Undead

Thirty minutes later, Niall was revving the engine with Art in front of the hood, digging his oil-coated hands deeper into the engine. The car spluttered and died, as it did the several times Niall had tried since Art demanded he get behind the wheel and help him. The teenagers no longer considered Art as a threat, but were still a little on edge just because of the setting of their predicament, and the situation in general.

“Are you almost done yet?” Imogen complained, leaning her head on Niall’s shoulder.
Art called over the hood, “Not yet, princess!” and she groaned in protest.

“Hey, do you guys hear that?” Sarah called nervously, clutching onto Harry. There was a sudden whooshing sound nearby, then the ruffling of branches and crunch of leaves underfoot. Art looked up with a pained expression.

“It’s them. You guys, go hide behind my truck. Now.” Them? Reluctantly, the ten frightened teens hid behind Art’s huge truck, and Louis glanced inside the bed. “Throw me the black duffel bag!” Louis grabbed onto the handle of a duffel bag—smack full—and handed it over to Art, who removed a long, curved blade. “Hide!” Louis ducked behind the truck with the others and shot them all a warning glance.

“Am I the only one that gets the feeling he’s protecting us?” Imogen asked, gripping Niall’s hand. Alana glared at her incredulously.

“Protecting us?! Are you crazy?!” she hissed. Sarah glanced around the edge of the truck and noticed two figures that seemed as if they were…floating, somehow towards Art while he stood there defiantly, his broad shoulders squared, jaw set, and a gleaming, silver blade in each hand. Both of the figures wore dark, long black capes with hoods that covered their faces completely. A shadow of darkness seemed to envelope both of them wherever they walked, leaving a smoking, gray trail behind them.

“Mortem…” Liam whispered under his breath. April gave him a confused glance. “It means death in Latin. That’s what they are. They’re death.”

Harry glanced at Liam. “And just how,” he drawled, “do you know that?”

“Maybe if you’d pay attention in Mythology, you’d know!” Liam shot back. Sarah made a hand gesture for them to keep quiet as she peered around the vehicle again. She watched as one of the figures drew up a gray, pale, bony hand—with fingers as thin and sharp as needles and nails that could be mistaken for claws—and slowly raked his hood back. His face was grotesque; his bald, wrinkly, gray head glinting under the moonlight. Its eyes were dark, black, hollowed, bottomless pits of swirling mist with no whites or irises. The creature snarled, showing long, sharp teeth all the size and shape of a vampire’s fangs lined by bright red gums and outlined by crusty, pale blue lips. Sarah recoiled in disgust and made a horrified choking sound in the back of her throat.

“I smell mortal children, Arturo. What are you hiding?” Its voice was deep and cracked, with a velvety edge to it as well as an uneasy calmness. It sounded as bottomless and evil and empty as it looked, and that was saying something.

“You’re mistaken, I’m afraid,” Art replied, looking the creature—Death—in his swirly, misty black eyes. “I’ve seen no childr’n tonight, Sir.” The creature narrowed his eyes at Art and the other withdrew his hood.

“I can smell it,” the second creature hissed, inhaling the scent of fear and anxiety. “Mortals cast it off of them in a blinding ray, and I can—“

“Feel it, hear it, see it, smell it, we know!” the first creature exclaimed, glaring at the second. He slowly and eerily turned his head back towards Art in time to see him raising one of the blades. “Now, now, Arturo, I wouldn’t dare if I were you.”

“Nice to know you’re afraid of death, Sir.” Art’s words were like icy shards of glass falling and shattering all over a hard, wooden floor.

“What are those things doing here?” Niall asked, trying to get a closer look.

“This seems sketchy. Why is our ‘savior’ conversing with Death?” Hillary added a caution to her voice.

“Oh, mortals… Boo.” Sarah jumped as her face came centimeters away from a row full of razor-sharp teeth. She felt strong arms wrap around her waist and pull her up, and she felt herself being carried away at a fast pace. She heard a low chuckle, and opened her squinted eyes to see the second creature standing a few feet away from her and Harry, with Art and the first creature a few feet behind it, the rest of her friends in between the two of them and Death. Harry’s arms still had a tight grip around her torso, and she was barely touching the ground.

“Now, now, Ambroise,” the first creature drawled, inspecting his claw-like nails impatiently. “I saw let them live, what harm can humans do with their memory erased of the last 24 hours, yeah?”

“She smells so…intoxicating. She’s what I sensed.” Harry tensed behind her, but Sarah stayed still.

“They all smell exactly the same, Ambroise. You think everyone smells intoxicating, especially the gorgeous ones.” He rolled his eyes with an impatient sigh. “When will you ever learn?”

“Master, she is—“

“My girlfriend, don’t touch her,” Harry growled, finishing Ambroise’s sentence with his harsh, cold words.

“A man of protection. I like it. What is your name again, son?” the first creature asked, staring at Harry with sheer curiosity.

“Harry,” Art answered hastily.

“Ah. So you will already be persistent, I see. Hmm… I can’t ever remember what your name means—Aha! Ruler! You are a natural born leader, aren’t you, Harry?”

“Basile, stop teasing the boy,” Art warned.

“Oh, please, Arturo, like you could ever stop me from doing anything,” Basile retorted. In the fastest, most swift movement any of the teenagers had ever seen, Art had taken one of the blades and drove it through Basile’s ‘skull’, and he disappeared into a thin wisp of black, inky smoke.

“You have killed my brother, Arturo!” Ambroise roared, glaring at Art with such a hatred that Sarah thought he would drop dead with just the sheer force of the tightness of the creature’s face.

“And you’re next.”