Them
The sky darkens.
House lights dim.
"They're coming,"
"Who," I ask.
"Them," comes the reply.
It doesn't matter who I ask
"Them" is still the constant answer.
"Them"...
"Them"...
"Them"...
"Who is 'Them'" I want to scream,
Until...
Could these people's "Them"
Be the same?
The "Them" I have been hunting?
The "Them" that come when darkness falls?
The "them" that are but should not be?
I trace the bells in my bandoleer.
The seven respond to my touch.
They softly vibrate,
Knowing it is almost time to work.
Time for them to do their job.
Time for me to do mine.
I am the Abhorsen.
It is my destiny to protect all from "Them".
I rest my hand on the third bell,
and wait for "Them" to come.
"Them"...
The dead...