Thicker than Water

Prologue: Through the Eyes of a Raven

From atop the skyscraper he stood, looking down at the people as they walked the busy city streets: brokers talking into cell phones, telling their subordinates to buy sell, or jump out the window because that precious stock they thought would take off crashed and burned instead. Police constantly on the lookout for trouble, their trained eyes alert for any suspicious characters, finally settling on the homeless man screeching at the pigeons. College students on their way to class, mentally going over yesterday’s notes and praying today’s lesson wouldn’t empty as many pens.

Nurses, teachers, cashiers, artists, bus drivers, lawyers. Each one a different face on the character that was humanity, playing their part in a neverending show, a show he watched with great delight.

Yes, watch. That was all he could do. His lot in life was to always be an observer, never a participant. That was the way it had been for so many years, since the day he had died.

Died, only to be reborn as a new, higher being; a member of a superior species, a race whose destiny it was to shape this world into whatever image they saw fit.

At least, that was what the old ones liked to say. But to this observer, they had always seemed a tad melodramatic, too theatrical for his taste, like an actor who delves too deeply into a role, until even he can’t remember who he’s supposed to be.

But this observer fully understood his role: it was one that had been impressed on him long ago, stamped in the blood of his lover as she lay dying in his arms, never to be reborn, not like him.

The lesson was simple: Know. Your. Place.

It was not lost on the observer, better known as Marcus Tolen. It was an old name, older than most might believe.

“Enjoying the show?” a voice which shimmered from the air called.

Marcus growled, the annoyance he felt unable to be contained. “Get lost, Damien, you’re spoiling the best part.”

The air rippled, then coalesced into a form, a young man dressed in lies and deception. “Oooh, the climax,” Damien said, rubbing his hands together in mock glee. “Is this the part where the overfed and over-ripened policeman tells the drunken bum to walk it off, or is this the chilling conclusion of the Skinny Asian Girl’s Quest for the Vanilla Coke? You know how I love that little drama.”

Marcus growled again, the sound intentionally noticeable. Damien jumped back, though it was clear the move was not borne from fear.

“Peace, my brother, peace,” he said. “Just a little fun, just a little fun. I don’t know how you can be entertained by them. But, you always were a wierd one, even back in the day. Still, there is something interesting about them. Like a colony of ants minus the single-minded purpose.”

“They remind me of the old days,” Marcus said, continuing to watch the people below. He saw everything clearly, as if he was right above them, instead of several hundred feet in the sky.

Damien sat back on his haunches, peering down at the street and giggling every so often. “In that case, my friend, you had a boring, boring life. Trust me, you’re better off with the new one,” he said, and was gone in the next heartbeat, the air shimmering where he sat a moment ago.

“Better off,” he said to himself.

Was he? True, his old life hadn’t been anything special. He was a mere servant then, toiling the day away for pompous, overstuffed peacocks who believed the world owed them something, that they were entitled to the best life had to offer simply because of a five-syllable last name or the words “duke” or “regent” preceding it. The fact is he had despised that life, and when his friend Damien offered him the opportunity to exchange it for a new one, a better one (or so he had been told), he had jumped at the chance.

Like the old saying goes, look before you leap.

Ironic, he thought, that in this new life, one where he had ascended to a higher level, he was still a servant, a mere soldier once again serving leaders convinced of their own greatness, greatness that had no explanation or source, and apparently, didn’t need one.

No, he decided, he was still the same man he had been all those years ago when Damien had came to him on that cold, rain-soaked evening and extended an offer he should have read more carefully. He felt the same pangs of loneliness when he saw a crowd of people laughing happily as they strolled down the street to a party. He felt the same emptiness when he saw two lovers walk hand in hand, the warmth in their hearts radiating off them in waves with each beat.

And, looking down at one person in particular, someone he had waited all day to see, he felt the same despair in his heart, for as strong, as smart, as powerful as he was, she would never love him.

Not if she knew the truth. That his heart, a heart which ached every time he saw her raven-dark hair, had stopped beating long ago.