The Hand of Glory Cycle by PC Bilbee.

prologue

murder's lost meaning;

i've realized my potential...

in this form.

my evolution awaits.

it is but my death away.

fit, the first: vellum

i scrive my soul's deed,

both with word and with action;

this fresh vellum fills both roles.

it holds fast the pact,

and seals it with unborn life...

i still hear the mother's pleas.

fit, the second: candles

i can now reap my harvest; months of gluttony paid full.

the tallow vat before me and the scalpel in my hand...

after rendering and wicks my tapers will be ready.

fit, the third: promise

i asked no promise,

but i made one of my own.

no threat, a promise.

secured: my disposition.

may my Patron's will be done.

fit, the fourth: anticipation

i have set my path; signed, with blood, the pact;

bound with promises, bound men by contract.

and now i shall step into hell's cataract.

my grin spreads,

glee spills from my eyes;

glee ablaze.

fit, the fifth: domino

her head in my hands,

i walked up to the bobby;

the man nearly swooned.

"i must confess,"

i told him, "i am unfit for this world."

fit, the sixth: escape

the noose bites,

breaking, clean, my neck-

then darkness.

fit, the seventh

my eyes fly open.

then i have been disinterred…

and all contracts have been met.

i am become death;

these binding spells unbind me

from this world i now predate.

epilogue

my hand of glory:

holding sticks of rendered self,

casting empty light