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Redirection

  Jeremy slammed hard into the couch. He felt his stomach lurch as the entire thing almost tipped over. He coughed, putting a hand to his bruised throat, gasping on air.

  “How many people,” Father demanded, “know about this relationship?”

  Mother made some vague tittering noises, feigning distress at the violence, but she made no effort to stop it. She never had. She never would. And if Father wasn’t there, she’d angrily defend him, and it would be her own hands that struck if he dared say otherwise.

  “Do this boy’s parents know?”

  “Of course,” answered a voice from the dark corner of the room, “some of us do take interest in our children’s lives, blackguard.”

  Jeremy stared into the corner, still massaging his throat. Why was it so dark over there in the first place? The lights were on. And there wasn’t enough space for a person to be there, before he even raised the question of where they could have come from. Was he hallucinating? Maybe he’d been without air longer than he’d thought.

  The darkness seemed to stretch and rise, unfolding itself into a humanoid figure. A dark robe, a face that was difficult to see, cast in shadow as though the darkness followed it. But his face was gaunt and pale, almost like a skull with no skin on it at all. His eyes were clearly visible, though. Red, as though they gave off their own light. Horns curled from the side of the head, horns like a ram that scraped the ceiling. He was very thin, but very tall.

  “My son has no secrets from me. Perhaps because he has no need of them. I respect his privacy, and I respect his choices.” The gaunt figure drifted closer. Jeremy’s parents backed away. There was a strange smell to him. He smelled… dry, and like old paper. He sat in the large armchair, Father’s chair, and looked at them. He was silent for long seconds before speaking again. “I won’t expect you to hold yourself to the standards of my culture, but I believe even in yours an invited guest should be offered refreshment.”

  They all stared at him. “I don’t-I didn’t—” said Father. He closed his eyes, swallowed, stood up straighter, gathering himself. “I don’t recall your being invited.”

  “I’m sure you don’t recall a great deal.”

  “We don’t know who you are!” cried Mother, hiding behind Father.

  “You should.”

  “...Damian’s dad,” said Jeremy, finally.

  The gaunt figure looked at him carefully. “That’s not what I meant. But it is true, though.” He held out a hand. The hand that protruded from the flowing sleeves was thin and bony, with long fingers and oddly sharp nails. Jeremy took it, and found that it was ice cold and felt like aged parchment. “A pleasure to meet you, Jeremy.”

  He looked up at Jeremy’s parents again, huffed dismissively, and turned back to the young man. “The nature of our meeting is a pity. It seems it should have happened sooner, though I believe we can appreciate why Damian puts these things off.”

  “What are you?” Jeremy found the question spilling from his lips before he could stop it. He paled and jumped up. “I-I’ll get that drink.”

  Father grabbed him by the front of the shirt and threw him back onto the sofa.

  “You will not do that again.” It was a calm, cold, firm statement. It didn’t feel like an order, exactly. It was simply true.

  Damian’s father looked back at Jeremy. He wasn’t very expressive, to say the least. His skull-like face barely shifted even as he spoke, but there was still a curiosity in his eyes. “What has my son told you?”

  “I.. I don’t think he’s mentioned you. Sir.”

  “Hm.” The figure leaned back, lacing his long fingers together. “And well he shouldn’t, I suppose. He’s really not supposed to speak of it to mortals that he doesn’t well trust. Though it is a little concerning to know that you have not yet reached that stage.” He held up a hand to stop Jeremy’s protest. “You have not been together long, I understand. It is natural that he has not yet shared his secrets. I just mean, given our untimely meeting here… it would be good if this had been more firmly set in place first.”

  The figure inclined his head. “My son is a… demigod, would be one word for it.”

  Mother gave a little gasp of fright. Father’s face turned as red as the man’s eyes. “You are not God!” he shouted.

  “Oh, no of course not.” The figure waved a hand dismissively, “Nothing of the sort. Your language is not good at this, using the same word for God and a god. I’m not omnipotent, not omniscient, and I’m not the only one. My existence hardly disproves, nor even contradicts, your religious beliefs. Honestly, I think we even share some. From everything I’ve seen over the millennia, it’s hard to believe there isn’t some higher power. After all, my brethren and I must follow certain rules. Someone over us must have set them, you see? I am but one force, one of many. I have been called many names, Persephone, Osiris—you could call me simply Death, if those are too grand for your liking.”

  # “There are no such beings,” said Father harshly. There was a quaver of doubt in his voice.

  The being, who did clearly exist, shrugged his shoulders. “A nephilim, then, rather than a demigod.”

  “You’re a demon now?” said Father. Mother looked as though she would faint.

  “I do as I am bound. More an angel.”

  “You’re no angel.”

  “spirit, embodiment, corporeal manifestation. I care little what you call me. A force of nature. I exist, and I persist, and I can not remember a time when I didn’t.”

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  “The power of Christ compels you, demon!”

  “Does it? Perhaps.” The being looked at father, his red eyes burning coldly into him. “To do what?”

  “Get out of my home,” said Father.

  “I am compelled, in fact, to stay,” said Death, “now that I have answered your invitation.”

  “You were not invited,” whispered Mother.

  Death fixed her with the cold stare of his burning eyes and she quailed, stumbling back and whimpering.

  “I have come to collect a human soul and deliver it beyond the realm of this life, and I cannot leave without one.” Death waved a hand. “Normally I have underlings for such tasks, but this invitation came from the home of my son’s boyfriend, so I came in person.”

  Father mouthed words, trying to speak, but he made no sounds.

  Mother spoke, her voice almost inaudible. “You came to steal our souls?” She glared at Jeremy. “What have you brought into this house, you horrible little—”

  “I came to retrieve a lost soul, following the end of a mortal life.”

  Thy were all silent. Eventually, Mother said, “Nobody died here.”

  “Not yet.” Death consulted the wall clock. “The end of life was to occur within the hour. Though my physical presence in this realm bends time, so I cannot say when.”

  Father stepped forward, teeth and fists clenched. “What are you accusing me of?”

  “Nothing.”

  Father threw a punch. The being stepped back out of the way, then stepped forward. Jeremy did not see him attack, or move at all except the fluid motion of swaying out of the way and then back into place. Yet Father was launched into the air, crashing down onto his armchair, which nearly tipped over backwards.

  “You cannot harm me,” Death said calmly, “nor do you have a valid reason for attempting to do so.”

  “You said you’re going to kill us!”

  “I am here to collect. I cannot leave without a human soul.” The figure shifted. “But it was not by my choice that a human life was to end.”

  “It wasn’t by mine!” snarled Father.

  “Perhaps. But this can be your choice: A human life was to end. By entering this place physically and speaking to you I may have altered what was to occur. I must take a human soul with me when I leave; this is also not by my choice. However… it need not be the same one. In point of fact, I cannot say which human life was to end.” The figure held out a bony hand towards Father. “It can be your choice to come with me, and to leave your family untouched in this world.”

  Father threw a pillow at him, which was not very effectual. “Leave now.”

  “Very well.” The figure moved towards him. Father backed away. “I cannot leave this house without a human soul,” the figure said again, “I am not refusing. I cannot. It is not possible.” A single finger pointed towards father. “If you command me to leave, I can—if you come with me.”

  Father hesitated. He stammered. He swallowed. He took Mother by the sleeve and pulled her from the room. Damian’s father swept after them. “I cannot leave without a human soul. The human souls in this house cannot all leave without me.”

  “Let them go!” shouted Jeremy.

  Time stood still. The shadowy figure turned and looked at him carefully. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” said Jeremy firmly, “I do.”

  Those red eyes burned into him for another eternity, and then Death sat on the couch beside him and time resumed. The front door opened and then slammed. His parents had left him alone.

  “Tell me what you understand.”

  Jeremy swallowed. “My father was going to kill me. Actually, literally kill me.”

  “I can not confirm that.” The being sighed. “But it does seem probable.”

  “They abandoned me here. Left me to die.”

  “They did.”

  “I let them leave. Now I’m the only one left. You can’t leave without my soul, and I can’t leave without you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Now I die.”

  “...not necessarily.”

  Jeremy choked. He blinked at the tears that were coming, and he met the red eyes. “What do you mean.”

  “I must take with me, when I leave this house, when I leave this plane, a human soul. Yours is the only one present, thus you cannot leave without me, and I cannot leave without you. But while I must take a human soul, there is… is no rule that…” The voice trailed off. “Jeremy, do you love my son?”

  “I… huh?” Jeremy considered. “I mean, I don’t—I—”

  “Does he love you?”

  Jeremy did not answer. He couldn’t.

  “It is not fair to ask this question. To either of you. I know that.” The figure sighed. “It is too soon. You barely know each other. The question is not fair. What you will ask my son to do for you is not fair. As his father, the risk you’ll ask of him… But we do not choose when these things happen, do we?” A ghost of a smile on the skull-like lips. “Not even me.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “There is another path for you, but it is difficult. A mortal cannot do it without help. I cannot help you. If Damian tries to help you and fails, it will be the worse for you. And he will be lost, beyond even my reach. Will he do this for you, do you think?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “Damian is ageless but not immortal. He may die for you. I should protect him from that. As his father, I should not make this offer to you… but if I do not, he would not speak to me for centuries.” There was a pause, then Damian’s father stood, decisive. “Jeremy, get your coat.”

  “My-my coat?”

  “Yes, your coat. It is difficult for mortals to survive this. It is…” his hand wavered uncertainly, cold, I am given to understand.”

  “Cold?”

  Damian’s father glided towards the hall closet, pulled out Jeremy’s coat, and tossed it to him. “Put this on.”

  “I don’t get it. You said I was going to die.”

  “No. I said I could not leave here without your soul.” Death stopped and picked up a magazine from the table. “Might I have your permission to take this?”

  “Uh, sure,” said Jeremy uncertainly.

  “There, you see?” He tossed the magazine aside.

  Jeremy did not see.

  “I must take your soul. I am able to take other things, if I choose. Why not, then, your still-living flesh to accompany your soul?”

  Jeremy blinked.

  “You can die. Instead, you could come with my physically, still alive. That includes taking your soul, so it is permitted.”

  Jeremy jumped to his feet, but the figure held up a warning hand.

  “This path is difficult, and dangerous. If Damian does not help you, you will die in the underworld. If that happens, I will not be able to retrieve your soul. It will be lost without passing to your proper afterlife. This is worse for you. If he does help you, you may still fail. And you will be lost forever, the both of you.

  “I offer you, instead, a peaceful death. You will pass on as normal. But if you would struggle to survive, take my hand and hold your breath.” The bony hand extended towards Jeremy. This time it seemed inviting, encouraging.

  Jeremy swallowed hard and reached out.

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