“Crap.”
That was about all I got out before the phantasm ripped itself away from the trucker and raced after me, launching itself over the top of booths and tables like some sort of animal.
“What did you just say?” The young woman asked, but I was already whirling on my heel and launching myself through the order window, right into the kitchen.
“Whoa!? What’s going on?”
“Bridgey-Boo, ya good!?”
Ignored both of the cooks as I sprinted out the back door. I wanted to grab my bike, as at least that would give me a speed bonus, but judging by the sounds of the phantasm roaring after me, I definitely didn't have enough time to unlock it.
And that was how, for the second time in so many days, I ended up sprinting from a violent spirit that no doubt didn't want to do anything friendly with me.
My heart was already pounding in my ears, and my blood rushing in my veins, but I did my best to try to focus on just breathing in and out. I felt like I was getting a surprising distance, as I didn't hear the back door of the restaurant slam open again after me, before I remembered that I was running from a ghost. Not needing to use doors was kind of their thing.
Dread mixed with adrenaline as I looked over my shoulder and saw that the spirit was indeed running after me, sprinting on all fours like a cross between an amputee spider, an alien from a horror movie, and the world's angriest gorilla. It made the wires in my brain cross a bit that it was interacting so physically with the environment. Couldn't it just fly after me? It was a perfect question for the otherworldly presence in my brain, but once again the voice was silent, not answering the barrage of questions that was pulsating through my mind.
What do I do? Where do I go? How does one run from something that could travel through any physical barrier? Was this it for me? Or did I have to hope that some random group of mean girl reapers would intercede again?
The thoughts assaulted my senses like physical blows, driving me on faster and faster.
I would have thought that I would have been safe in a brightly lit, occupied place, but the spirit had come after me in the middle of the dinner with about ten people around. So even if I could find a place that was open and occupied, it didn't seem like it would stop the sheer fury of the phantasm.
It was an awful position to be in. I knew just enough about a world I was never supposed to see to be killed by it, but not enough to survive it. I didn't know what the dying Reaper had been thinking when she transferred whatever she had to me, but she really could have put a few more fails safes in place. If I died, whatever mystery she had been working on, whatever message she had been trying to share through me, was lost forever.
Maybe I could try to hide? It seemed like history was repeating itself as I skittered down an alley, trying to get out of the monster’s line of sight. My mind, as helpful as ever, supplied the mental image of how I'd found the dying Reaper, strewn in the trash and bleeding, barely clinging to life. Was that going to be me?
I didn't want it to be. Despite everything, I wanted to live. I hadn't sworn fealty to any gods, so what did that mean for me? Where did I go? And was I a Reaper on a technicality? Or was I human?
I had to shove those thoughts out of my mind, and something within me sensed that the beast was about to close in on me. So, with all the energy I could muster, I darted toward the closest dumpster, grabbed the lip of it, and swung myself up into it.
Down I dove into the trash—a literal dumpster dive—trying to bury myself as rapidly as possible. I intentionally surrounded myself with filth and all sorts of putrid things that I didn't want to think about. If I survived, I was probably going to have to burn my clothes, but that was really the last of my worries.
I heard a growling sound from near the end of the alley, and I couldn't help but wonder why the phantasm hadn't just cut through the building entirely. I could have been wrong, but it seemed to me that there were some human instincts still within the creature. Did that mean that it hadn't been dead all that long? But if that was true, how could it be a level five? Did the power level refer to something else other than gained experience with the dead? I wished that I could ask the voice, but it wasn't the opportune moment. I just really, really wished that she didn't have a habit of disappearing whenever things started to get intense.
I stayed as silent as I could as I laid there, covered in trash, hoping against hope that the ghost’s senses would somehow be blocked out by the filth around me. It made no footsteps, which really shouldn't have been a surprise to me, nor did it breathe. And yet, I felt like I could hear the slightest crackling in the air as it moved through the alley. Almost like TV static, but far more foreboding.
The phantasm crept closer. And closer. The fact that it was moving slow worried me, as it meant that it was searching rather than mindlessly chasing down the path it thought I had taken. Did the creature know I was hiding? Or was it naturally cautious because it had lost sight of me?
Maybe there would be a day where I didn't have to ask myself an entire encyclopedia's worth of queries, but it was clear that this night was not it. It was like an endless stream running through the back of my mind, and I wished that I could just shut it off and focus on surviving, but unfortunately that didn't seem to be how my mind worked.
Bummer.
The static crept closer. Closer. Closer! I held my breath, hoping with all my heart that it would keep on moving. I didn’t need the voice to tell me that shining my flashlight and yelling at the creature wasn’t going to get it to retreat. If those were low level spirits that I’d chased off that first fateful night, I was pretty sure it had been more from their shock at being seen when they were expecting easy and already half-dead prey.
But then, after what felt like a literal lifetime with garbage-juice slowly sinking into the gap between the bottom of my pants and my sock, the static moved on down the alley.
Had… had I done it?
My answer came a moment later when the dumpster I was in suddenly jerked to the side, crashing into the wall enough to rattle my teeth. It seemed that I most definitely had not.
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I started to scramble out of the trash, half running, half swimming, and also somehow half climbing my way toward the little sliding hatch on the side of it. And just in time, because the phantasm’s head burst through the other side, teeth snapping at me.
“Oooph!” I cried as I slammed the corrugated square plastic to the side and tumbled out. I hit the ground hard, trying to use my arms to shield my head but my cheek still sustained a nasty scrape against the ground, which I was pretty sure wasn’t any cleaner than the dumpster I’d just escaped through.
But there was no time to rest, no time to recuperate, not even time to scramble to my feet. Because the next thing I knew, I felt something icy cold hover over me. Then four lines of indescribable pain scratched down my back, and I was thrown down the alley to collide with a half rusted chain link fence.
Ouch.
“You’ve got to get out of here!”
“Working on it!” I snapped back, too breathless from pain to make a snide remark about the voice’s timing.
Despite my words, I didn't really know what I was supposed to do. The fantasm was creeping ever closer, its mass spreading out like a murderous cloud, and it was very clear that I just didn't have the skills to hide from it. The creature moved in ways that the previous spirit I'd run from hadn't, and it seemed to have an intelligence that the other didn't possess as well.
It crept closer, but not cautiously. No, it was almost as if it was gloating. Like it knew I was caught.
I fought my way to my feet. If I was going to die, I was going to do it with my head held high. I hadn't gotten where I wanted to in life, but I had fought pretty hard to get where I was. No one could make me feel ashamed of that.
“Hey," I called to the voice uncertainly, trying to keep my voice steady and failing miserably. “These things are non-tangible entities, so what is it going to do with me?” Although the scratches down my back were radiating heat like liquid magma, it wasn’t like the thing would actually eat me. I was pretty sure my solid matter was fairly incompatible with it’s whole phasing through things schtick it had going on.
“Likely shred you to pieces and feed on your life essence until you pass on. Unfortunately, when it comes to such traumatic deaths, it isn’t uncommon for the same corruption within them to spread to you, dooming you to their fate. Reapers normally have protections for this but…”
“Yeah, I’m not a Reaper yet.” Although that yet was beginning to seem a lot like a never as the phantasm stalked closer to me.
But right as the approaching cloud of awful began to coalesce, like it was readying to pounce, there was a rush of wind and suddenly a robed figure just popped into existence in front of me.
“Catch!” It said, throwing something shining at me, and I belatedly recognized the voice as Gildebrak’s!
I reached out for the object, fumbling slightly as my mind caught up to things and realized that it was some sort of chain. It shimmered silver in my hands, like it was covered in the world’s finest grit iridescent glitter.
“Whoa…” I murmured, apparently not scared enough to not notice the bling. But I was quickly distracted from the shiny object when Gildebrak lifted her hand and once again, a message appeared in my field of vision.
Name: Gildebrak
Race: Human
Class: Reaper
Level: 7
Wait, she was level seven??? That seemed like a big deal, but the smaller woman certainly hadn’t acted like she was one. And where was her last name? Was she like… the Beyonce or Prince of the Reapers? Just such a thing unto herself that she didn’t need a last name?
I supposed that was how to tell if someone was legit or not. The mean girls were probably how they were because they were insecure or power hungry. Gildebrak was clearly quite comfortable with who she was.
As well as fighting the phantasm, because the Reaper was running circles around the spirit, her feet moving so fast that she almost looked like she was flying. And who knew, maybe she was. And I didn't know when it happened, but the hand she’d raised before now had a massive sword in it.
It was a massive thing, nearly as long as Gildebrak was tall and impossibly heavy. Yet she wielded it like it was nothing, blocking the whipping tendrils of the spirit and keeping its slashing claws from ever landing a single hit.
I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised when text appeared once I focused on the sword, but sure enough, my eyes did go wide when the information appeared in the corner of my vision.
Name: Daelanach
Type: Bladed Weapon
Sub-Type: Broadsword
Bonded: Gildebrak
That… that certainly seemed impressive. I wish I knew a little more about everything so I could be certain, but maybe once Gildebrak was done saving my behind, I could ask her.
“Make a circle with the chain!” She called, and I was so caught up in watching the impressive display that my brain just didn’t compute it.
“Huh?”
“Circle! Chain! Now!”
Oh, I could help!? I could do that!
I dropped one end of the chain down, tossing the length of it out as best I could while holding onto the opposite end. It wasn’t quite a circle, I would say, but it was a wibbly, wobbly loop that I was able to straighten with my foot.
The moment the two ends connected, however, I was hit with a rush of… well, I didn’t know what it was. The best way that I could describe it as was like pure energy. But instead of being heated, or even fizzy, it was almost cold. Like an ephemeral, invisible ice pack.
“Stand back!”
I didn’t need to be told twice about and jumped back from the chain. A moment later, Gildebrak charged the phantasm, lowering her sword at the last minute and sliding it under the spirit.
I watched, utterly gobsmacked, as she scooped up the phantasm, her sword acting more like a shovel than a blade. With a grunt, she flung it several feet back.
Right inside of the circle.
Once more I felt it when the wonky chain circle reacted to the new presence, that soothing, cooling feeling billowing outward again. The phantasm shrieked, and tried to lurch forward, but quickly collided with some sort of invisible barrier.
“There we go,” Gildebrak said, tossing her blade up into the air. I yelped on instinct, as usually throwing sharp objects around was a very early no-no lesson for most humans. But my worry turned out to be for naught, as the blade released a flash of light at the height of the toss, turning transparent then narrowing until it shot right back down like a laser right into Gildebrak’s wrist.
It was yet another impossible thing, but I watched as a rune glowed back into existence on her wrist, and somehow, I knew exactly what it was meant for.
Daelenach.
Did… did my own rune have something like that? That seemed like a pretty big deal for no one to have told me. Maybe I needed to be an official Reaper to get one?
“Are you alright? I smell blood,” Gildebrak asked casually like she hadn’t just saved my life and possibly my soul.
“It got my back. I think scratched me up? Kinda hard to tell cause, ya know, it’s behind me and all.”
“I’ll help you take care of that once we take care of this.”
I looked to the still snarling and snapping phantasm. “Uh, yeah, about that. What exactly is the next step in taking care of this?”
I thought back to the three mean girl Reapers I’d met, and I didn’t really understand or have any idea how to do what they did. But the way Gildebrak was talking made it sound like I could actually be of service.
“Reach in and touch it.”
There was no way I had heard her right. “Come again?”
Gildebrak raised one of her thick eyebrows. “I said reach in and touch it.”
I knew I was outright staring at her, but what else did she expect? The phantasm was going between more solid forms to bursting into a roiling cloud that threw itself against the walls of the chain barrier. Touching the raging creature didn’t exactly seem safe and I was all too familiar with the burning lines of pain down my back.
The Reaper let out a bit of a huff. “Look, I wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of saving you just to throw it down the drain now. Trust me, reach through and touch it.”
I lifted my hand, not breaking eye contact with the short woman as I did, watching for any sign that she was trying to trick me in some kind of new Reaper hazing ritual. But she kept her gaze steady, although the expression on her face was more one of annoyance than patience.
Well, she’d gotten me this far. I supposed it was time for a leap of faith and took a deep breath. I tentatively reached through the cold shield wall and stuck my hand directly into the ephemeral smoke of the creature.
And then the entire world winked out.