Some time later.
The Black Sand Desert
"Tell me what I need to know," whispered the Eremite, one hand grasping the head of his cane, the other reaching out like a withered claw towards Death.
"All right. You're a sad, obsessed, arrogant old man who has no idea what he's doing," said Didi calmly. She was wearing her casual outfit of black top and black jeans that she had on when she was taken. She could theoretically change them any time she wanted, but she thought the casual look would do for now. Besides, it seemed to piss off her captor, who had expected something a little grander. The Eremite snarled at her answer and turned away in disgust.
Didi sat on her rear in the middle of a massive circle drawn in the sand around her. There was sand as far as the eye could see, a flat, featureless landscape that seemed to go on forever. Unlike the deserts of Earth with their white sand dunes, this sand was black. Black as the volcanic rock that sometimes gets left behind after an eruption. There was no wind overhead to give comfort, no shade from a paradoxically black sun in the white sky. There was just the desert, the circle, and her place in it. And the guards.
There were four of them, each arranged at all four points of the compass, and it was their responsibility to watch her, which they did for hours and hours without fail. They were dressed rather eclectically, with one in combat fatigues and another in black robes that looked like something out of a Harry Potter fan convention. But they were very good guards. Didi had tried to talk to them, and in all the time she had been trapped here they hadn't said a single word to her.
She had lain on the floor of that warehouse, prone and hopeless for the first time in her long, long life, held down by the dark magics of the flame-haired woman in the white suit as she had tried to rescue Jamie from their captivity. She the second oldest thing in the universe and one of the most powerful, but she hadn't anticipated two things. Firstly, the effect it would have on her if she'd shared her role with anyone else like she did with Jamie. And secondly, the lengths that the Eremite was willing to go to enact his plan.
He hadn't only planted a bomb in the stadium scheduled to hold the World Cup final, he had engineered a series of similar terrorist attacks around the globe as well, all set to go off at precisely the same time. The Space Needle tower in Seattle. The main street in Rome. An office building in Chile. A government hall in Lagos. A train station in Uttar Pradesh. A public park in Jakarta. A bar in Adelaide. And countless others.
The Eremite had used bombs, he had used gas, he had used teams of men carrying military grade weapons. He had planned for maximum impact, with no strategic goal other than causing as much mayhem as possible. Creating as much death as possible.
Didi had run from one place to the other, desperately trying to cross over the recently dead while trying to look for Jamie at the same time. As a result she had shown up in Johannesburg scared, confused and panicked, and had lost a second or two of reaction time when Ms Sherman had showed up behind her and attacked.
Two seconds. In that two seconds, she had allowed herself to be taken. And for those two seconds, the Eremite had spilled the blood of thousands and thousands of innocents.
She was Death, and she had seen all the universe had to offer. Usually the gory bits. The bad times. Her brother got to have more fun. She was stuck with the boring, sometimes depressing part of the job. She had adjusted by refusing to make moral judgments. To rise above it all and simply do her job. But the wanton slaughter caused by the Eremite, coupled with the fact he had tried to do this before and failed and it only made him want to try harder sickened her.
He had brought her to this place which wasn't a place at all. It was a parasite universe, or pocket dimension, tethered to Earth and only accessed through a secret location hidden somewhere deep in Scotland. It wasn't part of the greater universe at all, like her realm in the Sunless Lands or her brother's castle in the Dreaming. In this parasite universe the greater laws did not apply, and the Eremite held total power. Didi wondered how long he had taken to create the place, it had to be the slow, continuous efforts of several hundred years worth of work. Maybe he had stolen the power needed from somewhere else.
But it was his, and it was where he had put her. And if that wasn't enough, he had inscribed a magic circle around her and set guards to keep an eye her every move. The guards changed shift frequently, new ones coming in every other day or so. This kept them watchful. And Didi was becoming annoyed at being watched so closely, all the time. Usually she moved through the world with very few people being unable to sense her presence, except for the ones she was focused on.
She sat on the black sand and thought gloomily of the things she missed ever since coming to this place. The rolling hills and grass of her home, and her little cottage in the middle of it. Her garden with its beautiful collection of flowers from across the universe. Her comfortable sofa. Her library. Her kitchen with enough varieties of tea to outlast the lifespan of a civilisation. Her bed with the fluffy pillow and her teddy bear, Cavendish. Her goldfish Slim and Wandsworth, swimming about in their bowl. She hoped Jamie was remembering to feed them.
That made her think of Jamie. His energy, his sincerity, his willingness to watch, listen and learn as she tried to teach him the finer points of life and death and her role in making it happen. The way he really listened to her every word, as if she was the most fascinating thing in the universe. The way he could surprise her with his insights sometimes, even though she had pretty much thought she had seen all there was to see. She missed him, and wanted to see him again.
At least she had managed to save him. She'd caught a glimpse at what the Eremite's team had done to Jamie before she'd arrived, and it didn't looked pretty. Didi flexed her fingers. She was generally pleasant, and slow to anger. In fact she hadn't been angry in a really long time. But remembering the sight of the blood on Jamie's chest made the familiar surge of emotions come back.
When she got out, the Eremite was going to pay.
Still, she had to admit that for the time being, she was pretty much stuck. She had no way to contact anyone she knew, and even if she could get word to her siblings somehow she wasn't sure if she would. She had always advised her siblings to act independently and think for themselves, after all, and she would hate not to practise what she preached. Also her brother Dream had once spent more than fifty years in a similar situation, and had gotten himself out in the end.
Thinking about that made her think about his time spent in the basement of Aleister Crowley's house. He was still on Earth so the impact of his abandonment was lessened, but it wasn't pretty. People had trouble falling asleep, a wave of strange sleeping cases had swept the planet, and when he finally returned to the Dreaming his stronghold had been damaged almost beyond all recognition. She didn't want something like that to happen to her.
She worried about Jamie. Where was he, and what was he doing? She hoped he was still doing the job like she taught him. Even if she hadn't showed him everything the job entailed, helping as many creatures to cross over as he can was better than nothing. But there was still so much left to do. The conversation she had with every new life that was born. Her job on other planes, realities, dimensions and galaxies. How to clear the decks for a really big job, like the death of a god or a world turtle. She felt a tinge of regret at not trusting him enough to share with him every aspect of her job and her life.
Assuming he was still doing the job, of course. For all she knew Jamie could have said 'the hell with it' and went back to find his girlfriend and ignored all the people who were dying and somehow not yet dead. Part of her wanted to believe she was worrying about nothing...but another part of her couldn't help but suspect the worst.
The Eremite moved closer to her again, taking care not to disrupt the edge of the circle. "I will have your power, Dark One. I have waited for centuries to gain it."
"I've had it longer. Trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be."
"Enough! If you knew what I know, you would not dare be so flippant."
Death raised an eyebrow, but the Eremite continued talking, apparently in love with the sound of his own voice.
"I had the perfect plan. After you defeated me with ease the last time we met in the city of New York, I knew I had to think bigger. Wider. I started seeking out the lost souls, the ones who needed guidance, and showed them the truths. It was pitifully easy to sway their minds and create the empire I needed."
Didi glanced at her guards, but they didn't seem the least bit concerned at the dismissive tone with which the Eremite was talking about then. They gazed back at her, their stares a little unnerving. The Eremite continued talking.
"Triggering the events that would lead to your appearance was easy. But you did the one thing I never had expected. You took on a companion."
The Eremite smiled an unpleasant smile, revealing a lot of sharp yellow teeth. "For what purpose, I wonder. Who am I to fathom the mind of one of the mighty Endless? Regardless, it made my task much easier. I expected to ensnare that human fool doing your job, blasphemy in the highest. He would have served just as well. Instead I get you – and thus I know my purpose and my cause are destined to succeed."
He leaned closer. "In taking you, not only will I fulfil my purpose, but I will also enjoy some small measure of revenge. And I am not as old yet that I would willingly forgo such a pleasure."
Didi felt she needed to cut in, if only to make him shut up for a little while. "What is your plan? Why am I here? There must be something you want with me."
"Oh, Foul One, there is something indeed. By taking you, I have stopped the natural flow of life and death on Earth. Perhaps even the universe. No one can die without my word. And there are those who would offer me ownership of entire planets just to restore someone they know back to life. The effects are already starting to take hold. People are suffering from fatal injuries, accidents and illnesses without dying. I hear some idiot human team in Wales are calling it 'Miracle Day'."
The Eremite paused to chuckle. Didi wished she could reach over and punch him in the face, then realised with mild surprise it really had been a long time since she felt like doing that to anyone.
"A miracle indeed. A miracle for me, perhaps. I will give only those I deem worthy death. And I will give those who richly reward me life. My word will be law in a thousand star systems. Everyone else will have to make do as best they can."
"Very nice indeed," said Didi, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Just one problem. Why the heck would I ever help you?"
"Don't forget Grave Liner, we found your little human friend before. We can find him again," said the Eremite. "And sooner or later, you will have to perform your duty. Even if it is only in the limited amounts I see fit. Because I know you. I know you like no other being before. I have studied you, every scrap of information I can get. And I know that above all, you are a creature of habit. You are dedicated to your job. Not performing it eats away at your very soul...if you do have one. You might refuse at first. And I can wait. I have all the time I need."
The Eremite began to walk away in the direction of the portal that would take him back to Earth.
"We shall meet again when you decide to be a bit more cooperative."
Didi folded her arms and glared at his retreating back. Then she thought about Jamie, and wondered what he was doing at the moment.
Beledwyne, Somalia
Earth
While large parts of the planet fretted over their bank accounts and their Twitter accounts, a war continued to rage on this small corner of it. Officially classified by the United Nations as a failed state, the superpowers watched and waited and did nothing because there was no monetary or strategic benefit in helping. Jamie had only vaguely heard of the place when he was in school. But as the new Death, he had spent the entire morning there. And as he helped move on a few babies, old people and people dying of diseases in the hospital, he wasn't in the best of moods when he felt himself drawn to a stretch of deserted road outside the town of Beledweyne.
Jamie had been working non-stop ever since Didi had rescued him from the clutches of the mysterious gang in white who had blown up the World Cup final stadium in South Africa. He'd escaped, but Didi had been taken. Jamie mused every day whether her decision to share her job and some of her powers with him had led to her imprisonment, and then wondered whether he would ever be brave enough to hear the answer.
He materialised under the shade of a large tree, and then ducked as a bullet zipped past his ear and buried itself in the wood. Panting heavily, he decided to lie down on the grass and keep very still for a moment.
Would he get hurt from a bullet in his current state? He didn't know, and wasn't eager to find out. The work as a reaper wore him out, and as he went on more and more often he wondered how Didi did it all by herself for billions of years. No sooner had he finished helping one person cross over a strange compulsion settled over him, like a giant glowing arrow burning in his mind, drawing him irresistibly to another place, even if that place was on another continent. And away he went.
So far he'd kept his rounds limited to Earth. He'd reaped the lives of animals as well as humans, but he hadn't done anything about life on other planets, besides that one time on the Dune-like planet. Sometimes he thought it was because Didi hadn't had time to show him how to meet alien races. Other times he wondered if Didi had lied to him, and she was just a minor goddess of death limited to Earth after all, not the universe. But he refused to believe that was the case.
So he had moved on, and on, never pausing, never taking a break, while his mind pulsed with the terrible and certain knowledge of where every living being was at that exact moment. It was almost too much to bear, but he held on. Sometimes he'd have to give up and go back to the Sunless Lands to sleep, exhaustion being too much to overcome. But his dreams were always restless, and sad, dreams of Morgan and his family and a tall pale king with stars for eyes. And every time he woke up, his mind would be overloaded once more with all the deaths that had occurred while he was resting and had not yet attended to.
Jamie knew it couldn't go on forever. But he had no way of contacting either of the people Dream had suggested to find, Nobody Owens and Coraline Jones. So he grimly continued doing the job, and racked his brains trying to think of a way to rescue Didi while moving from one place to the next.
The shooting and loud curses yelled in Arabic seemed to have died down. Jamie risked a peek from between his fingers. The place appeared to be relatively peaceful, where gunshots had dominated a moment earlier.
He stepped onto the road, and slapped his head in frustration when he saw what was there. The two opposing groups of gunmen had all shot each other while he was hiding. There wasn't anyone left alive. As he watched, the shades of those men rose from their bodies and started arguing again.
"HOLD IT!" he yelled, coming closer. The men stopped fighting and looked at him in astonishment.
"Alright thanks to being unbelievably stupid you're all dead now. I'm Death. I've come to cross you over."
"Are you the angel Jibril?" asked one man, his hand in the air.
"No."
"You look like a white man. No, a boy. What are you doing here?" asked another man doubtfully.
"How do we know we're really dead?"
Instead of answering, Jamie pointed to the pile of bodies. This set them off arguing again before Jamie clapped his hands and yelled to make them stop.
"You're all dead, ok? Now hurry up, I need to cross you over and I don't have much time."
"We refuse to believe you. This is some kind of trick."
"Yeah, it's not what we're expecting."
"Well, what were you expecting?" asked Jamie, quite reasonably he felt.
"A beautiful garden!"
"No, a garden is for the ordinary people, we deserve better."
"What? But the Qur'an clearly states that..."
"Wait, we died in battle, doesn't that change anything?"
"Houris? Those are for martyrs, Assad."
"Aren't we supposed to sleep in our graves or something until the Day of Judgment?"
Jamie wanted to leave them to it. But he knew he couldn't.
"GENTLEMEN! You all will find out once I cross you over. Now unless you want to be stuck here as a ghost who can't make anyone see or hear him for all eternity, form an orderly queue and shake my hand!"
"Shake his hand? Is he some kind of hand pervert?"
"Beats me, Sharif."
"This definitely isn't what I had in mind."
Muttering and grumbling, the Somalian men formed a rough line. Jamie grabbed each of their hands in turn. The shades vanished each time, journeying on to whatever awaited them next.
When he was done, peace reigned once more. Jamie blinked, feeling exhaustion wash over him again. Maybe he'd go back to Didi's house and get some shuteye for a little while...
Then another giant arrow dropped into his mind without warning. A little girl in Kiev was about to die of pelvic cancer.
Jamie's shoulders slumped. Being in such close contact with tragedy and suffering and sheer bloody stupidity every moment of his waking hours had eroded much of his usual good temper. But he opened up the portal and moved on to his next destination.
Fast Eddie's Pub
Perth, Australia
Earth
Ricardo Inez finished his beer and politely called for another one. The bartender poured it, then rushed to deal with the loud demands of another patron further down the counter, who looked at least seven feet tall and whose sleeveless shirt showed off arms like tree trunks.
He sipped his beer and idly thought about all the ways he was going to spend his new found windfall. Half a million dollars, all cash, all untraceable, all completely tax-free. In exchange for a simple job that had taken him half a day.
After finishing it, he'd taken his money and caught a plane to Western Australia. He'd been there once when he was a kid on a family vacation and had never stopped thinking about its beaches. After a hard life doing some questionable things, Ricardo felt it was finally time to settle down and enjoy his just rewards.
The big man was making even more noise. Ricardo glanced over. He was obviously drunk out of his mind, but the commotion seemed to be about a woman. She was telling him she wasn't interested in a loud, firm voice but the big man didn't seem to be able to take no for an answer. Ricardo shook his head when he saw another guy step up and complain in a high, shrill voice and get swatted aside as if he were a particularly loud insect. The woman's boyfriend or husband, most probably, and one with more indignation than sense.
The boyfriend or husband stumbled backwards onto a table, upsetting it and causing glasses and plates to fly. That was all it took, and in a very short time a proper brawl had broken out. The woman who had caused all this was standing off to one side, screaming hysterically as her boyfriend disappeared under a pile of bodies and furniture. The big drunk man was lashing out with his fists and feet, not caring who or what he hit. Ricardo quickly finished the rest of his beer and put down the money for it behind the counter. He'd done his share of fighting, and wanted to leave before some idiot ruined his night.
Even when another big bloke barrelled into him and put his arms up, ready for a fight, Ricardo punched him in the solar plexus with the minimum amount of force necessary to put him down, and made his way out of the bar. He headed out into the cool Perth night air, and got into his car, a nice new cherry-red Lexus he had bought with his new windfall. He turned the key in the ignition and prepared to get the heck out of there.
The car wouldn't start. Ricardo frowned. It was a new car, it shouldn't have a problem starting the first time of asking. It wasn't like his old clunker that needed two or three tries...
Something in his finely-honed instincts for danger made him grab the door handle and prepare to leap out of the car. But as he turned towards the window, he was staring down the barrel of a handgun that was pressed against the glass.
A voice from the outside, loud enough to be heard through the window.
"Open up, Mr Inez."
His name. Whoever it was had used his real name. Ricardo's mind raced, desperately searching for options. If his car was working, he could run over his hijacker and take off. But it wasn't for some reason. Dimly, he felt that the best option was to hunker down in the car and do nothing. Having a window between him and a gun sounded much better than having nothing but air between himself and a gun. He thought of his own gun in its shoulder holster, and cursed the car's cramped conditions for not being able to draw it fast enough.
An explosion almost made his heart stop. But his window was still intact. Ricardo realised that it had come from the opposite side. Another person was there, brandishing a gun of his own. And it had just shattered the window.
"Your gun please, Mr Inez."
Ricardo froze, not daring to breathe.
"Your gun. We know you have it. Don't make any fast movements. Just hand it over."
"If I give you my gun, you'll kill me," said Ricardo, forcing the words out.
"If you don't give him the gun, I'll kill you," said a voice from the gunman on his side. It was higher. Almost like a woman's.
Moving with exaggerated car, Ricardo removed his gun from its shoulder holster and handed it over, grip first.
"Thank you," said the second gunman. "Now the other gun please."
"What other gun?" said Ricardo. The second gunman sighed.
"The one strapped to your ankle. Yes, we know about that. Please don't waste our time."
Ricardo handed over that gun too, feeling icy fingers of fear run down his spine. No one ever knew about the second gun he had. Who were these people? What did they want with him? He tried to place their voice and accents, but other than being vaguely British he was too panicked to think clearly.
"Get out of the car," said the first gunman, who turned out to be a woman like he suspected. Ricardo did, not daring to look directly at their faces. The two of them bundled him into a van, and away they went.
Ricardo strained and strained against the plastic cuffs his abductors had slapped on him, to no avail. They were quick, professional, and knew what they were doing. This made the sweat trickle down his temples, because the number of people who he thought was capable of kidnapping him made a very short list.
The van stopped. The doors were thrown open, and Ricardo caught a glimpse of the outside. It was mostly dark, with the only light coming from the moon. They were no longer in the city, and there didn't seem to be any buildings around. Just the scruffy bush you find when traveling off the road in Australia.
His kidnappers frog-marched him a little distance away until they reached a large tree. He would have tried to make a break for it had it not been for the gun barrel pressed against his neck the entire time. The woman quickly and efficiently tied him to the tree using a length of cord, the same type that mountain climbers used to tether themselves together. They were impossible to fray, unlike a normal rope.
She stood up when she was done, and Ricardo recognised her immediately.
"You! You're the woman at the bar!"
She grinned. She had dark hair, was a little on the short side, and slim. She was wearing a button up black coat, and her smile was that of a shark's. "We know you noticed. We had to be sure, you see."
"Sure of what?"
"We had to be sure that you were indeed the Ricardo Inez we're looking for," said the man, stepping forward. With a sinking feeling, Ricardo recognised him too. He was the one he tagged for the woman's boyfriend, the weak-looking blond man who had gone down in the fight like a toy doll being kicked over. He didn't seem the worse for wear, however.
"It was a set-up. It was all a set-up."
"Mm," agreed the woman. "We were pretty sure when you didn't get involved in the fight, then absolutely certain once you took down that poor man with one punch. That's your style, isn't it? Not looking for a fight, but willing to put someone down when needed. Like say for example, someone paying you half a million dollars to do a little job in Budapest."
Ricardo's eyes bugged out in his head. He had made sure, he knew he had covered all his tracks and killed everyone who had seen him plant the gas canisters in the train station's ventilation shafts and orchestrate the attack on the emergency services that arrived later. Close to a thousand people died that day, one of the worst terrorist attacks in Hungary's history, men, women and children all dying before they knew what was happening. He had done the job, taken the money and fled as far as he thought was necessary.
Apparently it wasn't far enough.
"Here's what's going to happen," said the woman, with a new edge to her voice. "You will tell us who hired you. In return, we won't kill you."
"I don't know what you're talking about, you've got the wrong guy," babbled Ricardo desperately.
"Please Mr Inez," said the man with a sigh. "We know all about you. We know you were dishonourably discharged from the Brazilian National Public Security Force twelve years ago for murdering a suspect while in custody and you've worked as a mercenary ever since. We know about that job you did in Hong Kong, and the other one in Namibia. You're quite the globetrotter, aren't you?"
Ricardo tried to find a comeback, but he couldn't. The man's words dredged up old memories, memories he'd sworn never to touch again. Amazingly, he felt a tear roll down his eye. He was so close, so close to enjoying his retirement. And now these two were taking it away.
"Remorse is good, Mr Inez."
"I don't think that's remorse, dear," said the woman. "I haven't had an answer to my question. Tell me or I'll shoot."
"If I tell you, I'm a dead man," whispered Ricardo. "The people who hired me...they're not people you take lightly."
"Let me put it this way," said the woman. "Either you tell me and get a chance to live a little longer, or make me angry and you die here, right now."
"Just shoot me," murmured Ricardo. "I'd prefer a quick death."
The woman shot the man an exasperated look. He nodded, and she turned back to Ricardo.
"What makes you think I'm giving you a quick death? I don't have to shoot you. I can cut out your tongue and leave you tied to this tree. You won't be able to call for help, and absolutely nobody comes out this way. You know how empty the Bush is. How long do you think you can go without food and water before your mind cracks?"
Ricardo felt his bowels give way. The woman was serious.
"We don't have to resort to such cruelty, honey," said the man in an admonishing tone.
Ricardo looked at him, not daring to hope.
"I have a roll of tape, we can just tape his mouth over instead. He still won't be able to call for help, but we don't need to cut out his tongue."
That was the final straw. Ricardo broke down.
"Please...please don't leave me here to die. I'll tell you who hired me. Please..."
The woman gave him a friendly smile. "Now that's more like it, Ricky boy."
Ricardo spilled his guts, telling them everything he knew. When he was finished, the two crazed gunmen exchanged an indecipherable look. Then they both turned and walked away at the same time. Ricardo stared at their backs, not believing his eyes.
"Hey! Hey, you said you'd let me go! Come back!"
"We said no such thing," said the woman nonchalantly, one hand in the air. "See you around, Ricky."
"WAIT! COME BACK, DON'T LEAVE ME HERE TO DIE! COME BAAAAACCCKKK!"
But no one answered him, not even a bird. The bushland was empty.
Later when they were driving away, Bod glanced at Coraline. She had wound down the window and was enjoying the night breeze with every sign of enjoyment. If he strained his ears, he could make out the faint echoes of a scream on the wind.
"Nice performance you put on there in the pub," he said.
"Thanks dear," she replied with a smile. "Haven't had the chance to make use of my acting talents recently."
"Uh..."
"Out with it, Owens."
"You weren't really going to cut out his tongue and leave him there, were you?"
Coraline shrugged. "Maybe. If he didn't want to cooperate. You know his type, you need to speak their language if you're gonna get anywhere."
Bod bit his lip. Coraline cracked up in laughter.
"Look at your face! Of course I wasn't going to really do it darling, don't be silly."
"Should we have told him we were going to contact the police and tell them where they could pick up a notorious mass-murdering terrorist wanted by Interpol?"
"Nah, I wanted to make him sweat a little."
"Good thinking."
"Thank you. Were you hurt in that little bar fight by the way?"
"Not at all. I went ghost almost soon as it started. No one noticed."
"That's good," said Coraline. She reached for her husband's hand and held it tight. Then she spoke up again, in a quieter voice this time.
"It's worse than we thought. Than we feared."
"I know."
"I thought it was just the thing in Johannesburg, but it's all over the world. Something's behind this, Bod. I can feel it."
"I agree. Have you heard anything strange recently?"
"What, stranger than things already are?"
"No, it's just that I've been hearing certain rumours. Of the dead rising from their graves, headless men walking about, that sort of thing. People refusing to die."
"That sounds ridiculous."
"I don't know. I've been hearing it too many times. I think they're related."
"Alright. We'll find out. We have to do something."
"Yes we do. And we'll do it together," said Bod, looking at his wife and loving her more in that moment. She was so angry, so furious at the mass murders being carried out in a systematic fashion across the world. Instead of doing nothing, she resolved to do something about it.
Coraline smiled. "Together," she said.
Hawthorden Castle
Midlothian, Scotland
Earth
The Eremite fumed silently. He sat in a long, low room made out of ancient grey stone, with a fire crackling in a grate on the far wall. Silent guards stood at the door, but he was otherwise alone.
He had moved the bulk of his operations from America to his stronghold here in Scotland following his success in capturing Death. He owned the castle, and the land around it, having obtained it through nefarious means. The place suited him, far more than New York City did. It was remote and hidden, surrounded by thick forests, easily defensible and near the legendary Roslin Castle, a source of immense magical energy. It was here he had begun the creation of his parasite universe, accessible only through a single entrance hidden deep beneath the castle's foundations. If anyone wanted to get to Death, they would have to go through his own private army first.
Something was missing. Something he had overlooked. Some people were suffering from injuries that should have killed them, and yet they were not dying. The mainstream media was slow to report on it, but it was there all the same. By rights things should be going according to plan.
But not everyone remained alive. There were still naturally occurring deaths. How many, and in what ratio he had yet to find out, but the crux of the matter was that there were still people who were dying in the normal way. This galled the Eremite. The chaos he expected to form was moving too slowly. By now he had anticipated an entire world caught up in the utter terror of people who wanted to die but couldn't, of the dead rising in their graves. But it wasn't happening yet.
The Eremite looked at one of the guards by the door. "Bring me a test subject," he said softly. The guard bowed, and left. He returned a while later, dragging a young woman in tow. She was wearing a fine dress that was rumpled and smeared with dirt. Her long hair was one huge tangle, and her eyes were wild.
"Please let me go," she sobbed, her knees trembling as she swayed on the spot. "Please, I won't tell anyone what happened, I won't tell them about this place. Please, just let me go."
"Weapon," requested the Eremite, observing the girl with a slightly detached air. The guard handed over his gun to the Eremite, who aimed and shot the girl directly in the center of her head. She crumpled to the floor, the back of her head blown out in messy chunks. Blood and brain matter spattered everywhere, over the guard's uniform and the centuries-old furniture.
The Eremite bent over the prone figure. She should be dead, and yet...
Her chest was still rising and falling. Her eyes were wide and staring sightlessly at unspeakable horrors. Her mouth open and shut slowly, while her limbs jerked around. She should be dead. She wasn't. It seemed like his plan had worked after all. Still, better to make sure.
"Take the test subject back to her cell, but keep her under constant observation. The moment she dies, I want to know."
The guard bowed and did as he was asked, lifting the not-quite corpse in his arms and leaving the room. The Eremite returned to his inscrutable thoughts, brooding as the day wore on and the light waned outside his windows.
It was a few days later before he received the call. The girl had finally died, but not before remaining in her cell in that same half-corpse state without speaking a word or responding to anything.
"Did anyone see what happened to her?"
The guard who was on duty stepped forward and saluted. "I did, Teacher. She sort of gurgled and then stopped breathing."
"Did you see anything else?"
"Not really, I -"
"Did you see anything else?"
"No, Teacher," said the guard, in a hushed tone.
Instead of replying, he stormed off towards the dungeons. He had to get the truth from that insufferable woman.
The Black Sand Desert
"So recently I've been listening to Metric, and I really like it, I think it's a shame there aren't more female singers in bands and she's really got a great voice. Did you see them in New York that one time? Brilliant," said Didi happily, lying on her back as if soaking up rays at the beach.
Her guards refused to answer, or even acknowledge that they heard anything. Didi continued talking however. It helped to pass the time. Currently she was on the topic of music that she liked, and that would take up several centuries at least.
A shout from the distance interrupted her. "Dark One! I will have words with you!"
Didi sat up. "Hello there you old coot," she greeted him cheerily. "Come to set me free?"
The Eremite glared at her. "How is this possible? We took you, bound you, trapped you here, and life and death goes on as usual in the wider world. What did you do?"
Didi started to speak, then stopped. Why tell the Eremite anything at all?
"I don't really know," she lied.
"Tell me!"
"Or what?" she retorted. "You'll kidnap me? Did that already."
"There's always torture to loosen your tongue," snarled the Eremite.
"Torture? Physical pain?" said Didi incredulously. "I may be trapped but I'm not utterly helpless, you know. Just listen to how ridiculous you sound right now."
"Unless...but no. How could one idiot human do the job? Do your job?" said the Eremite suspiciously. Didi felt her heart sink. He had guessed it after all.
"You did that? You shared your responsibilities with...with him? Foulest of blasphemies!"
"And what you're doing is so gosh darn pure and noble I suppose," said Didi sarcastically.
"We will find him, you know," said the Eremite, his voice rising. "We will find that companion of yours and drag him here, broken and bleeding and wishing he was dead. And then we'll see how long the world lasts without a reaper!"
Didi watched him go, but she felt better than she had in a long while. Jamie was out there. He was doing the job she taught him, as best he knew how. And he had escaped capture so far. He could be on his way trying to find her right now.
Hurry up Jamie. I can't wait to see you, she thought to herself, then lay back down on the sand once more.