Prologue
June 6, 1966
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Devlyn,
We are pleased to inform you that your son has recovered and he is now fit enough to be discharged. Please continue to check up with the doctors should his symptoms return.
Congratulations on your new, healthy child,
General Hospital of Beckam
The mailman arrived to the vacant house of 66 Luc circle and creaked open the mailbox and placed the letter inside with a thud. He turned to leave, feeling a prickling on the back of his neck. He turned back towards the dark house, his eyes squinting for any sign of movement in the faraway windows. He took an uneasy step forward and dropped to the ground, cold and still as ice. Hundreds of miles away in a brightly-lit nursery, a newborn awoke with a start, opening his huge, jet-black eyes.
Chapter One: Enemies by fate
The bright fluorescent lights of a dingy orphanage room flicked on and a middle aged woman who resembled a vulture stalked towards the center of the room to a small bed that had a sleeping child on it. “Up!” she screeched, pulling the threadbare blanket to the floor. The boy startled awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’m up, I’m up” he grumbled, sliding out of bed as the woman walked out, slamming the door shut. The boy was small, with messy dark hair that looked as though it had been sheared by someone who just wanted to get the job done. He had a pale face, his features nothing out of the ordinary. His eyes, however, were green with black pupils dilated to the point that you almost could not see the green. He stumbled forward towards the closet, squinting his eyes against the bright light. He pulled open the small door and took out the small gray uniform off the hanger-this was the only item of clothing in there. He dressed into the uniform that, despite being small, hung loosely on his miniature frame. He walked out the door, peering down the long gray hallway-everything here seemed to be gray with a sort of quiet suffering. He trotted down the hallway towards the winding stairs, looking over the balcony. “Ah! Here he is, the darling thing” said the same vulture-like woman in a sickenly sweet voice. “Why don’t you come down here and meet these nice people?” she gestured towards a couple standing a few feet from her. The boy looked at the couple closely, there was something odd about their overall stature; fluid, but stiff. Inflexible, but graceful. They were odd.
The boy walked down the staircase towards the three people, taking his time. “Come on dear, don’t keep them waiting” said the vulture woman in the same sweetly ill voice, this time holding a note of malice and warning. He picked up his pace, stopping a few feet short of the trio. The couple stared at him. He stared back. “Introduce yourself now” said the vulture. He gave her a glance before looking back at the other two, his eyes now engulfed by the black dilation of his pupils. “My name is Lance. Lance Detris.” Lance walked away, back to his cold dreadful room, back to his sanctuary.
The couple turned towards the vulture woman questiongly. She rushed to explain, “he’s a bit antisocial, but not to worry, he’d be perfect to adopt.” The couple made no acknowledgement that the woman said anything. At last, one of the two spoke up, a woman. The woman said, “he’s intriguing. He reminds me of someone I know.”
The vulture woman looked surprised at this revelation, her eyes widening comically. “Oh, does he?” she let out a shrill false giggle. “Well then, I guess he’ll be up for adoption? Yes, yes indeed. How lovely. What are your surnames?” she said very fast. The couple looked at each other. The strange woman turned back slowly, her face catatonic, and spoke. “Mr. and Mrs. Devlyn.”