Erica,                                                                               February 2nd

I’m going to come home.

I know you aren’t going to get this, so it doesn’t really matter but-

I miss you and I love you and I’m going to come home before I die. Ghost is-

Odd. Odd, but I don’t think he will hurt you and you deserve to know the truth.

All of my love.

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Kate stretches out on the shitty hotel bed before turning over so that she’s resting on her stomach. Malakai eyes her from the desk he is perched at.

Sometimes it’s hard to think of Kate as Ghost. Not when her antics are so very Kate like. She’s even kicking her feet in the air, Malakai doesn’t think he ever saw Ghost do that before.

“Are you any good at makeup? Probably not. For Danelle’s sake, you are the worst.” She sends a pinched look at Malakai before letting out a loud sigh and rolling over again.

“You’re the one that killed her.” The words are sour on his tongue and he can’t spit them out fast enough. Really, he needs to remember this is Ghost. He’s not working with Kate again. Kate isn’t being herself and whining about something stupid.

Ghost is whining about the fact that Malakai is now a wanted man and his face is on the first page of the newspaper. Apparently someone did see them back in Demsen and they reported it. Thankfully, by the time the police got there Ghost and Malakai were long gone.

Then the old innkeeper gave them up so that Malakai was linked up to the murder. CME Agent gone wrong, is what the newspapers say. They even say he’s helping the serial killer.

It’s bullshit, is what it all is.

Doesn’t change the fact that Malakai is very recognizable no matter how well Ghost can hide amongst people.

Ghost scowls at him, Kate’s face shifting into the old man’s face for a second before blending into the girl that originally died in the alley. Suddenly he remember he has seen Ghost in that pose, now whether the pose started with the original victim or someone else, Malakai will never know.

“Maybe if you didn’t panic over everything I wouldn’t have had to.” Ghost pushes herself up and off the bed and scrunches up her burning hair. “Still doesn’t solve the issue of your face.”

Or the issue of the disease. Malakai reaches up to touch his nose as if he’d be able to feel the dampness of blood. Even if he didn’t have the gloves he wouldn’t have been able to feel it. His hands are still a rotting mess, no matter what he tries. The most he’s gotten is for the inky black to turn a pale gray.

He closes his eyes and drops his hand away from his face. “We should go to Avelton.” It has been what he’s been psyching himself up for since they left Demsen.

“I already said we can make a pit stop there. I don’t know what that town has to offer but-“

“We need a leech.” And just like that Ghost freezes, her form shifting from the child to the albino, to the scarred man, back to Nia, and then stopping at Kate for a second before flashing to the young boy he was when they entered Demsen.

“Why do we need a leech?” His voice has this chilly frost to it. Like they are still in the Qleehl and the fire has just died in the cabin.

Malakai opens his mouth, about to snap because you’re a hybrid nephlim. He clicks it shut and looks away from Ghost instead. He might be wrong on that accusation, after all Ghost is a shapeshifter and that is black magic. He’d still get sick from it. It’s just, Ghost has mentioned on multiple occasions that he has white magic.

“No one is dying from the disease. We don’t need a leech.” Ghost is frowning, chin tilted up and a scowl on thin lips.

“I’m dying.” Malakai decides on.

“I’m not going to kill you.” Ghost snaps before forcing out an exhale and heading to the bathroom. And yes, Malakai got that. Ghost might not kill him. The disease on the other hand? That definitely will.

“You have black magic.” The door to the bathroom slams shut and Malakai doesn’t even know if the monster heard him.

Ghost has been in a mood ever since they entered Nordale and saw the newspapers posted about. Thankfully they came to town when the sun was already falling so Malakai was able to hide in the shadow of his coat, but it still was quite conspicuous. It’s a wonder if any of it is worth it.

Sometimes, cutting his losses just seems like the better solution rather than struggling and helping a serial killer. Malakai’s gaze goes to the ugly letter laying on the desk.

He’s already made his decision. As soon as he saw his face on the newspaper it clicked in place.

Erica doesn’t deserve to think that her husband abandoned her to help a serial killer. That he abandoned their child.

Kate is the one that stumbles out of the bathroom several minutes later with one of the hotel’s towels swallowing her frame. She looks over, nose crinkling before demanding, ”Surely you aren’t willing to sit around in your filth for even longer, are you? If the CME is going to be on our tail, we aren’t going to have much free time like this in the future.”

She bustles over to the bed in a few hurried steps before plopping down to stare at Malakai. “I remember you bathing more frequently, and really if it’s me you have a problem with- Well.” She shifts to the albino boy and furrows his brows before adding, “You shouldn’t take it out on your hygiene. That’s how diseases start.”

Malakai can’t help the snort that escapes his. As if he didn’t already have a disease.

He doesn’t wait for any other comments as he locks himself up in the bathroom. Turning around and-

Weeks of travel did quite a bit of damage to him. His bulk seemed to halve thanks to the skimpy meals the duo have been forced to endure. His beard-

Well.

He didn’t have one before. The CME had a restriction on facial hair, something about it being unprofessional so he hasn’t seen himself with a beard for the past five years. It’s…

Odd.

He doesn’t know how long he’s had it. Normally, he’d be able to feel it. Normally, his hands wouldn’t be the nasty, numb mess that they are.

His hair is matted and limp, something similar to what a mange infested collie would look like. Before it lost all its fur.

He probably smells and-

Godlings, this would have been what Erica would have seen if they went straight to Avelton. This is what everyone has been seeing. No wonder the odd looks and everything else. Ghost doesn’t look like this.

Ghost can also change her appearance at the flip of a dime. Who knows what she really looks like, if she looks like anything.

He puts the shower as hot as it can get, stripping off the layers and layers of clothes he smothered himself in. There’s hesitation when he gets to the gloves, then even more hesitation when he gets to his socks. It’s a harsh reminder, the skin underneath.

His feet, he was always able to forget about his feet. He can’t now. Not when he looks down at the nasty black rot of frostbite. He could probably lessen it now. Make it more of a pale gray like his hands.

Briefly, he wonders if it is also going to kill him. How long it would take to kill him. Maybe his biggest worry shouldn’t be Ghost’s disease killing him, but whatever toxin his own frostbite is dripping into his veins.

In the end, he has to change the temperature of the water to something much, much colder. Anything above room temperature felt like a fire being ignited on his flesh.

He stands there for too long, watching as the shower’s water turns to a murky color as it visibly washes away the dirt and grime from traveling for so long. It’s amazing how he didn’t feel it. How he got used to it.

Like he’s getting used to Ghost.

If only he could wash the monster away with water. He’d have drowned himself already if he could.

He doesn’t realize his mistake until he steps out of the shower. Really, it should have been obvious. There is a reason Ghost just wrapped herself up in one of the shitty hotel towels.

Malakai himself was not looking forward to stepping back into the filthy uniform after cleaning himself. The issue is, they only packed books and food and water containers and whatever they had on their back. At the little hovel Ghost brought them to in Demsen, they didn’t even pick up anymore clothing.

It was certainly poor planning, and they are paying for it now.  

He doesn’t know how long he stands there contemplating what he’d rather do until he picked up bits and pieces of his uniform.

Honestly, it feels like he might as well have not taken a shower as the clothes slide right over his skin. The only things he is happy about are the socks and the leather gloves. Anything to not face the frost bite decimating his skin.

Ghost has since curled up in one of the blankets, curling up her nose before waving a hand, “We are going to need to get more coins if we are to get any of the supplies we need.”

“You could always steal.” Malakai offers a shrug as he shuffles his way back to the desk and back to the crudely written letter to Erica. He couldn’t even read his own handwriting, the only reason he knew what was being said is simply because he wrote it.

“I’d rather not.” Kate- Ghost throws herself down onto the bed with a huff.

Malakai has to bite back his response. No, you’d rather kill. Antagonizing the killer hasn’t gotten him anywhere. Silence hasn’t gotten him anywhere. Waiting only got him with bloody hands as they hid away Kate’s body in an alleyway.

He touches his nose again.

“I know somewhere where we could get clothes. And food. And supplies.”

“Let me guess, Avelton? Geez, what is your hard on for that place? You’re worse than Devin when he gets an idea in his head.” Kate shifts in the bed, blue eyes peeking out to stare at Malakai.

Malakai stares down at the letter so that he doesn’t have to look at her. If he closes his eyes and forgets this could be just like any other job. Like one of the several jobs they worked on. It’d be nothing new except Kate is dead and Malakai helped her murderer. It’s a joke, is what it is.

“I know people there. They’ll help us.” Erica would be livid, but she’d still help. Probably. Oh, he did not want to test it. He’d rather not know what the line would be and where exactly he was in regards to the line.

Kate’s voice morphs into a younger, silkier voice as she asks, “Why do you want to go to Avelton so badly?”

“I need a leech.” It technically isn’t a lie.

“Then we can find Ivory, she’s a leech.”

Malakai flinches, “No.” At least that means Ivory isn’t another one of the monster’s victims. Aiding the serial killer isn’t any better though and he’s not sure if he’d trust someone because of Ghost’s recommendations.

“Look, we can still go to Avelton. I don’t mind, it’s not like it is out of the way. I just want to know why you want to go there so badly. Family?” Ghost raises an arm and lazily gestures to the desk. “Whoever you are writing so many bloody letters to? In Demsen you seemed against the idea of going to Avelton. What changed?”

Malakai simply stares down at the letter as if it has all of the answers. It doesn’t. It never will.

“It doesn’t matter either way, and even if we do go to Avelton we won’t be able to stay long. Not with,” There’s an irritated huff and movement in Malaki’s peripherals before Ghost adds, “you.”

As if it is Malakai’s fault for everything.

It’s late. Really, they should be calling it a night. Malakai hasn’t really been able to sleep much, not since his stay in the stupid cabin in the middle of the godling forsaken Qleehl. He’s exhausted, half-starved and his mind balances on a delicate tight rope where one slip means death. What he should do is curl up on the floor and pretend that none of this is happening.

Instead, he snaps out, “What does that mean?”

Ghost’s entire face flickers for a second before she settles on Kate’s face, “It’d be easier to explain what it doesn’t mean.” Her face shifts and suddenly it’s the albino boy who closes his demon eyes for a second before, “Look. There’s just a time crutch now. You should know how the CME is. You are the CME. Your face is everywhere and I, I’m not looking to die or get caught or whatever it is you guys plan to do to me. I have… things.”

There’s suddenly a horribly bright smile and Ghost gives a slight shrug. “How are your hands doing? The only healer I know is Death, and I have a feeling he won’t be any help so I think we are on our own.”

Malakai looks away from the monster and instead picks up his letter. I’m going to come home. That’s all he has going for him.

I’m going to come home.

“I remember you being more talkative before, Midnight.” It’s Kate’s voice ringing out again, he doesn’t even have to look to confirm it. “I mean, not that you were every mister chatty, but there’s a difference between actually having a conversation and this one sided waltz we seem to be doing.”

Not that it matters, but, “Why are you still calling me Midnight?”

“See! There it is!” Kate- Ghost, that’s Ghost, flings herself at the edge of the bed, a finger raised accusingly. “Completely ignoring almost everything I say. Why should I answer you? You haven’t even told me why you want to go to Avelton! It’s unfair, really. It is. Here I am, helping you, and you won’t even talk to me. Why are you always like this?’

Malakai freezes at the words. For one, it’s all a lie. And then- Then-

Partnered with you? You won’t even talk to me! Laughter rings in his mind and the memory of a shove. Kate was always a handful, excitable and one of those people who liked to touch.

“You’re holding me hostage. Not helping me.” Kate’s entire face falls at the words. The smile slips somewhere to the floor and her blue eyes are broken wide open. They melt into a green before drowning in crimson as Ghost changes his form yet again.

“I saved your life.” His words are cold like the wastelands. The joking tone he was previously whining in frozen solid. “Without me, you would have died in the Qleehl. Without you, I would have been able to make it safely to the east without attracting unwanted attention.”

Malakai opens his mouth, a barb sitting at the tip of his tongue but one look at the scowl Ghost is sending him makes the barb wither away into nothing. Instead he moves so that he can shove the letter into one of the open books on the desk. The sound of the book closing is louder than thunder and shakes Malakai to his very bones.

“Sure. Ignore me. Like usual.” There’s a huff, movement and when Malakai dares to glance over Ghost is curled up on the bed with the blankets consuming whatever victim he’s portraying himself as. “Go to bed. We will be leaving early tomorrow.”

Malakai doesn’t argue. All he does is turn to stare at the desk that has the contents of their bags sprawled across it. Books really. That’s what they have, books. He reaches out and snatches the one of the two books featuring frost bite.

Ghost might be able to sleep, but Malakai knows himself and so far the only times he has been able to fall asleep is after staying up for several days. Even then, his slumber is more disruptive than not and he finds him sleeping for a scarce amount of hours. He’s not sure if that’s because of Ghost or from the disease.

Turning pages in the book is slightly easier than it was back in the cabin. Easier, as in his fingers don’t crack. It’d probably be even easier if he took off the glove, but he’s seen his hand for long enough already. He didn’t need to see it anymore. The book itself, well.

He’s read it at least three times since they left the Qleehl. There are some paragraphs where he could probably close his eyes and read the entire thing verbatim from the top of his head. It’s depressing, really. The fact that he knows bits and pieces of the book so well.

They have other books, of course. Ghost’s books. Malakai hasn’t dared to touch one of them since the cabin.

Ghost still hasn’t said what they were after.

Malakai probably deserves it, since he himself is not being cooperative when it comes to communicating. He’s also not trying to raise the dead, or whatever it is Ghost is trying for.

Malakai is also not a serial killer.

He shuts the book when the words begin swim in front of his eyes, jumping lines and flipping around so that Malakai is forced to read the words backwards. It shuts without a sound, like a candle being snuffed out.

The letter to Erica is still poking out of the book he shoved it in. It’s one of the old books covering the myths of the godlings. The cover loudly exclaimed that it is the truth of the godlings that Liphe would have hidden away. An odd read, surely. He reaches out to grab the book and-

There’s a snuffle, covers moving about and Malakai gives a quick glance back to see if Ghost has given up on sleep. He hasn’t, simply turning about so that his face is hidden from the desk’s lamp.

The monster probably won’t care. Not now, not after he got whatever it was he wanted from them. At least, he doesn’t seem to hoard the books so possessively anymore.

He flips it open, Erica’s letter slipping onto the floor as the weight of the pages free it. Skimming through the lines reveal it to be the myth over Nephlim. It follows along with the one they are often told, child of Anate and Oleander that ended up being able to heal all of the godlings from the plague. Liphe fell in a fit and drowned the poor sod, causing the Anate to lash out irrationally.

Except, there’s a bit in the myth that’s different.

Malakai frowns at it. Really, the line itself was simple and easy. Misleading in the grievances it would cause.

As Nephlim grew older, so did the plague and when he reached the age of 16 the plague was freed from his body and ran rampant among the godling’s colony.

Everything else is the same as the story he grew up with. Just one minor difference. He flips through a few of the other myths in the book and they all seem to be the exact same minus an extra sentence here, and extended ending there. Nothing prominent. Malakai tucks the letter back into the book before grabbing one of the other’s sprawled about.

Death’s Paramore it says in the fancy cursive lettering of older times. The cover itself is basic, as if all the effort went for the script and the only thing they were willing to add to it is a simple circle in the middle of the bottom half of the cover. He flips through, skimming the names to confirm that yes, this book was about Death’s affair with Qleehl.

The first tale being how they met and then the later myths being about their destructive end. Their very gory, messy end. Liphe’s jealousy acting up once again when her betrothed played around with the mother of monsters and demons. It is one of the later myths that Ghost bookmarked by folding the corner of the page.

Undine is the title of the myth. Malakai doesn’t even have to read it to fill in the blanks. Undine is the immortal daughter of Qleehl and Death. The one he buried in a lake when Liphe made her demand of the death of all his children. It’s one of those tales that they’d tell at weddings, as a way to say don’t cheat, it has nasty after effects.

Given, those stories are fluffed up for weddings. At his wedding they told it more like Death gave all of his children permanent vacation homes far, far away from the godling’s colony. In a way, the godling did. Just, most of them were dead and the one that couldn’t die got buried alive under a lake for eternal suffering.

He skims through the myth anyways, just in case there is some reason spelled out for why Ghost bookmarked it. There’s nothing of course, because godling forbid if Ghost is someone that actually wrote notes in his books. It’d make Malakai’s life easier if he was that kind of person.

Maybe Ghost thinks he could find Undine and use whatever keeps the godling from dying to resurrect other people? Or, maybe he is trying to find a way to keep himself alive? No, he’s specifically mentioned he was fixing a mistake. Malakai simply didn’t know what the mistake was.

There’s another noise and Malakai shuts the book and slides it back where it was before.

The world turns, a stifling silence and Malakai reaches for another book. He skips right over the one about Qleehl and grabs the one tucked underneath with the title Speaking to Godlings. Underneath the title are the words An introduction to Séance.

Maybe Malakai is looking at things wrong. He frowns as he brings the book closer to himself and skims through the table of contents. It’s innocent at first, then the fourth chapter covers reviving the dead and effects to the caster. The fifth chapter depicts the different types of undead. The seventh chapter dictates how to trap souls into other bodies and-

He shuts the book and pushes it away.

There’s a clatter as one of the other books fall but he honestly can’t bring himself to grab whatever it is. Instead he just sits there and stares at his hands. Obviously the monster is after something to do with the undead. Why he’d have an interest in all of the stupid godling tales eludes him but Ghost is after something to do with death.

Maybe it’s how he remembers things from his victims. He’s mentioned odd things here and there that only Kate would know-  I still can’t believe Erica let you get a cat because you are too big of a chicken shit to get a dog- and then there’s the odd changes and-

It’d make sense, except he was looking into it. If he has it now, he wouldn’t need to research it.

Bringing something back from the dead is the natural suspicion and Malakai honestly doesn’t know how to handle that. It’s-

It’d be unnatural. Monstrous. It’d be opening a gate to the godlings realm and all of the monsters that lurk there would be able to lay claim on their world. That’s what happened to the Qleehl, some idiot opened up a passageway and Qleehl took full advantage. If Ghost is planning on bringing back the dead and-

Something to do with Undine for sure. He had to have bookmarked it for a reason.

Or, Ghost was just horrible religious and he likes to keep the myths with him. Close to heart. Maybe Undine is his favorite, maybe he is planning to get married someday. Who would marry a monster, Malakai didn’t know but-

It’s there. A possibility.

He blinks, and there’s a splash of crimson on his black glove.

Would it matter? In the end, would it?

He is going to die anyways. The disease is going to kill him, even if Ghost doesn’t kill him. Why the monster doesn’t realize that escapes Malakai but it is a fact.

He tilts back, his entire body falling apart in the chair as he stares up at the ceiling. It is a dirty and old ceiling, stains this way and that and it had all the weird little bumps so many ceilings seem to have. He’s tempted to count them, but when he tries to focus the world fall into an odd blurry haze.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, starring up at the ceiling. Hopefully long enough for the bleeding to stop. He’d test it with his glove, but eventually the black leather is going to stain a vibrant red and he’ll never be able to tell the difference.

But eventually-

Eventually, there’s a rustle and Kate drags herself out of the bed and stumbles over to the bathroom. She comes back, clothed in weeks old clothing and throws Malakai’s coat at him and snaps out, “Come on, we got a lot of travelling to do and you need to hide your uniform if we are to avoid attention.”

Just like that they leave.

Malakai keeps bleeding, inside and outside and they head to Avelton.