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Prologue

He was falling.

Or at least he thought he was falling.

There was an unseen force that made its presence known only by the icy wind that whipped around his body and the total weightlessness that he felt. He wanted to stop, stop his plunge into the nothingness below him, but the thought only seemed to make him fall faster, dropping him like a stone to the bottom of a pond. He wondered, through the thick hazy fog that was his mind, what would happen to him when he finally hit the bottom, If there even was one. Maybe he would just keep on falling forever.

He was dying.

Or dead.

This he was sure of. He felt the icy kiss of Death on his cheek, reminding him that his will was not his own, that he could struggle to remain alive, but in the end Death would have her way. But he took comfort in the fact that he had fought with everything that he had, and that Death wouldn’t have him as she had originally intended. Killing him had been her second choice, a haphazard plan to prevent him from destroying her world.

And she had won, throwing him into this void where there was no sight, no sound, only the bitter cold. And though he fought furiously to be free, he was held tight in the world between life and death, between freedom and eternal slavery. He knew that when he finally made it to the end of the drop that he would be consumed by pain beyond human comprehension, pain that would make everything else mercifully gently by comparison.

He was afraid.

Terrified.

The dark void sough hungrily to devour him, and he was completely helpless to stop his plummet into Death’s domain. But for the moment he was safe and able to think. He turned his mind over to all that he had learned over his short yet somehow long life. He though abut the war that he had been thrown into. Both sides—the living and the dead—had worked to control him and his powers. They had told him that he had to choose one or the other. Both brought pain and fear to him. The dead wanted to make him as they were and had nearly succeeded in doing so, and the living had distrusted him from the very beginning, planning to kill him after using him for their purposes. But he had gone his own way, lashing out at both groups that saw him only as a tool to be used, and in doing what he thought would be best for the people of earth, he had nearly destroyed them all. So, maybe his death was for the best. At least now he wouldn’t have to worry about who was really right and who just wanted to bring the most harm.

He hoped that his fall into death would end soon. The sensation of dropping and the chilling cold were so much worse than anything else. The agony of having to wait for the end was unbearable. But maybe this was just another torture device designed by Death specifically for him. Of course, she had known all his fears; she had invaded his mind countless times, pulling all of his deepest fears and secrets forward, and no amount of begging had ever made her stop. And he knew that now everything that he had ever been afraid of in life would be a hundred times more terrifying in death.

The dark was suffocating him; he found himself short of breath, gasping desperately for air that wasn’t there any longer. He wondered why, if he was dead, he needed to breathe. But there was no answer to his unvoiced question. Had he really been expecting one? No. He knew that whatever the reason was it didn’t matter. He was dead or at least very close to being dead, so why should he care whether or not he could breathe? The only thing that mattered was that he was dead and falling ever more swiftly to the cold pit of hell.

He squeezed his eyes shut, though there was really no point. The darkness was complete and having open eyes was not going to help him see, no matter how hard he tried. But it was the feeling that came to him when he tried to shut himself off from reality. It was calming, a brief yet reassuring place where he wasn’t afraid of what lay before him. But of course, the relief was only temporary because of that moment he hit the bottom. Jarring shards of pain ripped throughout his body and he cried out, but his voice was swallowed up in the wail of the wind. He tried to move, but was paralyzed to the spot.

Something cold brushed against his arm and he jumped in terror, his mind flashing a million images before his blind eyes of what could be next to him in the dark, but he didn’t dare dwell on the possibilities too long, afraid that just thinking about them might make them real. He pushed himself into a half upright position, his broken and battered body protesting against the movement. He didn’t know where he could go, but he knew that he couldn’t stay where he was either. There was something there, something evil, something that Death would have left just for him, just to torment him until he went crazy. But then again, it could be anywhere; it could be everywhere.

He moved across the ground, keeping his hands in front of him. From what he could tell without the benefit of sight, Death was a cold cave. He was kneeling on what felt like stone, slick with water. Other than that, he was unable to tell anything about his surroundings. Unable to determine if there was anywhere else that he could go, or if he was trapped exactly where he was. Maybe his prison had walls or maybe there was just another long, nearly endless drop that would lead him to something much worse, something completely beyond imagination.

He drew in a breath, just realizing that he could once again breathe. The air was putrid and tasted foul, making him gag and dry heave. His eyes watered and he felt his arms and legs tremble beneath him. He didn’t’ want to fall onto the ground, suddenly all too aware of what it was he was kneeling in. Not water as he had first thought. No, it was the bodily fluids of Death’s other victims. It was all remained of people who had lived on earth just like him, people who had had fears like his, hopes like his, expectations like his. They had all been reduced down to nothing but a puddle on the ground. And he would be next. And soon. That fact was made very clear when he felt hot breath blowing across the back of his neck, and a low guttural growl sounding next to his ear. Oh yes, he was definitely next.

He braced himself, but it didn't help at all in preparing him for the sudden excruciating pain that enveloped his body. He cried out and found himself flattened on the ground, a heavy weight resting on his back. He futilely fought to get it off, struggling and cursing. Something sharp and cold pierced his back and a whimper bubbled out of his mouth. Agony scorched through him and he screamed in terror and pain. He felt his spine snap as what ever was in his back moved deeper inside of him. And he was helpless to fight it.

His eyes flickered shut. He tried to the block the pain from his mind, but was unable to even do that. It consumed him completely giving him no way to fight. Through the haze of the torture he heard the cold yet somehow sympathetic laugh of Death, but could not see her. Of course, she would not reveal herself to him. She would stay hidden in the shadows, watching as the creature on his back sucked the last bit of remaining life from him.

He was definitely dying.

He coughed and tasted blood. His eyes began to burn and then the rest of his body followed until he thought that he had been consumed by fire. But there was only the monster on him. And only the cold.

He twisted his hand beneath his body, clutching the pendant around his neck. It couldn't save him now, but he hoped that he would be able to warn future generations of the danger that had befallen him and might befall someone else. He let his essence flow into the necklace.

His name was Marcus Mayer.

He was the Gatekeeper.

And he was dying.

His fingers relaxed their hold on the pendant and more pain pulsed through his body as whatever had pierced his back slid out. The creature flipped him over. He looked at the thing above him but all he could see were the eyes. His wife's eyes. He wanted to look away, but found himself unable to move at all, his gaze riveted.

He knew it wasn't really her. He knew it, but was unable to keep the thought from entering his mind. But she would never betray him; she had helped him, fought the dead along side of him. It was a trick. Just a sadistic trick to take the last thing that he loved from him.

"Goodbye, Marcus," the monster said, the voice that emerged sounding exactly like his wife's. It lifted a taloned hand up and pushed it through his chest. Another wave of agony seared through him and then it was finally over.

The next thing I was aware of was an indescribable pain all throughout my body. I rolled over onto my back, and blinked up dumbfounded at the sky and the white, non-stormy clouds, and the sun. I sat up, wincing in agony. I was lying in the middle of the street with no recollection of how I had gotten there and no idea why I was in so much pain.

I slowly climbed to my feet, which at that moment seemed like the most impossible thing to do. Every inch of my body hurt so bad that the smallest amount of movement was hell for me. But eventually I got up and looked around. I didn’t know where I was. That was the first thing that occurred to me. The fact that I was lost. The second was that no one else was around. I was completely alone.

“H-h-hello?” It felt like glass was tearing up the inside of my throat when I spoke that word, so I left it at that, figuring it wasn’t worth the effort. I stumbled down the street, eyes scanning the empty sidewalks, yards, driveways, everything. It was really spooky, like a ghost town. Except worse. Because there were obvious signs of civilization—toys littering yards, bicycles, a running car—but oddly enough, no people. Anywhere.

As I continued walking down the street, I tried to remember what had happened to me the night before, but I was having so much trouble thinking past the pain and the overwhelming fear that was filling me. Eventually though, a few things began to come back to me. I remembered walking home in the rain and feeling very miserable. I remembered someone talking to me, telling me that Anne was dangerous. I remembered pain. But that was all.

I stopped at the car that was running and closed my eyes, searching for the Vibrations that would indicate someone was there, but nothing. I couldn’t feel a thing. I walked to the driver’s side and looked in through the open door. The seat was torn to shreds as if some wild animal had gotten to it. I swallowed and looked behind me, really starting to freak out by this point. I reached out and touched the long slashes and shuddered.

Something horrible had happened and that’s why there were no people, but what? Maybe some sort of virus, and everyone had been evacuated. That made sense. Sort of.

I left the car and headed towards the house. I knew no one was inside or I would have felt the Vibration of their blood, so I didn’t bother knocking. The door swung open soundlessly, which kind of freaked me out. I was so use to the squeaky hinges on my own door. I stepped into a small hallway, the walls lined with photos. As I walked past them, I couldn’t help but get the feeling that the eyes of the people in the pictures followed me.

I opened a door at the end of the hallway and emerged into a large, spacious living room. And standing in the center of the room was a man. I blinked, thinking for a moment that I was just imagining him, but no, he was really there. He slowly turned around and stared at me with empty gray eyes. A long, drawn out hiss left his mouth and I took a stumbling step backwards.

“W-what the…?”

He took a step towards me and I ran out of the room without another thought. The man didn’t have a Vibration, which meant that he was dead. But he hadn’t been. He had been alive and moving and breathing and…well, hissing. The dead don’t do that. I ran out the front door and slammed right into someone. I fell backwards and landed on the floor, curling instantly into a tight ball in a pathetic attempt to protect myself from whoever was standing over me.

“Carson Mayer.”

I peeked out through my arms to see…Iris. And at that moment all the rest of the events that had happened to me the night before came back in one bombarding wave until I was reeling with the onslaught of memories. I stood up and punched Iris. Well, truthfully, I tried to punch Iris, but she just reached forward and caught my fist.

I glared at her. “Y-you…” I was still having trouble talking.

She flipped my hand over until a scarlet scar on my hand was visible. I stared at, remembering that that was where I had been bitten, but the wound shouldn’t have healed so quickly. Something was wrong with this picture. Iris lifted her gaze from my hand to my face. “Welcome to Mictlan.”

I pulled my hand back, cradling it against my chest. “I-I-I…”

“Sh,” she said, placing a finger against my lips. “Do not try to speak. Let the pain pass first.”

I nodded my head dumbly and did as she told me. She grabbed my hand again, but this time only to lead me away from the house. Her skin didn’t feel as cold as it had last time, which made me start to think that maybe I had imagined a lot of what happened. Probably because of the rain. Iris guided me down the street, which was still as empty as it had been when I had first woken up.

“W-where—.”

She looked back at me with a disapproving glare and I instantly shut up. She brought me to another house, opening the door and letting me inside. We walked down a hallway, almost completely like the other one, except with different pictures on the walls. The living room was about the same too—large, airy, beautiful.

Iris motioned for me to sit down on a couch, and I gladly complied because honestly, if I hadn’t sat down at that moment, I probably would have collapsed onto the floor in a heap of aching limbs and bones. I was so exhausted that all I wanted to do was curl up on the couch and go to sleep, but I wasn’t stupid enough to let my guard down in front of someone like Iris who was the reason I felt like s**t in the first place. She stood in front of me, and even though I was still in incredible amounts of pain, I couldn’t help but notice that she looked even more beautiful out of the rain. Her hair was black as I had first though, but it was the strangest color I had ever seen. Black, yet not. Whenever she moved, flashes of red or white or blue seemed to streak through her hair. But that was only my imagination, right?

“As you can see, Mictlan is unlike any place you have been to. You will find…what may be called relics…objects from what this place once was, but otherwise everything will seem completely foreign to you. For a while, at least. You will learn to fit in. They all do.”

“F-fit in…w-what?”

She looked down at me, a bitter smile on her lips. “This is your home now.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but no sound came out. I wasn’t really sure where the hell I was or why there was no one—besides that freaky hissing man—around, but I was quite sure that whatever was happening was bad, and I knew that I had to get out of there, back to my home, maybe ask Anne—since I figured Iris had lied about Anne being dangerous; at least, she didn’t go around biting people’s hands—about everything.

I stood up, ignoring the wave of dizziness that washed over me and headed towards the hallway. I had had enough of Iris and her bullshit; I wasn’t going to stay another minute.

“You cannot go back.”

I didn’t even pause to look at her. “Watch me.”

“No, Carson. You cannot because you are dead.”

I froze then slowly turned around to face her. “That’s…r-ridiculous,” I said, glaring at her. I pointed at myself. “Do I l-look dead?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

I glanced down at my hands and arms then felt my face, neck, and chest, searching for some type of wound that would tell me that I was indeed dead. I mean, sure, I looked a little pale, but that really didn’t mean that I was dead, did it? No, of course not.

“S-screw you,” I said, lowering my arms and folding them across my chest. “You have no idea w-what you’re t-talking about.”

“Don’t I?”

“No, you d-don’t. Y-you’re…you’re crazy.”

Right after the words had left my mouth, I wished that I could take them back. Not because I thought that I was wrong, but because it was not a smart idea to tell Iris—who was walking towards me now—what I thought about the state of her mind. I stumbled backwards until I ran into the closed door, unable to move any further. Iris lifted her hand up and raked her nails across my cheek, knocking me off balance and sending me onto my hands and knees. I trembled slightly from where I knelt on the floor then tentatively reached up and touched the throbbing scratches, my fingertips coming away sticky with blood.

“You are bleeding.”

“Yeah,” I all but screamed. “You just scratched m-me.”

“That is impossible. The dead do not bleed.”

I gave a sharp laugh. “No s-s**t. That’s what I’ve been t-trying to tell you. I’m not dead. You’ve m-made some kind of m-mistake, and I would appreciate it if y-you take me b-back to m-my house. Now.”

“Not possible.”

I climbed shakily to my feet. “What?”

“I do not know what happened, why you are not dead, but you still cannot go back.”

I narrowed my eyes, acting a lot braver than I felt at that particular moment. “Yeah? A-and why is t-that?”

She sighed and wagged her head back and forth with something close to genuine regret. “This is Mictlan, the land of the dead. You cannot just leave.”

I closed my eyes and wavered on my feet, feeling suddenly sick and dizzy. I pressed the palm of my hand against my forehead, thankful for the door against my back or else I would have fallen over onto the floor and probably would have never been able to get up again. When I looked at Iris again, she was pacing back and forth, long black hair billowing out behind in a way that wasn’t natural. It was rather eerie, actually. Totally freaked me out. A bit, at least.

I don’t know. Maybe it was the fact that I felt like collapsing and all that had kept me from realizing a lot of what really was going on before. But then things just started clicking, falling into place, and I was suddenly more terrified than I had been before.

“Y-you tried to k-kill me,” I said, my voice low and shaky.

She stopped walking and looked at me, her eyes lighting up with what I could only describe as some type of malicious intent. “Yes,” she said, that velvet purr back in her voice. “I did, and in all honesty, you should be dead. Why you are not, I do not know, but…” Her lips twisted into a cold smile. “I can change that.”

I quickly moved to the side, so I could yank the door open and stumble out into the hallway. I ran blindly, almost tripping several times in my haste to escape. I still wasn’t sure if Iris was telling the truth about the whole “land of the dead” thing, but there was no way on earth that I was going to stick around to find out. I had had enough of her and her s**t. I had run out the front door, down the sidewalk, and onto the street before I noticed that now there were hundreds of people. I skidded to a halt, swaying slightly from the pain that was still pounding through my body.

“You cannot run, Carson.”

I spun around to see Iris standing on the sidewalk, her eyes which had been blue only moments ago, were now completely white, empty, as in no pupils or irises. I took a step away from her, trembling from head to toe.

“W-what do you w-want?”

“I wanted you to kill Anne Sole, but that plan has been foiled since you did not die when I bit you. I will have to fix things now, take things into my own hands. And I will start by killing you. And though I sincerely regret it, I cannot have you escaping Mictlan and warning the hunter.”

I let my gaze sweep around me, noticing with growing dread that there was no escape. I was completely surrounded by people who were all hissing and drooling and looking oddly pale and smelling of rotting flesh. If I hadn’t been so thoroughly afraid, I probably would have been disgusted. But I had no room for that emotion in me. I sank down onto my knees, eyes filling with tears.

“W-why?” I asked, voice trembling so badly that I was barely able to get the word out of my mouth, let alone make it sound intelligible.

Iris sighed. “It is nothing personal. I believe you would have made a great addition to my army. Your power would have outshined the rest of my dead combined. You would have been the best. It is a terrible shame to see you go out like this, to see you die by the hands of those I had intended for you to rule over, but…” She sighed again. “There is nothing I can do about that now.”

Her eyes moved past me to the swaying mass of what I now knew were all dead people, hence the reason that they had no Vibrations—Iris didn’t either, though I had been too spellbound to realize that when I had first seen her and then in too much pain to notice it the second time.

“Kill him,” she said.

I didn’t even have time to stand up before the entire group of people was attacking me. Hands clawed at me, and I was pressed against the ground, my arms pinned so I couldn’t defend myself. Fingers pulled at my hair, yanking and jerking my head around. Pain flared throughout me, and I cried out in shock, kicking my legs wildly until they too were pinned to the ground. The stench of death and rotting flesh washed over me, and I gagged as I breathed in the foul air around me.

My left arm was wrenched around into a painful unnatural position, and my eyes began to water as I tried to keep myself from screaming. Something tore into my skin, and I was barely able to turn my head just enough to see a girl—who couldn’t be any older than ten—biting my wrist, tipping her head backwards so that my blood filled her mouth. My stomach twisted and my head began to spin. I guess that it hadn’t really connected with me before, but now I knew for sure. I was going to die.

More of the people sank their teeth into my arms, legs, chest, even one on my neck. I probably would have screamed by that point, but I was already too far gone to even manage a whisper. I had ceased struggling, as well. I mean, what was the point? I had no chance of winning, no hope. My head was yanked backwards as the guy at my throat continued to tear my flesh away. There was a snap then a flash of agonizing pain, and I realized that my collarbone had just broken. A nearly inaudible sob escaped my lips, and I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that they would all just disappear.

The gasping hands suddenly fell way, and the teeth stopped gnashing and sinking into my skin. Something wet hit my face and slid down my cheek, making me cringe away before I slowly opened my eyes to see the sky…not the mass of dead faces that had been there only moments ago. I blinked then noticed that it was raining, and I was lying in the middle of the street five blocks from my house. I sat up and carefully checked my body, almost laughing with giddy relief when I realized that I had no bite marks or anything. Which meant it had all been a dream? The horror of my last couple of hours? But no. Because on the palm of my hands was a crimson scar, the one that I knew I had received from Iris.

I struggled to stand up, my legs trembling. I had barely gotten to my feet before I fell back down onto my knees and threw up, emptying my stomach of everything in it. I groaned and stood up again, stumbling forward and using all my energy and concentration to keep my balance. And the rain definitely wasn’t helping at all. I felt completely wrung out and exhausted. I wanted to just curl up on the ground—wet and cold as it was—and go to sleep for a very long, long time, but I knew that I had to get home. My parents were probably worried sick about me.

I was so disoriented during all of this, that it took a while before I realized that I was going the wrong way. I stopped walking and looking around to see where I had wandered off to and caught sight of the school building not too far away. I headed towards, wanting more than anything to be out of the rain as soon as possible. I ran up to the front door, but it was locked. I dragged my trembling fingers through my wet hair and thought about the predicament I was in, remembering that there was a back door that was frequently left unlocked, so that’s where I headed.

Once inside, I sank down onto the floor with all grace of a drowned rat. I felt miserable—worse, if that was at all possible—but at least I was out of the pouring rain. There was always something to be thankful for, right? I sat there for only a few minutes before my stomach began to growl. I could feel my cheeks starting to burn in embarrassment though, of course, there was no one there to hear me. I stood up, deciding to head to the kitchen to see if there was anything I could eat there. I had made it only halfway down the hallway when I heard someone running up from behind me. I started to turn around just as something sharp was pressed against my back. I stiffened.

“What are you doing here, Valr?” A voice hissed.

I didn’t say anything because I was too focused on what I figured as the tip of a knife pressed firmly between my shoulder blades.

“I asked you a question!”

Pressure was applied to the knife, and I could feel it slice through my skin. My eyes widened and I involuntarily gasped in pain. Almost as soon as the sound had left my mouth, a hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head sideways as the blade was moved from my back to my throat. Warm breath brushed against my face as my attacker swore. I was pushed away, the force of the shove making me fall onto the floor. I turned around just enough to see who it was, and my eyes widened even further.

“A-Anne?”

Anne Sole is disturbed. She can be very dangerous. Iris’s voice came back to me, making my head start spinning again. Do not trust Anne.

She lifted her knife and pointed it down at me. “I’m sorry that this happened to you; I really am. I had hoped that you would be able to help me.” She sighed and shook her head, seemingly genuinely disappointed and upset. “But it would seem that the Valr got you first.” She took a step closer to me. “I didn’t want to have to kill you, but now I have no choice.”

Refusal means death.

I stared at her in unspeakable horror as she closed the distance between us. It was instinct that saved me. As she stood over me with her knife raised above her head prepared to kill me, I swung my leg out across the floor, knocking Anne off her feet. It took me a moment to realize what I had done and another moment to realize that I had better start running. I stood up and ran down the hallway, heart already pounding too fast, and my breath coming out in quick, shallow gasps. I guess, Iris had been telling the truth, at least about some of it, like Anne—a Liv, that’s what Iris had called her—and whatever organization she was a part of wanting to kill me. That was evident enough. But I wasn’t stupid enough to actually believe Iris; she had tried to kill me after bringing me to that warped dimension that she called Mictlan. And what about the whole dead thing? I mean, I knew that I wasn’t dead, but what those people that had attacked me—or more specifically had tried to eat me? They had certainly smelled like they had been dead for years, yet they had been moving; they had been alive. Sort of.

But either way, the point is that I wasn’t going to trust Iris or listen to anything that she said, but that didn’t mean that I was going to trust Anne either. They both wanted me dead for reasons that were far beyond my comprehension.

I pulled open the door to the stairs that went up to the second floor and shut it behind me, pausing to catch my breath and listen for sounds of Anne to determine if she was nearby. Silence. I leaned against the wall, deciding that I probably had a few minutes to rest before…

“Carson?”

Or not. I took the stairs two at a time, arriving at the second floor hallway. I raced past the lockers, but stopped suddenly when I noticed an open utility closet. I crept carefully across the floor, feeling a sudden chill run through me, until I was able to see through the open doorway. My face paled and my stomach lurched at the sight of the mutilated body lying on the floor in a pool of blood. I turned my face away for a moment to take a deep breath before looking at the corpse again, and I could have sworn that it was covered with teeth marks…

“Carson!”

Anne was running towards me, so I decided not to linger and stare at the dead body any longer. I opened the nearest classroom door, slipped inside, and slammed it shut, turning the lock with a defiant click. I sat down against the far wall and pulled my legs up against my chest, rocking back and forth and wanting to scream until I had no voice left to scream any longer.