Chapter 3: The Witness

Normalcy made an futile attempt to struggle it’s way back into Seth’s life. He knew that his life was about to change, he just didn’t know in what way. Nights became restless endeavors filled with staring contests with the ceiling and disturbing nightmares. He did call Tanner to check up on him and got the answer he expected. The nurse at the desk told Tanner that he was in shock. They sent him home and told him to be more careful while driving. That was of no comfort to Seth. His grades dropped as he was commonly late for class because of his vehicle being in the shop and even when he did attend, he was distracted. Seth fell into a cycle of obsession.

Everywhere he went, he would be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. When he would get home, he would rush to the mail slot, sweeping the floor with his eyes, looking anywhere for another note. He would stare at the note that he already had, inspected every part of it, searching for some hidden clue as to who had written it. At times, he would talk to himself, sleep depravation trickling misleading thoughts into the clutter that was his mind. Violet noticed his behavior and though she confronted Seth about it, their discussion led nowhere just as all the ones before it. Finally, she got fed up, left one of her signature notes on the fridge, and went to live with a friend, leaving him alone with his random muttering and his compulsion for an answer. As fatigued as he was, he still could find no truly energizing rest. It was during one of those sleepless nights that Seth, turbulent as ever, began to hear a voice.

The voice was not one that Seth had ever heard, which made it even more unbelievable that it was coming from inside his head. Seth tried to lay very still to reduce any rustling. The voice was frantic and almost incomprehensible. It sounded a bit like a person talking with their nose plugged. The voice would not have seemed intimidating except for the fact that Seth thought it was coming from within. Once again, staying awake for too long had impaired Seth’s perceptions. The voice was in fact coming from the street below. Seth, gradually recognizing this, propped himself up onto his elbow and, looking out into the obscure darkness, listened attentively. Seth could faintly make out a man in a black trench coat, standing on the sidewalk just outside his slightly opened bedroom window, complaining in a shallow whisper.

"It’s always me. Like I’m expendable. Who does Slade think he is?"

The man stood still for a few seconds, his facial muscles tightening in apprehension. Suddenly, he dropped his knees, writhing in pain. He twitched in agony, groaning under his breath.

"My deepest apologies. I’m not used to having you here, my liege."

Seth glimpsed around searching for the man who was being addressed as a superior. Assuming that he was hidden in the shadows, Seth turned his attention back to the man in the trench coat who had stopped convulsion and was getting to his feet. He spoke once again.

"Why can’t we take him in the house?" There was a long pause as though someone was answering the question. "Are we sure the witness will be there?"

The man walked closer to wall and leaned up against it. Seth could no longer see any part of the man’s face. Although he had moved closer to the door light, Seth’s view was obstructed by his window sill. Not wanting to risk being caught listening in, he accepted the loss of visual and tried to listen even more carefully. Seth could see the man’s hand reach out in front of his face to light a cigarette. The smoke rose up to the window, the scent of burning tobacco reaching Seth’s nostrils. The man spoke again.

"Yeah, but it’s my body." A short pause followed. "It’s borrowed."

Seth could make no sense of the conversation because the man or woman who was on the other end was speaking too quiet to be perceived. He strained his hearing, even holding his breath, but he could not make out any sound at all. Seth suddenly realized his stupidity. The man was wearing an earpiece. What kind of a person wear’s an earpiece? Could it possibly be some government organization doing reconnaissance? Seth could see no reason why he would be targeted by a government organization unless there was some unknown conspiracy that he was a part of.

Seth was beginning to feel like a conspiracy theorist himself, and although the man outside didn’t look like a government agent, he didn’t want to dismiss any idea that might lead him to the truth. Could the mob be after him? Could it be a hitman? The government seemed more likely. His imagination seemed intent on keeping him awake for another week by creating the most terrifying proposals. Seth thought about calling the cops, but the man had not done anything illegal yet. He couldn’t be arrested on a charge of acting shady. The man outside was speaking again.

"They’re giving the signal, right?" The earpiece must have given him an answer. "Could it be tonight?"

Seth gulped. He didn’t know what plan was being hatched, but he knew that if it was going down tonight he didn’t want to be anywhere near it. Before taking any action, Seth focused to see if he could collect any more meaningful information. The man spoke for a few minutes before falling silent, apparently waiting for the signal. The signal must not have come because the man stayed outside until dawn. Just as the first rays of sunlight began to peek over the horizon, the man stood up, brushed his back off and, walked down the road, complaining incoherently.

Suddenly, he burst into a full out sprint yelling, "Once again, sir, my utmost apology!"

He ran directly into a brick wall, laid there for a few seconds, then hopped to an upright position and continued walking as though nothing had happened. Seth’s imagination had succeeding in keeping him up all night, not to mention the constant glances outside to check if the man was still there. Seth groggily got out of bed and pulled on a wrinkled t-shirt and jeans. He contemplated whether he should go to school or not, but deciding on the latter, he threw on a jacket and went for a morning coffee at the shop on the corner.

The coffee shop was packed with early risers, anxious for their caffeine fix. Seth stood in line for about twenty minutes, before settling in at a table with a steaming cup of black coffee. He sipped on it, surveying the people in the line bustling around, in a hurry to get to work. He noticed a hand waving madly in the air and when he followed its arm down to its face, he saw that Tyrone was greeting him with enthusiasm. He was near the front of the line, and in almost no time at all, he had settled into the chair across from Seth’s, a mocha grasped firmly in his long, slender hands. Seth looked jealously at Tyrone, his smiling face without a worry in the world. Chipper as usual, Tyrone made small talk, pausing every once in a while to sweep his shaggy, auburn hair from his eyes. Seth wondered when Tyrone was going to bring up poker night and he found out right after Tyrone finished telling him about his grandmother’s sweet cakes.

"So, I was just wondering..uhh..what exactly happened that night, after the poker game," Seth’s cousin asked tentatively, unsure of whether Seth would still be angry about it. "You were acting pretty weird."

"I know. It’s kind of a long story."

Seth let out a deep sigh. He knew that telling someone about the strange things that had been happening would take a load off his chest, but in the back of his mind, he also knew that Tyrone, being scientifically minded, would try to refute any of Seth’s claims. He would refuse to let himself believe that a man could turn invisible, no matter how adamantly Seth argued. Then again, Tyrone’s rationality might be a voice of reason to Seth. After a few seconds of careful deliberation, Seth decided on, not lying, but just keeping some of the truth hidden.

"To be honest, I was frightened," Seth said in a hushed voice.

"That much was obvious," Tyrone responded. "Of what, though?"

"Okay, now this is a little out there, but I think I’m being watched or stalked or something like that. I don’t know if you noticed, but Tanner had a black powder on him. I think that whoever is watching me...that’s his calling card or something."

Tyrone gave an unbelieving look.

"Listen, there was a guy outside my house last night," Seth continued. "I think he might be from the government or something."

Disbelief still plastered on his face, Tyrone said, "So, you think you’re being watched by the government? What’s so special about you?"

"I’ve gone over this in my head hundreds of times and I’ve come up with one theory that fits best. I think I’m being targeted by a killer and the feds are onto him, but they want to catch him in the act before they try to stop him."

Seth was trying to convince himself as much as Tyrone. The idea that the solution to the mystery was that the federal government was trying to protect him, sounded better than any other scenario Seth could come up with. Tyrone was wearing the most incredulous smile.

"You’re joking, right?"

Seth shook his head, and Tyrone put his hand up to his forehead before continuing with, "That was unexpected. I don’t know what to say. I think you should probably get home and get some rest. You look like you haven’t slept in days."

"I haven’t," Seth said dully. "Forget that I even said that. I know it’s crazy. A lot’s just been happening. Tell me about Tanner. What was he like on the way to the hospital?"

"Actually, I’m glad you mentioned that. I’ve been meaning to tell you about that. It was the weirdest thing."

Seth opened his eye’s wide, anticipating the news.

Tyrone continued, "One minute, Tanner was exhibiting the same symptoms as you saw, and the next, he was symptom free. He was dazed, but his skin was it’s normal color and he was talking okay. It was weird. It wasn’t like a gradual thing. It was like the shock just lifted. When we got to the hospital, we didn’t have anything to show, just a story to tell. Tanner did get a nurse, who looked very annoyed, to take a look at his nose, as he claimed that it had been bleeding in the car, but she shooed him off, telling him to wait in line like everyone else. We were out of there in about twenty minutes."

Seth was beginning to wonder about whether his theory of a killer was extreme enough. What Tyrone was describing sounded more like some powerful new biological weapon capable of being turned on and off.

Tyrone still had more to say. "I know this isn’t related...or maybe it is, I don’t know, but just as Tanner got better, Bill lost control of the car, hit the curb, and bounced onto the sidewalk. He’s usually a pretty good driver. He said he didn’t know what happened. He doesn’t really remember turning the wheel or anything. When he described this to us, Tanner said that he had experienced the same feeling when he fell asleep at the wheel. I can see why you’re a little bit paranoid. Something fishy is definitely going on. Bill and Cosmo had a long talk about it while we waited at the hospital. They might have some more ideas about what went on. My memory is a little foggy."

Seth had been so absorbed in Tyrone’s story that he didn’t notice that the morning rush was over. The only other customer left was a man sitting at the coffee bar, reading a newspaper. The time had passed so quick.

"Tyrone, I’ve got a few things I’d like to check on today, but I want to talk more about this. How ‘bout we meet here tomorrow again?"

Tyrone agreed and they parted ways. Seth had already missed his first lecture, but hoping that Reed wouldn’t have to teach a class until later in the day, he headed for the university. He wanted to see his professor again. They say that rain makes you sad and sunlight lifts your spirits, but as Seth stepped out into the scorching heat of a spring chinook, his mood remained as low and pessimistic as before. Professor Reed did have an early morning lecture, much to Seth’s disappointment. The thought of breaking into Reed’s office to steal the vial did find it’s way into Seth’s mind, but just as before he pushed it away, feeling guilty for even thinking it. He wondered if eventually he was going to have to go to the drastic measures which he had been trying to avoid.

The main reason Seth had left the conversation with Tyrone was to call Violet before she went to the deli. Despite everything that was going on, Seth did still love her. He wasn’t going to let a rough patch end their relationship. He realized that he would have a lot of explaining to do if she took him back. He called from his house. Seth had no experience pleading with a woman to take him back, so as the phone rang, he tapped his foot and bit his lip nervously.

"Hello."Cecilia, Violet’s friend answered the phone.

"Hi, it’s Seth is Violet there?"

Seth heard his girlfriend’s voice in the background.

"He actually has the nerve to call me? Does he think it’s going to be that easy? Tell him I don’t want to talk. Tell him he doesn’t deserve me."

"She doesn’t want to talk to you, right now."

"Could you just let her know that I’m sorry?" Seth said, but the phone on the other end had already been hung up. Seth’s head hung low.

Seth could almost imagine Violet chortling to herself. There were times when he wondered if she was proud of her cruelty. She had almost always been kind to him, but when someone else rubbed her the wrong way, she didn’t hesitate to speak her mind, as harsh as it was. Seth certainly didn’t like being on the other end of it. It was almost as though she had a double personality. One was her cheerful, cute self that at times seemed a little forced. The other was the snappy, irritable self that showed itself almost as often as the other. His friends constantly asked him what he saw in her, but they didn’t understand. Bill and Cosmo were both married and Tyrone seemed more interested in comic books than in woman. It wasn’t easy for Seth to find and hold on to a girlfriend. Confidence had always been an issue for him. As the day turned to night, Seth’s investigation stalled, filling with dead ends.

Seth had expected the late night visitor to be waiting outside the window again, but he did not show up that night. Seth actually managed to rest a little easier and get about six hours of sleep. There were cold sweats and panicked sleep talking, but at least he was sleeping. The following day was best described as lonely. Tyrone didn’t show up for coffee in the morning. Seth waited for more than an hour before, keeping with the day before, went to the university to talk to Reed. Although Reed was out of his early class and in his office, he refused to talk. He was avoiding any contact with Seth at all. He wouldn’t return Seth’s phone calls or stop to talk when Seth tried to trap him in the corridor. He would merely keep on walking, telling Seth that he was a very busy man.

Nobody seemed to want anything to do with Seth, especially Violet. His second attempt at reconciliation had ended even worse than the first, finishing with a few vulgar words in the background and the click of being hung up on again. Another uneventful day had passed, the secrets of the black powder leaving Seth still mystified. The night, however, did not follow suit, much to Seth’s dismay.

Seth woke with a start, drool dripping down the left side of his face and soaking into his pillow. His heart skipped a bit as he realized what he pulled him from his slumber. Once again, someone was whispering outside his window. The man from two nights ago was standing in almost the exact same spot wearing the exact same clothes. His face was no more visible than before and his clothes, black as night made him almost invisible in the darkness. It had not been the rapid whispering of the man that had woke Seth. The sound of breaking glass had jolted him from his peace and into terror. The man had hit the lightbulb above the door with a rock, extinguishing any hope of identifying him. The moonlight provided just enough glow for the man’s silhouette to be seen. The whispers were excited, brimming with anticipation.

"The witness is on his way? Ooh, goody." The man emitted a cold, high-pitched squeal of delight, sending shivers down Seth’s spine.

The man began to chant wildy, dancing in a circle, "Just wait for the signal. Just wait for the signal." He abruptly stopped dancing. "Yes, but it doesn’t matter, now! He can’t escape."
Hearing this, Seth hopped to his feet and, trying to make as little noise as possible, rushed to his closet. He opened it slowly, failing to avoid the creaking sound, and pulled out his old baseball bat. He squeezed it tightly, fearing it might slip from his sweaty hands. He wanted to reach the man outside before the signal was given. Where this sudden surge of bravery had come from, Seth did not know, but he did know that with his adrenaline pumping as fast as it was, he would be able to handle the creep outside. He bustled over to the top of the steps and made his way down them, his knees nearly knocking together in fear.

The steps seemed to end at the same time as Seth’s bravery. He reached out for the door handle, but he wasn’t sure if he would be able to actually open the door. His hands were quivering so violently, that he had to take a moment to squeeze them together in an effort to hold them still. He stretched his hand out for the doorknob once again, but saw that it was already turning. He took a step back and put the bat over his shoulder ready to swing. The door opened very slowly at first, releasing a blast of cold air into the entryway. Without warning, the door was thrust open.

The man in the black trench coat was standing in front of Seth, his eyebrows raised.

His face was ghastly looking. He had a large scar extending from his left ear down to his lips. His head was strewn randomly with wisps of brown, thinning hair. It was obvious that his image was not of any importance to him. He didn’t look that old, yet his skin was dry and wrinkled like that of a much older man. His appearance, unnerving as it was, would not have impacted Seth in the same way had it not been for the eyes. The man’s eyes had no color at all. It looked as though his pupils had swollen to five times their size, leaving the white of his eyes just visible in the corner. His build was average, similar to that of Seth. He man grinned widely, showing yellowed, chipped teeth contrasting against the rough stubble covering his chin and upper lip. His voice sounded much more daunting from close-up.

"I just thought I’d pop in for some tea."

The man let out a hoarse snigger and leaned in close to Seth. His breath smelled of rotten flesh, making Seth recoil back for a moment.

"Are you gonna swing that bat or just hold it and stare at me?"

Seth steadied himself and with a grunt of effort, he swung at the man’s face. For a second, Seth thought that he was going to succeed in crushing the man’s skull, but at the last possible moment, the man’s hand whipped up and caught the bat effortlessly. He ripped it from Seth’s clutching hands, sending splinters deep into Seth’s palms, and snapped it in half as though it was a twig. Seth could feel his jaw drop and begin to tremble.

The man placed his hands against Seth’s chest, and giving a small push, he sent Seth flying up the first set up stairs. He hit the sixth step up and bounced, the force whipping his head into the drywall, leaving a large indent. He dropped to the ground and crumpled on the first landing. He managed to retain his consciousness, but wished that he hadn’t as the man climbed the steps and grabbed Seth by the scruff of his neck, lifting him like a mother cat lifts it’s kittens. But he wasn’t gentle at all. He tossed him out onto the sidewalk sending him rolling across the pavement, ripping his elbows and knees to shreds. Blood dripped from a cut on his chin, staining his undershirt a sickly red.

The man stomped over to Seth and lifted him up to eye level by the hair on his head.
He growled sadistically, "Are we having fun yet?"

Seth began to swing his arms and legs wildly trying to either wriggle out of the man’s grasp or to connect a blow. His right arm made a solid connection with the man’s nose. Blood began to stream out and Seth could see that the now broken nose was protruding at an unnatural angle. The blood, too, looked unnatural. It wasn’t the normal bright red like Seth’s was. It was a much darker shade, more like crimson. It flowed strangely slow, almost like molasses. The man barked out a laugh.

"You’re a feisty one, aren’t you. Down, boy."

Apparently Seth’s mind was in denial about the situation because even in the midst of being attacked, it occurred to him that he been called feisty just days before. As the man dragged him through back streets and alleys, his mind tried to focus on random, meaningless information. He thought back to what he had said to Violet just one day ago and to how hungry he felt. His back was being tormented by the pavement as he slithered across it, dragged by his hair, but still his mind would not come out of defensive mode. He began to swim in and out of consciousness. The stars passing by above seemed to circling his head like in the cartoons. Flashing lights, a cold puddle, and then suddenly, he stopped moving.

He looked around, but still it took him a while to actually realize that he had moved from the front of his condo to a deserted street a few blocks away. The man was walking away from him, the street lights and moon casting multiple shadows on what Seth had experienced as an unforgiving ground. A few drops of spring rain began to fall. They helped to wash the taste of blood away from Seth’s mouth. The man walked out into the middle of the street and stood silent. Seth longed to get up, but as much as he willed himself, the pain was just too great. His face felt swollen and bruised. When he tried to yell, all he could manage was a short mumbled gasp.

Suddenly, the man standing in the middle of the street, let out a deep howl of anguish. He dropped to his knees and lifted his head, staring up at the twinkling stars above. Seth, his face pressed against the cold pavement, watched, transfixed with horror. A thin layer of fog formed around the man’s knees as he lowered his head and shut his eyes. Several tension filled seconds passed. The man didn’t appear to be in pain. Without warning, his head snapped up, his black eyes staring straight at Seth. The man opened his mouth to yell, but no noise came out.

His eyes appeared to expanding out of their sockets. The huge black pupils looked to be oozing out of his eyes. A gas was forming at his eyes and floating skyward like steam from a kettle. It was a deep black smoke, like that which comes from burning evergreen boughs. It rose a few feet above his head, and then stopped, hovering eerily, a frozen cloud against the backdrop of the night sky. The same smoke began to pour out of nostrils and mouth, rising to form with the cloud, which got so big that it began to engulf the man’s head. Then like a tornado, it began to swirl around the man’s body.

He cried out, uttering, "No! Don’t leave me." He sounded like he was weeping. "I thought I was ready, but I’m not!"

The smoke had looped around the man’s body numerous times leaving very little visible. His frightened eyes could be seen between two of the swirls. The pupils had returned to normal size, but the man was not blinking. His eyes were blank, almost dead-like. Seth could see streaks of black powder mixed with tears running down from the man’s eyes and mouth. A silence settled over the street. It seemed as though time had stopped. Seth’s head was low enough to the street that he could see that the man’s knees had lifted off of the pavement a few inches. He was suspended in mid-air, neither him or the cloud of smoke moving.

Suddenly, the smoke flew at Seth. The man’s body collapsed in a heap. The smoke slithered along the ground, and upon reaching Seth, rose up and pounced. There was no struggle. Like a black blanket of silk, the smoke curled around him engulfing him in a hazy confusion. It struck instantly and entered Seth’s body. He could feel it flow into his body through his mouth and his nose. It felt like every cut had reopened and his mouth and nose were bleeding profusely. He tried to breath, but found himself unable to.

Gasping for life, he rolled onto his back and felt more of the smoke swoop down on him and invade his system. He tried to force a breath out in an attempt to push it away from his face, but it gently rose to his eyes, impossible to evade. It seemed to stop at his eyes, hesitating for a moment, before plunging through his sockets. He expected all to be black, but instead a murky grey filled his vision, obscuring anything that was left to see. The entering smoke felt like a warm liquid excreting from his eyes. He longed to blink, yet he could not. Losing all sense of awareness, Seth felt his world begin to rotate. He felt as though he was floating, lifted by the weightless smoke now inside him. The last entrails of vapor surged into his body and he was lifted off of his back and onto his knees. His arms began to rise from his sides as though they were filled with helium.

Through the grey color clouding his vision, Seth could make out a black shadowy shape rushing him. It grew larger and larger as it neared him, it’s form becoming more apparent. The blurriness prevented Seth from making out any details and when he moved to try and see what it was, he realized that the black powder that he could feel coursing through his veins, had tightened all his muscles, paralyzing him with his eyes still locked on the advancing figure. Seth could see that the figure was for sure human. It looked to be skinny and hunched over, possibly holding a cane.

The figure bent down on one knee, setting the thing in his hand down. He put his hands on Seth’s cheeks, yet Seth could barely feel it. He was aware that the man was touching him, but it felt distant, like someone was touching him in a dream. He tried to force out a cry for help, but his lips did not even move. Behind the man with the cane, Seth could see a fuzzy shape stand up and begin to stumble towards them. The man in the trench coat was still yelling through sobs, as he walked drunkenly towards Seth.

"Come back! I am nothing without you. Come back!"

The feeling was beginning to come back to Seth. He could feel the warm hands pressed against his cheeks. The figure with the cane said something, but Seth could not hear it over his attacker’s screams. The man with the cane positioned his face in front of Seth’s so that everything was blocked out except for him. Seth vision was starting to clear up and he found colors slowly fading back into the picture. A pair of sparkling blue eyes beneath the brim of a golfer’s hat formed from the black blur in front of him. He recognized them as a man’s. The lips took a few moments to come into focus, but before that Seth could hear the man’s soothing voice speaking calmly.

"My name is Henry Cartezoni. I’m here to help. You’ve been infected. Keep looking at my eyes." Henry pointed at his eyes. "Don’t look away. I want you to concentrate on me. Listen to my voice. Your head is probably telling you a million things. Don’t listen to your head anymore, listen to my voice."

Henry kept on talking, but Seth had just realized that he had regained control of his eyes. He heard what Henry had said, but he looked away to his left, curious about the man who had attacked him. Henry was still talking.

"Look at me. Don’t do anything. You going to want to run or talk or fight, but don’t! This is very important. Do not do anything. That smoke that’s in you is going to try to invade your mind. Are you listening?"

But Seth was not listening. His attacker had fallen down and was having a tantrum like a five year old in the supermarket. His legs and arms were flailing around madly as he rolled, screaming for the smoke to come back to him. He kept crying out that he needed it. He was like an immature junkie, who instead of risking everything to get the next fix, just dropped to the floor and whined until he got what he wanted. Henry shuffled over and filled Seth’s view again. He was desperate to get Seth’s attention, yet for some reason Seth did not care at all.

Seth felt a tingling in his arms as they collapsed to his sides. He thought he had control, yet when he tried to lift them they would not move where he wanted them to go. It was like they had their own agenda. They moved very slightly at his hips at first, as though they were anxious to do something, but they didn’t know what. His fingers began to drum lightly on his pants, testing themselves out, cracking their knuckles. Suddenly, they flew at Henry’s face and propelled him to the side without Seth wanting them to.

Henry hit the pavement hard, and lay still, groaning. His arm was caught awkwardly under the weight of his body. His cane flew from his hand and clattered along the ground, settling on the curb. Seth longed to go over and help him, but his body would not move. His eyes were the only thing that was under his control. Then, Seth heard a voice that sounded strangely familiar. It had come from his lips and had sounded something like his voice, but with a deeper vibration to it. It was raspy and cruel sounding, a voice that, even in it’s quiet volume, commanded attention - commanded power.

"Deacon..." The man looked up at Seth, his eyes wide with surprise. "Deacon, do it."

The man pulled himself along the ground, closer to Seth.

"Is it you, my liege?" he said excitedly. His voice had lost its confidence and no longer instilled any fear in Seth.

Seth nodded with no conscious decision to do so. Deacon got to his feet, hungry to do whatever task Seth’s voice had set out for him. He leapt towards Seth landing on top of him taking advantage of his vulnerability. Henry was still on the ground, clutching his arm, unable to help. Deacon pinned Seth down and began to punch him in the face. Seth was helpless as his face became a bloody mess. His arms lay lifeless at his sides, flopping like a rag-doll with each landed blow. He had not noticed at first, but the fog was gathering once again. He could hear a prolonged scream of agony ringing in his ear. It came from within his head, but it was no thought of his.

The cloud rose ominously large covering the pair entirely, making them invisible to Henry who was laying just a few feet away. The man continued to hit Seth, but he was starting to tire. The hits were no longer as hard or as fast, but it would not have mattered. Seth could not feel the pain of the punches anyway, as they had been replaced by a searing burning all over his body. He thought that he was on fire and finding his voice he wailed in torment. Seth didn’t writhe or move at all. All he did was yell for mercy. He longed for death one instant and the next the pain was gone and all sensation to his body had returned.

He could hear Deacon laughing at him, saying, "Painful, is it?"

The smoke had left Seth and with full movement restored, he rolled out of the cloud until he could see, heaved Henry over his shoulder (not worrying about causing him any pain), and sprinted, his body thriving on the rush of fear and pain. He ran until his legs literally collapsed beneath him, leaving him sprawled in an alleyway next to Henry, panting for breath, shaking with terror, and contemplating the world that he thought that he knew.