“We’re going to swap our best Ethan stories,” Cara teased. “Tessa is dying to know about last year’s New Year’s Eve party.”
Ethan groaned. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t worry,” Tessa said. “I promise I won’t believe a word of it.” She took her coat and purse from the chair. “Mom and Dad have gone to their hotel for the evening, so you have all night to be with him.”
“Thanks,” Ethan said, truly grateful.
When the women were gone, Ethan pulled up a chair to David’s bedside. “I’m back,” he said, taking David’s hand. “Did you miss me? Did Bev and John fill your ears with all kinds of bad things about me? Of course, I know you wouldn’t believe them if they did.”
Just to fill the silence, Ethan told David about everything he’d done that day, doing his best to embellish the poltergeist hunt. “You would die if you saw me now,” he said. Ethan was fussier about his appearance than David. Hair and body products filled his bathroom countertop. David, on the other hand, was more of a Irish Springs soap and Old Spice shaving gel kind of guy. It was one of the things that Ethan found endearing.
Eventually, Ethan gave up the charade of conversation and let go of David’s hand. Since Bev and John were at their hotel, he had all night to keep watch.
He’d brought his book bag, and now he took out his computer and e-mailed his professors to explain the situation and ask for clemency on his assignments. Once that was finished, he brought up a paper that was due soon, and tried to work on it.
After twenty minutes, however, he gave up. He was too tired, and his mind wouldn’t focus. Fortunately, the chair he sat on was a recliner. He put it back as far as it would go and lay on his side, so that he could keep an eye on David. He fell asleep listening to the beep and whir from the machines.
A loud bang echoed in the night. It was followed by a scream and another blast. Gunshots. Around him, people shrieked and ran. One young woman passed by, babbling to someone on the other end of her cell phone. “Someone’s shooting!” she screamed.
Thankfully, there was enough light for Ethan too see. He stood in a large parking lot full of people. Red and blue flashing lights lit the area, giving the faces an eerie glow. Two cops were trying to usher people away from the parking lot, but the stampede wouldn’t slow.
Ethan started running in the direction of the crowd, but tripped and fell over the body of a young man in a leather vest and pants. Blood pooled around the body. More sirens came from beyond the parking lot even as more gunshots punctuated the night. Ethan was shoved aside by a couple trying to escape the chaos.
All at once, Ethan was walking down a hallway lined with closed doors. A television blared, filling his ears with the bullhorn sound of a raving, political pundit. Ethan knew he had to find the source of that voice, but his feet were mired to the ground. Each step was like pulling his feet free from glue traps. He fought against the invisible bonds, dragging himself forward inch by inch. He needed Christian. But when he tried to scream, the only sound that came from his mouth was a garbled whisper.
Ethan woke with a start, his heart pounding. Immediately, he checked on David. There was no change. Everything in the room was the same as it had been an hour before. The hospital was quiet, the machines were all working, and David was still immobile.
With a sigh of relief, Ethan rearranged the recliner to a sitting position. Thanks to the nightmare, he’d never get to sleep now.
Looking for answers, he turned to the journal again. Sophie had drawn plenty of disturbing pictures throughout it, and her words jumped off the page: I see a dozen bodies, maybe more, on December 12. Many are teenagers. I have to stop this!
Sophie’s fear was infectious. December 12 was only two months away, yet he and Christian still had no idea who the Reaper was. With each reoccurring vision, Ethan became more and more determined to stop the Reaper. But how?
Ethan’s eyes fell on his book bag. He might not know who the Reaper was, but he did know where he hung out. Although Christian’s warning rang in his head, Ethan opened his computer and got ready to log onto the Final Cut.
Chapter Twelve
Getting to the Final Cut website wasn’t as easy as typing it into Google. Ethan spent over an hour reading about how to browse the dark web. Once he accessed the site, he sat back in his chair, assessing the situation.
The portal itself gave him pause. It opened onto a screen shot of a man in an electric chair. A real man, Ethan guessed, in a real electric chair. Ethan wasn’t sure how or when the picture was taken. The victim had a bag over his head, and his wrists and ankles were fastened to the chair. The way he slumped in the seat made it seem like his body had already suffered through the two-thousand volts.
Ethan’s fingers hovered above the keyboard. If he entered the website, could someone track him? He’d always stayed to the light side of the Internet. Even his porn was tame. But going onto a site like this concerned him. Then he thought of Sophie. She’d done this. Christian, too, for that matter. So, with a great deal of misgiving, Ethan clicked on the first video he saw: Bedside number one.
The video was much more cheerful than the website had been. The bedroom was sunny, and the windows were open. A breeze ruffled the white curtains. A young woman sat next to a hospital bed, holding the hand of a sleeping man. The video quality was much better than expected. Ethan could see the finest details; down to their matching wedding rings.
Watching them felt dirty. They were obviously in love. The woman kissed her husband’s brow, and when he stirred, she carefully gave him a cup with a straw in it so that he could take a drink. Before entering the site, Ethan had wondered if these people knew they were being watched. However, this innocent intimacy showed him that they didn’t. How could Christian and Sophie stand to be voyeurs like this?
He was about to click out of the video when an alert popped up on his screen. Someone called Eternalsoul449 wanted to chat. He was offered the chance to create a temporary screen name. Without thinking, he entered Deathwatch and clicked on Eternalsoul’s message.
How long do you think he has? Eternalsoul asked. I’m betting that it’s a day. Maybe two.
Ethan considered how to answer this. He needed information about the Reaper, so pumping Eternalsoul for information wouldn’t be a bad way to go.
Then again, Eternalsoul said, he’s still drinking water, so it could be a while.
Do you know TheReaper? Ethan asked.
Immediately, Eternalsoul’s window closed. Ethan cursed himself. He’d gotten too anxious and rushed. Then a second, worse, thought struck him. What if Eternalsoul alerted the Reaper? If the Reaper knew she was being stalked, he might go even more underground. They’d never find him. He wished he’d waited for Christian.
Ethan stopped the video and chose another one. This was a child’s bedside. He quickly exited out. That was one death video he wanted nothing to do with. The quality of the third one was very poor. Not only was it in black and white, it was grainy to boot. It was difficult to see the bed much less the person lying in it.
Ethan’s unease continued to grow. What if someone had installed a camera in David’s hospital room? What if, right now, someone was waiting for David to die? The thought was so disturbing that Ethan nearly shut his laptop.
Another message box opened. This one without a name. Do you like what you see?
A chill traveled down Ethan’s spine.
I can show you something better, the message promised. A link popped up.
Ethan’s rational side was screaming at him to not click the link. At best, it would be a virus that would corrupt his computer and steal all of his login information. At worst, it would show him something horrible. Something he already knew he didn’t want to see.
You’ll like it, the message teased.
Ethan slammed the lid of his laptop down. Going on the site had been a terrible idea. Let Christian do the computer stalking. Ethan would stick to ghosts. For once, the paranormal didn’t seem as threa
tening as the physical world.
He yawned, finally feeling sleepy. Whispering a good-night to David, Ethan kissed his boyfriend’s cheek and tried to make himself comfortable. He leaned the recliner back once more, so he could lean back and stretch out his legs. Next time - and he hoped to God David woke up before there was a next time - he would bring a blanket and pillow along. The steady beep of the monitors and the whoosh of the ventilator provided a macabre lullaby that soon lulled Ethan into sleep.
Something icy touched his arm.
Heart pounding, Ethan bolted awake. “David?” But David was still adrift in his coma.
Ethan sucked in a breath to steady himself. It must have been a nightmare. Then a draft of freezing air blew past his cheek. Had the window been left open? As he turned to check, Ethan saw the shadow looming in the corner of the room.
He stifled a scream and scrambled to his feet, nearly landing on his face as he struggled out of the chair. “What are you?” he demanded.
Some call me the dark angel. Others see me as reaper or even as a ferryman.
Immediately, Ethan’s thoughts went to David. “Don’t hurt him!” Ethan begged. His voice trembled. “Stay away!”
The thing shifted, growing both larger and darker. Its form seeped across the floor, and painted the ceiling black, like it was trying to envelop the room. Ethan planted himself between the thing and David. If it wanted his boyfriend, it would have to get past him first.
A dry, scratchy noise, like the scrape of dead leaves against a headstone, came from the creature. There was a pause, then the sound came again, more insistent. When Ethan recognized his name, he gasped in horror. “Go away!” he demanded. He prayed that someone would enter the room and break the spell, but the hallway seemed miles distant. Even the sounds of the monitor and ventilator were muted.
You have great potential, the shadow said. I can use someone like you.
“Forget it!” Desperate, he looked around for a weapon - anything that might drive this thing away. Unfortunately, he came up short.
Are you sure? I will give you the power to spare him if you make me one promise.
Sensing a trap, Ethan grabbed David’s hand for support. Bad move. David’s hand was limp and cold, as if he was already dead.
One promise.
Ethan’s throat was so dry that it hurt to swallow. “Leave us alone.” His voice was hardly louder than a whisper.
Do you love him?
“What do you know about love?” Ethan asked. He clutched David’s clammy hand tightly, placing himself between the dark thing and his boyfriend. “Go away.”
I can help you bring him back from beyond, the shadow insisted. Gather souls for me, and I will release him.
“Did you do this to David?” Ethan demanded. “Did you push him off of that roof?”
The shadow said nothing.
“Well?”
My business is my own. Do you, or do you not agree?
Ethan squared his shoulders. “I said, go away!”
And your lover?
“He’ll get better on his own.”
A horrible, creaking sound came from the monster. It was laughing at him. No one can resist me! A spear of ice entered Ethan’s chest. He staggered backwards, certain his heart would freeze in place. Pain drove a spike from his core to his head. The world tilted, and he crashed into the monitor, tripping an alarm. You are now mine, the shadow said. You are my servant!
Moments later, a nurse rushed into the room. “What happened?” she asked.
Ethan, shaken, looked at the corner of the room where the monster had been hovering. The shadow, however, was gone.
Chapter Thirteen
Ethan was still wrestling with his nighttime vision when Cara came into the room bearing a cup of coffee and a bagel. Morning light was just beginning to seep through the clouds, turning the room from black to soft gray. Out in the hallway, things had become busier.
Cara handed him the coffee and bagel. “How did it go last night?”
“Long,” he said, the most honest answer he could come up with. As much as he wanted to confess what had happened, he couldn’t put it into words. With morning on the rise, the terror he’d felt from the Angel of Death took on a dream-like quality. Although Ethan had proof that it hadn’t been a dream.
Cara nodded at the recliner. “I’ve spent the night in those chairs. There’s nothing worse.”
Almost nothing, he thought. If she only knew about his nighttime visitor.
Ethan took a long draught of coffee, not caring that it was hot enough to scald his tongue. Anything, even a seared mouth, was preferable to what he’d endured the night before. The bagel was fresh and coated in cream cheese. He wolfed it down while Cara made a perfunctory check of David’s condition.
“No better, no worse,” she concluded.
Ethan had hoped that David might suddenly rally overnight. The fact that nothing had changed made the noose of guilt around his neck tighten. I can help you bring him back from beyond, the Angel had promised. Ethan shoved the terrible memory away.
“Maybe the doctors will have better news,” Cara said, seeing his distress. “And Tessa said there’s a specialist flying in today.” She hugged him. “Have faith,” she whispered in his ear.
Faith? Was he supposed to trust the Angel of Death? Or himself? Ethan’s hand traveled to his chest to where his new tattoo lay hidden under his shirt. The moment the nurse had left David’s room the night before, Ethan had hurried into the bathroom to get sick. Afterward, when he’d been rinsing his face in the sink, he’d felt something on his chest. It was sensitive, but not quite painful, like a newly healed burn. Lifting his shirt, he’d discovered a red mark, just barely visible under the dark hairs there. A triangle balanced on its point, intersected by a line. Ethan had stared at it, horrified. The Angel had marked him. That’s what Ethan had felt when the icy spear had pierced his heart. It was a reminder of the visit.
Gather souls for me.
As much as Ethan loathed both the idea and the entity behind it, he had to wonder. Was this a legitimate deal? Could that thing really restore David to health? Maybe Ethan had dismissed it too hastily. Then again, how the hell was he supposed to gather souls? Should he hang about the oncology ward like a ghoul, just waiting for someone to die? He’d never be able to do it.
Tessa texted him. Mom and dad are on their way. Better scram.
Good idea. He needed a shower and a change of clothes. He reached for his laptop which was balanced on the wheeled tray by David’s bed. After the Angel’s visit, he’d spent the rest of the night playing around with the sketch artist software Christian had shown him, trying to refine the picture of the Reaper.
Cara put a hand on his shoulder. “I’d better get to work.” Suddenly, she frowned. “Why is Denise’s face on your computer?”
“You know her?” Ethan could hardly believe his luck.
“She worked in oncology back when I started there.” Cara’s mouth drew down in disapproval. “She left not long after.”
“Tell me about her,” Ethan said.
Cara hesitated. “You know I hate gossip.”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” he insisted.
She glanced at the doorway, as if worried about being overheard. “The hospital kept it quiet, but everyone on the floor knew. Or at least suspected.”
“What?”
“A lot of patients on that floor die. That’s just how things are. But when Denise worked, the death rate went up. Significantly.”
Ethan’s eyebrows shot up. “She was killing her patients?”
“That’s the thing,” Cara said. She nervously tugged on her ponytail. “No one could ever prove it. A lot of the deaths happened when other people were in the room with her, so it wasn’t as if she was alone doing this. But I swear, every time she was with a patient, the patient died. People started calling her the Grim Reaper.”
“What do you think?”
Cara bit her lip as sh
e continued to tug on her hair. “Like I said, there was no proof, but we all had a bad feeling about her. She was a cold, distant person, and honestly, it was a relief when she was let go.”
Ethan struggled to put the pieces together. The woman with the hardened eyes of a killer. The same one who had reassured Sophie that she was a nurse. The one Sophie feared. Could this woman really be the Reaper that he and Christian were looking for?
“What’s her name?” Ethan asked.
“Denise Larson. Why?”
“I’ll tell you later. I promise.” Ethan shoved his laptop into his book bag, kissed David, and hurried out of the room. He couldn’t wait to tell Christian what he’d discovered.
As he waited for the elevator, a cluster of nurses charged up the hallway, steering a gurney with a teenager on it. “Hold that!” one of the nurses cried when the elevator’s doors opened.
Ethan immediately stuck his hand between the doors to keep them open. The team hurried past him and into the elevator. “She’s going into arrest,” someone cried.
Ethan stepped back to give them room, and as he did, the mark on his chest tingled. To his amazement, a thread of pure, white light pulsed upwards from the patient’s body.
A doctor wearing a lab coat ran up to the gurney and began giving orders. Ethan, as unnoticeable as a ghost, watched in horror as the monitor flat-lined. The white thread of light thickened, becoming a sphere which hovered above the patient’s chest. The soul. It had to be.
For several minutes, the staff continued their attempts to revive their patient. Eventually, the doctor shook his head. “I’m calling it.”
The girl was dead. Ethan could see it clearly. The Angel had told him to collect souls. Was this what it meant? Enthralled, Ethan reached out to touch the pulsing, white light. But before his fingers could brush it, the staff pushed the gurney the rest of the way into the elevator. He nearly chased after them. It would have been nothing for Ethan to close his hand around that soul.
Yet, he couldn’t make himself do it. That pulsing thread was life, and he had no business touching it. Let that shadow do its own dirty work; Ethan wouldn’t do it. David would get better on his own. There was no other possibility.
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