Chapter 1- Devilry

NOVEMBER 21st, 2066.

7:27 PM.

I watch the clock, the thin red hand moving around in a continuous circle.

Boring.

I have nothing better to do than stare at that clock or the cemetery in my backyard.

I stare the graveyard, at the multiple gravestones.

I should pay them a visit.

I stand up, walking closer to the back door.

I place my hand on the cold handle, letting the chill spread through my hand before turning it slowly and pushing open the door.

I pause, letting the door fall open while staring at nothing particular behind me.

I need to make sure they aren't watching.

I turn back around, edging closer to the graveyard, shrouded in a thick feeling of dread that gets heavier and heavier the closer I get towards their graves.

I tune out the wind's whistling.

I tune out their voices.

I don't need to hear their begs for help.

"Be quiet! It can hear us!"

I usher out to the graves, the wind dropping and the whole yard going dead silent.

I crouch down at a gravestone.

C. Angelo.

That's...that's me.

I hold my hand over the grave, reaching it out.

It goes right through it, and when I look down at my hands they're fading.

They're fading away.

I'm fading away.

No...

I reach down, placing my hands in the damp soil of my own grave.

I have to dig myself out.

As soon as I start unpacking the dirt, I feel myself caving in, then a hand clamp onto my wrist.

Pale.

And bony.

I look down and realize it's coming from the dirt.

I let out a screech and jump back, jerking the thing with me.

An inhumane groan fills my ears and I place my hands over them, wishing it to leave.

I let out a sigh, going forward again before digging a little further.

A lock of jet hair falls into my fingers, then a pale cheek.

I push the soil away a little more, eyes wide in awe.

Her eyes are delicately closed.

It's me...

I try to grab onto her, but my hands go straight through her.

What happened to her?!

Why am I there?!

Aren't i here?!

The more I start to panic, the more my hands start to radiate darkness.

Black inklings run up my arms.

Sable ooze drips from the bottom of my eye sockets.

My hands start twitching and pulsating until they start to glow a dim green, a sickly color.

Unwillingly they move down into the dirt, grabbing onto my dead body's hands in my own fading ones.

I feel a spark, and then a push as I fall into my dead body, merging with her completely.

Everything goes black for a split second.

My eyes jolt open with a gasp, and all color starts slowly spreading back into my body.

What—what happened?!

I brought someone back from the dead...I brought myself back from the dead.

I begin to choke as dirt enters my lungs, pushing it away before sitting up, coughing out clumps of dirt.

I drag myself out of the shallow grave, standing up.

What the...?

I stare down incredulously at the empty pit in the ground, brushing the dirt off myself before running off the property.

As I run down the street, running past people who look at me like I'm crazy, thoughts run around like in a marathon on every side of my brain.

What just happened?!

How was I able to bring myself back from the dead?!

I've been dead for over a decade, and I'm still the same eighteen year old girl.

The same exact person buried in my killer's backyard.

He's watching.

And if he, or one of them find me again, they'll make sure me or my wandering spirit won't be able to make it out alive again.

I look down at my wrists, bruises and lacerations coming into view.

Rope marks.

My eyes sting with tears as I try to push away the memories, letting out a choked sob.

Bound to a chair with nothing but my undergarments, they beat me, sliced me, tortured me before throwing me in a lake with a weight tied to my ankle to keep me down.

I drowned.

I died.

And they got away with it.

I stop at a red light, breathing raggedly as cars speed by.

I stare straight ahead, past the busy street, my face draining to a sickly white.

Oh no...

They're here.

I turn wide eyed to a woman who looks extremely concerned next to me.

"Do you see them too?"

"No...?"

My face drops.

"Oh, so you aren't one of them."

Without waiting for the light to turn green, I run across the road.

I hear people screaming as a car speeds right towards me, but I teleport to the other side before getting hit.

What the hell?!

I just...oh no...

I turn around in horror, seeing their terrified faces as I realize they just witnessed me teleport to the other side of the street.

How did I do that?!

What is happening to me?!

I shake my head rapidly as some of them start to call the police, and others yell profanities at me.

"Witch!"

"Freak!"

"She must be one of them!"

"She's a monster!"

"I-I'm not a—"

I feel handcuffs tighten around my wrists, and feel the presence of a man behind me.

I roll my eyes to the back of my head. A policeman.

I snap them back forward, grimacing at the pain.

"Sir, I did nothing wrong, please just—"

"You almost hurt a civilian, miss. You're under arrest."

"How did I—I did not hurt—"

My hands start to shake, and black ribbon-like shadows curl around the cuffs, disintegrating them.

"Woah..."

The officer backs away, and I stumble forwards.

By now people are running away in the near dark, shielding themselves from the rain as they run aimlessly down the streets.

I back away, holding my hands out in front of me.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...please don't come any closer!"

Around six armed policemen point their weapons at me, inching closer as I start to tremble.

"I don't want to hurt anybody! Please!"

I back out back into the street, ears ringing.

As soon as one reaches out to grab me I snap, raising my hands as black bubbles at the surface, making all six men fly back into a shop wall, twitching.

Inky ooze exudes from their now blank eyes, and I let out a small yelp, running as I hear more sirens.

No, no, no...I'm a murderer!

I didn't mean to kill them...

I sob as I run, running far until my legs collapse underneath me, landing against a small fence seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

I grip harshly on the necklace around my neck, letting go as the red beads start to turn black.

I panic, resting my hands against the cement which also starts to turn black around me.

I hold my hands together, silently sobbing when a flier falls down on my head.

I pick it up in two fingers, trying extremely hard to not pay any mind to the blackness seeping up it.

THE MISSING:

Hardin Bryant, Alex Burch, Nora Walker, and Wilder Felix.

IF SEEN, PLEASE REPORT TO THE POLICE STATION.

Went missing: 11/24/62.

If you know the whereabouts of them, please let us know at 586-407-1212.

My face goes stark white.

They're missing?! But how?! They—they were the ones—

I stand up, looking at the other fliers.

They're everywhere.

They have to die like I did.

Alexandria Mia Burch:

AGE: 17

HAIR COLOR: strawberry blonde

EYE COLOR: honey/gold

HEIGHT: 5'6

Hardin Bryant:

AGE: 17

HAIR COLOR: brown, almost black

EYE COLOR: dark brown

HEIGHT: 6'1

Elenora Belle Walker:

AGE: 16

HAIR COLOR: black

EYE COLOR: hazel

HEIGHT: 5'4

Wilder Zachary Felix.

AGE: 17

HAIR COLOR: Light brown

EYE COLOR: grey

HEIGHT: 6'2

I can't help but feel angry as I stare at their photos, their smiling faces.

How can someone feel like that after murdering another being?!

I frown, grabbing one of the fliers and taking it with me as I run further into the darkness.

******

After a few hours, I leave myself to rest on a bench, as it's late at night and I have nowhere else to go.

I start to drift off, thoughts running through my head as I lay there.

Is it too late to turn back?

*******

JANUARY 19th, 2067.

4:22 AM.

I wake up suddenly, a cold sweat coating my skin.

Why does this keep happening?

I stand up, sliding through my bedroom door.

I walk over to the patio door, sighing.

Might as well get some fresh air.

I know I won't be able to fall back asleep.

I open the door, the crisp breeze hitting my face almost immediately.

I forgot how this felt.

I step outside, sitting on the railing.

Its so peaceful here...the silence, the nice lake that separates me from others.

It's better that way. Not like people ever excepted me.

Freak. Demon. Witch. Monster.

I'm just as human as anyone else.

I was cursed with this so called "gift".

Speaking to the dead. Hearing the dead. Bringing back the dead. I can travel through their world and ours.

Everything would be better if I wasn't born with them.

Everything would be better if I had just stayed dead.

They deserve to die for what they've done...

I'll make sure it happens.

*********

(??'S POV)

4:43 AM.

I let out a yelp of pain, eyes watering when his knife sinks into my flesh.

"We said get ready for the mugshot not talk shit, Asher!"

My eyes snap on the guard and I stick up my middle finger, letting out a loud cough before placing my hand over my stomach and watching as the wound closes up.

"Son of a bitch..."

I turn towards the people behind the glass, giving my best smile to them.

It immediately drops.

"Are you gonna take the photo or what?"

"It's a mugshot, you can't be smiling!"

"Fuck off!"

I let out another yelp when the same guard stabs me in the stomach, holding up my hand.

"Okay, okay, I get it!"

I give my best mugshot look to the camera, letting out a sigh when they push me along.

"Move it!"

"I'm moving it!"

I roll my eyes as the guy fastens bright red handcuffs to my wrists that make me feel weak, letting him drag me back down the multiple color-sorted halls for the different abilities.

This is a supernatural prison. A very high security supernatural prison.

And I'm here for murder.

A murder I was framed for.

At this point I don't really care, considering I'm the most dangerous "gifted" person out there at the moment.

Who fucking gives a shit.

This isn't a gift.

Being able to burn holes in people by poking them isn't that fun.

Whoever said fire powers were cool is a liar.

"Get in your cell!"

I stumble into the cell, giving the guard a look.

"If i didn't have these shits on my wrists I would strangle you, Landon."

"That won't ever happen because you'll never get those shits off your wrists, Asher."

I make a fake pouty face.

"Why not call me by my first name? It isn't poisonous."

"It definitely is. But whatever you say, Raven."

I grin at him, and his eyes drop to my fangs before back to my eyes.

"Makes me feel very appreciated to not be called Asher or inmate number 91739 for once. Wish you'd call me Raven more often...it sounds nice rolling off your tongue..."

He makes a face.

"That's it. I'm leaving. Have a bad rest of your day, Asher."

"Oh fuck you!"

Landon tunes me out, disappearing down the hall.

I stare blankly at the wall in front of me, snapping my eyes to the left when I hear a voice.

"Oh Raven!"

"What is it?!"

I hear her scoff.

"Couldn't even bother to be more nice?! Someone's being a bitch today."

"I couldn't bother to be nice to your ass, Jazz. If we were in the same cell I would kick you."

"Whatever. How was your mugshot?"

"You act as if it would ever be fine. Got stabbed twice. Pretty cool, right?"

Jazz goes silent for a moment before responding.

"They're always so violent towards you. But sure. Very cool."

I open my mouth to say something again when she shushes me.

"I hear guards! Be quiet!"

I stare at three guards who walk towards our area, watching as they stop in front of my cell.

"Raven Asher. You have a visitor."

My eyes widen significantly.

"Visitor?! Who the fuck—"

"Shut up and stand up."

I stand up as the cell slides open, walking towards the visiting room.

I sit down in a seat they point at, letting out a breath of relief when the cuffs are removed from my hands.

I grab the phone off the hook, placing it to my ear and turning my head towards the glass to see—

What in the world?!

"Casey?!"

**********

(??'S POV)

3:46 PM.

"Ma'am, here's the file."

I look up at Warren, nodding with a small smile.

"Thank you."

He turns around and leaves my office, and I stare down at her file as the door shuts softly.

Raven Asher.

Convicted murderer and arsonist.

I open up the file, her white eyes staring blankly into mine.

Her jet hair's a mess, skin paler than usual with multiple bruises and lacerations.

She doesn't look well.

I pick up her report, reading off the information to myself.

21 years old, turning 22 in May.

Has criminal history, but all charges were dropped after the so called "victim" immediately changed their mind.

No one knows why.

Parents...dead. Siblings...dead.

As I scan the family section my eyes go wide.

She has no one. No family whatsoever. They're all dead.

Abilities.

It should get interesting here.

Fire.

She only has fire?? How the hell is she so strong then?!

This must be wrong.

I flip through more papers, but nothing comes up.

Something isn't right.

But if she doesn't have any other abilities, that might put me at an advantage in getting her out of prison.

I need her out of prison for this to work.

I stand up, fixing my jacket before grabbing her file and my bag, walking out the office door.

I have to go before it's too late.

********