Chương 1: [LD-1] 0. Death's Door

Prologue Death's Door My grandmother once told me the moon was death's only company. Maybe that's why, as the moonlight filtered through the picture window behind me, Her light warmed my hands and seemed to curl around the tip of my pencil. The fingers of my free hand laced around that of the Prime Minister. I looked up, briefly glancing at the two bodyguards standing at attention at the rear of my office. Against the plain, dark wallpaper, their suits were nearly camouflage. I turned back to the balding Minister.

"Are you ready, Mr. Wright?"

"Yes," he refastened his tie. Dark-tinted glasses hid the side-eye one of the guards gave the other, but the small shift in his neck was enough to give it away. It was the reaction I always received when a client brought along those who'd never experienced my seances.

"Then let us close our eyes," I whispered. I closed my eyes and squeezed the Minister's hand, feeling the pulse in his wrist. He was trembling. Afraid of what came next. While that would work wonders if I was trying to curse him, it didn't help when trying to read his fortune. The fear stopped him from inviting the darkness in. But I could force him to let it.

"Mr. Wright." My voice rippled through the office like a lullaby.

"How many times will you have visited after today?"

"…about twelve times, I believe?" he chuckled at himself.

"My friends say I'm crazy. They say the public would laugh me out of office if they found out I frequented this place." Behind him, the guards snickered. I smiled.

"They must think me a charlatan. Do you think me a charlatan, Mr. Wright?"

"…No."

"Why not?"

"Because—" His swallow was audible in the quiet of the room "—because I can feel it."

"Feel what?"

"I…I don't know." My slender fingers rubbed over his thicker, older ones. The feedback was sticky, and it wasn't sweat. But the mucus slipped away whenever I tried to pinch it. This was why I didn't like customers who returned too often. They only made it harder on me. A little more. A little deeper. I took a deep breath and tried another angle.

"Do you know why I have us close our eyes?"

"Please, tell me."

"Of all the senses we can lose," I pincered his skin between my nails.

"The loss of our sight brings us the closest to death."

"…the closest?" I hummed long and sonorous.

"It's the first thing we imagine when we dare to dream of that sickening idea: a blackness that boxes us in on all sides." The temperature in the room dropped. A shiver crawled along the Prime Minister's skin.

"Imagine it," I whispered.

"Your mind locked in the void, every thought a scream that travels through the vast nothingness. Forever." I brought my breathing in tune with that of Mr. Wright. Like the flick of a light switch that scattered the dark, I knew that in his mind, he now saw nothing but the shadow realm. Fingers plucked the cloying darkness off his skin, then gathered it into a sphere that existed only in my imagination. My other hand dipped a quill in the metaphysical ink. The tip went to the open notebook beside me.

My hands blurred, words painted themselves between the lines. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. After a minute, I'd already filled three pages. Another minute more, and I sighed and leaned back in my chair.

"We're finished." I whispered. My skull was feeling light. Mr. Wright breathed let out a sigh of relief as well. Despite already being old and full of wrinkles, he seemed to have aged years in the short time we'd closed our eyes. I ripped the notes from my book and handed them to him.

"Here you go, Mr. Wright. These should last you two months." His hand trembled as he accepted them.

"Thank you, Mrs. Grimm. The country appreciates the work you've done." I rested my chin in my palm and smiled.

"Everything to keep our nation secure." He placed the notes in the pocket of his jacket, then turned to his guards. The two men were frozen in place, staring at me with no doubt wide-eyes. Well, well, who's the charlatan now? I waved.

"Feel free to visit when you want your fortune read." They were too shaken to respond. Mr. Wright snorted.

"They'd never be able to afford your fees, Mrs. Grimm." He waltzed to the hanger rack in the corner, where he retrieved his Anderson & Sheppard overcoat and trilby. The touch of something physical and familiar drew the last of the tension from his silhouette. He glanced over his shoulders.

"That's right, I forgot to mention it the last time, but you should invest in a guard detail of your own, Mrs. Grimm."

"Me? Would someone be after my life?" I could see how helping the Minister avoid potential deaths would paint a target on my back.

"Ah, it has nothing to do with me," he waved the concern away.

"But you must've had customers who failed to heed your warning? I cannot imagine the families would be happy if they found out you described their future deaths in detail."

"That…is not wrong." I'd had multiple cases like that, actually. He tipped his hat.

"It'd pain me dearly if anything happened to you. I can provide you one—as a treasured aide of the state—just give the word. Until next time, Mrs. Grimm." His guards shut the door behind him, leaving me alone in my office. I glanced at the clock, which showed a little over ten. A yawn.

"One more appointment." Quickly opening my laptop, I pulled up my agenda. Mrs. Avery Blackwater. Middle-aged. Teacher at Charleston Private High School. The last name sounded familiar but I couldn't place it.

"Charleston, huh." I'd been a student at their sister school, Lilith's Private High School. Spent a total of two years there before I was forced to take online lessons.

"Lasting that long was a miracle in and of itself." Ever since I was a child, I'd been able to sense what I called 'death energy'. The aura of death that surrounded people. In my younger years, it allowed me to get a sense of people in danger of dying within a week. You'd think a gift like that would make me popular. Who wouldn't want to know the week they were in danger of losing their life? No one, it seemed. They just saw it as me cursing them.

It didn't help that the people hanging around me always suffered from bad luck. Accidents. Falling ill. People losing their wealth. All of it and more struck those near me, and I wasn't sure why. I didn't understand the faintest thing about the origin of my powers. For all I knew, some devil had latched onto my soul. I closed my laptop as images of the word 'WITCH' painted in blood animal blood on my school locker flicked through my head. I tossed them out with a shake of the head.

'You're no longer fifteen years old.' It was all in the past. The buzzer on the bottom of my desk vibrated. I pressed the button. Alright. Time to get this over with so I can go home. Go home to what? An inner part of me rolled its eyes. No one's waiting on you.

'My dog. Now, get out of my head, Negative Nancy.' I pushed down the inner voice and opened the door. Mrs. Blackwater had her brown hair short and in a bun. Black leather shopping bag slung over her shoulder. A skirt and pink blouse, wrapped between a fur bubble coat. Mrs. Blackwater was standing with her back to the entrance, head swivelling about the long corridor. That wasn't new. Like the Prime Minister, people were often self-conscious about others knowing they were visiting me.

"Good evening, Mrs. Blackwater." She nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Good evening…Mrs…"

"Mrs. Grimm. Please, don't let the last name scare you and come in." I stepped to the side and plastered a smile on my tired face. The woman inclined her head, then stepped past me. I got a closer look at the bag. Tod's.

"A good choice for a bag," I said, shutting the door.

"My first ever luxury bag was a Tod's."

"Really?" Instead of immediately heading for the seat opposite my desk, Mrs. Blackwater took a moment to appreciate the walls. Not much to see, since the wallpapers were plain.

"It was a gift from my husband," she said absentmindedly.

"For our tenth anniversary."

"Then your husband has good tastes." She smiled.

"Had. He died a few months ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I touched her shoulder on the way to my desk. A mere hollow gesture to bridge the awkwardness.

"Would you like to tell me about him?" This one was sincerer. Death in all forms, even that of another person, made it easier to read the fortune of my client.

"That won't be necessary," she said with a sharp shift in her tone.

"You can speak to him yourself." My brow raised.

"What—" A foreign, hard object punched the air out of my lungs. My gaze wrenched down. The knife glimmered in the moonlight and blood warmed its cold edge. My blood. I sagged to my knees. When it plunged into my chest a second time, I fell over." You witch…!

"I heard through the sounds of ripping flesh." You…cursed…" Blood sprayed and decorated the plain walls. The sounds faded into nothingness. The iron taste in my mouth turned into a fuzzy sensation that soon vanished as well. Then the shadows lengthened and deepened. Crept through my sight. Of all the senses, loss of sight brought us closest to death. And it had never been closer.