“I can’t!” he said, horrified. He sprang off the couch. What had he just done?! David was lying in a hospital bed, and Ethan had betrayed him. What a fool he was!
Christian stood uncertainly, wringing his hands. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t…just don’t,” Ethan said. He grabbed his keys and was out of the door before Christian could say another word.
Chapter Eighteen
Dejected and confused, Ethan returned to his bleak apartment. He needed relief from all of his woes, and he knew right where to turn: his guitar.
After tuning it, he played a few random chords then launched into a song that he’d written when David had broken up with him all those years ago. He riffed on the melody he’d written, bringing forth something harsher. His emotions were raw, and the jagged music scoured his soul. Grief, shame, anger - all of it spilled out with minor chords and syncopated rhythms. It was nothing like he’d ever played before.
A guitar string snapped. Ethan blinked, coming out of his trance. Standing before him was the Angel.
Ethan had never dared to look at it directly before. It had always been too painful. Now, as he regarded it warily, he realized that it had a nearly human shape. Its shoulders were squared, and its legs solidly planted. Ethan couldn’t bear to look into its eyes, but he took in the strong chin and aquiline nose. It was a godlike thing, molded out of darkness and despair.
After a lengthy silence, Ethan worked up the courage to address it. “I can’t do what you’re asking me to.” His voice quavered.
Then you aren’t desperate enough, came the reply.
That couldn’t be true. The thought of David hooked to machines haunted every waking thought, and the memory of David’s seizure still sucked the air from his lungs. “I won’t do it.” Ethan swallowed and dug deep for the courage to add authority to his voice. “Leave me alone!”
His phone buzzed with a text. Answer that, the shadow ordered.
Fear put a lump in Ethan’s throat. Keeping his eyes on the shadow, he dug his phone out of his pocket. Then, quickly, he glanced at the message. It was from Tessa. David’s had another seizure. Ethan, I’m scared.
Ethan sucked in a quick breath. Is he okay now?
There may be brain damage, Tess wrote back. Too soon to tell. Pray for him.
The garrote of worry around Ethan’s neck drew tighter. He lowered the phone and looked at the shadow. “If you rescue him from this, will he be the same as he was before?”
The thing’s lips drew back in a horrible smile, revealing black teeth. You have my word.
“Then show me how to do it.”
Ethan hunched against a brick wall outside of a convenience store, the collar of his jacket pulled up against the cold. The shadow had led him there, but hadn’t offered any further instructions. He’d been waiting nearly twenty minutes for something to happen and worried that he’d somehow missed his cue. Several people had entered and exited in the time he’d been there, but all of them looked hale and healthy, if a little rough around the edges.
Ten more minutes and he’d call it quits. He was already getting looks from the young clerk behind the counter. It was nearly midnight and, to the clerk anyway, Ethan probably looked sketchy as hell.
A young woman wearing only jeans and a short-sleeved, blue polo shirt despite the cold weather walked into the store. He offered his best non-threatening smile, but she still eyed him warily as she passed by. He watched through the window as she perused the store, picking out an apple from the basket by the cash register, and a diet Pepsi from the cooler along the wall.
Bored, Ethan glanced at his watch. It was midnight on the dot, and he was ready to leave. Either something had gone wrong, or the Angel of Death had played him. Either way, he couldn’t wait around all night. He’d grab coffee from the store then go back to the hospital to sit with David. Cara would be long gone, as would her threat to have him escorted out of the hospital.
The warmth of the store was a relief after the cold, night air. Ethan picked the largest sized to-go cup from the dispenser and filled it to the brim with the house blend coffee, which he suspected was only Maxwell House. Next, he went to the candy aisle for a Snicker’s bar. Dinner had been hours ago, and he was starving.
An aisle over, a display of potato chips suddenly crashed to the ground. When Ethan hurried over to inspect it, he saw the young woman sprawled on the floor, the half-bitten apple still in her hand. Her face was a horrible shade of blue.
“Help!” Ethan called to the clerk. “Call 9-1-1!”
She must have choked on a bite of apple. Ethan dropped his coffee and tried to drag her to her feet. He knew the Heimlich maneuver, but had no idea what to do if the person was prone. The woman’s eyes were shut, and her limbs were already limp. Ethan hesitated. Was it possible for someone to pass out so quickly from asphyxiation, or was something else wrong with her?
The clerk hadn’t yet appeared, so Ethan shouted to him again. “Call for help!”
“This is a scam, isn’t it?” The clerk sounded furious. “You get me to come over there to help your friend, then you raid the cash register. I’ve heard about these kinds of things.”
“Make the call, you idiot!” Ethan yelled. “She needs help!” What the hell was he supposed to do? Was it check the airway then listen for a heartbeat? Should he give chest compressions? He hadn’t had a first aid class since he’d been a Boyscout back in fifth grade.
Something black flitted at the periphery of his vision. He didn’t have to look directly at it to know that the shadow had found him. Ethan groaned miserably. This was what he’d been waiting for. His big chance to steal a soul.
The woman lay limply on the floor, her feet tucked under her butt. If not for the blue face, she could have been sleeping. Ethan once again struggled to drag her upright. When she was in a sitting position, he grabbed her around the waist and put his fist against her sternum. With all his might, he thrust inward and upward, praying that it would clear the blockage. He was rewarded with a sudden whoosh of air from her lips, but nothing else happened. She was still unconscious.
No, more than unconscious. The white thread of her soul was rising from her chest. She was moments from death.
The shadow appeared, a flicker of darkness against the bright fluorescent light of the overhead fixtures. Take her, or I will, the Angel told him. The soul brightened even more as the shadow reached for it. Ethan made a grab and closed his hand around it.
Touching the soul released a tide of energy that flew from the woman’s body into him. He was thrown backwards into the toppled display of chips and lay on his back, unable to move, as his senses ran wild. His mind nearly exploded with power as every neuron seemed to fire at once. Colors grew so bright, he couldn’t bear to look at them. The blips of tone coming from the cashier’s cell phone were like a symphony. Even the smell of his spilled coffee was redolent with earth scents. Ethan could almost picture the grove where the beans had been harvested. It was the pinnacle of experience, both intellectual enlightenment and physical orgasm in equal parts. He gasped with the shock of it, catching a glimpse of what drove the Reaper to commit her heinous acts.
After a few moments, reality snapped back into place. The woman sagged in his arms as the last of her breath left her body. Ethan stared at her in horror as he considered what he had done. He looked for the shadow to reassure him, but it was gone.
Ethan raced to the hospital on wings of hope, expecting to find David sitting up in bed, joking with the nurses and eating a container of jello. When he got there, however, a wasted man he hardly recognized as his own boyfriend lay in bed, eyes closed. Tessa, teary-eyed, got up from her chair and flung her arms around Ethan. For a moment they shared a silent embrace before Ethan pulled away. He was sure that his disappointment would crush him.
“I thought he’d be better,” Ethan said miserably.
“The last seizure was horrible,” she said. “I was sure that it was the end.�
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Ethan took David’s hand. David’s nails needed clipping. A good shave was in order as well. These small details were terrible reminders of how long David had been in suspended animation. How much longer could it last?
“How about you?” Tessa asked. Her forehead furrowed. “You look terrible.”
Ethan shrugged. Collecting the young woman’s soul had burned through all of his energy. He felt like a shadow himself. Even standing up was a chore. Worse than this, however, was the knowledge of what he’d done. He’d stolen a soul. Murderer, his mind shouted.
Tessa wore a worried frown. “Ethan? You okay?”
Ethan’s eyes fixed on David. “What would you do to save him?”
“Anything,” she said without hesitation.
“Are you sure about that?”
Her eyes sharpened. “Why are you asking?”
“I did something tonight. Something I thought I’d never do. But I hoped it would bring him back.”
“Was it something to do with the otherworld?” She was no fool.
“It was.” He could still feel the wisp of the soul against his fingers.
“Did you hurt anyone?”
“No.” The young woman had been dead by the time he’d collected her soul. He’d been one step ahead of Death; that was all.
“There’s nothing stronger than love in this world,” she said. “You two love each other, and nothing should stand in the way of that. Whatever you did to keep him safe is a good thing.” Her eyes blazed. “If you can help him without hurting anyone else, then you need to do it. In fact, it would be a crime not to.”
Ethan sighed as some of the guilt slipped from his shoulders. She was right. He’d acted in good faith and hadn’t hurt anyone. In fact, he already knew he’d do the same thing all over again. All he needed was a second chance.
Chapter Nineteen
Ethan sat in the uncomfortable, hospital chair gazing at David’s inert form. Stealing the young woman’s soul was supposed to have brought David back, yet it hadn’t. Had he done something wrong, or had the Angel cheated him? The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He had done exactly as the Angel had said and had nothing to show for it but a guilty conscience. He wanted answers. No, he deserved answers, and he planned to get them no matter what it took. And since the Angel wasn’t reaching out to him, he’d have to get in contact with the Angel.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Mentally, he commanded Death to appear. Nothing happened. He wished for Christian’s back bag of tricks. Maybe a chalk circle would draw the Angel in. Or a sacrifice? He rubbed his hands, wondering if a drop of blood would be enough to call the Angel to him. Unfortunately, there was no way he could use black candles around David’s oxygen, nor was there anything sharp enough to draw blood.
Undeterred, he reached out further with his senses. He was sure that he could feel the Angel’s presence, hovering just out of reach. “C’mon,” he muttered under his breath. “Come and face me, you coward.” Still nothing answered. Only the beeps and whispers of the machines by David’s bed offered any sound.
Ethan dug into his book bag for his laptop. Maybe going onto the Final Cut website would convince the Angel to appear. After all, it had seemed to work for Sophie. When he opened the computer, however, it wouldn’t boot. The battery was drained. Cursing, he dug into his book bag for the charging cord. That’s when he discovered the magic 8 ball David had given him.
He took the toy out, and held it in the palm of both hands. Maybe all he needed to contact the other world was a tool. Something that could open the portal between worlds. But did he dare? Though he hadn’t sensed other ghosts in the hospital, he was sure the place was full of them. Trying to draw in the Angel of Death might make the other spirits appear. One look at David on the respirator, however, told Ethan that he had no choice.
Gathering his courage, Ethan asked, “Will David get better?” He shook the ball and glanced at the display. The answer was disappointing. Ask again later.
He tried again. “Will my boyfriend get out of his coma?”
Ask again later.
Three more attempts of the same question brought three identical responses from the 8 ball. If Ethan had doubted the 8 ball’s powers, he didn’t now. Five matching answers in a row were statistically improbable. Still, the 8 ball wasn’t helping to answer his question. Maybe if he asked in a different way…
He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Working with the 8 ball was making him very nervous. He wasn’t sure how many more times he could use it without drawing unwanted spirits. He had to be careful.
He took a deep breath to slow his rapid heart rate. “Angel of Death, will you visit me?”
No.
Ethan ground his teeth in frustration. “You said all I needed to do was collect souls! What am I doing wrong?” Then he remembered, he needed to ask only yes or no questions. Damn! He was never going to figure this out. “Do I need to collect more than one soul to help David?” he demanded. He shook the ball so vigorously that his arms ached. This time, the answer came back blank. Ethan frowned. He didn’t remember ever seeing a blank side of the blue triangle in the middle of the ball. He shook it again, once more getting the blank reply.
“I need to see you!” Ethan nearly shouted. “Talk to me! Tell me what I have to do to make my boyfriend better!”
He sensed other, curious eyes on him, but a glance around the room showed that he was alone. A deep, inner feeling cautioned him to put the 8 ball away, but he was too overwrought. He’d nearly killed the woman in the convenience store in order to satisfy the monstrous Angel of Death. Why did it avoid him now?
“Talk to me!”
We’re here.
Ethan had been staring at the 8 ball, but now his head jerked up. To his horror, David’s room was full of ghosts. Ethan could both see them and see through them, as if they were optical illusions. There was an old woman in a wheelchair and a child holding a stuffed rabbit. Two young men in hospital gowns hung at the back of the room. A woman holding a baby leaned over David, as if to see if he was among the living or the dead.
Ethan’s blood went cold. He’d never been among so many ghosts at one time. “Leave!” he ordered in a shaky voice.
You called us, the old woman said.
“I didn’t,” Ethan protested. “I was looking for the Angel of Death.”
No one calls the Angel. The ghosts spoke in unison, like a Greek chorus in a tragedy. It doesn’t obey mortals.
Ethan cursed himself for overreaching. He should have stopped earlier. The ghosts pressed closer, as if eager to lay their hands on him. They looked frightened and curious, like children, but Ethan knew better than to let his guard down. One deadly spirit was all it would take to harm David who lay helpless and unable to defend himself.
“You can all go back,” he assured them. He fought to keep his voice calm and reasonable, yet full of authority. David had always called that tone Ethan’s therapist voice. “Cross over,” he said. “You shouldn’t be here.”
To Ethan’s relief, one of the young men wearing a hospital gown slowly faded from view. The woman with the baby also grew fainter and fainter before melting away.
Gathering courage, Ethan addressed the others. “You are in the land of the living. You need to go to your home.” He could sense their uncertainty. They’d been haunting the hospital for who knew how long. Leaving it had to be frightening. “Cross over,” he told them again. “This is not for you.”
As the ghosts began to fade one by one, Ethan’s confidence grew. Maybe Christian was right. Maybe Ethan’s sixth sense was a gift and not a curse. After all, he was setting these ghosts free.
Soon, only the old woman in the wheelchair remained. She was parked in front of him, her wrinkled hands demurely folded in her lap. At one time, she’d probably been someone’s mother, maybe even grandmother.
Ethan smiled benevolently at her. “It’s your time,” he said. “You can go.”
She tilted her head, as i
f considering her options.
His limited experience with ghosts had taught him that all spirits wanted something from the living. Sometimes it was forgiveness. Sometimes, they had a message to pass along. All he needed to do was find out what this woman wanted, and set her free. One old lady couldn’t need that much. “I’m listening,” he told her. “Just tell me what you require.”
I want to live! With a cry of rage, the old woman launched herself out of her wheelchair and at David’s bed. She crawled on top of him, coming face to face.
“No!” Ethan cried. He dropped the 8 ball which bounced on the floor and rolled away. “Let him go!”
He’s mine. The old woman’s voice was dry and creaky, as if the gates of Hell were opening on un-oiled hinges. She put her hands around David’s neck.
While Ethan looked on in horror, a thread of pure, white light emerged from David’s chest. His soul! It was leaving David’s body! If Ethan didn’t stop the old woman, David’s spirit would cross over!
Ethan made a grab for the ghost, but there was nothing to hang onto. The old woman was pure phantasm. David’s body thrashed as the old woman’s ghost continued to invade him. Ethan spotted the crucifix above the bed and tore it from the wall. “Get out of here!” he demanded. He ripped the blanket away from David and yanked open his hospital gown so that he could press the crucifix to David’s chest. “Let him go, and go home!”
I’ve found my home. Her ethereal form melted into David’s, binding the two of them together. David sat up and blinked.
Stunned, Ethan drew back. “David?” He could hardly believe his eyes. “Is that really you?”
David grinned around the trach tube in his mouth. However, this wasn’t his easy-going, flirtation smile, but a deeply evil smirk. David made a horrible coughing/gagging noise as he yanked the trach tube from his throat. He tossed it aside. “I’m not David,” he growled. The voice was human, but Ethan recognized the malevolent tone of the old woman.
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