The Seventh One

His jaw was set firmly as though he didn't want to talk about his well being anymore. To explain it to me. It was all confusing and incredibly interesting to me. So I hung onto every word as though it was his last. He paused and looked down at his hands and then began to describe to me the rules and conditions to being a wanderer.
“I only have fifteen years on earth.” he explained sadly as though that was hardly enough time.

“Why is that so bad?” I asked. But I could already hear the sadness in my voice very clearly. He'd leave me again and that'd be end of story. 

He took a deep breath and sighed it all out very slowly. Ran a hand through his hair before meeting my eyes again.
“A wanderer can return to earth as many times as they like. There's just... Limits.” 

“Limits?” 

“Yeah, the rules to returning are complex. Number one; you can only return once every five years to earth for fifteen years each. But you can die from any illness or anything else just as a human would. Once you die, you must be cremated, then your soul naturally drifts because it's body has been destroyed. You must wander, unseen, for five years. Watching who you love move on without you. And after five years, you may return. But... The seventh cult must do it.”

“Seventh cult?” I whispered.

He nodded “People of the ash.”

I thought about that for a second. Then looked back at him.

“There are very few of us that can return though. In the 1800's when I was born. My mothers house had originally been built and belonged to her grandparents. Her grandmother was accused of witchery when the room in the cellar was discovered. She enclosed all the walls, and made a secret entrance. She told me of it all because I was trust worthy. But you need one of those rooms to return. My grandmother actually invented the wanderers through her magic. There were six other houses around town with a secret, similar room. My great grandmother worked with them. And she discovered what spirits could do. She told me about it all when I was nineteen. And after Emmett's death. She told me of the possibilities that he could still be alive somewhere... And asked in turn if she could have my soul when I died. I agreed, having seen too much of her secret room for my liking. She invented the seventh cult and she was the seventh witch. Though she looked nothing like one. She sat with me one day, and told me that I'd be her seventh spirit to experiment with. I was the seventh one. I laughed with her then, to realize now that it was no joke. I'm stuck like this now. There's only one way to escape... My dad is a wanderer too. He tortures me still. Laughing at me, glad we are 'together'.” he made air quotations.
“Though his little metamorphosis was different then mine. He became some kind if sinner and I became a saint.” he was thoughtful for a bit.

“What's the difference between a sinner... And a saint?” I asked hesitantly.

He smiled at my question. “There are actually three kinds of wanderers. There's sinners, there's normal, then there is saint.
If you are a sinner and you come back to earth, you are represented as a fiery demon that is ugly.
If you are normal, you'll look the same you did as human, with ten years of earth life.
If you are a saint, you get 15 years of earth life, you'll look like you did as human, but your scars are fixed. The normal ones live with the scars of any wounds they got before they died or as they died as a human.”

“So your the perfect little wanderer?” I smiled while cooing at him and pinching his cheeks. He laughed and swatted away my hand.

“Sure.”

I paused. He said demon... “What... What did your dad look like? As a demon...” I whispered curiously.

He shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “You've seen him.” he said softly “In the woods. I was there and told him to get away from you. He could have killed you then.” he said sadly.

“Why does he want me dead?” I muttered.

“Well that, is a completely different story. But it will also tell you more about me, and yourself.” 

I listened as he began a new line of words to describe what I was to him. But his words described something else. What I hadn't expected.

“I'd been the ghosty version of a wanderer. And when your like that, you can see all the spirits around you. Life continues... The spirits of full grown men and women who haven't even been born yet in the human world are here. Laughing and talking. You don't go through walls, you can actually touch each other. Though your still cold, it's something happy. I met you... In 1970. We only had four years together. We laughed and were happy. We had a close, inseparable relationship as wanderers. I even married you. We lived in my mothers house. My great grandmother had died a year before my mom. So my mom never made it across to be a wanderer. But I was happy with you. Emmett and Kate met you too and loved you, but when my dad found out that I was any kind of happy... He tried to kill your soul. But that's impossible. You didn't have a physical body yet. So therefor he couldn't kill you. He was angry that everyone around him was forgetting him.
I'd been a wanderer well over a hundred years when I found you. Happiness was unfamiliar but it was warm as I remember it. Having enjoyed it very little after Kate's death. But you were there. We were married and living in the big white house that sat empty for years. The day I died, remember how I said the forest looked flammable?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Well, dad was even smarter then I imagined. Most of the houses in town were surrounded with trees. The fire of the mill ate up the trees and half the neighborhood shamelessly. Killing about a hundred of the population. Our house was on the outskirts of town and hardly had any trees around it so it survived.
Weeks later after the remaining population was getting things back into order, building new houses, barns and businesses. The first paper of January came out. Three months after my death. Declaring that my death was accidental and from breathing in too much smoke, not enough air... Everyone was so busy putting out the fires in town to even notice the mill going up in chaotic flames...
In 1976, I lost you... You were born in the human world and your soul taken from me. I visited the house you then lived in often. I couldn't age anymore so I would wait for you. You lived in Connecticut for seven years of your life before your parents moved to California. When your parents both died in that car crash when you were 18. I stood by you. It was September 14th. And I was determined to make my first appearance in your life. The next day was the anniversary of my death. The only day I can return, also the day I die. I returned and met you after a bit of work getting you to notice me. I knew Billie and Adrienne would look after you while I went to the army. To make some money and broaden our horizons. You met them as planned and they are still your best friends. Still watching out for you I see...” his expression turned evil.

“I have one last request of you Amy. It's going to be a hard one for both of us. Did you know that you could be a wanderer again. If I kill you and burn away your body, use the ashes in the cellar, we could be together again. Permanently , we'd never have to leave each other. Please join me Amy...” he begged. His Face pleading.

He wanted to kill me to join him so he can be happy. So he won't be alone. I don't want him to be alone either it's just that I still have my human life in front of me...

“Your going to kill me?...” I whispered.

He nodded softly “It's the only way we can be together.”

I can't do that. I can't make that big of a sacrifice and he knows it. But something about that glint in his eye tells me that he's going to make me join him anyways...

“But we are together Jess... For fifteen years.” I Whispered.

“You wouldn't be able to handle another death.” he says sternly.

“Plus we can't risk anyone seeing me after I was supposed to be dead for five years.”

“We could keep you hidden.” I whispered.

“No you couldn't. It's too big to keep. It'd never work.. The only way it will work is if you just let me...” he whispered. The click of a pocket knife and he dragged it's jagged blade along my throat playfully. This is not the Jessie I love. Just as he pointed the blade over my heart, the front door swung open. Instead of the demon I'd been expecting, it was Billie. His eyes wide in horror at the sight of my immediate death.