Chapter 3: A New Identity

The old man sat in his car outside Ethan’s house while the young loner moved about inside, packing up the last of his belongings. From some discreet inquiries he’d done, Ethan was a troubled soul. A kid from an abusive parenting household, he had recently inherited his parents’ home after their untimely deaths in a tragic house fire.

But words began to circulate that it wasn’t so cut and dried, convenient accident. Ethan’s relationship with his folks hadn’t been exactly warm and nurturing. And then all of a sudden, they’re dead in a fire? Too coincidental to the old man who’d spent decades spinning his own web of connections and secrets.

He was the one, the perfect first target for this new life he so desperately yearned for. A person isolated and aloof, no friends or family members left behind to check on him and ask questions. By appearances from across the street, the young man was planning to move out soon. Looking for a new start at a new place, just like what the collector wanted.

He waited there through the evening till the nightfall, while lights went out in Ethan’s house, one by one. Then he got out of his car, carrying the silver dagger in the inner pocket of his tweed jacket.

He walked quietly up the front sidewalk and reached into his pants pocket to pull out a lockpick, a tool that fit perfectly in the deadbolt. Over the years, the old man learned many useful things. Some were legal, some not so much. Tonight, though, was all about stealth and surprise.

He slipped silently inside Ethan’s house, carefully making his way in the darkness. Moonlight from a couple of windows splashed down the hallway to where he knew the young man slept. The collector held the dagger in his palms, ready to strike as he crept closer.

Ethan never heard a thing, only to wake up from the shock of a blade piercing his chest. His eyes snapped wide open in shock for a few seconds as his life slipped away. Then it was silent and still once again.

Sweat broke out on the forehead of the old man as he stood over Ethan’s prone form, his heart pounding wildly beneath his ribcage. He’d killed many times before, but this felt different somehow, more momentous, like a dividing line between two halves of his existence.

The collector took a shuddering breath, steadying himself. The deed was done. He could feel the dagger draining out the youth and vitality from its victim. A sudden feeling of euphoria filled him. A flowing river of renewal, washing away decades of decay and debilitation.

The changes started to happen gradually, smoothing wrinkles, darkening gray with brown, and firming muscles beneath his skin. But then it began to accelerate until finally, the old man stood there in Ethan’s bedroom staring down at his own body, brimming with vitality. He looked like a young man in his early twenties.

Triumphant waves surged through him as he realized that his magical rebirth had finally liberated him. He could get out of this tired, used-up shell and begin anew as someone else. No ghosts haunted him from misdeeds of the past. No more fear of horrors that might yet be in store for him in his old life, even at such an advanced age.

The collector smiled at the renewed body, young and innocent once more. Then he began to walk through the house, packing everything that had belonged to the boy into boxes marked “donate” or “trash”. He wanted nothing from his old life to touch his new one. Neither he wanted to carry anything that belonged to Ethan. Whether it was Ethan’s dead body or material possessions, every last shred of evidence was gone by dawn.

He stepped out onto the front porch for the first time as Ethan. The old man, an antique collector was gone, he had no relationship to that past. This time, he entered a world full of promise and potential. A blank canvas to be painted with his own masterpieces upon it. He won’t repeat the mistakes from his previous life. Taking in the crisp morning air, he thought of where to go next. Who he could become now that he had been given that second chance.

And this time, I’m going to get it right, thought Ethan with a small grin as he locked up the house and headed down the sidewalk toward a new life, having started anew.

Little did he know, however, that the dark forces, who had granted him such an unexpected rebirth, did not let him go so easily. The dagger still longed to feed on more blood and souls to devour. Its whispers became louder in the mind of Ethan.

“You are mine now,” they hissed with the sunlight reflecting off its cruel blade. “And your new life will be mine too.”