A little boy, a fancy shirt, a gift of nothing light

A false young friend, a special box, a promise held too tight

Though Mother sees, a chilling breeze, throughout a moonless night

A knock on wood, the truth revealed, the demon king takes flight

The final hour of meeting here, the Blackbird brings the blight

     “I don’t want to wear this, Ron, it’s itchy.” James fiddled with the collar on his vest.

     “It’s customary, James. You’re here for a gift, and the Amsels are supplying. You know how strict I am with my outfit, and even I don’t like these fancy dresses.”

     “But do we have to?”

     “Yes. I’m sorry, Jamie, but I need you to do this for me. Okay? I - I know I haven’t been the best friend lately, but if he notices you’re not in the perfect attire, he’ll be really mad at me. You understand?” Ronald fluffed up James’s collar. “You can do this,” he muttered to himself.

     “Hm?” James asked. He thought Ronald was talking to him. Ronald never showed emotion like this.

     Ronald sighed. “I’m sorry, James. You’re the youngest I’ve been assigned to. I didn’t want you to find out this way. Trust me on this? I can’t have you misbehaving on my watch — they’ll blame me.”

     James pulled on his shoes, hesitating to speak.

     “S-sir?”

     “What? What is it?!” Ronald snapped.

     James flinched at the reaction. “Find out...? Ron, what’s going on?”

     A shout from another room. “Amsel! Stuart! You have to go down now!”

     Ronald sighed. “Well.” he stood up. “That’s our cue.”

     James took Ronald’s hand and squeezed it. “Let’s go, Ron.”     

     A tall man sat on a throne with a funeral veil covering his face. He had on a necklace of freshly plucked feathers, some still with a viscous liquid on them. Humming a lullaby, he held a small doll in his lap. The doll had stitches instead of eyes, with a smile drawn on in a black ink. He was looking at the crude thing like it was an interesting bug and he was an entomologist looking to expand his collection.

     “Ronald.”

     Ronald had stood at the base of the stairs, looking at his feet and refusing to move. James stood about a foot away, his mother grasping his shoulders. 

     “Ronald Amsel, step forward.” The man extended a pale bony hand gesturing for the boy to come forth.

     Ronald took a sharp inhale. A rasp escaped his lips, penetrating the thoughts of James and his mother. “The boy...not...issues...friends too…” It was hard to understand each word as they were strung together. A fiery pulse struck the peculiar tattoo James had gotten. He withheld a yelp but dropped to the floor in pain.

     “Speak in our tongue only when you must, Ronald.” The man in the chair glanced at James with a smirk. The surrounding hooded figures chuckled. “Let him hear what you have to say.” 

      “James has exhibited strong connections with two boys. I fear that his ‘friendships’ will distract him from his goal.” Ronald stole a glance at James. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed. “He’s making me.”

      “Stop communicating with him. Finish the report.” The man hissed.

      “Of course, your Majesty...Though I do think he is a little farther behind than he should be, I am absolutely certain that he is ready for his gift.”

      Whispers filled the hall. As if it was rehearsed, (James was thinking it was at this point) all eyes shifted to Ronald as he slowly and deliberately removed and put away his sunglasses. A figure fell over, collapsing to the marble flooring. “That’s the one,” Ronald mumbled. “He is weaker than the rest.” He and the others, including James’s mother, donned robes of silk and lapis. “Ad mortem fidelis...ad mortem fidelis...praeda electa...Avitos juvamus honores…” The chants swarmed the fallen man, who by now was on his knees begging to be let free.

     “Please, lord Blackbird, sir, you don’t have to do this! I have been serving you for over seven years! I have a daughter at home! She could be your next–” The man was cut off by two antlers piercing through his chest. 

     “That is enough from you, Stefen. Your time is over on this plane of life. I will be seeing you later...now, where is the boy?” The man, presumably Blackbird, had removed his hat, showing off a glimmering pair of antlers and some stunning white hair. “Where is..? Ah, there you are.” He turned to James. “You look scared, child. Do you think that hurts him?” He pointed to Stefen, who was no longer moving. “Go on,” he prompted. “Tell me. Do you think he is hurting?”

     James was shaking. The man on the floor was struggling to breath. James didn’t want to talk to the strange tall man. He turned to run to his mother, but he couldn’t see her within the crowd of hoods. A tear slipped from his cheek, hitting the floor in a soft plip. Many began to follow.

     Ronald scoffed and started to speak but Blackbird interrupted him. “Perhaps...you do not understand. I only pity this man as I cannot follow him into the Otherside. All humans are destined for that place, you know? Call it Hell, call it Limbo, call it Purgatory, even Heaven; it’s all the same, really. A final resting place for these poor little beings. Peace exists in my realm. That’s all. An empty, peaceful void. Tell me, would you call that suffering?” Blackbird stroked James’s hair, ruffling his wings that James had failed to notice in the chaos.

     James let the man wipe his tears away. “N-no,” he whispered, “He’ll be okay…”

     “Good boy. Go to your room, James. The box will be there tomorrow morning. Your mother will explain.” The man paused to call over James’s mother. “Take caution, will you? This one’s...fragile. Can I trust you, Rebecca?”

     She nodded.