Habiliments of the Grave

I saw it wearing his face. The Archangel wore my brother's face.

That's why the Timberwolves killed him, I suppose. So it could wear him.

You see, that's what the Archangel does. It takes the shapes of the dead, trapping them inside itself as it uses their bodies to grim ends.

It tried to kill me. That's how I knew it wasn't him. The thing about loss is that your mind's first instinct is denial, to continue seeing the person who left your life in the places where they used to be. Seeing someone you watched die seeming to be alive allows your mind to fill in the gaps. It's just that sometimes it fills them in wrong, and it needs to be reminded of the truth.

Mason is dead. I let him die.

When I reminded myself of that fact, I did the same thing I'd done when it happened. I ran.

But it chased me. It hunted me down just like the Black Dog hunted Oliver, just like the tattooed man hunted Mason.

As I glanced back at it, I felt myself bump into someone. I looked up. I didn't recognize him, but he seemed to be able to tell how scared I was, and he told me to come with him.

I didn't have a choice. When he started running, I followed him.

 

We ended up at a fast food place. It was two in the morning.

It was silent for a few moments as we sat across the table from one another.

"So," he finally asked, "who did you see?"

"What?"

"The person chasing you. Who did you see?"

"I- I don't-" I began to say.

He shook his head. "Never mind. That wasn't... uh... wasn't very sensitive. I'm sorry." He paused. "So, you hungry?"

I blinked. "Uh, yeah. Yes."

"Alright. On me."

So we ordered some food.

"So, what's your name?" he asked, dipping a fry in some ranch.

"Henry."

"Well, Henry, my name's Eric Zane." He took a bite. "Mm. You know, I didn't used to like ranch for some reason. Looking back, I really don't get it."

I shrugged and ate one or two of my own fries. "So, about what you said earlier..."

He looked up at me.

"The thing that was coming after me, it was pretending to be my brother."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. It's... it's a lot. Running from the Archangel. Running from any of them, really."

"It is. It really is." I cleared my throat. "What do you think about Running together?"

He smiled. "I think I'd like that."

So now Eric and I are Running from the Archangel.

 

God only knows where we're running to.

- Henry