She’d spent years working on herself, meditating, balancing her energy flow. Hours of practice, constantly pushing her limits further and further. She should have been immune to this kind of thing, above it. Yet none of it seemed to matter.

  She left the apartment and walked aimlessly for a long while. She had no desire to look at Marcel or even sense his presence. Eventually, she wandered into a park, though she didn’t really want to be there either. The sky was overcast, the air heavy with the metallic scent of impending rain. Still, the breeze was warm and the temperature perfect for spending a little time outside.

  People had poured out of their homes, strolling between the trees, passing her by, chatting quietly. In that sea of anonymous faces, she felt like a stranger to her own kind. There was dissonance. She could feel it clearly but couldn’t pinpoint where it came from. Something was wrong, something tearing her apart from the inside.

  She’d grown strong. She’d solved all her major problems, created peace, built stability, even managed to save a little for the future. She went over every aspect of her life, reflexively, one by one, yet everything seemed perfectly in order. So where had she gone wrong?

  “I need to snap out of this,” she muttered, sitting down on a bench as the first drops of rain landed on her face. “I need to get rid of this feeling.”

  Someone sat next to her, but she didn’t bother turning her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it was a homeless woman. Didn’t matter. A moment later, the sour scent of unwashed skin reached her. Still, she was numb to it. The only thing that mattered was whatever the hell was going on inside her. She just hoped the stranger wouldn’t try to start a conversation.

  “It’s raining,” came the hoarse, alcohol-soaked voice beside her.

  Of course. Life could never resist taking another jab at her.

  She said nothing. There was no point in answering, no point in engaging. Silence was safer. She stared straight ahead, listening to the soft percussion of raindrops against the ground, the gentle hiss of white noise rising all around her. There was something almost magical about it: the way people scrambled for cover, the scent of wet earth, the fact that she was sitting there, getting soaked beside a total stranger.

  “You’ll catch a cold,” the woman said again, but still got no answer. “Don’t you have a home?”

  “No,” Alice replied at last. “I’ve got an apartment I don’t feel like going back to, and no one close enough to call.”

  “Well, I don’t even have an apartment,” the woman said matter-of-factly. No bitterness, no resentment, just a simple truth.

  Alice couldn’t help but smile at that kind of honesty. That kind of simplicity was something she hadn’t been able to afford in a long time.

  “At least it’s warm,” Alice said, standing. “Have a good day.”

  “You too,” came the reply.

  And just like that, the strange tension inside her eased a little.

  The homeless woman gave a faint, cold smile as she watched Alice disappear around the corner. Gone was the slack expression, the dull disinterest of the drunk. She sniffed the air like a hunting dog catching a familiar scent. She had it now, and she wasn’t letting go. Better not risk losing her again. She rose and headed quickly in the girl’s direction. It had to be done now, while the girl was still weak and distracted. A flash of metal gleamed in her right hand. It was a small knife. Rounding the next corner, she saw Alice standing by a shallow pond, gazing into the water. The woman glanced around. Enough witnesses to make it believable, but not enough to interfere. A few would do. Let them think it was just another homeless lunatic. People believed the homeless were crazy, drunk, high. The investigation would take days at most. No fuss.

  Alice stood, staring into the still pond. A wave of melancholy washed over her. It was the kind of sadness that didn’t need a reason, the kind that almost felt luxurious. Everyone had bad days, and she so rarely allowed herself any kind of day that when one finally came, she almost wanted to savor it. Sure, it wasn’t the right time or the right place. But when was it ever?

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Life’s a bitch,” she whispered, recalling all her failed attempts at mastering the art of foresight. “A bitch who doesn’t work for us.”

  Suddenly, a strange feeling crawled up her spine. She knew those words. Maybe in another form, but she’d heard them before. She was certain of it, though she could’ve sworn they were her own. When? Where? No idea. But they rang familiar. Then again, the sensation was fleeting, so delicate it felt absurd to think it meant anything at all. Still, it’s always the little things that linger.

  The warning came a split second before the attack. An instinct jolted her, and she spun around. The homeless woman was right behind her. Everything had gone according to plan. The stranger had masked her energy field; she’d done it a thousand times. It was second nature. She crept forward, silent as a shadow, absolutely certain she was invisible to Alice’s senses. But somehow, that bitch had sensed her.

  Fractions of a second. That was all the woman had to react. She struck.

  Alice realized too late that she was in mortal danger. The blade flashed, slicing through fabric, then skin. By sheer luck, it missed the artery. If not for that instinct, she’d be bleeding out already. Still, how much did that really change? The woman yanked the blade back and struck again.

  Everything happened so fast that Alice didn’t even see when the second blow came. But this time, the knife stopped just millimeters from her chest. A sharp crack split the air. Alice froze, staring. The woman’s arm had snapped in several places; bones jutted beneath the skin.

  Then came another snap.

  The homeless woman dropped to her knees, her head twisting at an angle no human neck should bend. It took Alice a few seconds to understand: her neck was broken. She stopped thinking. Instinct took over. Immediately, she summoned all the energy she’d built up. A distortion field flared around her, warping the air, masking everything from view. She funneled power into her facial muscles, reshaping them as much as she could. Pain pulsed through her. Blood was flowing. Didn’t matter. She had to get out.

  “Stay still,” said a man’s voice behind her.

  With the last of her strength, she reinforced the field.

  “You can stop,” the voice continued. “I put up a barrier earlier. No one can see us. Surveillance cameras burned out about three minutes ago.”

  As he spoke, the dead woman’s body began to move. Alice stared, disbelief numbing her senses. The woman was dead. And yet, her hand lifted the knife and drove it into her own eye socket. Once. Twice. Then the body stumbled forward and fell into the pond.

  “Oh God…” Alice whispered, watching the ripples spread.

  “Don’t invoke His name,” the man said calmly. “He doesn’t help anyone anymore.”

  She recognized him instantly. The chill in his tone. The cold precision in his eyes as they pierced through her. If he was here, the Not-a-Doctor, nothing she did would matter. The pain hit her full force. Blinding. Searing.

  “Fuck,” she hissed, clutching the wound just long enough to stop the bleeding with a surge of energy.

  The man smiled faintly. He knew. He was reading her thoughts like an open book, but he didn’t interfere. He wanted to see what she’d do.

  “Hello, Alice,” he said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

  “Hey,” she replied curtly, afraid that saying anything more would break her focus.

  “I have to admit, I’m impressed,” he said with a smirk.

  She glared at him.

  “What exactly are you congratulating me for?” she asked through gritted teeth. “Not getting stabbed to death by some psycho homeless skank?”

  “For surviving your second run-in with an Executor,” he said. “Not many people do.”

  She didn’t understand, but she knew he was telling the truth. Something in her bones recognized it.

  “What?” she asked finally.

  “Someone died because of you. In the forest. That was your first encounter,” he said. “Today was the second.”

  She snatched the cigarette from his hand and took a drag.

  “I’m old enough for you to cut the guilt-tripping crap. If you didn’t want to be in this world so badly, no one would’ve had to die. That’s one. Two: seriously, what the fuck are you even talking about?”

  “Perfect,” the Not-a-Doctor said, reaching for the cigarette again.

  Alice yanked her hand away, ignoring the sting.

  “Executors are Heaven’s agents. Their job is to eliminate anomalies.”

  “Then why are they hunting me, not you?”

  “Because I don’t exist here, Alice. As far as Heaven’s concerned, you’re the only one. They think you’re someone else. They want you dead. They want to maim your soul so you never escape the cycle of reincarnation, to keep you trapped forever as nothing more than a pitiful human being.”

  “Why?” she whispered, her voice thin, trembling.

  “Take a wild guess,” he said, and vanished.

  Getting home wasn’t easy. She had to siphon energy from random passersby just to stay conscious, but it barely helped. She nearly collapsed two blocks from her apartment. The wound almost reopened, her reserves melting away. She leaned against a wall and slid to the ground, visualizing the tissue knitting back together. It hurt. Healing too fast always did. But she didn’t have a choice.

  Of course, that was when it started pouring again. And of course, no one was around to draw from.

  She tried pulling from the environment, tried everything short of calling the Not-a-Doctor for help. She knew he was nearby. He always was. But she already owed him too much. She couldn’t afford to owe him more, not when she didn’t know what the final price might be. At least, that’s what she told herself.

  A small part of her knew better. It wasn’t fear. It was pride.