While in the bath after his morning practice, Derek summoned the oversized deerhide book and recorded his next Paranormal Event. There were now four and a half days left of the Apostleship trial period and he wanted to make the most of it.
Luckily, everything had gone smoothly the night before with covering up his involvement in his brother's death. He had successfully made it to Felrook Manor and seamlessly joined in the party -- not leaving until well into the night. As he had hoped, notice of Peter's death had come via a police officer while Derek was at Felrook Manor. The family was in distress, of course, but that was to be expected. Perhaps that had contributed to his wife's sudden attempt to exorcize him? Maybe she wanted to figure out what she could, since the supernatural manner of Peter's death had kindled a fear of the unknown.
He didn't know what she was thinking. The intricacies of a woman's mind were a mystery to him, and many times during their marriage, he had learned how futile speculation really was. In fact, it was more often than not, actually more harmful to speculate than simply ask.
Whatever the case, Jenneca had gratefully accepted his suggestion to bring in a better exorcist. She had also accepted his condition that if the exorcist couldn't do anything, then she'd drop the matter and trust that he was indeed himself. While Derek himself wasn't entirely comfortable with his identity anymore, he wouldn't tell his wife that. It would only make her needlessly worry.
----
Three days ago, New Harvershire
Coughing, Gary propped himself up in his bed, smelling the acrid scent of cigar smoke that filled his room. "Well, I'll be," he muttered. "I'm really back from the dead."
He grinned, coughing again. "Still feel like shit, though."
He examined the dirty, semi-translucent screen that was hovering in front of him and eagerly looked over the contract details. He laughed and cussed out his Savior for cheating him. "This bastard ain't bringing me back for nothin', it seems! Gave me one hell of a job, too. What am I supposed to be, some sorta livin' grim reaper?"
A snakeskin journal stained with blood appeared in front of him, its title embossed in gold. So they expect me to brainstorm using this? He thought.
"Ha!" He exclaimed. "I'm gonna kill you all! All you bastards that looked down on me, and all you women for ignorin' me. Thank you, Viper, for givin' me this job."
----
Present day, various cities around the world
~New Harvershire~
A postman grunted as his ankle was pricked by a pair of sharp fangs. Looking down, he saw an unfamiliar, yellow-green breed of snake slithering away. He tried to yell a string of curses after it, but when he did, he found himself unable to speak; instead, his attempts at speech came out as a series of hissing and spitting. He felt his mouth in disbelief -- his head had become that of a snake! His mind was still trying to wrap around that fact when he found that an uncontrollable rage was welling up from within him. Before long, his rationality had fled and he was throwing a punch at the nearest person he could find, then biting them as well. That person soon joined him, their head having also turned into that of a snake.
~Austland~
A man in a zoo security uniform whistled a cheerful tune as he walked down the moonlit street, taking a star-shaped seed from a pouch on his waist and planting it by the roadside, patting the dirt gently after burying the seed. He repeated this action at every street corner. Minutes after he left, the seeds sprouted, jet-black vines parting the ground as they snaked quietly out of the places where they were buried. Though their growth was quiet, it was rapid. It took barely an hour before the streets were covered in a thick layer of interwoven vines -- though it wasn't only the streets that they grew over. A homeless man, fast asleep, was slowly choked to death as the vines tightened around his throat.
~Dunmark~
A well-dressed driver changed the frequency on his radio, trying to find something interesting to listen to. He listened briefly to 66.6 FM, but decided it wasn't what he wanted and changed the station a few more times. Six minutes and sixty-six seconds after leaving 66.6 FM, a red glow burst alight in his eyes and, cackling madly, he pressed his foot on the accelerator as much as it would go, then drove directly onto oncoming traffic. Similar situations occurred at the same time all over the city.
~Quelton~
Crying uncontrollably, an elderly woman clutched her knitting project close to her chest, weeping over the deaths of so many innocent people. Why couldn't she save anyone? Why was she such a powerless, old woman? A nearby newspaper chronicled the appearance of a metal man who was going around town, killing at random. If only she hadn't aged so much since her days as a wartime nurse, maybe she would have been able to do something. Instead, she could only sit there, helplessly reading about the horrible acts of some unnatural being that had come to punish humanity, as if it were some terrible agent of a spurned god. Just what had this world come to?