Victor’s breathing became raspy as he struggled to take in air. He was a supernatural being, and it took a lot to kill him, yet now he was gravely frail. I felt bad for him. Every time he breathed, he winced as if that was too much for his body to handle. I couldn’t do anything to ease his pain, but I would find the mask for him.
“He needs to at least recover in comfort,” I said, approaching Victor carefully. A strange smell wafted in the air.
“What do you propose?” River asked beside me.
“He has a bedroom?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s carry him there. At least he can be on his comfortable bed while we’re away.”
River nodded. “Sure,” then turned to Victor, “my Lord.” River waited for Victor to look up at him. River crouched and whispered, “We need to take you to your room, where it’s comfortable. Now brace yourself. We need to pick you up.”
“Help me stand,” Victor said, holding out his hands. “I can try to walk.”
We did as he asked and helped him to stand. His eyes continued glowing red, and his fangs elongated. He sniffed the air hungrily. I held onto his waist, and he dropped an arm around my shoulders and the other around River.
“If he’s human, how come he still has fangs?” I asked, and we slowly walked with him through the lounge and down the corridor toward his bedroom.
“I don’t know,” River said. “I can only guess that it’s slowly making him more human. And whatever is going on inside his body is hurting him.”
I sniffed the air and the stench of old, dirty soup I’d smelled earlier clung to me. I said nothing, but guessed it was Dad who desperately needed a bath.
We slowly traversed down the corridor, passing the room with the occupant who scared me the first time I was here. Then we passed the bathroom and then my old room, and headed for the end of the hallway. I was about to ask where it was when a door appeared up ahead, as if sensing Victor. The elegantly carved wood depicted various flowers and trees with fruit. River opened the door, and the carvings changed. The fruit slowly becoming rotten and falling to the ground.
“We’re almost there,” River said out of breath.
Victor was heavy, but not that heavy; I wasn’t out of breath yet, but River was. We turned Victor around and helped him sit on the bed. He scooted to the middle of the bed and laid down, closing his eyes.
“Come, let him rest,” River said, pulling me away.
Victor seemed so beyond reach, almost a distant memory, as I watched his ragged breathing and his skin becoming paler. I had to help him before he had his last breath. I glanced at River, who stared back at me knowingly.
River and I walked back to the living room in silence. I exhaled a weary breath as we sat on the large sofa in the Underworld to review the book that had information on the mask.
We paged through the book quietly, with only the sound of our shallow breathing breaking the silence. I read the heading of each page before turning it, only to find the next page had nothing on masks. The surrounding air chilled my bones, and I closed my jacket. My mind kept wandering to Victor and how awful he looked and that I couldn’t believe such an awful artifact existed. Slowly, the little bit of energy I had was dwindling. Tears welled in my eyes, but I faked a yawn so that I could wipe my eyes dry without alerting River. I was sad, but I didn’t feel like talking about it.
“Wait,” River said, jumping up and wearing a smile. “The atmosphere is depressing. There’s no way we can concentrate on anything if we’re like this. How about I make us some tea; not the murky gunk the Underworld Chef makes.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s drink tea,” I said, smiling. River was right; I’d been turning pages in that old book but seeing none of them. I couldn’t concentrate because all I saw was my gaunt-looking father, who had one leg in the grave and one in the Underworld. Giggling at the thought, I glanced around to make sure nobody had witnessed my smile, and immediately felt guilty.
I sighed as I wondered if my dad died who would welcome him to the Underworld since he was already here. Then I thought about my father’s soul and if he even had one. He had to have one. All supernaturals had. My thoughts crashed one into the other, making my head and heart hurt.
“Here,” River said, holding a cup of strong tea near my nose. It had full cream milk and two sugars, like I always drank it.
“Thank you,” I said, smiling and taking the cup from his hands.
He sat beside me. I sat with my legs crossed on the couch and the large leather book propped on my legs. We sipped from our cups as I paged through the book, ignoring the heat from his body beat against mine.
I eventually found the page Victor had alluded to that featured information on a mask that was once thought lost. They had buried it inside the sarcophagus of a pharaoh years ago. When someone wore the mask, it turned a normal human immortal and gave them a power unique to that individual. But, if an immortal wore the mask, it removed their power, making them human, sickly and they would ultimately die. Which explained why Victor was dying.
I rubbed my face and finished my tea. “Do you know who found the mask and used it on Victor?”
River shook his head in shame. “No, but what bothers me the most I was meant to accompany him, but he sent me on a foolish errand. When I returned, he attacked me. Once I stabilized him and he was almost coherent, he told me to fetch you. Then, only when you found the information on the mask, could I give you this.” River handed me an ancient envelope. “He said only you should read it.”
I took the envelope from him and opened it;
Professor Alexander Dakin
I turned the piece of paper around, but there was nothing other than one man’s name. “I guess we need to find him.” Standing up, I grabbed Father’s leather satchel and placed the book inside, along with the envelope. “The sooner we get to him, the better. Now, how do we find him?”
“Google?”