Ana buried deeper under her plush mink blanket.
Dawn hadn't even arrived beneath the dregs of mist and thicket of clouds. The leftover droplets of rain had long dried on the window and left dustlike remains on the glass. There was a strange haze of darkness, slowly lightening with every passing hour. Everyday, she woke up dreading this moment the most. She crawled out of bed and went through the motions of her morning routine.
She hoped it would rain in the time it took her to change but it hadn't. Ana drifted down the stairs and spotted Kol lounging on the sofa. The familiar voices of the Brooklyn Nine-Nine characters filled the quiet brownstone. He straightened when he spotted her but frowned when he saw her head straight for the foyer and slip on her sneakers.
"Where are you going?"
She blinked at him slowly. "I'll be back."
"But where are you going?"
"Coffee. Morning run."
His eyes lit up with mischief. "You're quite articulate this morning, darling."
"Yes," she said. "Wanna come?"
"Well, when you make an offer like that!" He stood up and pretended to brush himself off. "A man simply cannot refuse."
The winter sun had yet to rise but people still dragged their feet on the Brooklyn streets. Ana's runners hit the still damp, discoloured pavement as she passed the sparse crowds. She saw the remnants of parties, stumbling university students, trash and bottles lining the roads. White earbuds rested in her ears, completely off to converse with Kol as he followed her in curiosity.
"Dear god, why do you do this to yourself?"
"Self-loathing," she said flatly.
He barked a laugh. "Perhaps I need to suggest something similar for some of my siblings. Unlike you, they'd deserve it."
"What are your siblings like? You seem very much like a younger brother or maybe a second youngest."
"And what do you mean by that?"
"You're very contradictory as a person. Complex." Ana had noticed he often played two roles. Strangely open yet reticent. Secretkeeper and secret-divulger. Honest yet a liar. She had seen it enough in some of her cousins caught in the middle of their siblings—older and younger, wearing two faces. "You remind me of someone I know."
"And what are you?"
"Oh, I'm the worst kind," she said. "An only child but the baby of both sides of my family."
"What does that make you?"
"Terribly spoiled and bullied from both sides."
It wasn't the whole truth but Kol didn't need to know much about her. She, as his guide, needed to understand him and how to help him move through to the afterlife. The one question she needed answered, however, he evaded the night before. He had definitely lived for a long time; his deft mind had easily demystified her attempts to covertly ascertain his identity. Not many could do that and there were several species that remained possible for him to be.
"I have three older brothers and a younger sister," he said. "We, too, coddled and pestered her in equal amounts. She was the only one who truly mourned me in death but she didn't avenge me. My older brothers… they felt nothing."
That deep-seated bitterness and rage. Ana almost paused her run to reach out and touch him with her magic to soothe him but held herself back. People, unlike her, needed to feel things and to express them. She watched him shake, his eyes blacken.
"Do you really think that?"
"I saw them," he snarled. A range of emotions twisted his face but the truest of them all underlined each one of them—betrayal and hurt. "The three of them made a vow to each other to always and forever be there for each other. I wasn't a part of that."
This time, she did stop. The people of Brooklyn kept walking, not a single one casting a glance at her. He paused and looked down at her.
"Do you really think that?" she repeated softly.
"You don't know my family," he said. "Your little powers of allowing me to eat as a ghost means nothing in the grand scheme of things."
"I think you're full of rage not because you're sure that they didn't mourn you." Ana ignored the little dig; he didn't know anything about her either. "I think your anger stems from uncertainty."
"Do you, little priestess?" His eyes darkened. "And what makes you so certain that I won't make sure you regret those words?"
"If you knew for sure that they weren't sad, that they didn't grieve, it would be easier to accept. You could dismiss them with ease and move on, but, your family is probably hard to read. Hard to know and understand. You can't tell how much they love or mourn for you. The hope without relief infuriates you. You want them to prove their grief in a way that you can see and understand, but, you know that they have their own ways of expressing themselves. So, you're caught between belief and doubt. You want them to rage. To blaze a trial of blood and burn the world. Because that's what you would do. The fact they aren't reacting the way you would hurts, except, you're smart enough to know that's unreasonable. So, you're angry at them for not fulfilling your expectations and at yourself for having them and for caring at all."
He swallowed, hands clenched into fists; unable to turn away from her. His entire body was taut like a corded rope. If he were corporeal, his hand might be wrapped around her throat like he attempted the night before. The world continued to pass them by. People walked through him and avoided her, unaware of Ana's presence entirely.
"But what do I know?" she asked quietly.
She rolled her ankles and turned back onto her path to the coffee shop.
Silence permeated the rest of the journey to the coffee shop and back to the brownstone. It was an ever-present companion in her life along with solitude; she took comfort in them whenever she possibly could. She doubted it was the same for Kol.
He had followed her, almost contemplative in his quiet, before remaining in the lounge. She had turned on the television for him before heading back upstairs to shower.
Ana stepped into the kitchen, hair freshly dried and braided back into two pigtails. "Kol. Breakfast?"
He floated into the kitchen and silently held out his hand. She sent another jolt of her magic through him.
Brooklyn Nine-Nine continued to play in the background.
She prepared the five grain purple rice mix and pulled out her singular dolsot for a sundubu-jjigae which would require a host of ingredients. The two of them would have to split the bowl; she hadn't planned on ever hosting a guest in this place. Luckily, she had enough groceries—there were fresh cuts of fish and meat with several prepped side dishes in the fridge. Seared miso-glazed salmon, blanched sesame spinach salad, and kkakdugi would balance the spicy stew and rice.
Kol watched her without comment. Ana had known him only for a day and could already tell it was very much unlike his typical self. But, she wasn't known to disturb her lost souls from bouts of self-reflection. It worked against both of their interests.
The fragrant red stew bubbled away on the gas-top, fire licking at the stone bowl as the scent of kimchi and garlic overpowered the seared pork belly. She lowered half a block of soft tofu into the depths. The rice cooker clicked to her right. A nonstick pan to her left heated up and thinned the sesame oil. She laid out two of the skinless salmon fillets onto the pan and they sizzled away. Ana plated up the side dishes, placed them in front of Kol, and returned to the stove to attend to the miso-glazed salmon. She cracked two eggs into the dolsot.
"You have a dining room," he finally said.
"It's easier to eat in here, isn't it?"
"I suppose so."
"Any preferences for your salmon?"
He shook his head and she hummed.
"Medium rare, it is."
She smothered the salmon in the glaze and killed all the flames on the stove. The fillets sizzled away from the residual heat while she shifted the bubbling jjigae from the stove to a wooden cutting board set in the centre of the kitchen island. She took out the warm plates and small bowls from the microwave. Ana plated up the salmon and fluffed up five grain purple rice before setting it in front of Kol. She garnished everything with thinly sliced scallions.
"Let's eat," she said.
He struck for the jjigae first and filled the small bowl with it. She suspected he had a palette for stronger flavours considering his favourite meal. Her own ranged but she had a soft spot for the light and fresh Cantonese and Japanese cuisine she grew up with.
The sundubu-jjigae was spicy and slightly sour, comforting for such a dreary day. It paired well with the soft, bouncy five grain rice and lightly seasoned medium-rare salmon. The soft tofu's mild flavour balanced with the strong broth and well-fermented kimchi while the side dishes offered a refreshing palette cleanser.
"I've travelled the world studying magic," he said after a pleased hum around a spoonful of the sundubu-jjigae. "I've never heard of your kind."
"Have you ever tried to find God?" she asked.
He barked a laugh. "Do I look like a man that would, darling?"
"That's why," she said. "Most of my ancestors that these powers came from were hermits, recluses, or lived in the shadows. Only their names were known."
"Such selfishness, if they looked anything like you."
"Selfish?" She blinked.
He reached over but his fingers fell through her skin, unable to truly touch her. "Depriving the world of such pretty faces?"
Ana shook her head, a half-laugh under her breath. "If you say so."
His dark eyes followed her as she continued to eat. "I do. As I said, I know of most magics that exist in this world and the practices. Would you like to tell me about yours?"
"I haven't used it much in the past two years since I left Japan," she said. "Unless I had a soul sent directly to me."
"Why not?" Confusion morphed his features. "Does it not hurt? The inability to connect with your magic or nature? From my knowledge, it is an integral part of any magical being. To go without it…"
Kol spoke about magic with such an undertone of reverence that she suspected it wasn't just an intellectual pursuit to him. He might've been a witch at some point of his life or experienced it at one point.
"I needed a break from everything," she said. "But, even then, those breaks didn't last long. That's the way life works."
A flash of surprise lit up his face.
She didn't blame him; she had almost forgotten the amount of bitterness she held for her role in the world. The duty she carried.
She leaned on the kitchen counter, barely tall enough to be comfortable.
Her elbows rested on the quartz as she ate, each movement carrying a refined elegance. He could see old money mannerisms from a distance. She had called him a contradiction, but, here and now, he would paint her with the same brush. If it had been any other time period, she would've been called unladylike and mannerless. Dining in a kitchen, elbows on the table, plainly clothed—but she had such a strange grace to her.
She melted into the warm atmosphere as if she truly belonged but something about her suggested an incongruence. A careful sophistication that overshadowed all else. The morning's half-light casted shadows behind her but the muted city's sun lit her unreadable features with pale gold. That unreadable face of hers angered him beyond belief mere hours ago after she laid out truths he hadn't thought of. It enraged him to think of himself, an Original, unable to control his emotions, while this weak little human managed to remain composed.
The idea she could disassemble him with ease unsettled him. The relief he felt around her, the information he divulged without thought—that wasn't like him at all. She was a wisp of a girl and she cut to the quick of him.
"Do you really think my siblings mourned me?"
Kol wasn't quite sure why he wished to hear her thoughts, why he bothered to ask at all. Curiosity wasn't the right word. It was a fascination with her mind, perhaps, but that wasn't the crux. Perhaps it was her blunt honesty and quiet sincerity.
Ana set her utensils down, as if she had waited for this moment. "Do they love you?"
"Yes," he said frankly.
His sibling's love had never been in doubt. They loved and hated each other in equal amounts—even Finn. Their goals and minds departed in paths but never their hearts. It might have fucking hurt less if they hadn't loved him at all. He had their love but never their care, empathy, attention, or acceptance.
"Then yes. They might've mourned you in their own way. The confidence you have in their love is undoubtable, but you're not sure if they like you. It's terrifying to think that people you love, the people who love you, don't like you. We overthink and project too often," she said simply. "We all love in different ways which means we mourn in different ways."
This young girl, so full of faith, and yet, he couldn't sense any form of idealism in her. Everything was stated soberly as if this was the impersonal truth of the world. In a way, he envied her unwavering belief.
"You make it sound so easy," he mused.
"Because it is," she said. "The truth is easy. It's everything else that surrounds it that makes it difficult. The action, the history, the revelation—we have so many obstacles to overcome."
"Did the divine tell you that?"
"No." She contemplated for a moment as she ate. It took a full minute after swallowing before she spoke again. "I was eleven in the mountains of Sichuan. She was a grandmother who recently passed and wished to see her grandson enter a temple. It's what she told him."
He pinpointed it then.
She did everything meticulously. Every movement was precise, nothing wasted. The soft and soothing cadence she spoke with, the deliberation of her words, the vigilance of her actions; she was clear, undisturbed stillwater. Simple and reflective.
"He, too, could see ghosts. She had wanted to say goodbye to him as she died in her sleep. The only way she could do that was when he grew into his powers."
"And how does that connect at all?"
"The truth was that she was dead and that would not change," she said. Her eyes trailed out to the window facing the decrepit garden in the back of the brownstone. The sunlight gilded her gaze. "It's the acknowledgement, the grief, the understanding… that was the hard part. He took the first step after two weeks in the temple and finally saw her."
He paused and pored over her expression. There was a wistfulness to it, the most minute change. It almost frustrated him that it took so much effort to read her.
"Her favourite foods were traditional claypot rice, raw marinated crab, and drunken crayfish. She liked pu-erh tea and kept a cake from her birth year." A hint of a smile lifted her lips momentarily. "Don't think I'm wise. I'm parroting words from people much more knowledgeable and thoughtful than me."
You underestimate yourself, he wanted to tell her.
Kol laughed instead and indulged himself in the breakfast she made.
Who cared about what he thought? He was just a ghost following a living girl who spoke with gods and found herself haunted by apparitions like him.
Kol was sweet in his own right.
He had attempted to help her with the dishes only to find that he might've been able to interact with the utensils but the sponge and soap fell through his hands. She had held back a giggle and sent him back to the living room to catch up on the culture while she cleaned up.
She found him enraptured with the antics taking place on Brooklyn Nine-Nine with a contemplative, mischievous gleam in his eyes. Ana curled up in the corner of the couch and wrapped herself with a throw. He drifted from the television to her when the episode ended.
"We've talked about the fact you died," she said. "But, we haven't touched on the how. Do you want to tell me?"
"I was murdered," he spat out bitterly, mood shifting rapidly.
She stretched her legs out and pretended to tap his knee. "Any guesses as to why you were sent to me?"
"Aren't you the emissary? Don't you have the answers?"
"Like the gods would make anything easy for me," she said. "And it's never worked that way. The gods prefer that I play detective."
"I suppose that the gods have never been fair," he concluded.
She leaned forward. "Were you a spelled werewolf? One with an extended lifespan?" An expression of disgust rippled across his face and she pulled back her legs to grasp her ankles. "With that reaction, you're definitely a vampire. I think I know why you're here."
"Is that so, darling? Would you like to share?"
"You said you wanted to live again, right?"
"Isn't that the wish of everyone who's ever died?"
"No," she said. "Everyone who wants to live thinks that everyone else does but that's rather naïve, isn't it?"
"What is there when you're dead?" he said bitterly.
"Quiet, peace, and freedom. The knowledge of not having to go on. A lack of pain," she listed off. "People often prefer death to the life they lived here. You can't fault them for that."
"Well, I'm not one of them. Now, dearest, would you like to disclose your revelation or will I simply have to irritate it out of you?"
"I doubt you could accomplish that. No one could ever outdo my elder cousins," she said. "But, anyway, you can be resurrected. Easy peasy."
He stood up and looked down at ther. "What?"
"Supernatural souls like vampires don't truly die when staked. You're simply separated from this plane of existence and you remain in this state of limbo until you find true peace. That's when you truly die. The fact that you're in this state and you were sent to me means it's not possible for you yet. Rules for magic might differ here but not that much."
"How do you know this?" His eyes grew dark. "Are you lying to me?"
"What would I gain from that? I know this because you wouldn't be the first vampire I've revived. This would've been much easier if you told me the moment we met." She paused for a moment. "Although… I'm not sure what the ritual is like on this continent but a change in scenery shouldn't change my magic."
"You're not lying. You're being serious," he breathed.
She waited for the revelation to truly sink in. He walked up to her and his ghostly hands tried to cradle her face.
"How is this done?"
"I need the location of your death, an offering, a blessing, a potion, and some incense. This all would be much easier if I was at home… I might've stopped doing this but I still have all the supplies."
"Tell me everything," he said and sat back down.
"Well, your ghost might have moved but your death location holds most of your spiritual essence even if it's been bulldozed or excavated," she explained. "All rituals require a food offering and a blessing. The potion is the tedious part. It takes two weeks to brew and requires precise timing before refrigeration."
"What do you mean by a blessing?"
"Oh, just the permission of the divine," she said. "And as an emissary that you were sent to, I can provide that. All we need now is your death location."
"Mystic Falls," he said.
She blinked and tilted her head. "Where's that?"
"You haven't heard of Mystic Falls?" he asked incredulously. "It is a centre for all things supernatural in North America outside of New Orleans, Taxco, and Montreal."
"I'm not from here," she said. She pulled out her phone and tapped away. "Oh, it's a backwater town in Virginia with a four digit population."
"It's the centre of the supernatural world," he insisted.
"I come from a metro area with over thirty million people, Kol. I live in a place with around two million people. This city has eight million people."
He scowled. "That's where I died."
"Well, I suppose you may show me the centre of the supernatural world before you get to live again. It'll just take me a while. I need to do a little research on if any of the circumstances will affect my magic and if we need to adjust the ritual."
"But I'll get to live," he said.
"But you'll get to live," she confirmed. "I can do it easily. You can stop driving up my light bill and wash my dishes too."
"Do you think this is why I was sent to you? Because I was destined to live, again?"
Ana paused and set her phone down. "Kol. There's no such thing as destiny."
"What? You, a divine emissary, don't believe in destiny? This must be the greatest bloody joke ever told."
"Destiny doesn't exist," she said. "You chose this."
He looked at her, brow furrowed and lips downturned.
"So, what? I just willed my way back into the possibility of living and it brought me to you? By the gods' hands?"
"The gods provide opportunities and paths but they never choose. You did."
"Darling, you're a bloody ride," he said. His red lips pulled over his white teeth in a sharp grin. "I'm going to live again of my own fucking violition. I could kiss you."
Ana's lips twitched. "I guess that this means I have my work cut out for me."
i have a tumblr delicateseraphs. i think i'll post excerpts and i'm open for questions there! i've gotten really far into the story (i love slow burn but i hate writing it because i'm so impatient). i wish my prose for this work was more up to my own personal standard but i think we have to settle. i'm not trying to win a hugo here.
as i've said, english isn't my first language. i don't have a beta. feel free to give me feedback on possible strange euphemisms.