Seven † Kick the Calendar

The sunlight slanting through the windows became gray. The walls were washed in black. The only things visible were the outlines of the watercolor frames, the dim glint of the metal knobs, the faint silhouettes of Kat and Calix facing each other. It was as though a drop of ink had fallen into their world, casting a darker shadow over everything it touched until the whole scene was in black and white.

It should have scared Kat, but it didn't. She was too livid, too indignant, and it made her believe that the darkness was coming from her.

Meanwhile, Calix was frozen in his spot, his eyes flicking around as though searching for something. She expected him to be scared out of his wits because of what she'd done, but nothing about his movements emanated fear. He was tensed, yes, but there was a certain hesitation coming from him. He was waiting for something, anticipating. Nervously so.

"I'm not going to surrender," she declared, hoping to get him to talk so she could read him better. "Do what you want, but I'm not taking part of it."

He didn't say anything. He didn't even look at her.

Angered by this, she advanced towards him to maybe shove his chest or something, anything to make him talk, but he caught her wrist in time. For a second, she thought he was going to push her, but he just met her gaze and asked, "What do you see?"

Was this a trick question? Her frustration rocketed to dangerous levels. But as soon as he asked it, the darkness that enveloped them began to lift.

The morning light was retaining its usual pale yellow color. However, in the illuminated room, she noticed something brighter, something that shouldn't be there. Small—as in miniscule—orbs of pure electric blue light. They were floating in the air like sparks, except like there were millions of them, forming a distinct line leading to the front door.

A trail of stars? Maybe. But she didn't think so. She reached out and tried to touch them, but they weren't tangible. They didn't scatter upon contact.

"Oh, no," he murmured, releasing her wrist. "You see it."

It wasn't a question. He knew that she was seeing these . . . things. He knew what was supposed to appear along with the darkness, which meant that it already happened before.

But it also meant that the spooky stuff wasn't a manifestation of her powers. Bummer.

Now Kat was the one who wanted to freeze, not with just disappointment but with utter frustration and confusion. She couldn't even stay still, though. She felt more fluid and capable of movement than ever, especially violent movement. Hysteria was crawling up her throat, making it difficult to think straight.

"Okay, I do see it," she said shrilly. "Now what does it mean? Why am I seeing it? Does this mean they're coming for us? I don't—"

"What color are they?"

"Blue. But I hardly think—"

"So it is today, in a couple of hours, most likely in the late afternoon," Calix interjected absently. "Someone is to die this day."

"You're a ray of sunshine, aren't you?" Kat scowled at him. "What's going on?"

"Someone is going to die this very day," he repeated, weaker this time.

Jesus Christ. He wasn't helping the stab of panic in her chest. She felt like pulling out her hair and screaming in misery. "Well, if someone's really going to croak today, it won't be me! Hear me? I will do anything—"

"It is not you." He leaned against the wall as though the mere action of standing was draining him. "It is another mortal, and that is much worse for us."

Oh, so her life didn't mean a thing, then. Offended, Kat prepared for a tirade, but before she could say the first word, Calix was already heading towards her bedroom door.

"I'm still talking to you!" She followed him. "What does that mean? Answer me!"

"It means we have to go into the Underworld." He took her hand and placed it on the knob yet again. When she withdrew it defiantly, he sighed. "The trail of light you see will lead us to the evil mortal who will meet the end of his time today, but I could not collect his soul, read to him his sins, and lead him to Hell. The soul would run rampant. We have to tell them."

"I'm not telling anyone anything!"

"Please," he began to say, trying to take her hand again, but then he stopped abruptly. He began to clutch his stomach, his face contorting with what looked like pain.

Out of instinct, Kat grabbed his shoulders in concern. He'd gone pale again. And was that her imagination, or was she really hearing a really faint rumbling sound?

"Something is moving," he mumbled, regarding her with wide eyes.

"Where?" Kat whipped around. "I hear something. I really hear something. . . ."

Her words sent Calix into a frenzy. He stepped away from her grip and began to shrug off his cloak. The heavy cloth fell to the floor with a soft thump, filling the air with the scent of myrrh and roses. Underneath he wore a black linen shirt under a black metal breastplate, which he was feverishly unstrapping now. The armor was connected with the chainmail skirt that covered his loose black pants. His boots reached up halfway his calves, glinting with metal cleats. Without his cloak, he looked like a cross between a ninja and a Neanderthal man.

Unfortunately, that didn't make him appear any less attractive. If anything, it emphasized more unhelpful details like his lean arms, his strong hands, and that certain smooth masculinity in his movements—

Nope. She refused to look at anything else.

"I think I am afflicted with a strange condition," he said in a nervous rush. "Do you feel it?"

Much to her shock, he took her hand again. She thought he was going to force it on the doorknob once more, but he just pressed her palm against his abdomen.

Well, the only thing that Kat truly felt was the warm planes of his stomach, the distinct curve of firm muscles. Yeah, there was definitely something in there, particularly a delicious evidence of physical workout. Other than that, she could feel—

Rumbling. There was rumbling. Under the muscles there was a sequenced vibration of some sort, accompanied by faint squelching. It was the glaring sign of an empty stomach.

She was speechless. How could he assume being hungry was a strange condition?

Her silence spooked Calix. "Do you feel it? The disease?"

"Er, no," Kat started to say, but he panicked full-on now and decided not to let her finish her sentence.

"Feel it!" he insisted, lifting the hem of his shirt and trying to press her hand on his bare abdomen to sense the nonexistent disease.

Only the very tips of Kat's fingers brushed against his skin, but that was enough to make her jolt violently. She could swear she felt her soul leave her body. As far as torsos go, Calix's was truly top notch, but she wouldn't take this as an opportunity to explore its wonders. Fighting back an urge to giggle and shriek at the same time, she bent down and retrieved the Tupperware of cake rolls instead.

"You're just hungry." She hastily pushed it into his hands. "It's not a disease. It's a basic need. You have to eat."

"Eat?" he asked, staring at the cake rolls in a mix of wariness and wonder. "But what are these?"

"Those are cake rolls," Kat answered stiffly.

"Cake rolls," Calix repeated as though he's reciting something in a different language. "A cure, I assume? It is rather oddly shaped."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not a cure. Just eat it."

For a few moments, Calix just stared at the cake rolls, pursing his lips as a sign of an internal struggle. Kat grabbed one and bit half of it, chewing in what she hoped was an inviting and demonstrative gesture until he reluctantly—almost gingerly—took one.  She thought she'd have to do a play-by-play on how to properly ingest food, but then he started to nibble at the end of the cake roll. He sat on the floor, cradling the little piece of pastry as though it was his most prized possession, his face getting more relaxed.

Relieved, Kat sat beside him and ate too. When his bites got bigger and more energetic, she arched an eyebrow and asked. "Well? How is it?"

"Hellborns do not eat, nor do we drink," he said, basically inhaling his cake roll before getting another piece. He did so with much more gusto this time, but his frown was returning as he began to wolf it down. "Our bodies do not need external nourishment, and the fact that I feel the need to eat is not good news. It means I am increasingly becoming more human."

She snorted. "Well, I for one think that being more human suits you better."

Calix recoiled as though she'd slapped him. "This only means we must surrender immediately." His face contorted even more. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, shaking his head like those words were a pain to let out. "It must be done. It would put me in a terrible place, but it must be done. . . ."

With that simple sentence Kat got the feeling that he himself didn't want to surrender, but for some reason, he felt like he must. That whole attitude reminded her of her manic, over-righteous, and stuck-up clients who were too loyal to their old principles and in terrible need to be eased down into what's sensible.

Calix was no different from them. He was torn between what he wanted to do and what must be done, blind to the obvious answers that laid in between. It was her job to point out their options. She'd made a career out of doing this. She was fucking good at it.

And she already knew what to do with him.

"If we come before the mortal's death," Calix was muttering, "they would not destroy you—"

"Why?" Kat asked, using a calm, empathetic tone this time. "What makes you think they wouldn't do that? What makes you think they wouldn't destroy you too?"

For a second he went completely still, unable to speak.

Bingo. Now time for the kill.

"You told me they don't care about the details, only the conclusion and the consequences." She kept a steady gaze on him. "Right now you're as much of a consequence as I am."

"I do not want this, Katalina Donovan." He lowered his head and set the cake roll back in the Tupperware. "But I have no choice."

"You do. We both do. We can work together and continue what you're supposed to do. I'm more than willing to help you."

"I cannot entrust that to you."

"Why? Could they tell if you're being assisted or not?"

"No. As long as the souls keep coming, they would not have a reason to doubt the process. We would not be found."

We, he’d said. So he was thinking of the possibilities. That was good news.

As if reading her thoughts, he shot her a frown. "I still could not do this with you."

"I understand," she said, her voice gentle even though she wanted to whack him upside the head. "But would you rather turn yourself in with no certainty of what they'll do to you, or do something to solve all your problems?"

The question resonated in Calix's head. He faced her then, trying to gauge her sincerity. To be honest, he couldn't get anything from her. This would've been easy if he still had his powers; he could just look into her mind and dissect her thoughts. Now all he could see was a tired but determined woman, confidently telling him ideas that he himself didn't dare voice out.

Katalina Donovan was a curious case.

She’d seen him even before she approached her death. She’d stolen his powers. Just some of it, apparently, but that had still been the weirdest thing that he'd experienced. While he knew that she was being honest about not knowing how she'd done it, he still couldn't erase the possibility that all of this was just an elaborate plan.

He hated that he couldn't figure it out, that he couldn't get any clue from her.

And Kat wasn't giving anything away either. "I won't stick around for them to find us, and I'm sure you don't want that as much as I do. I'm going to save myself, but I want to save you too."

Save. Calix turned the word over in his mind, feeling its weight pressing down on him, squashing his resolve in the process. Oh, how he was suspicious, but he couldn't refuse, not when it was what he wanted as well. Not when he was seeing the positive possibilities of her plan.

Besides, if this whole thing failed, he would at least be certain about two things: his demise and her immediate obliteration.

"This is a dangerous task," Calix warned, half hoping she'd change her mind. "Mortals, especially those who have sinned greatly, often do not yield to death. They may put up a struggle."

As you did, he wanted to add. But she hadn't exactly put up a struggle. She conquered, and yet she was not a witch, not a servant of the dark arts. He'd love to decipher her mystery someday.

"The vilest ones do not fear anything anymore," he continued, speaking from experience now. "A Punisher may be overpowered. You may be overpowered."

Kat studied him. Despite the ominous tone, he was basically brimming with hope. His eyebrows are creased up, his gaze bright, a little manic even. But she couldn't really blame him for getting a little loopier than he already was.

The important thing here was that he was finally being swayed. He was an inch away from agreeing.

"Two Punishers wouldn't be," she said, keeping her tone neutral despite her joy.

Calix itched to point out that she was still a mere human, but he didn't say anything about it. "Before you forget, let me remind you that you are still destined to die. If I accept your assistance, you must swear to me that you will surrender quietly once the season ends. On the day of the winter solstice, you will come to the Underworld with me and face your fate."

For a second, Kat's calm facade stumbled. Shit. He wasn't playing games. She'd been hoping he'd forgotten about her death, but she recovered quickly from her dismay and said, "I promise. I will come with you after this."

"Until then, you must not make any attempts to cross me." He straightened up. "Leaving me would not shake them off your trail. It would merely make it easier for them to find you. Once the mortals' souls stop coming, they would know."

"Of course." Psh. Like she was that stupid. She wasn't out of tricks. "I plan to see this through with you. You, on the other hand, must swear not to double-cross me or put me in harm in any way."

"Absolutely," he said, extending a hand.

A deal, Kat mused as he took his hand and shook it. Just thinking about dying made her want to weep and throw a fit, but she forced herself to stay calm. Today was tenth of June. The winter solstice was sometime in December. She had six months to figure out a way to outsmart him and keep living.

Calix gripped her hand firmly as they shook, not taking her eyes off hers. Six months until the end of the season. Six months for him to uncover her secrets and find a way to get his powers back. Once he did, he would have to make a quick trip to Hell and get rid of her.

They break off, both still submerged in their plans for each other in the coming months. Their thoughts expanded and grew more elaborate, yet they still had an obstacle at hand.

Kat decided to address it first. "How do we do this?"