Delilah Mohan - Liberty (Keeping Liberty)

ELLIS

I trudged through the streets carrying my bag, clutching the summons in my grasp. Nearly two hundred years and I thought that old bastard would never die. Yet, someone did him in, someone outsmarted the old coot, and because of it, I was forced to come to this dreadful city. Again.

I promised myself I would never come back here. Promised myself the moment I stepped foot out of this city, this place was no longer my home. But yet, I felt it. I felt the calling of the bustle, the pull and longing of the noise, and I knew now what I didnt know then. My promise was a lie.

I didnt want to go back. I didnt want to step foot in the house that held a particularly gruesome memory. A memory of the night my heart stopped beating, and I became the monster that I once dreaded. Even now, so many years later, I wished the rumors were false. I hoped that the tales of bloodthirsty beasts posing as humans and mixing with the most intellectual of society were created in the most vivid of minds.

But here I stood. Craving blood like a man would crave a glass of water after a marathon run. I wouldnt cave, of course. Id learned to curb the weakness, learned to go without until my body was so weak I could hardly move, and my mind begged for death. Only then would I let my craving win, only then would I seek the source of life, drinking it slowly until I felt my body spark to life and my nerves come alive.

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk staring up at the house that loomed in front of me. Had it always been this big? This intimidating? The house was the same, only now, the paint was more vibrant, the garden well-tended. The street was still filled with large homes, though I knew everyone who once occupied them was dead.

I looked toward the house at the end of the street. The house I once grew up in, the house that once held the family I missed more than I missed my last breath. Not much had changed, yet at the same time, everything had changed.

I sucked in a breath and held it. If my heart still beat at a regular rhythm, I knew it would be rushing. Being back here brought forth so many memories, and all but one was bad. Anabelle. She was the light from the moment I first saw her and until the day I died and even after, I wanted nothing more than her. I wasnt sure when her memory faded but being back here reminded me that at one point, my life had been more than an emotionless routine.

My fingers grazed the iron gate. This was new, yet old by normal standards. The gate held rust, but was still sturdy and provided a solid divider between the manor and the outside world. The latch stuck, the gate squeaked, and when I closed the opening behind me, the sound of iron hitting iron made the most unfavorable of clashes.

I walked up the pebbled path slowly, trying to delay the inevitable, but the unavoidable came too quickly as I approached the oversized double oak doors. Did I knock? Or just walk in? I wasnt sure what to do now that James was gone. This was his home. But now, the eerie quiet that surrounded it served only as a reminder that the once strong and unbreakable man had been defeated.

The iron knocker on the door was something that had never changed. For as long as I had known the man, the iron knocker was present. A gift, he once told me, though I never asked him for that information. My fingers wrapped around the metal and pounded down twice, waiting to see if I heard movement from inside. I heard movement from the back of the house, and I wasnt sure how I missed it before. The lively beat of a living heart and the scurrying movements of an elders shuffle was unmistakable. I didnt knock again, knowing it would be rude when the house occupant clearly heard me the first time.

The door flung open, and an elderly man looked over his glasses at me, You must be Ellis.

I held out my hand, A pleasure to meet

He cut me off with a wave of his hand, It will be no fucking pleasure in a moment.

Well, damn. That was never a warning I wanted to hear. Still, I stepped through the threshold and into the foyer. So its true then, hes really gone.

Unfortunately so. I was under strict instructions to only summon you boys when hes dead. Though, I admit, I never thought it would happen in my lifetime.

What do you mean, summon us boys? My mind stuck on the phrase, and I wondered which of James other made children were called to service.

It was our job, the obligation something out of our control. The power that ran through James veins spread to ours, and with just a flick of his wrist, we would do his bidding. He never took advantage of it, though, giving his children the freedom to live and be, unlike some makers that forced servitude on their children, making them do things I know I couldnt consciously handle. Not that my hands were clean. When you have lived this long, youve had no choice but to get dirty, but I wanted to make that choice willingly, not being forced.

We walked into the living room, Gentlemen, I believe youve met.

At the faces before me, my lungs grew tight. I hadnt fully learned to breathe before Sterling spat out the thought I know the three of us were all thinking, Out of all the fucking children James had, he had to summon you two fuckers to do his bidding with me after his death?

From the furthest corner of the room, Oak crossed his arms. Im not exactly thrilled to be here either.

If I had known, I would have just skipped this summons, Sterling added.

Everyone looked like caged animals, ready to attack at a moments notice. The older man standing next to me cleared his throat, Gentlemen, take a seat. As you might know, Im Jasper Collins. You may refer to me as Mr. Collins if you wish. Or Jasper. My family and its descendants have been serving Mr. Hatter for generations. Well, at least now, I knew we could be our savage selves around him. Mr. Hatters passing was... Unfortunate.

Note how he didnt say untimely, Oak added, and even though I fucking hated the bastards sharing the same air as me at this moment, I couldnt help but smirk at that.

The old man ignored Oaks comment. I had hoped not to see this ever unfold in my lifetime, but I cant change the course of time, I suppose. He straightened his suit jacket. I was instructed to summon the three of you upon Mr. Hatters death.

But the question remained. Why us?

I blurted the words out before I had a chance to stop them, but Mr. Collins didnt seem the least bit put out by the interruption. Im not exactly sure why you three were picked for the task, but I suspect you will find your answer in his journals.

We have to fucking read too? Sterling sighed. I dont fucking want to be here.

None of us really did, but when you get a summons from your maker, either dead or alive, forces beyond your control ensure that you follow through with it. Even in his death, James owned us, a fact that left me feeling both unsettled and resigned.