Malcolm - First Meeting (Patreon)

Malcolm stormed through the streets. Like a fool, he had wound up at Milo’s last night, shaking and sweating as raw power coursed through him.  There was nowhere else he could think of going and if he was going to die, he wanted it to be in Milo’s arms.  On a good day he could admit it was because the two of them would always be connected. That the love they shared had not diminished. On a bad day it was because he wanted to hurt Milo just as much as he had hurt him in the past. Have the last say in an endless argument between the two of them. Not one of Malcolm’s finer moments, he was sure.

The Gatekeeper.

It was knowledge that had slowly pushed its way into him.  Like an old scar being rediscovered. The man who had died had been the Gatekeeper. What luck Malcolm had for him to simply run into his knife, hot blood spilling across his hand.  It was an accident. That was what Malcolm kept telling himself.  But there was a very small part of him that thought that maybe the man had wanted to die.  And really, what did that say about this job if that was the only way out that a person saw.

Winding through the alleys, blindly going where his feet carried him, Malcolm shook his head. He had gone to Milo last night because he needed to rest.  Paranoia had crept along his mind in intrusive ways and the only thing he could think of, when he was honest, was getting to the one person he knew would not stab him in the back.  Hazel had been his other option but in the end, he already felt as if he had given his sister the raw end of a life deal.  This wasn’t something he was particularly happy to bring to her door. At least Milo was used to the falls of life.

When he woke, Malcolm had slipped from the distillery, stopping to spend a moment with Ever on the way out. She looked more corporeal this morning and he didn’t know if that was from his newfound powers or if she was special like her brother.  From there, he had just walked.  Not wishing to go home, unable to sit still.

He walked and walked until he came to the forgotten portions of the market. The ones where the lights were either burnt out or flickering in a dying beat of a listless heart. He could feel it.  Here he could feel the pulse of the market itself. His surroundings turned gray and dim and the world around him began to bleed like wet paint, puddling on the ground before sinking between the cracks in the cobblestone.

“Hello.”

Malcolm stopped, turning around.  No one was there and he was sure no one had followed him. He could hear and see everything so much clearer now.  Already his skills were refined. Malcolm was trained to know if someone was on his tail.  With the added power that was ravaging his body…

“Over here.”

Again, his head whipped to the side.  There was no one. But the voice had sounded as if it were right in his ear.

“I can’t see you,” Malcolm said hesitantly. The voice was neither man nor woman.  Something other.  As if it were trying to settle on a persona itself.

“Oh. Sorry.”

A light shimmered before him as something appeared.  And something was really the only description for it.  They flickered between images of people that Malcolm knew, pulling in little bits that stuck out the most. Milo’s hair. Hazel’s skin. Rooke’s smile.

The eyes were different though.  Two bright lanterns, glowing with a steady pulse.

“Hi,” they said.

Malcolm sucked in a breath, unable to keep the shock from his face. “Hello.”

“You’re the new one then. The Gatekeeper.”

Malcolm had known. He had known. And yet– Hearing them say it somehow made it painfully real.

“Are you up for the job, Gatekeeper?”

“I’m not sure I have a choice.” Death was his other choice. And he didn’t want to leave Hazel.  Milo could survive his absence. He didn’t believe his sister could.

The being smiled sadly at him.  Malcolm didn’t see them so much as walk as opposed to shift in front of him. He didn’t flinch as they reached out, their hand cupping his cheek.  It felt like nothing. There was a firm pressure, letting him know they were there, but no heat. No ridges or bumps. As if this being was trying to mimic life and hadn’t figured out how.

But the eyes…

“You won’t be the Gatekeeper for long,” they said sadly.

Malcolm startled. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” Their voice was filled with such sorrow that tears pricked Malcolm’s own eyes.  “I tried to change it,” they said. “I hoped– but you can’t do what needs to be done.  So Fate will step in. Self-preservation is awful sometimes.”

“What are you–?”

They leaned forward, pressing their head to his.  He felt a breath shudder through him. A strong resolve that it was going to be okay.  That his end was not the end.  A tear slipped from his eyes.

“So I’m going to die.”

“No,” they whispered. “But your greatness will not come from being a Gatekeeper.  It will come from something so much more.”

“What?”

“I can’t tell you,” they laughed, the lights above lighting bright and bursting into sparks of glitter before dissipating into the thick gray around them.  “Gatekeeper,” they said softly, still pressed close. “My Gatekeeper.”

“You just said I wasn’t meant to be one.”

“Not for long,” they said with a shake of their head. “But the things you will do for me,” they sighed softly, their breath rushing over him in a calm.  “I am only sorry for the pain that will come with it.”

Malcolm swallowed, feeling the grief spill across him. “Whose pain?”

“All of ours.”

There was a violent shake of denial. He made to step back. He made to leave. Yet, he found himself pressing closer. “What are you?”  He had to know. The air rushed around him, twisting and pulling as a future was set.

“Everything,” they said simply. “Life. Air. Experience” Their eyes ticked upwards.

“Lamplight,” Malcolm said softly.

The smile they gave him in return was blinding. “I like that.”

When they stepped away, Malcolm sucked in a deep breath, feeling his knees wobble at the unsteadiness of the world around him.

“You are not meant to save me, Gatekeeper,” they said. “But I appreciate the effort in trying.”

Malcolm was on his hands and knees. Alone. The dirty cobblestone alley feeling harsh beneath his palms as his skin scraped against the ground and split open.  He caught a sob behind his teeth. Something that shook him and that may not have even been his own.  He was connected though. To the world. To the lights. To the Gatekeepers of the past and the future. He could feel the pull in every direction. The gates that existed. The way they cracked and some of them tore.

It was overwhelming. Far too much. And he had felt as if he had been going mad.

And then their touch.

Just like that, the storm had calmed.

The Lamplight had saved him.

Staring up at the broken lanterns above, he rolled onto his back, blinking at their despondent shape.

He was going to die.

And so were they.

And there was nothing he could do.