The Zombie Knight Saga 3 Iii. | 'Thy Path Be Not Gentle...'

Sneaking back into his house had been a ch.o.r.e. He couldn't very well have gone through the front door; he was sure he would've woken one or both of his parents. So instead, he climbed up the wall to his bedroom window--a wall which clearly was not meant to be climbed. He lost count of how many times he fell. Garovel eventually just decided to empower his body again so that Hector could finally make it back up to his room and into the relief of his bed.

Too soon, however, his alarm clock went off.

'Oops, sorry. Time to get up.'

He groaned into his pillow. "Oh, just... just f.u.c.k right off. Seriously... I wouldn't get out of this bed right now if you set it on fire..."

Garovel tapped him on the head. 'It's fine. You can catch up on your sleep later.'

He felt his eyelids recede, the weight from them completely lifted. His exhaustion was gone, he realized, and he sat up. He glared at Garovel. "Why didn't you just do that earlier?" He winced as aching pains vaulted from muscle to muscle all over his body. "And why don't you do something about this soreness, too?"

'Sorry, but that really needs to go away on its own. I told you to expect pain, didn't I?'

He stood slowly and regretted every moment of it. "Agh, oww..."

'It's bad if I keep putting off the recovery pains and exhaustion. They'll just come back stronger later.'

"You can't just... ugh... keep putting it off forever?"

'Yeah, and then one day, I forget. Or we end up separated for a long time, and guess what happens? You experience pain that is so strong, it drives you actually insane.'

He sighed. "Okay, fine..."

'You're very cranky in the morning.'

Hector blinked and flushed red. "Ah--I'm sorry. I didn't, ah, I didn't m-mean to be rude..."

Garovel seemed amused. 'It's fine. Don't look so worried.'

He readied himself for school and left, not needing to say goodbye to his parents who were already gone, and he arrived at the bus stop just as it was pulling up to the curb. Garovel floated steadily along with him, even keeping pace with the bus right outside Hector's window. No one sat next to him.

Calman High School was notoriously cramped. It sat on a crowded high street, its seven stories paling in comparison to every building around it, and since the property was nowhere near large enough to house any fields or facilities whatsoever, every last one of the school's physical education courses and sports teams had to be exported to rented buildings. An eighth floor was being added in order to cope with the number of students, but that meager relief was still months from fruition.

Hector arrived at his morning mathematics cla.s.s and took his seat in the back corner of the room, thankful at least for the walls on two sides of him instead of another pair of warm bodies breathing down his neck.

It sometimes seemed a strange thing to him that he could feel so alone with so many people around, but the more he thought about it, the more he supposed that to be the exact problem. He wondered if anyone else felt as lost in the crowd as he did. And now, being undead and seeing Garovel drift among the students like the most unapproachably frightening teacher in the world, Hector also began to wonder if a school where everyone knew one another would have changed his life. Or his death.

Garovel hung around throughout his first few cla.s.ses, making the occasional remark about how no one in the room was about to die or pointing out an inaccuracy in the teacher's lecture. Honestly, Hector was glad for the company, strange as it was, but he wasn't entirely sure why the reaper was staying. Surely, Garovel had better things to do than observe a second-year geography lesson about the Eloan continent's tropical regions. Hector refrained from asking about it, however, figuring it might prompt Garovel to leave.

But as the teacher's lecture drew out and transformed into one of current events, of civil unrest and brutalities in the modern world, a more serious question began to brew in Hector's mind; and when it was time to break for lunch, he decided to pet.i.tion Garovel for an answer.

'There's something else I want to know,' Hector thought, not wanting to look like the crazy kid in the corner of the refectory who sat talking to himself.

'Yeah?'

'Uh... why aren't you somewhere more important?'

Garovel c.o.c.ked a bony eyebrow. 'Excuse me?'
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'No, I mean... uh... why are you trying to help people here in Brighton? I mean... with all the horrible s.h.i.+t going on in the world, aren't there lots of other places that need help...? Not that, uh... not that I think preventing murders isn't important and all, but, ah... there are whole countries at war in the southeast, you know...'

'I do know, yes. The Korgum-Dozer conflict. And the Kavian civil war in the north. And Jesbol and Horsht far to the west. I'm keenly aware.'

'Then why are you here?'

'Perhaps you think I'm the only reaper in the entire world.'

Hector blinked.

'I'm not, just so it's clear. I'm merely one of hundreds of thousands. And while it's true that most of us don't take on servants, the number of us who do still ends up being quite substantial.'

'So... you're saying the other reapers have the war-torn areas covered? Because that doesn't really--'

Garovel shook his head. 'No, no. Unfortunately, circ.u.mstances are appreciably more complicated than that.' The reaper drifted around the side of the table. 'Those of us who decide to take on servants and involve ourselves in the world... well, we don't always agree with one another.'

'Oh, you mean... oh...'

'Yeah. It's especially prevalent in war zones. Some of us will side with one army, while others side with the opposing army. Or some will form their own side, perhaps trying to protect people in the crossfire, perhaps... not.'

Hector sat up in his chair. 'Wait... are you saying... some of you guys are actually trying to make things worse?'

Garovel nodded. 'It may depend on your perspective, but... yes.'

'But... why? I don't...'

'Like I said, we don't always agree with one another. That extends to more essential questions, as well. Such as whether or not human lives are even worth protecting in the first place.'

'That... that sounds horrific...'

'You see? If we tread into a battlefield, we'll almost certainly encounter other reapers with servants. And frankly, you are nowhere near ready for that. Their servants will stomp you into the dust.'

'Aren't I unkillable, though?'

'You are, but I'm not. And until you're able to protect me, we'll be keeping our heads low. I may be a grim reaper, but I don't have a death wish.'

'O-okay...'

'But there is a reason why I chose Brighton specifically,' said Garovel, hesitating slightly. 'There's something... unsettling about this city.'

'Unsettling? How do you mean?'

Garovel gave a strained expression. 'I'm not sure. There's a presence in this city I've never felt before. And it's hiding. I think we may be able to draw it out, given time.'

'Oh... Hmm.'

'Did you have any other questions? Feel free to ask me anything.'

Hector bit into an apple. Chewing used more muscles than he realized, and he felt his neck and face aching in protest. 'Actually, there is something. That woman from last night... were you... I mean... were you going to let her die...? In order to catch the murderer, I mean. If I hadn't interrupted, would you have--'

'Whoa, whoa, hold on now. The plan was to have the police catch him in the midst of torturing her, not with her dead body. The reason he came so close to killing her was because you spooked him by knocking on the door. Otherwise, he would have been torturing her all night, which would have given the police ample time to arrive.'

'Oh... okay... So I... so I just screwed things up, then...'

'No, you did fine, Hector. In fact, your intervention ensured that it didn't develop into a hostage situation.' Garovel eyed him a moment. 'Make no mistake, this is risky territory we're heading into. The idea is to be smart and make the best of situations that are already terrible. Sometimes, there won't be a good option left to choose, and we'll just have to endure. Luckily, you're pretty durable now.'

A cup of chili sailed past Hector's head, and he abruptly realized that a food fight had broken out a few tables away. A half-eaten hot dog landed in his lap and slathered ketchup all over his s.h.i.+rt.

"Oh s.h.i.+t!" came a voice from the crowd. "Sorry about that, pal!" It belonged to a young man he knew to be Micah, smiling apologetically. Micah took a chunk of mashed potatoes to the face.

'That looks fun,' said Garovel. 'Incredibly wasteful, but fun.'

Hector went to get up and had to stifle a groan. When not moving, he could nearly forget that every muscle in his body hated him at the moment. He made his way over to the napkin dispenser at the condiment table, but someone b.u.mped into him. They turned, presumably to apologize, but stopped.

When Hector saw who it was, he averted his eyes and offered his own apology. "Sorry, Davia."

She looked at him as if she were addressing a blank wall. "Why are you apologizing?" she said. "I b.u.mped into you, didn't I?"

Hector didn't chance a reply.

"I'll look where I'm going next time," she said. "So don't tell on me, Hector." She left him alone.

'What was that about?' Garovel asked, floating closer. 'You can't even talk to a girl? You do remember only needing one hand to subdue a serial killer, right? Did that do nothing for your self-esteem?'

'No, that's not what that was. She's... I mean... I don't... It's because she's from the carpentry club and... I... '

'Hmm? You have a history with her?'

Hector tilted his brow at the reaper. 'You... don't already know?'

Garovel merely shook his head.

'I thought you knew everything about me...'

'I occasionally followed you around a bit over the course of seven months. I don't know your entire life story.'

'R-right...' Hector occupied himself with the stain on his s.h.i.+rt. The slash of red reminded him of the bloodied s.h.i.+rt he trashed the night before.

'So? Who is she to you, then?'

He glanced in the direction she had gone and saw her eating with a bunch of other students. 'I was almost part of that group,' he said. 'We were... we were almost friends, I guess...'

Garovel followed him back to his table, phasing through a pa.s.sing lacrosse player. 'I take it things didn't end very well.'

Hector didn't answer.

'Tell me what happened.'

He sighed and grabbed his fork. 'Why?'

'Do you remember what I said before? You would help me, and I would help you.'

'Thanks, but... there's nothing to help with...'

'Even so, I'd like to know more about you.'

A wash of grat.i.tude ran through him like a s.h.i.+ver, and Hector hid his face downward, as if his food could be so utterly fascinating. For an incredible moment, he thought he might actually cry, which only made him flush with embarra.s.sment. He wished he could tell Garovel how much those words just now had meant to him, but he just couldn't. He didn't know what was stopping him, and he hated whatever it was, but he just couldn't.

At length, Garovel relented. 'Well, have it your way.'

When Hector finally looked up again, hoping the red in his face was gone, he saw the aftermath of the food fight. Several students were cleaning up the mess under the supervision of teachers and custodians. Even after the bell rang, they were made to keep cleaning.

'I'm going to go check on a few things while you're in cla.s.s,' said Garovel. 'I'll meet up with you again after school, potentially with a new task, so be ready.'

Hector felt himself panicking slightly. 'Ah--um... where are you going?'

'The police station, among other places. I'd like to follow up on our serial killer's case, make sure there aren't any problems.'

'Um... please... um...'

'Hmm?'

'Please... don't leave me alone...'

Garovel paused for an extremely toothy smile. He tapped Hector on the head with the b.u.t.t of his scythe. 'Don't you remember? When you talk to me in your head, I'll hear you no matter where I am. So don't frown like that. You understand? You're never alone, Hector. Not anymore.'

He nodded uncertainly.

'Unless you want to be alone, that is. Then just don't think at me.'

'Right...'

Throngs of students filed past him as he watched Garovel disappear through the wall's steely blue-and-white tile. He took a breath and proceeded to his history cla.s.s.

As he sat and listened to the mousy Jeremy Voller attempting to give a report about the recent history of the Crown, Hector began to wonder why he even bothered coming back to school. He could see the instructor growing more impatient with Jeremy's every redundant word. Mr. Cormac had a reputation for candidness that made most of the students like him, and Hector might have been included in that group if he didn't find all teachers inherently frightening.

"Thank you, Jeremy. That was very informative and tedious. You can take your seat, now."

Jeremy took his seat.

Mr. Cormac stood and addressed the cla.s.s. "Lovely. Which one of you delightful curs would like to bore us with your historical insights next? Hector Goffe, how about you?"

Hector shook his head furiously and tried to shrink into his desk.

"Oh come on. You did the a.s.signment, didn't you?"

Of course he hadn't. He'd planned on being dead for today's cla.s.s. In fact, not having to do any of his homework had provided all the more motivation to kill himself. And now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure if he would still be able to pa.s.s any of his cla.s.ses. He wasn't sure if he should care, either.

At length, the instructor grew tired of Hector's silence and moved on.

Hector was just waiting for the day to end. After a while, he decided to try the reaper. 'Um... Garovel?'

'Yeah?'

He smiled faintly. 'Are you... er... Have you learned anything, yet?'

'The case seems to be proceeding well. Better than I expected, in fact. I thought they would only be able to get him for attempted murder of the woman you saved, but they found evidence in his apartment which implicates him in the murders he committed previously as well.'

'That's good.'

'Yes. Though, apparently you crushed the man's windpipe.'

'Oh s.h.i.+t... did... He's not dead, is he? I wasn't trying to--'

'No, he's alive. Somehow. I should've given you time to familiarize yourself with that level of strength.'

'If you'd done that, then... we might not have made it to her in time...'

'You make a fair point. By the way, her condition is good... Wait a minute.'

Hector looked around the cla.s.sroom, as if it would somehow help. 'Garovel?'

'Uh-oh.'

'What's wrong?'

'One of the police officers. I see the aura of death around him.'