Alister

  George is a great guy to work with. He doesn't ask too many questions. Doesn't try to bargain for more money, unlike Lily. He just takes the job and does it right. The only time we ever talk is when I need him to do something.

  Or when he needs to inform me that the job is done. Just like now as I stare down at his text that tells me the video Clara had on her phone and account has been successfully deleted after hacking.

  "You can't ignore me forever, you know."

  I look sideways at the passenger seat.

  She sits there with that same knowing smirk playing on her cherry-red lips. White hair reaching just below her chin. And her eyes-glowing crimson-lock onto mine.

  Admittedly, I was unnerved at first. How could you not when you suddenly see someone who died in front of you appear out of nowhere?

  But then I realized that it's the gems doing. It's making me see things. What I'm not sure of, is whether it's a figment of my imagination or an actual spirit-type thing taking the form of someone dear to me.

  I honestly don't know who this woman is. Nor does she, apparently.

  She has no memories of who she was before. She told me she woke up two days ago-around midnight. The night after Clara's party. Whatever this curse is, I'm guessing it activated that night. And she's been with me ever since. Watching. Following. But I couldn't see her then.

  If I'm seeing her now... talking to her now, that means the curse is getting worse.

  The reason she looks like this-why she's wearing her face-is because, according to her, she could sense that this was the person I was closest to. The one with the biggest hold on my mind. Which led me to test the theory of whether or not she can read my mind and see through my memories.

  She couldn't. Which means either it's more complicated than I thought or...she's lying. I'm leaning towards the latter.

  She doesn't remember what she really looked like. Just that her name is Helena. It could probably be just something my mind is making up. I just have to pretend she's not here. It's simple.

  "You know, I'm kind of disappointed in you. That whole 'let's trust each other' nonsense. I didn't expect you to be so naive and stupid." She says calmly.

  As if I'd ever be idiotic enough to trust someone placing a tracker on my car. It's almost offensive how Clara thinks she can easily fool me with an innocent smile and flowery words. Hope she has fun tracking that truck now.

  "Why can't you just leave me alone? What do I have to do to get rid of you?" I look at the rearview mirror and notice a grey car behind me.

  She shrugs. "Kill Clara. I don't like her. She is like a bomb waiting to blow up."

  I scoff. "You'll have to give me a better reason than that"

  "I only want to help you. I can tell you you really hate her."

  "That is none of your business." I answer as I try to focus on the road. Refusing to even look at her.

  The woman tilts her head, the soft, almost imperceptible motion unnerving in its stillness. "Who is she, by the way?" She asks, curiously, "The woman whose face I wear."

  "No one." I reply, hoping she'll drop it.

  But she isn't buying it. Her lips curl into a faint smile. "Doesn't seem like shes no one."

  I grit my teeth. "She was my savior." I finally admit, my words reluctant to give away more than necessary.

  "And now she's—"

  "Stop for a second," I cut her off, my eyes flickering to the rearview mirror again.

  "What?" She inquires, utterly irritated.

  "This grey car...it's following me." I start to drive away from my area while she looks out the window and towards the main road, while keeping an eye on the car.

  A shiver runs down my spine as realization dawns on me, but I don't feel afraid. Instead, I feel a thrill of excitement mixed with a dash of anger. A chuckle escapes my throat, and I run a hand through my hair.

  Clara thinks she's so clever, doesn't she? I knew she'd get mad when she finds out what I have done, but to retort this quickly? She must be fuming.

  As I pull up to the traffic, I try to quietly observe the grey car behind me.

  "Where are we going?" The woman asks as she looks at me with curiosity. when I press down on the accelerator, the engine purrs smoothly, and the speedometer climbs.

  "The gentlemen obviously came for a show. It would be rude not to entertain them. " I say, grinning, making sure they're following me.

  As we drive into the less populated area of town, the scenery shifts from bustling streets to a more desolate landscape. The buildings become fewer and farther between, replaced by vast expanses of empty lots and construction sites.

  "Uh...hey kid?" She calls, staring out the window, and I follow her gaze. Not only did the area give them the chance to get closer, but a man with a black bandana peeked out of the backseat window, holding out a pistol and aiming down at my car.

  I click my tongue. I'm in no mood to change tires again or crash my car in this area.

  I slam on the brakes as the gunman's pistol fires, a loud, sharp bang that splits the air. The sudden stop had thrown off the man's focus, and his aim got disrupted. Thankfully, the bullet missed the tires and the car itself.

  As my car stops, the chasing car hurtles past us, and the driver hits the brakes too. Its momentum carries it a few feet ahead before it slowly starts to come to a stop.

  Five men are standing next to their car when I step out. None of them are carrying weapons. Their eyes meet mine with expressions that range from confusion to curiosity.

  One of them, the tallest of the group, steps forward. His long ponytail swaying behind him. "Is this the kid?"

  The others exchange glances. I catch a glimpse of their confusion before one of them–the one with glasses and scruffy hair–reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small brass compass from his purple jersey. He holds it up, watching it intently. I assume it's pointing at me, seeing as how his gaze flicks up at me, and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

  "Yeah," he says, "the compass points to him."

  Another one, a younger guy with a lean build, raises a brow. "But it only works once in two weeks. Why would it do that twice today?"

  "Alister..." Helena says as she looks at them, eyes like saucers. "Run. I have a bad feeling about this. You need to leave."

  I thought I was going to face some kind of attack. Clara's hired goons coming to kill me. But this? This is something entirely different. Who the heck are these people?

  The one with the compass clears his throat and asks. "Boy, do you have a magical artifact on you?"

  My fingers twitch at my side. "What?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. "Who are you people?"

  He doesn't respond. Instead, he gestures toward me with a slight nod. "Answer the question first."

  I don't like this. Not one bit. But something about this whole situation is clicking into place.

  Slowly, I reach up and tug down the collar of my shirt, exposing the gemstone embedded in my chest.

  "You mean something like this?" I ask, carefully watching their faces. "You can see it?"

  Their reactions confirm it instantly. A flicker of recognition flashes in their eyes. They can see it. They know exactly what this is. Could they help us get rid of these gems? Have we finally found a way out?

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  But before I can voice the thought, one of them, a lanky man with a scar along his jaw, lets out a heavy sigh. "So he's an object-bound. Just great."

  The one with the compass clicks it shut. "Well, Doesn't matter what he is. Let's just take him."

  That shred of hope dies a quick death.

  I raise my hands slightly, palms open in mock surrender. "Look. I don't know what's going on, who you are, or what your goal is. But it seems like you might know how to get rid of this thing." I tap on the gemstone. "I'm willing to come along if you agree to help me with it."

  As if on cue, they exchange glances, and I see it. The slight twitch of their lips, the way their shoulders shift, like they're holding back laughter.

  The one with the compass shakes his head with amusement. "Do you hear that? He wants our help."

  The youngest one rubs the back of his neck, a smirk creeping across his face. "I mean... yeah, we could help you," he says lightly, tilting his head. "No problem, kid."

  I let out a slow, uneasy breath, forcing my shoulders to relax. My eyes dart between them, making sure to keep the tension in my body visible. Hesitant, nervous, and helpless.

  They watch me like a pack of wolves as I start to walk towards them. None of them trust me, but they don't see me as a threat either.

  "It just... appeared two days ago," I speak, stepping closer. "It won't come off. No matter what I do."

  I shift my weight awkwardly as I stand before the largest man in the group, the one with the bandana. His arms remain crossed over his broad chest, but there's a flicker of curiosity in his otherwise cold eyes.

  "Boy, what's your ability?" The ponytail guy asks.

  "Ability?" I tilt my head, genuinely confused.

  The big guy in front of me snorts, "He doesn't even know that, huh?" He narrows his eyes at the gem and leans closer. "Let me see." He peers at the gemstone, tilting his head slightly.

  "Well, he did say it—" the compass man begins to say until his eyes widen when he sees me move. Watching in horror as I rip the knife free from its hiding place and drive it deep into the big man's throat.

  The steel sinks in clean, all the way to the hilt.

  He stares at me with those bulging eyes as I twist the knife and pull it out while he throws up blood. I kick him in the stomach, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground as everyone watches, frozen in shock. I smile as I look down at the withering man as he clutches his neck tightly, blood pouring out like a broken dam.

  The jugular vein is an ultimate kill spot, you know. A precise slice can unleash copious amounts of blood and silence anyone instantly. Go for that when in a hurry.

  Her words echo in my mind as I feel the other move. Finally snapping out of their shock.

  My hand tightens around the blood-slicked knife as I whip around, spotting the guy with the scar reaching into his pocket. Something small and metallic. I don't let him pull it out.

  With a sharp inhale, I hurl the knife straight at him. The steel spins through the air in a deadly arc-he barely has time to react before it buries itself in his throat.

  His mouth opens in a silent gasp as he collapses. The object in his hand-a long nail-slips from his fingers and clatters to the ground.

  "Fred!" the compass guy yells, stepping back in alarm.

  "Alright!" Ponytail guy barks, pulling out a flute from his side, and begins chanting something. I spin, knife in hand, and fling it at the younger one, the one holding a paper talisman, mumbling something.

  But the moment the knife reaches him, it stops mid-air-clinking off something unseen, as if I had thrown it against a solid wall.

  His fingers tighten around the talisman, face set in concentration. Before I can process what just happened, something tightens around my foot.

  A chain of dust twisting up from the ground and wrapping tightly around my ankle. I snap my gaze to the ponytail guy as he plays an eerie melody.

  The dirt around me moves. Long, whip-like tendrils of soil surge up from the ground, twisting and snapping like living things. One lashes around my throat, tightening, trying to drag me down.

  I refuse to go down like this. I reach for a knife, but a chain bursts up, clamps my wrist and sends the blade clattering free.

  I don't even get a second to react before The tendril around my throat tightens and yanks me down. My knees slam into the dirt, pain lancing up my legs. I claw at the choking earth, it's like tearing steel, and my lungs burn with each shallower breath.

  The compass guy exhales, rolling his shoulders as if this is nothing more than an inconvenience. "So, what do we do with him?"

  "Kill him, of course." The youngest says, gaze flicking briefly to the corpse of their fallen companion, to the knife still buried in his throat. "Forget about the artifact. He's already a problem."

  As I look up at them, my mind drifts back to that moment, like it's been branded into me.

  I don't remember when it was or what year of elementary school it was, or anything specific like that. What I do remember is the cold, hard wooden floor beneath me. The metallic taste of blood as it dripped out of my mouth to the floor. The stinging and throbbing pain in my arms and legs as I tried to move even a little. Eventually giving up and just staying there in the corner of the room.

  I remember hearing the laugh and chatter of the class. The view from the ground as I looked up at everyone. A girl accidentally meets my eyes, and she quickly looks away, continuing her conversation with her friends.

  I was invisible to everyone.

  ...and it was all because the kid who did that to me was powerful. Give a gun to a kid, and he'll want to shoot. And Kyle Jefferson would shoot you twice.

  No...stop thinking about that...

  This is different.

  I'm not helpless. I'm not pathetic.

  With the last bit of strength I can muster, I reach under my jacket. Another whip of dirt snaps around my wrist just as I pull the gun out. But it's too late.

  My finger finds the trigger, and a shot cracks through the air like a lightning strike.

  The ponytail guy jerks, his eyes going wide in stunned disbelief. A dark bloom spreads across his chest. His fingers slip from the flute and the melody stops.

  Then the dirt tendrils lose their form, disintegrating into lifeless sand as his body falls.

  I suck in a ragged breath, the sudden release making my lungs burn as I stagger back to my feet.

  The compass guy's expression darkens, as he glances to the big man's corpse. To the gun strapped to his side.

  In one swift motion, he lunges. Grabbing the younger man's arm and yanking him forward as he reaches for the weapon.

  I fire.

  Two shots. The bullets slam into the invisible barrier around them, bouncing off wildly in random directions.

  That talisman. It doesn't just protect him, it protects whoever he's touching.

  I don't wait for him. I move. My boots tear through the loose sand as I bolt for the fallen flute.

  There's only one thing left to do.

  As soon as I hold it, I don't waste a second and throw myself behind their car just as the gunshots ring out. Bullets slamming into the dirt where I stood moments ago.

  I look down at the pipe in my hands.

  How did that guy control the sand? Was it just the instrument? Or something else?

  Either way, I don't have time to wonder. I hear their footsteps. They're advancing, cautious but closing in fast.

  "You know how to play?" The woman suddenly appears in front of me, almost making me jump out of my skin.

  I nod. I know how to play almost all instruments. I take a moment to calm myself and mumble the words the man uttered before he played it. Listening to the faint echo of their footsteps, I press the flute to my lips and close my eyes.

  The sound vibrates the air, sending a ripple through the ground. I focus on the dirt beneath them, imagining it moving like liquid. I picture it crawling up their legs, winding around them like serpents, holding them in place.

  Then, I hear them. Their voices crackling in the distance, barely audible over the sounds of the flute's song.

  I rise from my position, still playing, and peer around the car.

  The sand comes alive, coiling around their legs like chains, snaking up their torsos and locking their arms. Compass guy grits his teeth, while the younger one chokes out a noise, clutching the talisman.

  I alter the tone and the sand causes the gun in Compass guy's hand to fall. It tumbles to the earth, before grains of sand lift it and bring it towards me.

  It looks as though it's being carried by ants.

  I play again, and the sand writhes toward the younger man’s arm. Terror flashes in his eyes. "No!" he cries, but the grains coil tight, prying his fingers open until the talisman slips free.

  After making the sand bring it closer to me, I crouch down, pulling the flute away from my lips. Then, I tear it apart.

  Since the melody had stopped, the sand around them lost its hold. The two men, freed from their immobile state, break into a sprint, away from me.

  "You're just letting them run?" Helena asks, appearing beside me.

  I snort, already lifting the gun. "I'm not that merciful."

  I shoot the younger one, and he stumbles mid-step before falling face-first into the dirt. Blood blossoming from the wound on his back.

  Compass guy barely has time to react before my knife spins through the air, burying itself deep in his calf. He howls, collapses to his hands and knees. I step in and drive a second blade into his other leg.

  I kick him in the stomach as he screams and then again, on his face. His nose bursts open, dark blood spilling freely from the wound, staining his face. I use my foot to flip him onto his back.

  Snatching the compass off of him, I see that the needle points directly at me just like they said.

  I crouch down beside him. "Alright," I say, twirling my blade. "Now it's your turn to answer my questions."

  He glares up at me with blood trickling from his broken nose. "Screw you," he snarls.

  I ignore him and lean in closer, just enough so he can hear me clearly. "What I've gathered so far is that people like you, people with these magical artifacts, collect these things. And that you don't exactly treat others like me too kindly. You called me an object bound. From your reactions, I'm guessing there are others in similar situations, cursed by objects like this, bound to them. Am I right?"

  He says nothing, but his eyes betray his discomfort, flicking to the blood-soaked ground beneath him.

  I press on. "You tried to kidnap me, which tells me one thing. That's how you operate. You capture, you control. You collect."

  His lips tighten, but he doesn't speak.

  "Now tell me," I continue, taking the compass and holding it closer to his face, "what does this thing actually do?"

  He doesn't budge, so I pull a knife and hold it to his throat. Letting him feel the sharp point.

  "Talk," I growl.

  He swallows hard. "It points to artifact users... once every 14 days."

  I hum, my mind processing. "Is there any way to get rid of this gemstone?"

  A smirk splits his blood-slick lips and he relaxes, baiting me. "Either break it or die!" He throws sand in my face. The gritty particles bite into my eyes, and for a moment, everything blurs. I stagger back, blinking furiously. He lunges and reaches for the knife still pressed against his chest. Fingertips scrabbling the hilt.

  Swiftly, I pull out another blade and slash his throat. A sickening gurgle follows and blood spurts in a crimson arc.

  I click my tongue as I stand up. Just when I was closer to answers.

  I start making my way over to the men's belongings, searching through their scattered things.