4. Strangers Under the Moonlit Sky #2
A set of footsteps crossed the once empty street, making me raise an eyebrow and pick my head up.
A withered cane cracked down on the bench beside me, scaring me half to death, before a familiar chuckle broke the silence.
“Fancy that, running into our beloved Grim Reaper-to-be, here of all places. I'm beginning to think you’re following me, Nicodemus.”
“I should say the same,” I bitterly replied as Ambermourn’s smile lit up the cold darkness.
He wore a heavy trench coat over a pressed silk suit tonight, his tie a sharp purple that made his dull eyes glow in their sockets.
His short hair was set under a top hat, an old-fashioned outfit for sure, but it fit his age and personality well.
I brought my arms to my sides and eyed the cane he had on the bench still.
“What are you doing on Earth, let alone in this neck of the woods?” I questioned suspiciously.
“I had a dinner party with some old friends to tend to in New Orleans and happened to pick up on a delicious energy perfuming the air. That spell you cast lingered clear across the country. You should be more conservative about casting large spells on Earth; you never know who might pick up the scent.” He said this with slightly malicious intent.
I ground my teeth at his tone. “Well, anyone who I should fear is locked tightly in a prison, sealed by my own powers, so I beg to differ.” I let my words reflect my displeasure. “Is there something I can help you with?”
He brought his empty eyes to me, which filled with astonishment at the way I spoke to him, as if I had no reason to be cross. “I was waiting for your call, but alas, I have not heard anything from you. I wondered why exactly that was, as I thought we had a perfectly good conversation...?”
I puffed my chest out and sat straighter. “I found out some things about you that were less than desirable, especially things concerning my father. I don’t think it’s best for us to work together, considering the circumstances.”
Ambermourn’s face contorted at that moment into something I wasn’t quite sure how to describe. It was, at first, dismay. He was shocked I had learned these things, but then, his shocked expression morphed into something else, something darker, something I feared.
Excitement.
Twisted, unadulterated excitement, that seemed to come over him like a dark cloud swallowing a sunny day.
He brought that expression up to me with a smile to match and pulled his cane off the bench to start swinging it in a circle.
“So, what exactly did you find out? Obviously, you have a preconceived idea of what, or better yet, who I am, so tell me, dear Nicodemus...” He leaned forward, close enough that I could feel his breaths on my face. “Who do you think I am, exactly?”
I swallowed the rising lump in my throat. “I think you’re a scumbag who helped Phillip abuse kids, including my father. I think you’re bad news, someone I should keep my distance from, and someone who I have no need to concern myself with.”
I may have answered with a straight face, but inside, I was writhing with anxiety. My stomach twisted like a pretzel at the thought of how he would react, but at the same time, I needed to set boundaries now before this got any more out of hand.
Ambermourn scoffed and brushed some dirt off his coat. “I think the rumors you’ve heard are superseding reality. You hardly even know me and you’re casting judgement. Not very God-like, if I do say so myself.”
“What do you know about being God-like?” I scoffed.
“More than you think.” He nodded to the bench, asking with his gesture to sit down. “The reason I wish to work together involves your father, believe it or not. If you’d be so kind as to let me explain myself, I’d be happy to ease your nerves.”
Curiosity won the battle. “Do as you please,” I murmured, scooching over so he could sit beside me carefully.
He fixed his suit sleeves before crossing his legs over his ancient cane. “Your father has reclaimed much of his powers recently, has he not?”
“How do you know about that...?” I hissed in disbelief.
Ambermourn thunked my temple with the head of his cane. “I keep an eye on him. Regardless, am I right or wrong about this?”
“Right...” I grumbled, rubbing the throbbing spot.
“As I figured. I have no doubt that you were involved in this matter, but I don’t think you realize your actions have consequences.
” He pulled a canvas scroll from his pocket and showed it to me, making my eyes widen in astonishment.
It was a painting of what seemed to be Dad, where he stood with all black eyes and his heavy cloak wrapped around his shoulders.
Behind him were three ominous figures, their bodies masked by their own cloaks beyond sets of ruby red eyes that glowed distinctly in the blackness of their faces.
“Once upon a time, Atlas challenged three archaic and destructive beings to a battle of all battles. Do you know of this story?”
“His familiars, correct?” I breathed warily.
Ambermourn was pleased that I was following along.
“Precisely. At the time, they were looking for the final piece to their long-forged prophecy, for the fourth rider of the Four Horsemen to seal the fates of the apocalypse. Your father, representing Death, took this position to ensure he could keep the impending doom of the apocalypse at bay, but in doing so, he gave a portion of himself.”
“What do you mean...?” I grumbled, unsure of where this was going.
Ambermourn’s voice lowered, as if he were afraid someone would hear us, “He broke his soul into two parts, and offered half of it to the beings. He needed to become like them to fill the role, so he let himself be consumed by their darkness in order to be a faithful rider amongst them. He may say it was only a compromise, a battle of wits, but in the end, that same darkness that shrouds over those beings lives within your father where his soul used to be.”