The Deathdealer's Gift [February Short Story]

Hey peeps!

Another short story I wrote when I was thinking of interesting superheros. 

Trigger warning for the beginning, I suppose. It's very close to a real-world event that happened to me when I was younger, and can be upsetting to some people (but please don't worry! I'm much better as an adult, lol) No Deathdealers required.

ANYWAY, I hope you all enjoy!

Shami

The Deathdealer’s Gift

Jenny sat in her room while her foster parents fought in the kitchen. She hugged her teddy bear, Sir Lancelot, and listened to the loud bangs and terrible crashes that filled the house. Mama Sera and Papa Tom often argued whenever they came home from the bar. They never sounded like themselves, but Jenny wasn’t sure how to describe it.

She was only five.

So when a plate shattered on the floor, Jenny flinched and hugged Sir Lancelot tighter. The little bear—given to her when she was only two—had seen a lot of things. All the houses Jenny had been in, all the bruises she had gotten, and all the tears she had shed. Despite everything, he was by her side, even if he was missing a button eye, and his limbs were limp, their stuffing now flat.

“I love you,” Jenny whispered to Sir Lancelot.

She gently kissed his fuzzy head, hoping the teddy bear wouldn’t be scared. She wanted to make sure he was happy, and to know that she cared for him. What if all the fighting gave him nightmares? Jenny didn’t want that.

It was late. The wind howled beyond Jenny’s window. It drizzled outside, as though the sky was upset by everything happening in the kitchen.

“What’s wrong with you?” Papa Tom yelled, his voice shaking the house. “Gonna go see Mark? Is that it? Huh? Give me the keys!”

“Don’t tell me what to do! Don’t ever tell me what to do!” Mama Sera threw something else, and it, too, shattered across the tile floor.

“Your dumbass is too drunk to drive,” Papa Tom shouted. “And don’t think I don’t know you leave the house at night! I know!”

“Give me the keys! You can’t make me do anything! I can sleep with who I want!”

“You’re my wife!”

“I don’t care!”

There were more noises now. A scuffle. Thrashing. Someone hit the counter. More plates hit the floor, breaking into hundreds of pieces. Jenny pictured it all in her imagination, her grip on Sir Lancelot tightening.

“Give them to me!”

Something heavy hit the floor. Someone ran.

“Don’t you dare leave!” Papa Tom roared.

The front door opened and slammed. The walls of Jenny’s room shuddered. The resulting stillness caused Jenny to shiver. Mama Sera had left. She liked to leave the house, and stay away for long periods of time. Jenny wished she could go, too.

Then there were stomps in the hallway. On nights when Mama Sera left, Papa Tom always came to Jenny’s room.

He slammed open Jenny’s door so hard, the handle punched a hole in the wall.

Jenny leapt from her bed, her eyes wide, her arms tight around her teddy bear.

“Get over here,” Papa Tom practically slurred, his words barely escaping his clenched teeth. He grabbed Jenny by the upper arm, yanked her so hard her feet left the ground, and placed her directly in front of him. He had his phone out, and the screen was bright with numbers and the dialing sign.

“You tell your mama to come home right now,” he said. “You tell her you’re scared. You understand me?”

Papa Tom pushed the phone to the side of Jenny’s face. It rang, and rang, and when it finally answered, the hysterics on the other end were just as bad.

“Don’t you fucking call me!” Mama Sera shouted through the speaker. “Don’t you call me! I’ll do whatever I want!”

And Jenny couldn’t find the words. Her chest hurt. She didn’t know why, it just did. She wanted to cry, but it was too difficult—too scary.

Papa Tom shook her. “Do it.”

But Jenny couldn’t.

So Papa Tom hit her in the side of the head with the phone, as hard as a grown man could. Jenny hit the floor, her vision doubled, her body trembling and unresponsive. She didn’t shout, or call out—and that made Papa Tom angrier.

He hit her again, while she lay on the ground.

And again.

When it became clear that no matter how many times he struck her, Papa Tom wouldn’t cause her to cry out, he grabbed Sir Lancelot and ripped the teddy bear from her arms. Although she bled from the ear, and her eyes weren’t working right, and her body barely responded, Jenny still reached up for Sir Lancelot, trying to save him with what little energy she had.

Papa Tom stood and held the teddy bear from her reach.

He pressed the bloody phone to his ear. “Sera, you better get your ass home. Jenny is crying—you’re making her cry.”

Then he held the phone toward Jenny.

But she didn’t make a noise.

So Papa Tom tore off Sir Lancelot’s right arm, the seams ripping, the stuffing falling to the floor.

Jenny screamed and reached for her best friend. Hot tears ran down her face as Papa Tom tore off the other arm, and then a leg. He grabbed both ends of Sir Lancelot and yanked with all his might, splitting the bear’s stomach wide open until all the cotton was exposed.

No amount of screaming and crying helped her. Jenny reached for her teddy bear, but Papa Tom kept him out of reach, shouting things into the telephone.

“See? This is what you’re doing, Sera. Get home right now so you can fix this!”

Papa Tom threw the mangled Sir Lancelot to the floor. Having gotten what he wanted, Papa Tom left the room, slamming the door just as powerfully as when he had entered. He shouted into the phone the entire way.

Shaken, and struggling to breathe, Jenny scooped up Sir Lancelot’s body. The fabric was ripped, and his white fluff covered the floor. Even his other eye was loose, as though no part of him could remain intact.

“You’re okay,” Jenny said through her sobs. She tried to put the arms and legs back in place, but that didn’t work. She didn’t know how to stitch things. “Don’t cry, Sir Lancelot. Don’t cry.”

It was her tears spilling onto the well-worn brown fabric. Tears she couldn’t stop, no matter how much she wanted to put a brave face on for her friend.

Jenny gathered the teddy bear and placed him on the bed, not sure if he was in pain. Her head throbbed in agony, and her blood dappled the floor, but none of that mattered because Sir Lancelot needed a hospital.

When she coughed, flecks of crimson spattered her blanket.

Why did her chest hurt so much?

Then the house was quiet.

That was strange, because Papa Tom was never quiet whenever Mama Sera left the house. And the silence had descended suddenly, as though the volume of the world had been set to mute.

Jenny glanced to her door, fearful Papa Tom was playing a prank on her. Frightened he might come back. But she heard nothing.

When she returned her attention to the bed, she caught her breath.

A boy sat on the edge of her bed. A boy she had never seen before.

He was older, but not as old as Papa Tom. Sixteen? Seventeen? Jenny wasn’t good with adult ages. And he wore a long black robe, one that sparkled at the edges with writing she couldn’t read.

The boy wore a mask that appeared to be half a skull, and resting against the wall, close enough for him to reach, was a tall scythe.

The boy’s chin was visible, and he seemed normal, from what Jenny could see. Same with the boy’s hands, as though he were wearing an elaborate costume.

“Hello, Jenny,” the boy said with a smile, his tone the epitome of comfort.

She wrapped her arms around Sir Lancelot and said nothing.

The boy in the black robes stood. The glowing hems of his outfit blazed a faint blue and white. He grabbed his scythe and then motioned to the door. He reminded Jenny of a picture she had seen before—one of angles, and death.

“I think it’s time you leave this place,” he whispered.

Jenny’s lip quavered. Her head didn’t hurt as much anymore. She was still worried about Sir Lancelot, though. Jenny hugged all of him as tightly as she could and then nodded.

The boy in the robes gently opened her bedroom door and led her out into the hallway. It was quiet, still. The eerie silence didn’t reassure Jenny, but she also didn’t want to argue with the strange boy and scary weapon.

“My name is Aiden,” the boy said.

He held out his hand, and Jenny took it. His skin was cold, yet oddly comforting.

Aiden led her down the hall, and then quickly through the corner of the kitchen. The broken plates were everywhere, and even a few wine glasses were shattered across the counter. Jenny glanced around, fearing that Papa Tom would see her and get upset. But he was nowhere to be found.

Right as Aiden took her into the living room, Jenny thought she saw someone on the ground, behind the kitchen island. All she saw was a hand, but Aiden turned her away and brought her to the front door before she could confirm what she had seen.

Aiden took her outside.

The drizzle soaked her clothes and caused her to shiver. Who was this strange boy?

Jenny trembled. “Am I going to die now?” she whispered.

“Not today,” Aiden said, smiling down at her. “At least, not if I can help it.”

He carefully led her down the walkway of her house, and then to the sidewalk. He used his scythe as a walking stick, the clack-clack of the wood on the cement amusing Jenny. Although she didn’t like the rain, she liked Aiden.

They came to a stop at the corner, and rested under the branches of a large tree that shielded them from the drizzle.

“Sir Lancelot needs a doctor.” Jenny frowned down at her teddy bear.

“We’re going to get him one of the best.”

Jenny rubbed her nose and sniffled, her lip quivering harder than ever before. “R-Really?”

“Of course.”

“You’re not an angel who takes people away to heaven?” Jenny could’ve sworn that was the picture she saw.

“When I died, I made a trade with… the angle… who came to get me.” Aiden tapped on his half-skull mask. “I wanted to help kids who had suffered like me, more than I wanted eternal rest. So now that’s what I do.”

Jenny wiped the tears from her face. “So now you’re a guardian angel?”

“I’m a Deathdealer.”

“And you’re going to help Sir Lancelot?”

Aiden, the Deathdealer, pointed. “No. But inside that building there, you’ll find what you’re looking for. You have to be brave and go straight inside.”

He had gestured to a gas station with gold and red lights. The signs indicated the price of gas, and the interior was bright white and clean. It looked inviting, but it was across the street, and then across a long parking lot.

“What about Papa Tom?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at the far building.

Aiden chuckled. “I already had a chat with Papa Tom.”

“I’m afraid.”

What if she went home and he was angry he left? He was always angry that Mama Sera left, after all.

“You don’t need to worry,” Aiden whispered. “You have the protection of a Deathdealer now. If ever you need help, you just tell Sir Lancelot to come get me, all right?

“Can I be a Deathdealer someday?”

“Maybe. We’ll just have to see.”

For a long while, Jenny just stared at the gas station. When she finally tore her gaze away from the building, Aiden was nowhere to be seen.

Scared and alone, she hurried through the darkness and made her way to the beacon of hope that glowed so bright, even in the storm. As Jenny made her way past the pumps, and toward the front door, someone stepped outside.

“You never believe me, Gary,” the man said.

He wore the dark blue uniform of a police officer, cap and all. His belt was polished, and his shoes clean. When he smiled, it was genuine, and he held a bottle of cola in one hand.

“But you still owe me twenty bucks!” The police officer pointed to the man behind the cash register inside the gas station. “What did I tell you? I watch a lot of dating shows, and I knew Jessica was going to pick Jaydon. Their names start with the same letter, and it’s like the superhero rule in reserve—they have to hook up.”

“What kind of man watches dating shows?” Gary the cash register asked with a roll of his eyes. “I can’t believe you tricked me into that bet.”

When the police officer turned around, he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes falling straight onto Jenny. For a split second, Jenny considering running back into the darkness, to flee from everyone, and hide from the world.

But something about the man’s attention didn’t frighten her like Papa Tom’s had. Jenny stood rooted in place, on the precipice of running.

“Oh my god,” the police officer whispered. “Little girl? Are you okay?”

He approached her slowly, one hand out. He knelt down and placed his cola on the ground. Then he inched closer, keeping his gaze at her level.

“I’m Officer Bennett,” he said with a forced cheer. “What’re you doin’ out here?”

But Jenny couldn’t find her words again. She didn’t want anyone to yell at her for being out of her room.

Officer Bennett continued to inch close until he was close enough to touch her. Instead of doing that, he slipped off his jacket and gently placed it around Jenny’s shoulders. It hung so long, it could’ve been a dress. It was warm, and smelled of sugar and kindness.

“Let’s get you out of the rain, kiddo.” Officer Bennett guided her into the gas station, shielding her face from the rain the entire time.

Once inside, his smile flickered—disappearing for only a moment as his eyes scanned over her busted lip, bleeding ear, and torn teddy bear. But then the smile was back, and the only hint of anger that remained was the hard edge in his voice.

“You look cold. How about some hot chocolate, okay?” The policeman motioned to Gary the cash register.

“Oh, no,” Gary muttered, his eyes wide.

He was young, and wore a cool T-shirt with a cartoon moose across it. Older than Aiden, but younger than Papa Tom. When he stared at Jenny, he wore the same false smile that hid some sort of anger.

“What happened?” Gary asked.

“We just need hot chocolate right now,” Officer Bennett said.

“Right.”

Gary rushed around the counter and grabbed a cup. When he came back, he also knelt to hand it to Jenny on her level.

“Here you go. It’s tasty. Freshly brewed and with extra marshmallows.”

And while Jenny loved hot chocolate, and hadn’t had any in a longtime, she didn’t want it. With her lip quavering, and her voice small, she said, “I need help.” She showed them the remains of Sir Lancelot. “He’s in pain.”

Officer Bennett carefully took the remains of the teddy bear, his brow furrowed. “Oh. I see.” But then he spoke in a way that lit up Jenny’s hopes. “Don’t worry, my wife is the best at repairing little teddy bears. She used to make dolls for competitions, and she knows over forty different stitches, and eight ways to stuff things. This teddy bear will make a full recovery.”

Just hearing that took such a weight off Jenny.

The Deathdealer had been right.

“Th-Thank you,” Jenny whispered.

“Now, how about I take you to my cruiser, and I drive you down to the station, kay? I’ll call your parents, and we’ll get everything straightened out.”

She nodded once, her happiness returning like the warmth in her body.

***

Jenny sat in the kid’s room at her local police precinct. She had a large plastic table all to herself, and it was covered in toys from Legos to Linkin Logs.

But she didn’t play with any of them. She held Sir Lancelot in her arms, happy he had made a full recovery.

True to his word, Officer Bennett had given the teddy bear to his wife. After ten hours at the precinct—getting examined by doctors, and talking to psychologists—Sir Lancelot was returned in mint condition. He had two button eyes, and stiff fluff-filled limbs.

And also a set of feather black wings.

Sir Lancelot had never had wings before, and when Jenny had asked why, Officer Bennett said the wings were already on the fabric. His wife hadn’t added them.

Jenny patted her teddy bear’s head. “It’s the Deathdealer’s gift,” she whispered to him. “You’re part Deathdealer now.”

In the hallway, just beyond the kid’s room, Jenny heard Officer Bennett speaking with someone else.

“What do you mean they’re both dead?” Bennett asked, his tone harsh.

“That’s what we found,” the other person replied, their tone perplexed. “The foster parents—in two completely different locations—dead. Father suffocated and the mother crashed her car into a traffic light.”

“And do we know anything about them? Who might’ve gone after the father?”

“Neighbors say they argued like a cat and dog, and probably we’re takin’ it on the girl.”

“She was banged up…” Officer Bennett’s words carried a sad sense of agony. “It was hard to look at.”

“Strange deaths like this have been happening a lot,” the other person whispered. Jenny almost couldn’t hear his voice. “The news says it’s a vigilante.”

“Like a superhero?”

The other man pffted. “Don’t say that aloud. Superheroes don’t exist. I said vigilante. It’s different.”

“What does this vigilante look like?”

“W-Well, the little girl said she was saved by a boy wearing a mask and calling himself Deathdealer.”

“So… Exactly like a superhero?”

“Don’t. We can’t have that going around. The chief will be furious.”

“Fine,” Bennett said. “But what’s going to happen to the girl now?”

“CPS will get involved, I’m sure.”

Officer Bennett grunted something. Then he said, “Well, my wife and I are registered foster parents. I think… for the little girl’s sake… I’m going to make a request.”

Jenny hugged her teddy bear close. His feathery wings felt warm against her skin—and powerful. She wondered if the Deathdealer had done this, too. How had Aiden known that Officer Bennett was such a nice person? And that his wife saved little injured teddy bears?

He really was a superhero.

“Someday,” she said to Sir Lancelot, “I’m going to be just like him. And I’m going to save people, too.”

And Sir Lancelot nodded in reply.