me. He never said anything. He would move the barrel slightly, fire, and move on. He slowly and methodically fired his rifle into the field's edge. Then, after about five or so shots, he leaned the rifle against an old stump near where he stood in the low-cut grass. He paced into the field and slowly made his way to the places he had fired into. He picked up the carcasses of snakes that had been his targets. He gathered a dead snake for each round he had fired... he never missed. He came back and tossed them into a pile near a dilapidated shack. It looked older than him. The wooden planks were blackened by age, with some boards gapped further apart, or just completely missing. The ground around the shack was covered in the small bones of countless snakes in various forms of decay. The more I looked around, the more I saw the skeletal remains of snakes lying everywhere. The ground was littered with the tiny bones of countless bodies, only larger piles stuck up out of the grass where this man had actively tossed the newest corpse to decay.
I looked around… unsure of what was happening. There was nothing else around as far as the eye could see. There were only open fields of dirt and what looked like wheat with equally spaced rows plowed through them. There was only one field with the wheat, the rest were barren, yet impossible long leading all the way to the horizon. The rows were clean and neat, like they were plowed by a computer-driven machine. But... there was a silence there... I didn't feel right. Something was wrong, this place wasn't normal.
I walked slowly to the man. As soon as I got close, he took one last shot with his rifle and then slowly lowered the gun to his side. He looked up at the sun and wiped his forehead. He looked about my size, strong, with light brown hair and blue eyes, although he looked like he was in his forties.
"It's hard work, isn't it?" he asked, with a prominent southern accent.
I was confused, "What is?"
He looked down at the ground and began to laugh to himself with a smirk.
"What's going on? Where am I?" I asked. He had to know something.
"You want something to drink?" he asked inquisitively. His mood and tone were too lighthearted for the situation, like a guest had just walked into his home, and he wasn't ready.
He turned around and walked over to a short, fat log he was using as a table. He had a big pitcher of iced tea and two glasses sitting there. He grabbed the pitcher, filled both glasses, then came back and gave one to me.
He drank from his glass, let out a tired sigh. "Lots of work to be done," he said, looking out into the one field that was thick with wheat. "Sit, please," he motioned to a set of two logs just behind us. They were sitting around a circle of stones about four feet wide that had a little fire burning in the middle. The stones each had a different, yet equally strange-looking symbol carved on them.
I followed his movements over to the logs. He sat first, waiting for me, so I sat a few seconds later. I had no clue what the fuck was going on. He seemed nice enough, but for obvious reasons, I knew the whole place was off. Eventually, I just said fuck it. What could happen? I didn't have control of the situation.
I took a drink of the tea, and you know what… it was good. It reminded me of my mom's from when I was younger. I felt oddly relaxed there.
He reached down beside the log, where he sat, and grabbed a few dead snakes that were set beside the log for some reason. He tossed them into the small fire with a practiced motion. The fire blazed through the dead serpents very quickly, only to subside seconds later until he put another corpse into the fire pit.
"I'm sure you have a lot of questions, Sam," he breathed in between drinks.
"Yeah," I said, obviously still waiting on some kind of explanation.
"Shoot…" he set his glass down and waited for me to ask.
"Umm… well, first off," I tried to gather myself. He was too calm about the whole thing. "Where am I? How did I get here? And how do you know my name?"
"These are the fields… sort of a place between places. I've been waiting here for a very long time. I've been waiting for you. I know everything about you," he said, almost thankfully.
"Okay…" I still didn't understand. "How did I get here then?"
"You died…" he waited for my response, staring into me hard.
What? Did I die? That wasn't possible; at least I didn't think it was possible. I had been shot countless times, stabbed, run over, mauled, poisoned, and anything else I could imagine as a way to end my existence. Was it going to be at the hands of some witch's fire, or was it the poison? Maybe Phineas's attack was more substantial than I realized.
"I died?" I couldn't make sense of it.
"Well… in a certain way. Normally, you would have walked away from that fire without any real harm, but it was time. You were ready. He could sense it, so he brought you here," he said, grabbing for his glass to take another drink. He looked like he was weighing his words carefully as he spoke.
"He?" I asked. "Who are you talking about? And time for what?" I asked quickly.
He put his glass back down and stood up from the log. He walked forward towards the dirt field, directly in front of where he had been shooting. "Look out there, on the horizon. Tell me what you see."
I followed him to the edge of the field and gazed out at what he was pointing to. When my eyes focused in, I saw him.
The dark, cloaked figure from the visions, the voice that spoke to me, the one who was there the night I was killed. It was him. He was out in the fields walking between the columns of soil, throwing seeds out into certain spots along his slow, terrifying walk. I could sense his power from where I was standing. To be in his presence was petrifying, feeling the force that emanated from him made me feel as helpless and insignificant as an insect below a person's heel. I could feel the power growing; it grew, and grew, and grew. I felt like he was staring right at me from out on the horizon. I felt my skin start to vibrate, and my ears began to ring and hum. It felt like the whole world was crashing down on top of me. I felt a pressure squeezing me, locking my lungs in place so I couldn't breathe. Then… it stopped.
Relief came, and everything was normal. It was quiet. I looked out on the horizon again, and he was gone.
I bent over, kneeling as I tried to regain my strength and my breath. "What the fuck was that?" I asked.
"That…," he paused, reverently, "was the one who gives you your power."
So many things flooded my mind. I remembered the first time I saw him, standing above me on the rocks as I ran for my life, standing behind the monster as it sank its teeth into my neck, killing, and taking my old life from me. He was there from the beginning. He gave me visions. He gave me the names, but why? Also, if that was the person pulling strings… then who the hell was this guy?
"Who are you supposed to be?" I asked.
"My name is Jon, and I'm here to help you step onto the path."
"The path?"
"The path you're meant to walk," he said.
"And how do you know what that is?" I asked, confused, and a little angry.
He half-smiled before he spoke, "Because I am you. I used to be you... Not literally. I'm the one who came before you. I'm the one who turned you…"
It took a second to process everything he said. I felt the swell of rage build inside of me as the realization came. If he was telling the truth, then he was the beast that night. He was the one who took everything from me.
I dove at him with all of my strength. I was aiming my hands at his face. I was going to kill him, but I never felt our bodies collide. I hit the ground and slid through the grass and dirt. I jumped up and looked around for him, and he was still right there. I ran and charged at him again, swinging my fist into his head, but when I should have connected, I fell to the ground. I didn't hit anything, making the momentum throw me into the dirt again. He was like a ghost. I couldn't touch him.
I was fucking angry, confused, and in agony. I didn't understand anything. I just lay there, face in the dirt. Why me? Why did I have to go through this?
As I lay in the grass, I started thinking about Caydee, Vicky, my family, and even my new family. Autumn, Carter, Eleanor, and all of the Chasses were my family as well. I wanted to be with them, all of them. I felt the tears fall from my eyes as I tried to choke the emotion down. I just wanted my life back. I clenched my fists into the earth beneath me and screamed in a rage that had been swelling in me since the first time I had to leave my family.
Jon was silent for a few moments. He didn't speak a word, almost like he knew exactly what I was feeling, and no words would help.
"I am sorry, Sam… truly," he said sincerely.
"Then why did you do it?" I pleaded in a mix of anger, frustration, and confusion.
He was silent for a moment, looking into the fields, "It had to be you. I never knew when exactly I would find you, but I knew your name. He gave it to me long ago. He's the one who chose you," he said, speaking of the cloaked man.
"Why me?" I said, rolling over and sitting up in the dirt.
"This burden, this curse, is the hardest thing for someone to bear. What we become, what we turn into, is a creature that hunts and feeds on the death... destruction. Your only need is to kill... to annihilate lives when it is time. The only thing that will satisfy the beast is to kill. But," he assured, "it isn't for nothing."
"What do you mean?" I asked. "How can we be anything other than killers?"
"Oh, Sam, we are much more than that. Every name you are given, every vision you'll see, all of it comes from him."
"What does that have to do with me? Why do I have to be… this?" I asked angrily.
"You are his tool in the physical world. He can't interact in the physical world. He can only influence change from here," he said, motioning out into the vast expanse. "He sets things, events, people into motion here in the fields, and lets them grow and play out on their own. He cannot physically enter the world himself. He is bound here in the fields. This place… all of it is between the physical world and what lies beyond."
I looked back out into the fields and saw him. I could feel his power again, except this time, it didn't overwhelm me. I watched him pace slowly through the distance. God only knew what he was truly doing, the things I couldn't see that he was affecting, and the events and people being changed and set in motion. But what was he?
"I've had the responsibility for five hundred years. The man who turned me did this for centuries before I was ever born. There have been others like us for a very long time," Jon said.
"I have spent every moment of the last two years trying to figure it out," I said under my breath, but I knew he could hear me. "What am I? What are… we?"
"I'm going to tell you a story. It was told to me, in this very spot, over five hundred years ago." He sat back down on the log and motioned for me to sit.
I came back to my log and sat, but I was barely hanging on mentally. It was all too much to process. Jon grabbed another dead snake and cast it into the fire.
"There was a time, long ago, when things, people... entities," he lingered on that word, "got too powerful and could escape their fates. The Mayans are a prime example of this kind of imbalance. Certain people in their civilization knew how to gain power and survive by unnatural means. They made contact with something else... something in another place, through a dark ritual and power. While they kept on living, the world spun out of balance, and powers on earth grew too strong and unruly. The natural order was turned on its head. He had to find a balance… he needed a way to maintain in the physical world, to hunt down the ones who had escaped their fates. Yet, he can never fully enter our world. If he were to go into the physical world…" Jon took a moment to shake his head at the thought, "No one would survive." He looked out at the figure walking through the fields. The dark shadow lingered on the horizon. "All this started a lot earlier than the Mayans, though. In ancient… primeval days… that's when he created his first…"
"First, what? What are we?"
"We're not like anything else you'll ever see. We were created solely for one purpose: to hunt and kill anything that escapes the natural order and grows into power they never should have gained. Beings that can sense and hide from their fates are among the most powerful in the world. Yet, we couldn't be just another beast. He wanted something different. He wanted something more powerful than anything that still roamed the earth. So, he used his own power to transform a being into a creature born from death. We don't have a name… usually, those who see us in our true form don't live to tell anyone. The names I have heard are born of fear… and terror: demon, monster, wraith, beast, the list goes on and on. The oldest name I ever heard was from the village of a beast that came long before me. A legend scarcely told by an ancient culture came up with a name after they witnessed the destruction from one of our kind. It was Latin… De Manu Mortis." His eyes turned black as he said the name. "Roughly translated, it means Hand of Death."
"So… that's what I am?" I asked out loud, not to him but more to myself.
"No, that's just a name created by someone else. There's nothing to compare us to, nothing to call us. We are the sum of ancient parts too old to remember. We were never given a true name. We never needed one. You're the only one in the world," he said.
"But, you said that you were the one who turned me…"
"I was, but there can only be one of us."
"What…" I looked at his shifting black eyes, confused.
"You're the beast now. My time has ended, it's time for me to rest… finally," he said, looking to the sun above.
"Rest? You turned me over two years ago. I don't understand… You've been around this whole time? You let me kill all of those people? Why?"
"I've been here since the night I turned you, waiting in the fields. You have been the only one walking the planet," he explained. "And, we needed you to kill, to wipe out corrupted souls in the world so you could grow in strength and power."
"So, I wasn't an uncontrollable monster. I was killing for a reason?" This shook me to my heart and soul. I thought I was something else, just trying to survive. Knowing that I killed men to grow my power sickened me. I didn't want to be stronger, and I didn't want to kill. I hated killing. "Maybe all those people didn't have to die… maybe it was my craving for power that convinced me it was an acceptable price to survive."
"Don't think that way, Sam. That will only lead you on another dark path that you don't want to go down, trust me."
"But I killed them. I sought them out, hunted them down, and killed them…"
"Every single person you killed; every murderer, every rapist, all of them were meant to die. You never knew that you were being guided to them, but their deaths were meant to come," he explained.
"Why… why was I supposed to kill them?"
"To murder someone, to take a life, requires a sacrifice in oneself. When you kill someone in cold blood, you're taking a life that wasn't meant to end. The world loses one of the good ones, and it gains another evil and corrupted soul to continue the spiral into chaos. We move forward to a tipping point," he looked back to the fields, reverently again, towards the cloaked being, "and he has to find the balance when corruption takes hold. He could have taken care of them and purged their stain from here, but he guided you from the fields. He helped you grow in strength. He opened your eyes and let you see the evil in the world, to sift through the innocent until you found your victims. He needed to know that you were ready before he gave you your first name. He needed you to be strong before he sent you towards the beings that you are meant for. The truly powerful who have taken what is not theirs."
It took me a moment to accept what he was saying. If it was the truth, it was easier to accept than what I thought. I hoped it was the truth because my human mind was constantly going to the worst-case scenario.
"Why are you here?" I looked around, "I don't see anyone else."
"I had to stay here, in the fields, until you were ready. Just in case."
"Just in case what?"
"If you weren't ready, then I would have had to come back. I would have to continue until he found another."
"So, he can find another?" I asked eagerly. This was my chance, my escape. The death that I wanted was close.
"I don't think you want that, Sam," he said, cautioning me.
What could be worse than this? However, I was still nervous to ask, "Why?"
He was silent for a moment, looking to the ground between us like he saw something. Then he looked out in the fields. When I looked out in the rows of dirt, I saw the figure standing closer than before, staring at Jon. They were communicating silently, talking somehow about what I had just said.
Jon turned back to me, "There are things I need to tell you before I answer your question."
"Okay," I said, anxiously awaiting a release from this life.
"First, everything has a life, and everything has a death. It doesn't matter if you're a human, a vampire, witch, gypsy, werewolf, or any kind of creature. There is a beginning, and there is an end to all life. The only thing different is the lengths of time that are granted. Vampires think they are immortal, but they're not. They have very long lifespans while they drink the blood of others, but they, too, will die. Werewolves live very long as well, but they, too, will die. They are all the same, only they age and die in different strides. However, all manner of creatures, including humans, have stolen life, power, and shifted the alignment of this world. There are ways to see things, ways to bend the rules, but they aren't natural, and they have consequences. You'll sense them, you'll hunt them, and you'll wipe them from the earth in a way nothing else can. He will take care of the rest, and send you names and visions when required."
I didn't think even the Chasses, Wicklows, or Talbots knew any of this. Hell, it seemed like the vampires themselves didn't realize this truth. No one did. Everyone would die, even the so-called immortals.
"Second, this life… is hard. The things you'll have to do, the way you'll have to live, and the craving for death won't go away. You'll always need to kill. It's a core part of the thing inside of you. It won't be easy. You'll outlive everyone you've ever known: friends, family, loved ones. It's inevitable. However, don't make the mistake of thinking that being alone is better than losing someone close to you. I made that mistake for a while in the beginning, unfortunately." I could see memories playing behind his eyes, making him see some dark time in his long life. "You'll be walking in this world for a very long time. Find someone, something… anything to make it more bearable. These hunters that you've come to know, you've grown to care for them. They'll make things easier. They'll give you something to live and fight for in your darkest days, when you feel the power of the monster that he has put in you… clawing to be let free."
Dark days? I hoped I never had to experience what he was referring to. I just wanted him to finish, so I could figure out if they would truly set me free and let me die as I should have. I didn't want to kill anymore. I didn't want to live any longer, not the way I had been for the past two years. I wanted to look down on my friends, my family, the Chasses, and… Caydee. I wanted to watch her grow, live, love, and make her way through life. I thought that the only way that was possible was for me to die. I had to be free from this curse.
"Third… this is very important. Keep your secret very close to you. Only share it with the ones you have to. Your secret is your power. Your enemies won't know what you are, they won't know how to stop you, and they won't know you even exist. Not until it's too late. If others discovered you… The true you, " Jon tapped his finger into the center of my chest. "It could hinder previously laid plans. They could trap you in places you don't even know exist yet, places you've never seen. Old magic exists that can hurt you in ways you've never imagined." He looked to be in pain as he continued, "Keeping certain secrets from the ones you love might be best. It might save their lives, but that is for you to decide." Something must have happened to him, or to someone he loved. "Remember these things in your walk."
"Why are you telling me all of this? Is there a way out of this life or not?" I asked angrily. "I don't want this life! I don't care if you think I'm ready!"
"I'm sorry, Sam… for what you will have to face," he said despairingly. "But there will be a way for you to escape this life. It is coming soon, very soon, Sam. I wish that it weren't this way, but it's his will. You'll go back; you'll get up off the ground and walk straight through that hellfire towards Mucia. You'll kill her, of that I am sure."
Jon slowly turned and walked over to his rifle and armed himself with it. He looked like he was about to continue the work I had interrupted. He grabbed the long wooden stock with a solid grip.
I felt a powerful pulse from where I stood, some kind of supernatural force that emanated from within the weapon. Jon looked down at the ground for a few moments and never said a thing to me. He looked like he was mouthing words, silently talking to someone.
"Are you ready?" he asked, coming to stand in front of me while wielding the rifle.
"How will I know when the moment comes?" I asked, terrified I'd miss my only way out.
"Trust me… You'll know when it's upon you. I'm sorry, Sam."
I hoped he was right. I couldn't miss it. I had to make the right choice. I just wish I knew what I was supposed to do.
"Before you leave… I need to impress something on you."
"What," I asked hurriedly, ready to kill the witch and escape this life.
"What we do, what the beast is meant for, I used to think it was a curse as well. But… not just anyone can perform the task that has been set out for us. You have an unbending will. You always have, even since you were a small child. You are relentless. If something is hard or it makes you stumble, you never stop. You keep moving, you keep your goal in your focused mind, and you don't stop until you have achieved your goal, no matter how hard it gets," he said. "Our kind only comes along every so often. Once I knew your name and felt the relief of this burden approaching, I started to think of it differently."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Someone has to keep the balance on Earth. If we don't, if he doesn't have someone to counter the corruption that tries to spread, then life as everyone knows it would be changed drastically," he urged. "Think of all the innocent people in the world; your loved ones, your friends, Caydee…" He let that sink in for a moment. "If we don't make the sacrifice, if we don't take up the burden, those like Mucia will run wild and unchecked. The lives of those you love and all the other innocents of the world would suffer. You can help them in a way. That's how I've seen this burden ever since I knew you were coming. It's a selfish view because you're relieving me, but that doesn't change the truth. You're needed." He looked at me hard, really trying to convey importance in his next words. "But... we're not heroes... we're not the good guys. We are destruction... the worst of the worst that comes to clean up after an atrocity has been committed. You can't carry the weight of the world on your shoulders... that's not what this is. Being this thing means becoming what everyone else fears... the wrath that comes down on those that deserve it... in the most brutal way possible to keep the world from tipping. You can't save everyone... but you can save those that matter to you... Let him sort out the rest."
I nodded as he spoke. His words weighed more heavily on me than I thought they would. It made me start to think, even though I knew I would selfishly choose relief if I could.
"Believe it or not," Jon laughed at a memory, "we've met before."
"What?" I scanned memories for him.
"Yeah, the day I came for you. I planned to take you the moment I saw you, but I had to meet you first. I had to meet the person I was going to pass this great responsibility off to, before I killed you."
"When?" I asked, still sifting through what I remembered of my old life.
"The night I came for you, I watched you from outside your house. I couldn't kill you without talking to you first. So, I followed you to a gas station. I walked inside as you were standing in the back. I came up and struck up a conversation with you. You were going to…"
I cut him off, "A cookout. My family's cookout the night I went missing," I remembered, his face… his name. "Jon," I could see his face in the back of that gas station.
"When you told me where you were going, I couldn't take you. Not there. I wanted you to at least have one more night. One more good memory to hold onto after your new life started."
I didn't know what to say.
"I am sorry," he apologized, but only for what had to happen. He knew what he was doing and what we were meant for. He had to do it.
"Thank you," I said, from the bottom of my heart. It didn't make sense, even as I said the words. I would never be thankful for this life. But, if it had to happen, I was glad I had that night with my family… before all this. It was a memory I looked back on fondly, when I dared to do so. Jon had done me a service that he didn't have to provide.
He gave me a quick nod, "Good luck, Sam," and then he reached out and touched my shoulder.
I felt a searing pain shoot through every inch of my body as soon as he touched me. Everything went white, and I was gone.