Becca walked through the cold morning, her medium, curly black hair, a little messed up by the wind. As if the wind itself was a playful child and her hair was nothing but a fun toy. Her white skin was rosy from the cold, her lips were a bit cracked. Besides that, along with a worried expression, the girl was quite beautiful and dressed elegantly. Even though she did it in a kind of laid-back manner.
Black skinny-jeans, high-heels, white shirt, and above it all, a black overall coat, with a red scarf around her neck.
She had an athletic body, almost muscular, like a featherweight fighter, and always made sure that her clothing never showed it so much.
“Men don’t like muscular women”, her mom would say, every time she saw her daughter training. “You’ll never get a nice man if you keep up with this fighting rubbish.”
“Shut up, old hag!” her uncle would respond, provocatively defending the young girl he always called little sister. Even though she used him as a living punch bag for practicing techniques, every single time. “Don’t you know she’s not interested in men?”
“Oh, shut up Don!” Becca would say, pinning him in a well-armed leg-lock, while throwing him to the ground, reveling in her mom’s jaw dropping.
However, despite her constitution, she could not avoid what was bound to come her way.
That man knew too much to live. Yet at the same time, he knew the right words to use, the right way of blackmailing her without getting hurt.
No one in their right mind would be crazy to go out in that strangely cold summer day, so there was not a single living soul in the cafe at that time in the morning besides the barista and the cashier.
And there was also him.
The middle-aged man was dressed in a formal, yet very well cut suit, with a black scarf hanging around his neck. His hair had a military short cut, gray, though his face didn’t show any signs of much aging.
He appeared to be waiting anxiously for someone to show up, until he noticed it was Becca.
“So you came, little girl.” the man said, with a smile in his tone, as he watched the young girl walking towards the table at where he was. “Do you want a coffee? Tea? A latte, perhaps? Did you bring it?”
“Cut the crap!” Becca warned, her tone low and cold as the weather outside, yet with a surfacing bit of despair. “Yes, I brought it.” she ended her sentence there, putting a hand in the pocket of her overall coat, and taking a flash drive from it. “Are you happy?”
The man laughed heartily, taking the drive.
“Of course I am happy.” his eyes gleaming with inhuman wickedness. “When in the world would I be able of seeing it for absolutely free?” he laughed again, his laugh echoing strangely through the cafe, as if there was not a single soul but the two of them there.
“You’re disgusting.” Becca said, bitterly.
“Well...” the man started, a sarcastic smile accompanying the acidic tone. “At least I am not the freak that should be in a circus here.”
He stood up, ready to take his leave.
“Watch your back...” Becca warned, anger filling her voice. The air around her seemed to waver, just enough for the middle-aged man to notice. And as he passed her, apparently not scared at all at the immediate change in the pressure between them, he responded.
“Oh, I don’t need to.” he raised the flash drive. “This is you watching my back, for me.”
The girl stood there, angrily speechless, as he left the cafe. She sat down at another table, and thought carefully.
She couldn’t protect him just because he saw her like that. She had to do something. But Becca could not just...
Could she actually...?
But before she could even finish the thought, the whole atmosphere started changing, just as the girl imagined it would.
The thick, cold fog that covered the streets started to lift, giving place to the already expected warm summer morning. And the cafe, completely deserted just a while ago, started crumbling down, little by little.
“Shit!” Becca cursed to herself. That was the reason why the disgusting man didn’t feel afraid of her Spark, even more than just because of having seen the real her.
As the place crumbled and revealed its true appearance of ruin and decadence, she started placing the puzzle pieces together.
“Why the hell was he accompanied by a Lord?” she asked to no one in particular, her voice low enough for nobody outside to be able to listen.
Becca took off her overall coat, and her scarf, tying the latter to her waist, looking around to see a crumpled building. It did resemble a cafe at first sight, but could also have been a bar in the late 20’s. She could almost smell the alcohol, tobacco, and the sex that permeated the time among the decadent bricks of the now devastated building.
The last thought that crossed Becca’s mind was that it wasn’t that nonsensical, that a human like him would lead her to a place like that. Even more if he was indeed accompanied by a Lord.
“Those filthy fuckers love places like this, don’t they?”
And with that last question still floating in the air, the young girl left the ruin, taking her smartphone from her pocket, dialing a number, and waiting for the other side to pick it up.
“Hey, I...” but the male voice on the other side of the line didn’t have time to complete the sentence.
“We have to talk, Don. I have a job for you.”
And she started walking across the warm morning, towards her uncle’s place.
When Becca arrived at Don’s place, it was almost afternoon. He lived pretty far away from downtown, and his house was pretty modest. A building with only one floor, very well put wooden walls, painted white, a living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, everything over a completely non-suspicious basement. And to top it off, a humble yard all around the place, with trees, a garden, even a swing, yet he had no children. He could not have children, to be more precise. No fence, no guard dog, no nothing to show the least sign of security. However, not a single living being ever dared to enter his propriety, except for Becca. But the girl had his special permission to do so. And by using this permission, she stepped into the garden, feeling the soft skin-like membrane that separated the house from the outside world, falling apart to let her through, just for it to merge back together again, as if never disturbed. “Uncle Don?” Becca shouted,
Bertrand used to have strange dreams.He was 34 years old and worked as a private investigator, while acting as a consultant to the town's police department.The man had a slender, short complexion, sick-white skin, dark circles around his reddish-brown eyes, and red, medium hair.And at that hour of the night, his body trembled in bed.Because Bertrand used to have strange dreams. And in this particular dream, he was standing in the middle of a vast garden, in front of a tall, leafy tree.He looked dazed, as if not knowing where or what that place was. Yet, he searched around with a glance, to see if it was one of his usual dreams.The man knew when it was a dream or not, because of the subtle feeling of possibility.In his dreams, he usually was able to do every and any single thing he ever wanted, and even things he didn't wat to, but simply found out to be possible.And that dream felt exactly like it, only a bit stranger.
The phone inside the inner pocket of Becca’s coat rang. It was loud, annoying, one of those old, cheap models, typically used as burners. Donnovan had given the device to the girl right before she left.“I’m gonna contact you only once through this, but when I do, you’ll have the name and the address of the son of a bitch. You smash it and throw it away as soon as I hang up, you understand?” he said, the girl nodding in agreement.And there it was. Four days after the meeting with her uncle, and he already had the answer.Gladly the man hadn’t tried to contact her in these four days, not even once. Which was a bit odd, but fortunate.She heard about blackmailing from her uncle – he dealt in basically any illegal activity one could think of – and according to him, blackmailers usually clung to their victims, always trying to get more and more from them. Yet that didn’t appear to be the case with mister
Becca’s peace shattered as soon as she got home, and her ice cream lost its flavour without even reaching her spoon.When she opened her door and entered, she noticed a fat envelope laying on the floor, next to the entrance, with elegant cursive writing that said TO THE SAVIOUR OF A LIFE.When she grabbed the envelope and read it, she immediately knew who it was from, and started regretting that day.***The young girl was walking back home, from an errand she had to run to her mom, Don’s sister, Grace. And as she was about to walk past an alley, she noticed a man squatting on the floor, his face contorted with pain, his shirt, stained with red.Shadows moved at the end of the alley, probably muggers, the ones who attacked him, but there was no time to call the police or chase them. And even if she did, what would she do? Rebuke them to death? She wasn’t that type of person. If only her uncle D
After the incident with the thing in the alley, Bertrand went home, thinking of, for the very first time in his whole career, getting a decent night of sleep. Even if it came to shoving a whole bottle of sleeping pills down his throat. There simply couldn’t possibly be a way of the things he’d been experiencing to be real, yet his cheek was swollen and in pain. When he touched it, before getting in the car, he saw blood staining his fingers. And there was a mark across his face when he looked in the rearview. I’m going crazy, right? It’s not real... he thought, while driving. A whole day and night of sleep, I’ll wake up tomorrow brand new, and ready for a cup of coffee. But he didn’t. The detective got home to find that something had invaded his place. The lights were off, and he heard movement in his room. Why the fuck don’t I have a gun again? Bertrand asked himself, trying not to get too elated by
The girl felt her stomach turning onwards and backwards, an indescribable sense of vertigo taking over her.There was an actual human face in her trembling hands, shaking between her fingers, due to the intense trembling. Becca didn’t know what to think, what to feel, how to anything.She ended up vomiting on the floor, but kept herself conscious, even though her whole body wanted to pass out.She was a good person, but it didn’t mean she was fragile. She spent a few good years training with Don and watching him dealing with nasty stuff, after all.She didn’t allow herself to break.The problem was what she was going to do now.There was an invitation to that Rosenbaum’s place, and he ended up turning to be a monster.A murderer.Her mind blurred, and her senses felt like fading, but she hung on to reality, trying to think about anything that felt real. And a memory floated on her mind,
The shot echoed through the room, making Jake’s ears ring. It had been a while since he took part in a gun fight inside a closed space, and his tears were too much, and Bert’s movement was too much.And everything was too much...“J... Jake...” he heard Bertrand’s voice, but refused to look. He would snap if anyone ever made him look at what he’d just done.“Jake...?” his partner’s voice, hollow and lost just seconds ago, was filled with surprise and shock. “What... What is...”Jacob didn’t want to listen to the rest.Gonzales called him four days ago, to check on his reports. He was pretty busy with how to put Bertrand’s intel into believable words, but the deputy chief never called him only to check on his reports, so he listened to her, and asked what it was all about.“Did you tell your freak partner about the Face Murder?” she asked, witho
Becca walked through the streets as if they were a single straight line, and there was no one around her.Inside her side bag, Rosenbaum’s letter, along with the face he sent her, and the crowbar from Don’s spare office. She felt the weight of the whole world over her shoulders, feeling like God Himself was watching her steps, completely aware of her choice. Judging her every move.But she didn’t care.The girl spent a lot of time drifting between the here and the elsewhere, the then and the now. She made a choice, though heavy a choice it was, Becca decided to never turn back on it.YOU KNOW JUSTICE, NEZARIEL! YOU CAN’T TURN YOUR BACK TO US! The fatherly figure told her, when he found out she was trying to leave the Seventh Layer with a page of the Book of Life.She knew justice, that was for sure.And for all she knewJUSTICE ISN’T SIGNED IN LUCIFER’S BLOOD! THAT’S WHY I’M