Chapter 38

  "To possess a Phoenix Feather is to know life and death in equal measure," the Salesman explained while the feather began to smolder in Natalie's palm, curling at the edges as thin streams of smoke rose from it. "The feather can return any entity from death, provided two conditions are met."

  He raised a finger. "First, the soul must not have departed. It may leave instantly upon death or linger for a time, but for best results, it is preferable not to wait. Second, a piece of the intended must remain. A drop of blood, a strand of hair, a trace of ash. Any part will suffice, as long as it is a remnant of their physical body.”

  He plucked the feather from her hand just as the edges began to spit tiny sparks.

  Adam frowned. The Salesman had let them keep every other item, but with this one, he seemed reluctant to leave it in Natalie's possession.

  Natalie shook her head, the embers slowly fading from behind her eyes. "I saw it. I saw it hatch, and die, over and over. It was… beautiful."

  "It will not take her long to decide, I believe," The Salesman's said, his eyes shifting to Adam while still holding the feather between two thin fingers. "While your weapon is trivial in comparison to what I am offering Natalie, we still need to agree upon a price, Adam."

  Adam tensed, his heart starting to gallop with anxiety. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the price was, or how the Salesman would react should he turn him down.

  The Salesman once again pulled out his ledger, flipped to a seemingly random page and placed his finger on yet another line. He examined Adam for a moment and then nodded.

  "Your ability to cry should suffice."

  The words landed and Adam almost barked out a laugh of relief. He felt like after the last few days he'd cried enough for a lifetime.

  "Is that all? You said no 'deals with the devil' type agreements, so my eyes won't dry out and fall out of my head?" He felt his shoulders relax, the tension bleeding away. "Just... no more crying?"

  "Correct,” The Salesman replied, his eyebrows rising a fraction of a degree. "Your eyes will remain functionally the same. However, no pain or joy will ever cause you to cry again. Is that acceptable?"

  Adam took a moment to appear like he was considering the offer, before nodding. "Yes, I agree."

  The Salesman's face split into another feral grin. He stepped forward and placed his hand on Adam's chest, directly over his heart, then closed his eyes. The hand felt strangely hard through Adam's shirt and the moment stretched long enough to become awkward. Adam glanced past the Salesman to the others, and they looked just as confused as he felt.

  "Done."

  The Salesman's eyes snapped open, and he handed Adam the ledger. Adam took it, scanning the page, columns and columns of names and items were listed in tight, cramped, script. The letters and numbers seemed to swim before his eyes and he quickly signed his name in the only blank space. He handed the ledger back.

  "Thank you." The Salesman turned and approached Natalie, the feather still pinched gently between his fingers. "That should be enough time for you to have considered my offer. Are you ready to hear the price?"

  Natalie licked her lips, her eyes wavering between the feather and Samantha. "Yes."

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  "Very well. I will require your ability to create life,” the Salesman said.

  Adam felt something reverent in the Salesman's tone. There was no smile, no games. Just a solemn statement, as serious as a heart attack.

  He didn't even check his ledger.

  A look of horror bloomed across Samantha's face and her hand immediately shot up, reaching for Natalie. "Nat, no. Wait-"

  "I agree,” she said.

  The words left Natalie's lips without hesitation, her eyes locked on her Samantha's as she took the feather from The Salesman's fingers. It erupted into a gout of flame the instant her fingers closed around it, instantly burning to ash.

  She stared down at the ashes in her palm, the blackened outline of a feather imprinted on her skin like a charred brand.

  “I know you don’t need me like you did then… but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t give anything for you. When we said ‘until death do us part,’ I meant it, and this way I can keep that promise, and then some,” Natalie said, taking Samantha’s hand.

  "I am glad we could come to an agreement." The Salesman placed his fingertips on Natalie's abdomen for the briefest moment before pulling away. "It is done. If you wish to use the feather, simply touch flame to the mark, and then touch the intended’s remains."

  He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I should mention, if you perish before using the feather, it will be consumed to return you to life."

  Samantha's face crumpled, caught between sadness and pain as Natalie signed the ledger. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her wife, resting her head against the taller woman's chest.

  "I really wish you hadn't done that,” Samantha breathed.

  "I know. And you know why I did." There was an edge in Natalie's voice Adam couldn't quite read.

  "I know," Samantha replied.

  The Salesman removed his hat, his smile wide and gleaming.

  "Now that we've concluded this portion of our negotiations, shall we move on to more important business?”

  "More important business?" Hector said, sounding incredulous as they walked down the aisle, overhead lights flicking off one by one behind them.

  "In a manner of speaking, yes." The Salesman moved with renewed energy, and Adam quickened his pace to keep up. They reached an intersection where a high-top table stood at the center, four chairs spaced evenly around it. A large television screen was affixed to a nearby prefabricated wall.

  "Please, sit and make yourselves comfortable."

  The Salesman gestured to the seats, ushering them forward. There was an audible pop, and a large pitcher with four glasses appeared on the table. "Refresh yourselves and I will return in a few moments." He turned down another aisle and disappeared from view.

  Adam fell into the nearest chair, dropping the bat on the table with a heavy thud. The others followed suit, setting their items down in front of them, except Natalie, who sat with her hands folded.

  "I can't help but wonder if we made a mistake," Samantha said, sliding the plain leather-bound book toward the center of the table until it touched the pitcher.

  "Does it feel like a mistake?" Hector's grip tightened on the piece of bone, and Adam wasn't sure he'd let go of it since he'd signed the ledger.

  "No,” Natalie said, staring down at the mark burned into her palm. "No, it doesn't. It feels like, for the first time since all this started, we're not making mistakes. It feels like we're finally on the right track."

  "The right track for what? I don't really have a plan beyond checking on Stephen." Adam gripped the bat, the veins on his arms standing out like thin blue ropes. "Maybe my parents, but I don't expect anyone to come with me for that. It's probably suicide."

  “Where are your parents?” Samantha asked, reaching across the table and grasping Natalie’s hand.

  "East coast."

  Hector whistled, shaking his head. "Definitely suicide." He took the pitcher, smelled it, shrugged, and poured himself a glass.

  "Thanks,” Adam muttered, keeping his eyes down and mulling over his options.

  "I know what we should do," Natalie added.

  Adam looked up. She was staring into her palm with an intensity that made him anxious.

  "What?" Hector took the small pendant out of his hand and slipped the cord around his neck, tucking it into his shirt.

  "We should kill him,” Natalie said, closing her hand into a fist.

  "The Salesman?!" Adam's head snapped up, whipping back and forth in search of their host.

  Natalie shot him a look that seemed to ask 'are you stupid?' "No. Him." She pointed to the ceiling and Adam's stomach dropped. "The Voice."