Sal couldn't remember how the vision happened.
It was like suddenly being in a dream without knowing its prompt or origin.
There was a sky above him, the kind that was free of clouds but void of stars. He was standing on something, something hard and cold, but he when he looked down there was nothing beneath him, just darkness.
He could hear voices, thousands of them echoing around him as if he were in the middle of two debate teams shouting opinions over each other.
"What the hell is happening?" he whispered to himself, but his voice came out distorted, like he was talking underwater.
The voices suddenly stopped, and then as if by magic the void was filled with people, all of them appearing in wisps of light and shadows.
There were large men and women, all of them as large as giants, all of them unbelievably beautiful. They all looked.... bright, like one was trying to outshine the other with their beauty.
There were beings that shone with a different kind of brightness, like they weren't even trying to shine, but looking at them was like looking at the sun itself. They all had wings, some more than others, and their faces were bathed with unearthly glory.
Then there were beings clothed in darkness, separated from the beings of light. Some looked human but they had a different kind of beauty to them, a sinister beauty, deadly even, others looked like monsters, a combination of different animals; a bat and a dog, a cat and a snake, a scorpion and a lion, like science experiments gone wrong.
Everyone was separated, so Sal guessed there was a sort of division here, like different organizations coming together. He didn't understand what it was he was seeing, or why it was he seeing it, but he was eager to understand it.
Until one of them called his name.
"Salome"
Salome. When was the last time anyone had called him that?
His eyes searched the people until they landed on two figures that stood out, separated from the rest.
The first was a man, and the first thing that Sal noticed was the brown eye patch on one of his eyes, the other eye was a very startling gold, his hair a black that glistened and rippled as though it were a fluid, with streaks of grey lining it to give the illusion of ageing even though he looked no less than thirty.
The second was a beautiful woman. Her hair was crispy brown, like a leaf in autumn, and it was embroidered with flowers, her light brown eyes examined Sal cautiously, as if waiting for him to perform some terrible feat.
The man smiled and spoke.
"Salome Nightshade, I am Odin, Norse god of war and you are welcome to the Elder's Court," the man—Odin— said, his voice carried an accent that Sal had never heard before, "I know you must be in shock and I assure you answers will come but there is no time, there is a matter at hand that must be addressed and - "
"What kind of dream is this?" Sal muttered.
"This is no dream, Salome, this is real."
"Real?" He looked around him, at the hideous hybrid creatures, at the beautiful shining humanoids, at the man wearing an eyepatch before him. "There's no way in hell this is real."
"Depends on the Hell, actually." said the woman.
"Freya" Odin said, his voice cautioning.
Freya only smirked and looked at Sal with that same expectation.
"Forgive my wife, she gets excited at times" Odin smiled, it was disarming, a smile that made Sal want to trust him, "But I assure you, Salome, this isn't a dream, this is a message and I need you to pay attention, your mind is impressively strong and Morpheus is struggling to sustain this astral projection."
Morpheus, the god of dreams, it can't be.
"The world needs you Salome Nightshade," Odin said.
"My name is Salome Markson, okay and I don't understand what's happening here."
Odin's face began to ripple, the floor beneath Sal cracking.
"There is no time, the sun will rise soon and once it does this connection will be severed," Odin said. "Salome there is a great danger waiting to happen, we need you to find someone and end him or the world will fall."
"What are you talking about?" yelled Sal.
The people around him started shimmering and fading one by one.
"There's not much time left, no time at all in fact, no time to prepare you," Odin's face started shimmering, his hands started fading into dots of light. "The best I can tell you is that it will be a difficult journey, a test of will and strength, of love and faith", his voice was grave, as if he too was scared for him.
"I don't understand" Sal said.
The cracks in the floor spread and more of the Elder's began to vanish.
"You will," Odin said with a smile, "that bastard made sure that you would."
Freya shimmered and disappeared beside Odin. It was just them now. Sal and someone who claimed to be a god.
"You must remember his name Salome, that is key to finding him."
But before Odin could say anything else he vanished as well and as soon as he did everything went dark.
***
Sal dropped from the bed panting hard and landed on the floor with a thud. He could feel the sweat dripping down his temple, the wetness on his bare back, the dampness of his shorts.
What sort of dream was that?
He stood from the floor, pulling away the duvet that had fallen with him. There was a wet patch of sweat on the bed, and judging from the creases and the half pulled out bedsheet he'd been fidgeting in his sleep as well.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. What was happening to him?
Just then his phone on the bedside table buzzed and lit up with a text.
It was from Lester.
I heard a thud so I assume you're awake, get your ass down here and come eat.
Then another one popped up.
You will be late Sal, I promise you that.
Sal groaned at the text, then frowned again at the patch on his bed. He debated for a while on which to tackle first, Lester or whatever was going on with him.
His phone buzzed again.
You better not be thinking about it.
Sal chuckled.
Definitely Lester.
He took a quick shower and brushed his teeth, all thoughts about weird dreams and strange things vanishing from his mind.
It lasted only fifteen minutes.
As he walked out of his bathroom he saw letters on the wall above his bed, steaming as if they'd been written with fire. Sal felt his heart leap out of his chest and sink back the next second. He moved towards the steaming wall slowly, hands shaking as he approached the letters and touched them with the tip of his fingers.
The letters weren't English Sal could tell that much, they seemed older, like Greek or Norse.
He stared at the letters, sifting through his mind for a meaning. He knew the meaning, intuitively, instinctively; the same way he knew the electronic configuration of Titanium and what year the Roman Empire fell.
Without knowing how he said the word out loud.
"Percival"
A name.
You must remember his name Salome, that is the key to finding him.
Sal backed away from the letters slowly.
This is no dream, Salome, this is real.
Sal turned away from the letters and hastily got dressed, occasionally glancing at the wall hoping it wasn't still there, but each time he was disappointed, they were there, stark and burning on his bedroom wall.
He grabbed his bag and walked out of his room leaping his way downstairs.
As soon as he reached the last steps the smell of pancakes wafted through his nose.
Damn, Sal thought. Lester must be in a really good mood for him to be making pancakes, either that or he'd had another break up and was making consolation food for himself, either way Sal wrestled his pulse to normal.
Lester would know something was up the minute he laid his eyes on him, and knowing him he'd try everything he could to make Sal feel better. Sal loved him for that, but Lester had a habit of trying too hard, so Sal took a deep breath, and steeled himself before he rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen.
"Morning Les!" he greeted.
Lester raised his head from the bowl of pancake batter he was mixing behind the kitchen counter and smiled at Sal. He was wearing a blue apron stained here and there with flour, bits of it had smudged on his cheek and had somehow gotten to the tips of his hair. All that coupled with the bright hazel eyes and the beaming smile on his face made Sal's heart warm up.
"Quite the wake up call you gave me." Sal said as he sat on one of the chairs at the counter.
"Morning Sal, and sorry about that," Lester said as he flipped a pancake from the frying pan onto a plate and passed it to Sal. "What was that sound?"
Sal took the plate gratefully.
"Me, I rolled off the bed."
"Rough night, huh?"
"You have no idea." Sal said as he bit into his breakfast,
He sighed in contentment.
Lester had done it again.
"What time is it?" Sal asked through a mouthful of pancake.
"Seven,"
"Shit I'm gonna be late."
"God knows what time you came home last night, and yet you look like you went to a beauty salon."
He poured another batch into the frying pan. The kitchen filled with the sound of sizzling.
"Past midnight that's for sure," Sal said. He stood, grabbed a mug and started for the coffee maker. "I'm sure you must have heard about it by now."
"It's all anyone's talking about," Lester said, flipping the pancake and then serving it for himself. "Guess what they headlined it?" He grabbed the newspaper on the kitchen counter and flipped it open. "Hell has caught up with it's Hound; Notorious drug trafficker Bobby McWayne and three others found dead in the alley behind the infamous Hells and Hounds club early this morning."
Sal chuckled, watching the coffee as it rose to the surface of his mug.
"First I was the devil and now I am hell itself," he said. "I wonder what they'll call me next."
"It's the press, they'll think of something." Lester said. He had that look on his face that meant he was about to say something Sal may not like. "Did you really shove a knife through his neck?"
Sal shrugged and held the coffee to his lips as he leaned against the counter.
"Damn," Lester said, dropping the paper and slapping another pancake on Sal's plate. "And how do you feel?"
Sal looked up from his mug and met Lester's eyes. There was no judgement, only love and concern. With Lester there was nothing to be ashamed of.
Sal took a deep breath, the smell of morning coffee and pancake batter filling his lungs.
"I feel like they're not wrong, Les." he said finally, staring at his coffee and swirling it over and over. "I feel like the more I kill the more I...."
"Lose yourself?" Lester suggested, but Sal shook his head.
"Become myself." He said. He raised his eyes to Lester's and as usual Lester's emotions mirrored his own. Sadness.
I wish I could do something for you, he seemed to say.
Sal rose from the counter, carrying his plate of pancakes as he left the kitchen.
Lester was the only one asides Boulder who knew what he could do, in fact he was the only one who knew every single thing about Sal. Lester was the first and only boy Sal had ever said he truly loved, to him Lester wasn't just his best friend, he was his brother, and the only family he'd had since his parents gave him up.
He hated that Sal killed for a living, but he knew Sal hated it too and he knew Sal had to do it if they were both going to survive. Boulder seemed like a nice man when you were doing what he said but he was hardly the best of them, especially when he didn't get what he asked for.
Sal plopped down heavily on the couch in the living room, the blanket he'd draped over Lester was folded and placed on the arm of the chair, the TV blaring with the news. They'd moved on from Sal's kill and were now talking about some people that had gone missing over the past month. Sal didn't pay attention. Why couldn't they just offer some good news on a sunny Monday morning.
"Do you want to maybe talk about it some more?" came Lester's voice.
Sal focused on the TV and his pancakes but he could see Lester leaning against the wall from the corner of his eye. He'd washed his hands and his apron was gone, meaning he was ready to talk.
"No, Les, I don't want to talk about it, I shouldn't have said anything in the first place."
"I'm glad you did though, and normally I'd leave you alone but..."
"But what?"
"You're not yourself today," Lester said. "You're upset about something, spill it."
"I'm not upset."
"You're lying."
"I'm not upset."
"Well then you're in denial, Sal it's me, you can talk to me about anything."
Sal turned and met Lester's piercing gaze. Should he say something?, would Lester think he was crazy? What would he say about strange dreams and "gods" with eyepatches?
"I just..." He started, he really wanted to say it, but then he stopped and sighed.
Not now.
Not today.
"I just had a long night last night, okay? I'm fine, I promise."
Lester's eyes fell from his.
"You're still lying," he said. "But that's okay, if it was something I needed to know you would tell me and clearly I don't, so I'll drop it."
He pushed away from the wall and disappeared up the stairs.
Sal wanted to go after him and tell him everything, Lester was the last person on earth to make anyone feel unloved, but there was something about this time, something fresh and so awfully personal it was almost intimate, and it was an intimacy that Sal wasn't ready to let anyone into yet.
In fact, it was all so crazy that Sal didn't think he'd let anyone in.
Ever.
***
Hours later Sal still couldn't get over the shock.
He sat in his history class, head bent and eyes trained on his sketchbook as he waited for their history teacher Mr. Samson to walk in.
As usual people were avoiding him, shooting him wary looks and whispering continuously as they passed him.
It was funny, Sal thought, how people just assumed words spoken in small breaths of air went unheard by the ones they spoke of. Sal knew what they said, that he was a creep, a freak, a psycho.
None of those words hurt as much as they were supposed to, they'd just felt wrong, inappropriate, and at times annoying.
Today though his mind was so occupied by the events of that morning that he barely listened to what his peers were saying.
He was drawing to take his mind of it but found himself sketching Odin, and Freya, his wife. He drew the beings he'd seen, all diverse in existence and power, all gathered in one place, all asking for his help.
It was just a dream, Sal, get it together, he to himself, but he knew deep inside that it couldn't have been just a dream.
People don't get burning names on their walls after their dreams.
He was shaken out of his thoughts as the once rowdy class began to settle down, he raised his head and saw that their teacher had walked in but it wasn't Mr. Samson, it was a different man.
The man was.... young and didn't look at all like he could teach history. He had a handsome oval face, with eyes like jade crystals, his hair brilliantly black. His pale skin resembled marble and made him look like one of the members of BTS. He dressed like them too, shirt untucked, tie loose, hands tucked casually in his pockets. He surveyed the class until his eyes landed on Sal's and then he smirked.
Sal felt heat rise to his cheeks as the man's eyes landed on his, they seemed to hold him in place and Sal found that he could not tear his gaze away until the man looked away from him and focused on the rest of the class.
"Good morning everyone, my name is Mr. Herman, and I'll be taking the History class for today, Mr. Samson had something important to do and so couldn't make it to today's lesson but be rest assured I am an excellent teacher," said Mr. Herman, there was a lilt in his tone, almost like an accent, British maybe? but not quite, Sal had heard it somewhere before, he just couldn't remember where.
"Okay class, let's get started" said Mr. Herman.
For the first time, Sal listened in class, partly because he wanted to forget and drawing wasn't helping and partly because he was curious about Mr. Herman.
He was a good teacher, confident and charismatic, he would sometimes lock eyes with Sal and smile a knowing smile which bugged Sal a lot, but the thing that bugged him the most was the accent.
He was sure he had heard it before, it was at the very surface of his memory, but before he could remember the bell rang for next period.
No one looked as relieved as Mr. Herman.
"That's all for today," rushed Mr. Herman. "In your next class I am sure Mr. Samson will take it from here, class dismissed," The students got up from their seats and began trooping out of class, their voices animated with excitement, Sal had never seen the students of his high school so lively before, whoever this Mr. Herman was, he was good.
"Mr. Markson?" Mr. Herman called.
Sal turned to see that the man was bent over a piece of paper.
"Come forward I have a message for you"
Sal walked forward. For some reason his heart was beating uncontrollably, why was he so nervous? As he reached the man he saw a ripple in the air, as if he was looking through water.
"Yes sir." Sal said.
Mr. Herman looked at him, still smiling that same knowing smile.
"Did you enjoy today's lesson?" he asked.
"Yeah sure," Sal answered, unable to hide the nerves in his voice, "you're really good."
"I have been doing this for a long time."
There was an undercurrent to his tone, like there was something deeper he wanted Sal to figure out.
Sal had no interest in that.
"You said you had a message for me?" He said pointing at the piece of paper.
Mr. Herman chuckled.
"You know for someone who was blessed with deeper sight you sure are blind to the truth, aren't you?"
Sal creased his brows in confusion, what was he talking about?
"Excuse me?" Sal said
"Come on Nightshade, peel through the screen, tear the veil in half, you have the power to see through the Shade, so see," said Mr. Herman.
Nightshade.
The name echoed repeatedly in his mind, and the way he said it, the way he talked. The accent.
And then it dawned on him, and he saw.
Truly saw.
The BTS star look-alike began to shimmer and disappear revealing a man much older, he had a beard and hair of pure gold, the eyes that Sal thought simply looked like jade were actual jade jewels embedded as irises.
He was still dressed as a BTS star but in his right hand was a caduceus staff and over his shoulders was a messenger bag.
Sal's eyes widened and he took several steps back until his legs hit the desk chair behind him.
He knew who this was, but how could it be?
"Hermes?!" said Sal.
Mr. Herman smiled.
"In the flesh, or whatever my corporeal body's made of," he said.
"Hermes, the messenger of the gods, god of wanderers, travelers...." said Sal.
"Amongst many others," interrupted Hermes. "The list is dreadfully long."
"So last night wasn't a dream", said Sal, "you actually guys exist."
"Yes, we do," said Hermes.
Breathe, Sal, breathe.
"So, the gods are real, as in, all of them,"
"I do believe I just said that," Hermes said, still smiling.
"But how?"
"I'd love to give another history lesson but that's not why I'm here." He handed over what had once been a piece of paper and was now a golden scroll, his sleeve rode up, revealing a tattoo of a pair of wings on his wrist. "Like I said, I have a message for you."
Sal took it from him, careful not to accidentally touch Hermes. Who knew what a god's touch was like?
"The gods need you to find and kill Percival, a powerful necromancer gifted with magic from birth, he plans on doing something that could potentially bring danger to the people of this realm and many others."
"Why me?" asked Sal.
"Simple, because you're the only one who can, we know of your gifts, the ones you are aware of, as well as the ones you are unaware of." said Hermes.
Sal scoffed in disbelief.
"You can't be serious"
"I know that this is difficult to understand," Hermes said, he took a step forward, he suddenly looked so out of place in a senior year history classroom, "but right now we need you, you have been called, you have been chosen"
"But what if I can't do it, what if I don't want to do it." said Sal.
Hermes sighed and placed a hand on Sal's shoulder and Sal felt a jolt of power race through him from that single touch.
"We heard your prayer, Salome," Hermes said softly. "You said you wanted to be more than what you were, this is your chance, your opportunity, how do you know you will fail if you do not try," said Hermes.
Sal didn't answer, instead he creased his brows and looked at the scroll again. There were a list of names, the first two in English, the fourth in Latin alphabets and the last in what looked like an African language. As for the third Sal had never seen that language before.
"Whose names are these?" asked Sal.
"They are the Shaded beings that will help you complete your hunt, you must find each of them first before seeking out Percival, or else you will surely fail." said Hermes.
The staff in Hermes's hand began to glow.
"I'm afraid my time is up, there are many more messages to send, I must leave you now," said Hermes.
"Wait! how do I know who to find first?!"
"You will see it," said Hermes.
And before Sal could say anything again, the messenger god was gone.