8 Exposure

When Malphas drops me off at home, I decide I need to relax. My body is still tense with a mixture of adrenaline, nervousness, and exhilaration. School would be the perfect place to decompress, Zack will be there and then the mind-numbing "learning". I walk to school, trying not to look over my shoulder. I feel very overwhelmed by the events that just took place. I mean, that guy was evil, but I just KILLED him! I have a suspicion that the cloak may effect my emotions, but I don't have enough experience with it to know.

I arrive at school late, right before my P.E. class second period. I say hey to Zack before heading in to the locker room to change into my P.E. uniform.

Zack:

I've been worried about Michael all day. He FINALLY shows up before second period, but he's acting strange. His hair is disheveled, he has dark circles under his eyes, and he looks paranoid. I follow Michael into the locker rooms to change, feeling suspicious that something, though I don't know what, is going on.

"Hey Zack, sorry that I was late today," he says, sounding like he didn't sleep at all.

"It's fine, man. Are you alright? You look like you don't feel..." I trail off as he removes his shirt. There is a small tribal-looking skull stylized on his left pectoral. A skull that I know for a fact was not there before he disappeared. A skull that, from what I have been told, looks exactly like the Mark of Death.

After changing we head out to the field for the class.

"Line up you maggots!" our P.E. teacher, Mrs. Hughes, says. She always tries to sound tough like people in cheesy movies, but usually fails.

"Today," she says, "You will be running laps until you drop!"

"Isn't that child abuse?" a student down the line asks.

"Drop and give me 20, worm," Mrs. Hughes growls. I feel bad for the kid, but there's nothing Michael or I could do.

"Start running!" she screeches and we all stumble away from her. Michael and I usually are some of the first to drop in situations like this. We run for a few minutes. Even I'm starting to breathe hard, I look over at Michael, expecting him to be practically dying, like usual. He is keeping a steady pace next to me. He's not breathing hard or even sweating! I feel disturbed and head to the side of the field to drop out. He follows me and sits down. He doesn't even have the decency to look tired. I'm torn over what to do, what if he's the Savior person that my mom was talking about? What should I tell my mom? And how did this happen to Michael?

Natas:

I watch through my scrying tool as Michael goes through his inane mortal life. What I really want is to push him harder, but I can't. If I do that, he will most likely break. And that would ruin my fun. A polite knock resounds at the door.

"Enter," I respond with a deep, dramatic voice, mostly just to sound cool.

"My lord," Malphas kneels and begins reporting, "The human boy shows promise and completed the task as ordered. Even with the emotional dampeners in the cloak, he showed a remarkable ability to collect souls. If I may speak freely, Lord?"

"You may, I reply in a tired voice. I let my facade slip with him, as Malphas is my most trusted aide.

"Why did you not only allow a human to return to life, but also ask him to work for you? Your Reapers have always been demons so that we could be impartial toward the soon-to-be dead. Please tell me, my Lord," Malphas bows his head respectfully and looks frightened as if I would be angry at him.

"There are two reasons, Malphas. The first is that I sensed something different about him. He was the most neutral human that I'd ever met. He didn't do anything in his life out of feelings of a sense good or evil, but as part of his desires. I thought that he might make a good Reaper for that reason. The second reason is simply this: I was bored and he looked entertaining!" I laugh as Malphas nearly falls over in shock. There really was something strange about Michael. There was an aura about him, though I'm not sure what it means.

Michael:

Zack has been acting strange all day. Quite frankly I'm relieved to leave at the end of the day to avoid his scrutinizing gaze. It makes me feel like he knows something about everything that is going on with me. As I walk home, I can't help but think about the old man that I killed. He deserved it, I know that much. I just feel upset that I took a life. It makes me nauseous and lightheaded when I think about it. I get home and turn on the tv for once to decompress. It turns to the news. The scenery is VERY familiar, and not in a good way.

"Here I stand at the sight of a grisly murder where 67 year old Ethan Calloway was killed earlier today. Police have no leads on the person who did this, but it appears that the killer used some kind of strange weapon that powderized the blood in his body. On closer investigation of Mr. Calloway's home, it seems that this man was a previously unknown murderer and rapist of children. Police are still looking for evidence at this time. Now back to Jen, with the weather."

I stare dumbfoundedly at the television set. I didn't even think far enough ahead to realize that the police would be interested in Ethan Calloway's death and looking for the killer. Which in this case is me!