cemetery were packed with cars. Co-workers, city officials, family friends that Christopher had only met in passing stood in a loose semicircle around three neatly dug holes in the ground with the coffins hovering above them. They all waited patiently for the priest to start.
His family was not particularly religious, but tradition was important. It would be a proper affair. Christopher stood uncomfortably in a suit, trying to pretend his shoulder still hurt from the bullet wound. He even kept it in a sling.
It was hard to focus, Christopher thought. He shook hands with many people, accepted their condolences and kind words, but he forgot who they were or what they said moments after they left. He saw their auras, the ongoing ability the only thing that kept him from thinking the night before was only a dream, but he didn’t pay too much attention. He didn't know what all the different colors meant, and he didn't have the strength at the moment to try and figure it out.
It was surreal, he thought. Like he wasn't really there. That none of this, not the deaths of his family, not the weird library, and certainly not last night, had really happened. He felt like he wanted to lie down and fall into a deep sleep. Maybe not even awaken.
Detective Hamlin was there, as were ten more of New York’s finest. Christopher was grateful for the detective’s presence, he was the closest thing Christopher had to a friend. At the very least, Christopher knew he could trust him. Hamlin stood next to him while the others were scattered about the area in what Christopher assumed were strategic locations. They were looking sharp of course, because their boss was in attendance. The chief of police stood only a few feet away from Christopher. It would be crazy for anybody to try and get to him here. That made him relax a little.
That is when he began to smell it.
Like smelling salts, the harsh stench woke him up and made him look around for the source. It was horrible, and for a moment Christopher thought maybe a body was exposed and rotting nearby. This was a cemetery, after all, and that was the only explanation for the stench. It fell over him like a wave. He grew slightly dizzy, and for a moment he thought he might fall over.
God, now it smells more like a pile of rotting bodies .
Hamlin noticed him teeter and steadied him.
"Everything okay?" Hamlin asked in a whisper.
"You don't smell that?" Christopher asked and immediately regretted opening his mouth. Now he could taste the horrible smell.
"What smell? Just grass and trees."
"No that smell like rotting bodies."
"What? No, I don't smell anything like that and I have smelled my fair share of old corpses."
"God, it’s awful! I can't believe you don't smell it."
"Well, you must be super sensitive to something. Maybe a dead animal in the bushes? Don't know what to tell ya," Hamlin said.
Nobody else seemed to notice the smell either. Christopher felt like he was going to throw up, but nobody around him seemed to be affected. It was more than just a smell Christopher realized. It was like an itching in his brain, as though something was misfiring inside his head and making him smell something that wasn't there. It took him only a moment longer to realize it was coming from the same place inside him where his aura sight came from.
Suddenly alert, all vestiges of the fog that had held sway over him were gone instantly. He looked around desperately as the priest continued the service. He needed to find where the stench was coming from.
"What? You went from being half asleep to alert as a guard dog. What happened?" Hamlin asked.
"I'm not sure, but something..." Christopher let what he was saying drift away. A man was walking over the hill directly across from the service. He was wearing a dark suit and jacket, but what really stood out was the black, wide brim hat on top of his head. He was tall and rail thin even with the coat on.
But what really made him forget what he was
His family was not particularly religious, but tradition was important. It would be a proper affair. Christopher stood uncomfortably in a suit, trying to pretend his shoulder still hurt from the bullet wound. He even kept it in a sling.
It was hard to focus, Christopher thought. He shook hands with many people, accepted their condolences and kind words, but he forgot who they were or what they said moments after they left. He saw their auras, the ongoing ability the only thing that kept him from thinking the night before was only a dream, but he didn’t pay too much attention. He didn't know what all the different colors meant, and he didn't have the strength at the moment to try and figure it out.
It was surreal, he thought. Like he wasn't really there. That none of this, not the deaths of his family, not the weird library, and certainly not last night, had really happened. He felt like he wanted to lie down and fall into a deep sleep. Maybe not even awaken.
Detective Hamlin was there, as were ten more of New York’s finest. Christopher was grateful for the detective’s presence, he was the closest thing Christopher had to a friend. At the very least, Christopher knew he could trust him. Hamlin stood next to him while the others were scattered about the area in what Christopher assumed were strategic locations. They were looking sharp of course, because their boss was in attendance. The chief of police stood only a few feet away from Christopher. It would be crazy for anybody to try and get to him here. That made him relax a little.
That is when he began to smell it.
Like smelling salts, the harsh stench woke him up and made him look around for the source. It was horrible, and for a moment Christopher thought maybe a body was exposed and rotting nearby. This was a cemetery, after all, and that was the only explanation for the stench. It fell over him like a wave. He grew slightly dizzy, and for a moment he thought he might fall over.
God, now it smells more like a pile of rotting bodies .
Hamlin noticed him teeter and steadied him.
"Everything okay?" Hamlin asked in a whisper.
"You don't smell that?" Christopher asked and immediately regretted opening his mouth. Now he could taste the horrible smell.
"What smell? Just grass and trees."
"No that smell like rotting bodies."
"What? No, I don't smell anything like that and I have smelled my fair share of old corpses."
"God, it’s awful! I can't believe you don't smell it."
"Well, you must be super sensitive to something. Maybe a dead animal in the bushes? Don't know what to tell ya," Hamlin said.
Nobody else seemed to notice the smell either. Christopher felt like he was going to throw up, but nobody around him seemed to be affected. It was more than just a smell Christopher realized. It was like an itching in his brain, as though something was misfiring inside his head and making him smell something that wasn't there. It took him only a moment longer to realize it was coming from the same place inside him where his aura sight came from.
Suddenly alert, all vestiges of the fog that had held sway over him were gone instantly. He looked around desperately as the priest continued the service. He needed to find where the stench was coming from.
"What? You went from being half asleep to alert as a guard dog. What happened?" Hamlin asked.
"I'm not sure, but something..." Christopher let what he was saying drift away. A man was walking over the hill directly across from the service. He was wearing a dark suit and jacket, but what really stood out was the black, wide brim hat on top of his head. He was tall and rail thin even with the coat on.
But what really made him forget what he was
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