For most people, staring into a black hole is done with the knowledge or belief there is a light on the other side and all of the crap just drops away into the void of the universe. Maybe it gets recycled back for other souls on the planet to have to experience. Not for me though. That crap stays with me on the other side. I guess it’s the Cosmo’s big karmic eff-you for not playing the game the right way during life. It’s like an eternity of being in the penalty box. You sit there, wanting to be let out and go help the team, help humanity, but for a demon it’s too late. It’s an eternity of being benched and my ass can’t do anything about it. Until I could. Now I’m faced with the same circumstances. Knowing there is nothing on the other side but darkness with only a spark of hope seems impossible to achieve a positive outlook. The light for me comes before the darkness. The light is the realization of all of the things in life I could have had. All of the blessings, the good, and the beautiful and then when the light fades, I know it will be over and there will be despair.
I brace myself, cursing the inner sense of déjà vu. Too little, too late. I made my bed for the second time and I know I’m about to be lying in it. I’ve gotten comfortable there until the circumstances with Lowell pushed me to get uncomfortable. I tried to act. To not stand by and do nothing and another big issue with guns is occasionally they backfire. Will I be so lucky for a second chance this second time around? I doubt it. I wonder if Auntie J will be on the other side, waiting for me and giving me her best, “Child you’ve stepped in it again” look.
I inhale deeply, not needing to, but savoring the experience anyway. Hope is one thing I think is inherent in all of us, even when we are presented with odds so drastic, it can be argued we have no business having a sense of hope. But resignation is a different feeling all together. Choices were made. Convictions were upheld. Consequence is a notion inherent to both good and negative experiences and I’m ready to face the consequences of my second go-round. At least, I think I am. Until I see the flash of gunfire blast from the end of the black void and hear the shots of not one bullet being fired from the gun, but two.
20
I come to and thank my lucky stars the headache is finally gone. In its place though, is the sense something is seriously wrong. I groan and sit up, looking around the bar. The sense of foreboding doesn't lessen any, especially when I set my hand down in something warm and sticky. I pick it up, smelling the familiar rusty scent and see the crimson staining my hand. I blink in confusion and look around, just as I remember the gunfire. Two shots. One between the eyes, blasting away the headache. The other…
I fling myself on his chest and scream as I turn and see Lowell lying in the pool of blood.
"No! Lowell, wake up! Lowell, please!" I pound on his chest before I remember I'm supposed to be doing something in this case. Some human act to help save him. My fists hurt from beating his chest before I remember, and with shaking hands, I start CPR.
I hear shouts and look out the window in time to see Mr. Suit and Tie, along with his two brutes being intercepted by Damien and the rest of the crew. I'm assuming since he is standing there, he laid waste to Charles, and then don't spare the incubus another thought. I press my mouth to Lowell's and breath just as the pounding of footsteps come through the door and the gasps and cries come from Tora and Fae.
"Help me!" I shout at them both and Fae starts compressions as Tora sinks to the floor. The newbie has seen too much this past week. Her eyes glass over and I know it will be a while before she comes out of her shock. I continue the breaths as I hear the sirens in the distance finally, but looking in the dull honey-colored eyes of Lowell, I know it's too late.
Time slows and the sirens become faint and almost like a buzzing as Damien kneels beside Lowell's body. Leo and Tabby are frozen like clay figures running through the door and I see the bodies of the thugs outside the grimy windows where Dick and Doug are standing over them. Marty is crouched low and it's like the whole area has frozen in slow motion and I know it isn't Damien's particular talents, although this time he has been spared the deep sleep the master manipulator can inflict.
"He didn't deserve the mark.” I look around for Satan. He appears near the bar, setting a glass of scotch down. “Zeke was the one those thugs were supposed to kill. Please, you have to do something!" I beg, looking up at Satan.
Damien stares at his father, waiting to see if he will interfere with the events.
"I'm afraid there is nothing I can do.” Satan crouches, looking over his body.
Damien's hand is resting over Lowell's heart where the bullet entrance is slowly seeping blood.
"There has to be. It was a mistake, a cosmic screw-up. There has to be something you can do.” The mark we can all see on Lowell's chest slowly begins to fade. No, no, no!
I breathe into Lowell's mouth again, but it's in vain. I know he's gone as the last part of the light from his soul dims. I watch it as it leaves his body. It floats up like an orb and I wonder who will hold out their hand and collect it. Damien or Satan.
"Please.” I breath looking between them.
"They can't do anything, Catriona. But I can.”
My head whips around and through the tears I see Phil shrug his shoulders. He looks sad. Like a teenager who has seen too many horrors for such a young age. I frown. What can a fallen angel teenager possibly do to could fix this?
"Phil?" He walks over and crouches down nearus. He doesn't answer me, but instead, he looks at Lucifer.
"Take it. For what it's worth anyway. You can have it and make this right.” He points to Lowell and I'm still confused. Lucifer hesitates for a moment and then looks up like he's sending up some vibes to his own father, and then his face flickers as he reaches out to cup the area above Phil's heart.
"What are you doing? What's he doing?" I ask Damien who looks equally confused. I watch as a small, dim light appears under Satan's hand and it comes away with his fingers. Phil sags and breathes heavy, his eyes blink in and out of focus as he watches the small light disappear into Lowell's chest. It's so small, like the taper of a birthday candle, and just as I figure out what has happened, it disappears inside Lowell.
"No! Give it back to him.” I touch the back of Lucifer's hand and it scorches my own. I hiss and look at it. There's a red mark on my palm I'm pretty sure will be there permanently, but it doesn't matter now. The mark of the Devil.
I shake my hand and gape at Phil. I've heard of children, en masse and singularly being the most gracious beings on Heaven and Earth. What I have never witnessed is the grace being so readily given by one who has been subjected to Hell. And it’s what I am looking at. Phil's grace disappears inside Lowell and the bullet wound in his chest slowly begins to heal and, in another moment, Lowell's eyes blink open and he groans.
"Why?" I plead first with Satan, then with Lowell. He's just a kid. He had a chance to save himself. Redeem his soul where he had fallen, and I don't understand why he would so readily give it up for a stranger, a man with a shady brother and a rocky past.
"Did he never tell you why he fell from grace?" Lucifer brushes a tear away from my cheek as I try to catch Phil's eye. His fingers don't scald me this time, but they are still warmer than a human's hands.
"He fell from grace because he hacked the system and crashed the Wi-Fi for Heaven and Hell.”
"What? That was it? The only reason? Your father is punishing a kid who got bored one day and made a stupid mistake? What's the point of working so hard for redemption when something so trivial is the reason people are cast out of Heaven?" I feel the anger pulsing through me as Lowell tries to sit up. Damien pushes him back to the floor as Lucifer speaks again.
"Communication is key. It always has been to make the system run right. His tampering messed with it and set the motion for the apocalypse to get rolling. By sacrificing his grace just now so Lowell can be saved, he has redeemed himself and stalled the apocalypse, for now.”
"You put the weight of the world on the shoulders of a sixteen-ye
ar-old fallen angel?" Are the Cosmos full of sick jokes today or what?
"Haven't the humans already done just that with their reliance on the next generation? And yet they sit there chastising his very generation for not being emotionally mature enough to accept such a responsibility. What's the saying? These kids today.” The reasoning for the scales to be tipped then balanced is so trivial, it makes my heart ache. How am I supposed to win against odds like this? Life isn’t fair, but the judgment day when it ends is supposed to be. It’s what we learn anyway. I guess the lesson here is the fairness comes when we make it so.
I have a flash of another child who was taken too soon. A little girl holding a doll who was supposed to save the world with her innovative technology for energy. Would she and Phil have been friends in Heaven? No one will ever know now because, by some design flaw by divine providence, Phil doesn't get to rise up from this. He's made his stand and his time has come. Another youth taken too soon and even in death, he won't find peace save for the knowledge he has saved billions, at least for a time. It should be enough. But it isn't for me. What about Phil? What happens to this one soul now? Do kids slip through the cracks in the after-life like they do in the human realm? It's unfortunate, but just part of the way of things? I can't let that happen.
"If he stays in Hell, what happens to him?"
"I suppose by definition, his sacrifice has earned him privileges. He will be allowed some free reign.”
"Me. Let him ride with me and the girls. I'll look after him.” It doesn’t slip past me. Once again, I am on my knees, begging. But pride be damned. If I can be granted this, maybe as a new co-ruler, I can find the loophole on behalf of Phil.
I look at the melting feathers, which have begun to pool around Phil's feet. He’d been molting for a while now, but the second he made the decision to save Lowell, they fell at once to the floor. I gently touch one. I can't stand to look at his face. The feathers are symbolic of the loss of youth, the loss of life as an innocent. I don't need to see it etched on his face because I'd already seen it. I just didn't know what it was at the time.
"You will be responsible to ensure he doesn't get ahold of anything tech related again. The last thing I need is a bored teenager having the system for fun and starting another apocalypse.” Satan’s lips twitch and his eyes tell me he knew I would bargain for the kid. Why give me most of the pertinent details of the apocalypse, if the minor ones were going to be left out?
"He won't. I'll make sure of it.” Griping about my deal isn’t going to do any good now. I have to work with what I have, just as I should have done as a human with my less than stellar circumstances.
"Good.” Lucifer stands and glances around the room. “You’re going to need to clean the rest of the mess up, Catriona.” He gazes down at Lowell, who rises to his elbows.
He opens his mouth, but croaks, trying to ask the question I can't bring myself to ask.
"I suspect you will need a means by which to get there, seeing as you smashed the bumper of the McLaren.”
I cringe, but say nothing. I wonder how good his insurance is. He rubs the black and white stubble on his jaw, and walks to the door, looking out over the parking lot.
"I don't know where he is. I left him in the ditch to save Lowell,” I admit quietly. Lucifer is adamant the balance is maintained when it comes to the Underworld and the Heavenly realm. He's been denied a soul for Hell and I can only assume he's not at all impressed with the condition I left his car in. But it seems he's not above lending a helping hand, given the circumstances. I reach across and grab Phil's hand, needing to reassure him and myself, although he doesn't get to achieve redemption, it can come in many forms, including the reprieve from eternal torture. I don't know Phil's whole story. I wonder where his family and friends are. I wonder if they are ok and how he died. Did anyone grieve for him? The questions don't need to be asked for me to know it is important to tell him I won't let him sink alone into the abyss. I'll be the someone he needs to hold onto this existence, even as dismal as it seems.
I thought the soul I needed to be saving was Lowell's soul. The funny thing about Fate is it hardly ever lets you know when the curveball is coming. The whole proverb be kind to your neighbor extends to even the people who seem inconsequential. By saving a stranger, one kid has managed to give Damien and I a breather from having to save the world. The apocalypse is coming, there's no doubt about that. The uprising in the Underworld proved the system needs to change, but it's going to come from the inside and with more costs than I care to count right now.
“I can't go there.” Lucifer turns to Damien. Wherever the there is he is referring to, I have no idea.
"No, but I can.” A familiar voice comes from the back of the room and all heads turn toward it and are greeted with a brilliant white light.
Dante walks around the bar and once again I find a glass of something stronger than coffee being thrust into my hands. Drinking coffee with the Devil and swill with the scribe is something I never thought would happen to me in a million years and yet here I am. I take a drink and feel the burn down my throat. It's long overdue as I think about my last task at hand.
Lucifer raises his glass to Dante, who in turn salutes him, and then time reverts itself to human standards and the sirens draw closer.
As the paramedics pull in, the aftermath of the shoot out takes forever to sort.
“How are you standing right now?” The young paramedic with green eyes stare Lowell down.
He shrugs and looks out the window. “The blood’s not mine. There has been a mistake. I think one of the patrons was confused and scared and called it in wrong. The shooter missed me.”
“How?” The other paramedic, a woman in her thirties who looks less aggressive and keen takes in the sight of the blood and then Lowell’s shirt. The blood soaking it is going to be hard to explain.
“They hit my dog.”
The lie rolls easily off his lips and I lean back against the wall, feeling the grime of the day permeating my clothes and skin. There’s nothing that makes a girl want a long hot soak or a scalding shower to boil away the sins and stains of the soul. I might not need to take a shower being a demon and all, but I have some standards. Hell might smell like a taxidermist boiling the head of a carcass to bleach and mount a skull, but it doesn’t mean I should.
“Really? Where’s the dog?” The guy questions him again.
“Out back. Waiting to be buried whenever we are finished here. Clearly I’m not shot and not dead so I’m still wondering why you are here.” Lowell’s lies are coming smoother than honey. Not that I want him marring his soul I have fought so hard to save the last few days, but I jump on the bandwagon and move this show along. I’ve got shit to do, tracking Zeke and all.
I walk over to him and put my head against his chest, willing the waterworks to start.
“Honey, are we done here? I want to give Zekie a proper burial. He was my favorite good boy! My baby!” I think about Fiona as I wail into his chest. It’s the only thing really making me cry anymore. Unresolved issues and all. The female paramedic seems to take sympathy on the situation, although it’s clear she isn’t buying it. She doesn’t have the authority to do anything about it. The guy is clearly uncomfortable. He gives Lowell a sympathetic look like they’re bonding over the inability to offer consolement to a hysterical woman.
“Sorry, dude.” He says and picks up his equipment. Lowell plays along and pats my back, crooning at the top of my head.
“It’s cool.” To me, “It’s ok, baby. He’s not going to suffer now. We’ll take care of him. We’ll make sure we do him justice.” He pats my head and I grimace into his chest.
Maybe calling the make-believe dead dog after his brother wasn’t such a good idea. But it isn’t like his acting skills are on fleek and I’m ready for the externals to be wrapped up and sent on their merry medical way.
“Sorry for the misunderstanding,” Lowell says to them with a finality.
They nod and t
he lady picks up her equipment and walk to the door. As the guy pushes it open, I can see two other paramedics in the parking lot, loading stretchers into the ambulances. The woman turns back one more time.
“I’m sorry for your loss. I just find it strange the shooting happened half an hour ago and yet you’ve already cleaned up the dog toys, bowls, and dog bed? Most people wait a week or two before doing that.” Her eyes bore into mine and I slap my mental self so hard with a picture of Fiona in my mind’s eye it makes my breath catch and I start wailing anew. Letting myself feel the ache of missing her is enough to start the free flow of tears anew. Not that I want to spank my inner demons and wake them up, but really, lady? Give it a rest already.
“How am I supposed to walk past Zekie’s bed, Lowell? What does she want from us?” I sob into his shoulder and he pulls me closer. I can feel the tension in his body and can picture the glare he is giving the woman.
When the emergency personnel leaves with Zeke's former employers in the back of the ambulances, I turn to Dante.
"Where are we going?"
He smiles and holds out his arm. I lightly touch it and in a flash, I feel myself being whipped through time and space as I am transported through what can only be deemed as a Heavenly portal. When I open my eyes, I find myself standing on the banks of the Ogden River in Eden, Utah. Time slowed at the Sloshed Sloth with Satan in residence, but it hadn't for the rest of the world. I hear a crash inside the camp Gigi built and I hold up my hand to Damien, who apparently can come here, despite his mother and father not being permitted back in Eden.
Highway to Hell Page 25