by K. D. Worth
Slade stood and we followed his lead.
“Now?” Kody looked at me, chewing his lower lip.
“Yes, now,” Slade said.
“You got this, babe,” I assured him as I patted his arm.
Nodding once, Kody faced the street and his unexpected charge. So much for relaxing and enjoying a milkshake.
I wished I could protect Kody, but I knew that, in the end, Slade was right. I couldn’t help Kody if I never let him get strong enough to do this on his own.
He had to be able to do his job so I could do mine.
I couldn’t do all of it.
“Exactly, kid,” Slade said in my mind.
Hands shoved in my pockets, I frowned at our boss.
Yeah, he was right, but I didn’t need the telepathic “I told you so’s.”
“Go on,” Slade encouraged Kody.
“By myself?”
Slade gestured to me and himself. “We’re right here.”
Though he had stepped away from me, I remembered how I’d made the shield around him without touching him, and I pushed my love toward him.
Kody nodded, paused, and then smiled at me. I knew he felt my power. But he shot a nervous glance at Slade before looking both ways and crossing the street. My heart lurched as he jogged behind a truck. The memory of the morning he died assaulted me and stole the breath from my chest. The delivery van, the….
No!
I shook my head and focused on now.
Any time I let my fear get in the way, I was unable to protect Kody. And I didn’t want him picking up on my fears and becoming distracted. I had to stay focused.
I glanced around, up in the sky and down the street. I saw no souls, shades, or wraiths wandering around. My obsidian was warm on my left wrist, not as warm as the protective light inside me, but I was very aware of the power it exuded.
Doubtless the Hunter beside me was keeping us safe too.
I watched intently as Kody approached the sleeping man in the box. Kody rolled his hands in front of him, his face pensive.
I hastily whispered in his mind, “You got this, babe. I’m so proud of you.”
That must’ve been the right thing to say, because Kody glanced over his shoulder and smiled at me. I could see his relief as his posture softened.
He reached out and laid his hand on the man’s shoulder.
I knew the moment he delivered the Touch because Kody faltered and gasped.
Before I could run across the street, Slade grabbed me by the arm, stopping me. I had this sick déjà vu from another time he stopped me from running into the street, and my stomach dropped to my knees.
Then Slade’s soothing voice filled my mind. “Max, take a deep breath and look at Kody. He’s okay.”
In a daze, I blinked several times, more than aware of the white lightning crackling on my fingertips. By the time I had caught my breath, the homeless man’s spirit had arrived and he was talking to Kody.
Slowly my heart rate returned to normal when Kody smiled.
I could tell he was tired, but he materialized a door. A very traditional door with a proudly waving American flag jutting out from the doorjamb, suitable for the homeless veteran whose tattered clothing slowly morphed into a crisp green uniform. His scruffy drawn face was now fleshy and vibrant, his hair high and tight. As Kody spoke to him, the man began to stand straighter, and he even smiled.
Whatever Kody was saying erased the depressed, broken man still lying in the box. Holding out his hand, Kody now walked a proud American hero through his door.
When the door disappeared, Kody remained behind.
I raced across the street—and I finally got my answer to what it would be like to have a car drive through you while in spirit form.
It was fucking creepy.
Like some sort of twisted 3-D movie, all around me, I saw the engine cut through my middle, then the roof of the car below my chin. In a split second, I looked down as the driver reached for her coffee. Then I saw the groceries in her trunk, and then I was standing in the middle of the street.
Shaking it off, I ran to Kody, avoiding the cars in the other lane this time. “Kody, are you okay?” I asked in a rush.
He looked at me, dark circles under his eyes. He reached for me and I immediately drew him into an embrace. His grip tightened as my light—our love—united us at once, heating us within.
We stayed like that for a moment, and I allowed Kody to take whatever he needed. “Are you okay?” I asked again.
Kody pulled back, and a proud gleam flashed in those blue eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Max, yes, I’m okay,” he assured me, grin widening. “I think I’m really going to be okay.”
KODY—Chapter 11
“TELL ME what happened, Kody,” Slade prompted.
Max still had his arms around my waist, and I was ever so grateful. In a matter of moments, I felt totally like myself again, and I could feel the relief and pride coming off him in waves.
After yesterday, being inside his force field, I felt closer to Max than ever before. I swore we’d even been feeling each other’s thoughts and emotions. The intimacy of it was intense, even now. Slade had called us twin flames once, and feeling Max’s warm power moving through both of us, uniting us, I finally understood what he meant.
Max was the other half to my soul, and I was so grateful to have him here as I conquered my fears, and hopefully learned to conquer my destiny.
Smiling at Slade, I told him what happened. “When I Touched him, I felt something moving through me. I heard his fear but also his hope and gratitude. I tried to focus on the last part, to hear his fear but ignore it too. It wasn’t easy.”
“Were you afraid?”
“At first,” I admitted. “But not really, because you guys were here.”
Yes, the homeless man—an Army veteran named James—had taken energy out of me, but I tried to make sure he didn’t take it all. Rather, I gave it to him, like Slade had told me. And feeling Max’s strength, even from afar, helped me prevent him from coming inside to take more than I gave.
To be honest, now that I knew why it was all happening—that I was an empath—I was able to quell most of James’s pain with the help of Max’s energy.
Last night I’d prayed long and hard about what Slade had told me, and today it was starting to make more sense. I’d been an emotional yo-yo during my life and afterlife, and dealing with my own emotions, and other people’s, had obviously exhausted me to depression. My family had fed off my empathy, draining me like the charges, in a way. I recalled the other kids at Camp Purity, how much I’d hurt for them and myself. How physically tired I’d been there, not even able to keep up with the exercise regimen. Then all the times Mom and Dad had fought, how out of control I’d felt, how angry and tired I’d always been.
All that time I’d been feeling what they felt. Overwhelming myself with my own flailing emotions and those of everyone around me. It was no wonder being with Max—someone who had loved me and supported me from the beginning—helped me to be calm and happy.
And now, in a more powerful supernatural form, I was being overpowered with the spirits’ more intense emotions, unknowingly letting them assuage their fears and grief by taking my healing energy.
“Are you still afraid?” Slade asked softly.
I shrugged, shrinking in on myself. But the heat of Max’s love cleared my thoughts, making it easier to be logical, less emotional about the whole thing. “No. I guess I shouldn’t have been afraid.”
“Good. Because there’s more nuance to what’s happening when you deliver the Touch than just your empathy exposing you.”
“Lovely,” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Slade gave Max a wry expression. “Damn, he’s picking up your sarcasm, isn’t he?”
Max grinned wide. “Nah, he’s always had it. That’s why we gel so well.”
Slade quirked his brows, then returned to the oh-so-not popular topic of “Why Kody Michaels is a f
reak.”
“Do not call yourself that,” Slade said sternly.
Max glanced at me in question, and I shrugged and shook my head for him to not worry about it. He wouldn’t like me thinking that about myself either.
Slade sighed, then said, “The basic action of a reaper’s Touch is severing the tie between spirit and mortal body. Reapers wear opals to channel God’s holy spirit so His power can sever that link with the fleshly body. But, Kody, that’s not what you’re doing.”
“Am I doing something wrong?” Hot pulses of shame worked over my skin like blots of ink spreading out across fabric. Slade said not to think of myself as a freak, but….
A comforting hand rested on my shoulder, and I gazed into those wise gray eyes. “No, Kody, you’re doing something very different.” That hand squeezed, and slowly, I felt something. While the warmth of Max’s love was strong inside me, just beyond that, I felt a different energy… from Slade. Just like when Heather had hugged me, I felt Slade giving me his philia—his friendship love—right along with Max’s light. I recognized the difference between the two sources, like two rivers fueling me, and neither of them taking… and slowly my tension faded.
Slade was my friend, my mentor, and he was proud of me. He had confidence in me.
“I do,” Slade assured me, face softening. “A reaper’s opal acts as a circuit, as a conduit to carry out God’s will. Kody, do you feel it when another reaper delivers the Touch?”
I arched my eyebrow. “Yeah?” What’s he getting at?
Beside me Max jumped. “You do?”
I returned his expression with equal surprise. “You don’t?”
“Um, no,” he said, eyes wide.
“Kody,” Slade began, “that sharp energy-sucking moment when the soul and body are separated is powerful and painful. You experience it every time, on every charge, even if you don’t deliver the Touch directly. It’s almost as if you yourself are dying.”
That’s exactly what it felt like.
“How do I stop that when I deliver the Touch?”
“Well, first off, you’re not delivering the Touch. You’re doing something else entirely. Something wonderful and unique to you. And you’re not relying on the opal at all. God’s force is moving physically through you.”
“It is?”
“Yes, because you are a direct conduit for God’s holy spirit. You don’t need that opal, because you are the opal.”
“What?” we both said.
“Think of it this way. God is a power plant and His holy spirit is electricity. Every house or building that receives His power is a person or soul. God is sending His holy spirit through the power lines. The opal is a power line. You, Kody, are a power line too. Each time you deliver the Touch you’re instantly connected to both the person and God. That spark you feel is their pain as the spirit is severed from the body.”
Though shocked, I felt like I’d known all along.
“But because of your empathy, while that spirit is taking God’s power, it’s also taking yours. Think of your heart like a room. You need to learn how to flip a switch off in that room so the power can go elsewhere in the house, but not connect to your heart. And if you can’t do it, Max will flip it off for you. Yes, the electricity will still be flowing from God to the spirit through you, but just not on your private circuit.”
“Sounds like we’re gonna have to become electricians,” Max remarked.
Slade shrugged. “Figuratively, sure. You boys weren’t ready before. Kody, you hadn’t let go of the mortal realm, and Max, you were allowing your jealousy to stunt your ability to protect Kody. I don’t know if you guys are, or if you ever will be, 100 percent ready, but I feel like the time is right for you to take on some bigger cases.”
“Bigger?” I questioned.
“Oh!” Slade cried out, startling us both with his uncharacteristic enthusiasm and change in demeanor. He pointed at the street. “I wanted you guys to see this.”
We heard them before we saw them, a loud raucous jazz band playing “When the Saints Go Marching In” dancing their way out of the cemetery. They had umbrellas, accordions, brass trumpets, and those bony-looking vests they ran sticks over. It was then I noticed they were the same people who’d just forlornly marched down the street with the casket.
“What are they doing?” I asked.
“This is a jazz funeral,” Slade explained, face bright with excitement. “It’s a fascinating New Orleans custom where they say goodbye to their dead loved one. Oftentimes, like with this funeral, it’s a musician who’s died. They celebrate his crossing over with music and dance. C’mon!”
“Where are we going?” Max wanted to know with a scowl.
A big pink parasol and a yellow handkerchief appeared in Slade’s hand, and he handed them over to me. “We’re going to join in the second line.”
“No way,” Max said, raising his hands when he noticed a group of people twirling parasols and handkerchiefs in the air as they danced behind the mourning yet celebratory people.
“Come on, Max,” I said, glad to have a break in the info overload Slade kept giving me. Knowing Max would not like the parasol, I kept it and gave him the handkerchief. “It could be fun.”
The irony of an archangel of death and two reapers celebrating at a jazz funeral was not lost on me.
We joined in with the revelers, and I had to admit it felt a little weird because we didn’t know anyone, but it was also pretty cool. People were celebrating someone’s life with music rather than tears, black hearses, and agony.
All around me I felt sadness, but unlike with Brady’s family, an inexplicable joy laced that sadness, bittersweet yet so genuine. I knew these feelings weren’t mine, but they wafted around me like the riotous music, each unique and individual, just like the strangers celebrating life with dancing and joy.
After noticing the difference between Max, Heather, and Slade’s love energies, I was finally able to feel the individual emotions floating around me. Like strings on a maypole, each on their own weaving together with a rush of feeling that had once overwhelmed me but was finally beginning to make sense.
I laughed out loud, catching Slade’s smile. I thought of King David, dancing in the street, caught up with the holy spirit and God’s love.
The person who had died was going to heaven to revel in that same heavenly grace King David had rejoiced in. I knew that so strongly inside me that any sadness I felt from these people bounced off me like stones on a fortress.
Faith and joy.
That was what I felt as I danced down the street.
Could it always be like this?
Was all the pain I’d been feeling coming to an end, now that I’d found the true meaning of my assignment from God? Now that I understood that each line of fear and pain bogging me down all this time had not been all my own?
And to think, all this time that I’d felt I wasn’t good enough—a sinner, a failure—I had been destined, chosen by God Himself, to be a direct conduit of His holy spirit.
Wetness poured down my cheeks with gratitude and joy.
Thank you, God. Thank you so much for this honor, I prayed, hardly able to believe any of this was happening. Once I had feared disappointing God because men had told me I wasn’t good enough, but now a different, healthier fear filled me—a solemn duty to make sure I didn’t let God down.
A woman I didn’t know took me by the hand, and I laughed through my tears as she spun us around. Though I was a cold reaper, Max’s energy warmed me enough that she did not flinch at my touch. I spun the parasol around above us, feeling her elation, her faith, but also the sadness that her friend’s journey had ended.
I had spent a lot of time thinking about death when I’d been alive, and it was pretty much all I thought about as a reaper. But these people gave me a completely new perspective, and their joy filled me with happiness.
And hope—for me and all the lost souls out there.
Death was not something to fear. I k
new firsthand God did not forsake His children. He had never forsaken me. But life was also very precious. And these people had it right, celebrating that life instead of wasting one special moment of it.
When the woman danced away from me, I glanced over at Max to find him pretending not to smile. To my left, Slade was in his own world, dancing and gyrating away with two colorful handkerchiefs, hips rocking as if he were in a nightclub.
I laughed out loud again.
Who knew an archangel could boogie?
I had no idea!
Thoroughly absorbed in the moment of joyous discovery, I twirled my parasol over my shoulder. The music switched to a song I didn’t know, but I was having so much fun I didn’t care.
Slade tapped me on the shoulder, his face serious now. “This is where we get off, boys.”
The parasol and the handkerchief disappeared.
It was with great regret that I watched the celebrating processional continue on down the street. I wished I could thank them for sharing that with me.
Max, on the other hand, seemed more than willing to get out of the crowd and walk back to the sidewalk. “So what was that about?” he asked, looking grumpy, though I’d seen him laughing and enjoying himself.
“It was about him,” Slade said very seriously, the dancing machine gone and his stern demeanor returned. He pointed across the street, and neither Max nor I needed him to clarify who “him” was.
A cloudy spirit stood all by himself, unseen by the funeral processional and those who paused to watch it pass.
“Where’s his reaper?” I asked, pulse skipping.
“He doesn’t have a reaper,” Slade said, adding, “yet.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused. “He’s dead and that’s his spirit.”
“It is,” Slade agreed, looking at us expectantly. “And that was his funeral.”
My clever boyfriend was the first one to figure it out.
“A wraith killed him.”
KODY—Chapter 12
I LOOKED at Max in shock, and then a sudden sense of panic filled me. Gone was the happiness of the jazz funeral. I had celebrated this man’s life, had been so sure he was heaven-bound—yet here his soul stood, lost and alone.