Behind me, I could hear them getting closer, but my attention was fading from them as it wavered to the ground below, and the multiple pairs of footprints, in which showed signs of recent activity. One in specific the set in lining from the bottom of my own shoes, unmistakable, as the soles matched exactly. They were my footprints, and there were others too. All three seeming to run forward in a straight path, although somehow that wasn't the case. "What the. . ."
" It's a barrier spell," The woman's voice said as I turn, and find the two owners of the other pairs, standing closely behind me. The woman, a tall, long haired brunette, with fair skin like milk, and eyes almost so brown they could be considered black. And the male, tall himself with russet colored hair, and intense blue eyes. From the moment our eyes connected, I could feel them boring into me as if I were a child having been caught in a lie. My first instinct being to argue, and fight back, but for what? He hadn't said a word, yet. "It's why you keep relapsing back to where you were before. Because. . ."
"Because you ran, like a child, and inevitably we had to treat you like one." The male finished for her. "Consider this a revolutionary form of "time-out"."
"Excuse me?" I exclaimed aloud. My cheeks suddenly burning with a sensation I couldn't place. Anger? Frustration? Embarrassment? Reaching over, I watch as the woman smacks the male on the back of his head with an open hand, and as much as I fought to ignore it. I couldn't help, but laugh.
"Look Arya, although it may not seem like it now, we are on your side." The woman says, tripping over her words as if in a hurry to beat her friend from saying anything else. "To keep things short for now, we know about how you died, and why you're so suddenly- not so dead now."
"How could you know?" I ask, in earnest.
"What, you think you're the only one?" The male said, and I turn and roll my eyes at him.
"Yes, in a matter of fact, I was thinking that. It would be estrange not to."
"Yeah, well you're. . ."
"What he means, Arya, is that you're not." The woman smiled, and took a dubious step in my direction. My eyes held her step, but I did nothing. "Sometimes in situation like yours where death came about so young, and so horribly, something happens to the soul."
"Please don't tell me I am a ghost doomed to walk this world forever because I'll stop you right there. . ."
"She is saying you're stuck in Limbo, at least your soul is."
"Correct, and as it is, you are neither fully dead or alive. Which is why people can still see you, yet you're senses seem more heightened and tuned into the world around you. You're acting on a greater frequency than humans can reach."
"So I am a vampire?"
"No, but you are someone who watches entirely too much science fiction." The male said whilst breaking off in another laugh. "Vampires aren't real, you are. Technically we like to call ourselves the Immortal Protectors."
"Immortal Protectors." The woman said with another step in my direction. "Those who were given second chances, in which we use to do good within our borrowed time."
"Borrowed time? So what, potentially I could be just walking down the street one day when poof, I die again?"
"Potentially, but it's very unlikely." The woman laughed. Her long brunette colored hair catching in the wind, and seeming to hover inches away from her back even as the wind had stopped. "More like borrowed time, to which holds no end unless it too become stolen from us."
"So, let me get this straight. We can essentially live forever unless someone kills us, again because we're not like vampires, but Immortal beings of some sort?"
"Sure, why not." The male bellowed aloud, and kicked a gravel patch beneath him. "Look this is fun and all, but some of us have other work to do. So if two don't mind finishing this up back at the house, we can leave now and be back before you know it."
"Fine, Killian." The woman said, and turned to look at him. Her eyes narrowing as if to scold him, but then they grow soft, and instead she walks past him. As she does something begins to catch my eye. Tiny specks of light, which seem to be coming from nowhere, yet everywhere all at once as they start to warp the image her. Something you might see with a reflection within a pond, caught in the wake of a rippling effect. I stare unwavering at her until she says, "I hope the ones responsible for bringing you in showed you half of the empathy to which you're showing her," and then vanishes between the factions of the light.
"What the. . ."