The Dark In-Between

by Elizabeth Hrib

  When Red pulls his hand away, a crude line of pink skin has pulled the edges of the wound together again.

  “Flamin’ heck,” Evan whispers.

  “What the hell is going on here?” They all turn to see Karen standing frozen in the hallway, dressed in her pajamas.

  “Oh no,” Evan says. “We say ‘heck’ now.”

  “Excuse me?” Karen says.

  Red gets to his feet, towering over Casey.

  Karen’s eyes widen when she notices his wound. “What on earth happened?”

  “There was…” Casey glances at Red, then to the drops of blood staining the hardwood by their feet. She doesn’t know what to say.

  “Gabriel,” Red whispers, “with your guidance.” His eyes blur misty and white, as if clouds were crawling over the cool blue irises. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he says with a calm, firm confidence.

  There’s a passing sweep of something that makes Casey lightheaded. She turns away, her fingers in her ears.

  Beside her, Evan shakes his head like he has water trapped in his ear. “Raphael … Gabriel,” he mutters. “Is anyone else really tired all of a sudden?”

  “You should sleep,” Red insists, looking at Karen. “It’s late.”

  “I—Yes,” Karen mumbles, the words fuzzy. “It’s late.” She blinks owl-like at Casey. “See you in the morning.”

  “Night,” Casey says, puzzled. Her aunt clears the room, wandering away in a daze.

  “So … that’s not normal,” Evan says.

  “Will she be okay?” Casey asks Red. He nods once, an almost imperceptible thing. Really just a flinch of his jaw, but it relieves Casey greatly. “That was that veil thing again, wasn’t it?”

  “Is it dangerous?” Evan adds. “Am I like secondhand hypnotized or something?”

  Red shakes his head. “A veil is merely a sort of mental manipulation.”

  “I am hypnotized,” Evan says.

  “I only guided her toward a certain line of thinking. The more outrageous, the harder it is to sway the will of a person.” Red shrugs. “Your aunt was tired. It wasn’t much of a stretch. I just made her think that her exhaustion outweighed her curiosity.”

  “If you could do that this whole time, why didn’t you let me take you to the hospital?” Casey demands.

  “It takes energy to influence a veil. More people means more energy. And right now, I need to be using it for more important tasks.”

  “Like that patch job?” Evan says, gesturing to Red’s abdomen with his chin.

  “Among other things.”

  Red glances at Casey and she feels the question in his gaze. She could undo it all. With Red’s help, she could pull Evan back into a world of ignorant bliss.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Evan murmurs with his fists balled up at his sides. “You keep your twisty-eye nonsense to yourself.”

  “I wasn’t,” Casey says, pretending like the thought had never crossed her mind. “I promise.” She gestures down the hall. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

  She shuffles through the piles of clean clothes on the shelf in the laundry room. Some of them belong to Evan. They’ve been friends long enough that the laundry room has become a sort of lost-and-found for the things he leaves behind. Casey finds a long-sleeved shirt.

  “Here,” she says, tossing the shirt to Red when she returns to the room.

  “Hey, is that mine?” Evan says.

  She gives him a shrug. “I think I have socks in my room. You can’t go running around barefoot all the time.”

  “Are those mine, too?” Evan calls after her.

  “We can’t stay here,” Red says with urgency. He groans, but follows when she doesn’t respond, and Evan helps him up the stairs. They hover in the doorway while she looks through her sock drawer. “I’m compromised. Healing from this injury will monopolize my power. We need to be somewhere safer. More secure.”

  Evan squeezes past him and sits on Casey’s bed. “So, after the nice shadow things attacked us on the street, you want to go back out there in the dark and play hide-and-seek with them again?”

  “No, I want to be in a place with defenses beyond myself. I can’t protect this place right now, so it’s best we go somewhere else.”

  Casey finds a pair of navy socks and tosses them to Red. “Those things … the obsii or whatever. Are they in Limbo … where Liddy is?”

  “It’s possible. Yes.”

  “Are they as dangerous to her as they are to us?”

  “Yes.”

  Evan is still shaking his head. “You’re out of your mind if you think we’re going back out—”

  “Stop arguing,” Casey says, interrupting him. She grabs a duffel bag from under her bed and hands it to Evan. “Pack up. We’re going.”

  SIX

  “CHURCH?” EVAN SAYS as they pull down a narrow gravel drive. “A rickety, old run-down church. You know, I figured you had some weird, fortified, supernatural bunker in mind, but this is good, too. With all the broken windows, it’ll get good air circulation. Probably a few bats if we’re lucky. Maybe a raccoon.”

  “It’s not about the building,” Red says. “It’s about what’s inside.” He gets out of the truck and walks up the path to the church.

  Evan reaches for Casey’s hand across the cab. “You know, there’s still time. I can back us out of here and pretend like we never met this dude.”

  Casey laughs a little, savoring the feel of his hand on hers. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

  “No more than I am.”

  “I’m serious, Evan. This is…”

  “Wild. Insane. Impossible … etcetera.”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  The corner of his mouth flickers, like he isn’t sure whether to smile or not. “It is all those things, but it’s kind of comforting in a way.”

  “Yeah, I’m not following.”

  “I mean … I thought the craziest thing that I was ever going to experience was staring at one of my best friends in her casket, dead at seventeen.” He lifts his shoulder. “It’s kind of nice to know that it’s not.” His brows draw together tightly. “Does that make sense?”

  “In a weird kind of way,” she says, “yeah, it does.”

  “I think we’ve far surpassed weird tonight.”

  “And you’re not running for the hills yet?”

  “Well, I’m not running without you, so I guess that means you’re stuck with me.”

  Casey’s caught off guard by how sincere he is.

  “I already lost Liddy, and by the sounds of things, I almost lost you, too. So you can’t blame a guy for sticking close.”

  “Guess not,” she says quietly.

  “Just promise that we’ll be careful. We’ll look out for each other. Protect each other. And whatever happens, nobody falls for the angel.”

  He’s joking of course, about the angel part—or maybe he’s not—but the rest of it is said with an intensity that warms the air between them. Casey leans a bit closer. “I promise,” she says.

  “Good. Great.” He grins and thumps the steering wheel. “We should probably go … before we make him wait any longer.”

  * * *

  CASEY FOLLOWS EVAN up the path. Streetlights from the road highlight the exterior and she studies the design of the church. The gray stone walls rise up in matching geometric patterns to a tower that houses a bell. Some of the windows are boarded up. Others have been kicked in. There’s an entrance on the side of the building where the locks are broken. That’s where Red waits.

  As they enter the church, Casey takes in their new surroundings. It’s much darker than it is outside. Evan holds up his phone, using it as a flashlight; the only other light comes in through the broken windows. Red leads them beneath an arched doorway, decorated with sculpted filigree and spray paint.

  Wooden pews sit in three neat sections, rows extending all the way to the back of the building, with aisles between each. An upper balcony houses an old pipe organ. At th
e front, marble steps lead to a stone altar.

  Red crosses the front of the church and stops before a marble statue that rests in a decorated alcove. Its rounded features and sweeping white wings, each feather meticulously chiseled, are covered in a wispy cloak. It’s clearly an angel. One that makes Red nervous judging by the way he drums his hand against his thigh.

  There are other alcoves with other statues, but they’re all either shattered or scorched with marks that mean someone was playing with matches.

  Evan puts his hands on his hips. “Well, this is nice,” he says. “Cozy. Safe. Definitely secured against those shadow creatures. Might as well call it a four-star retreat.”

  “It’s the safest place in town,” Red says.

  “How do you figure?”

  Red circles the statue, running his hands along the marble. For a moment his eyes glaze, becoming a ghostly mirror, and a gust of wind slithers through the church. “This is Michael. One of four winged-protectors that reside on earth. They’ve been here for a long time, the first to come to the aid of humanity in the fight between good and evil.”

  “Archangels,” Casey says, recognizing the name from some old stories they studied in an ancient history class last year.

  “Yes,” Red says. “They are the strongest of our kind. Every legion of angels since has been trained in their likeness.” He drops his hand. “Michael is the warrior and protector. From him, we derive strength and the skill to strike down darkness. We’ll be safe here tonight.”

  Red crosses to the other side of the church. Evan chases after him. “Hey, hold up,” he says, gesturing to the statue. “You mean like … this guy here … he gives you power?”

  “The statue is only a placeholder. A way to access an archangel should we need it. But yes.” Red leads them toward another door and down a short stairwell. “The archangels are the original wielders of the divine gifts. Michael holds physical power. Raphael is the angel of healing.”

  “So you summoned an archangel into my dining room?” Casey says, fairly certain that Karen isn’t going to be overly happy about it.

  “Only the power,” Red explains. He stops at the bottom of the stairwell and turns into a basement room. There are half a dozen tables with assorted mismatched chairs. Red lights some candles with a matchbox that sits on an old, wooden podium.

  The orange flicker of light gives him an eerie quality. He glances over at Casey as if he can hear the frantic beat of her heart. After a moment, she breaks the spell by looking away.

  “Which ones are left?” she asks.

  “What?”

  “You said there were four. Who are the last two?”

  “Gabriel,” Red says. “The great messenger.”

  “What’s he good at? Emailing?” Evan’s grin falters when neither of them laugh. “Harsh,” he whispers.

  “From him we learned the ancient languages and tongues of the world. The veil. The old symbols that give us access to doorways.”

  “What doorways?” Evan says.

  “How else do you think we enter Limbo?”

  “So, we have Michael, Gabriel, Raphael—who’s the last?” Casey asks.

  “Uriel. The archangel closely associated with the elemental means of worldly creation: wind, water, fire, and earth. Of all the divine gifts, Uriel’s are the most complex and require a great amount of care to learn to control. It is patience that alludes even me at this point.”

  “Even more difficult than healing?”

  “Exceptionally more difficult.” Red looks up suddenly, his eyes tracking something above them. Something neither she nor Evan can see.

  Casey strains her ears for a noise. “I thought you said we were safe here?”

  Red’s expression is curious more than anything else. “We are,” he insists. “Stay here.” He leaves them alone, heading back upstairs.

  “Oh, well, that’s comforting,” Evan says. “Guess we’re spending the night.” He looks around glumly, but then he smiles. “This is marginally better than the bed-and-breakfast where the volleyball team was booked for our away games last year. The owner charged us extra for killing the spider in our room; apparently it was her pet.”

  “Well, glass half full and all that.” Casey watches him cross the room. “Where are you going? Red told us to stay right here!”

  “To poke around. Church basements have all sorts of donations and things. Maybe I’ll find an old board game or something.”

  “Don’t go too far,” Casey says, hugging her arms to her chest.

  “Why? Does it feel like the makings of a horror film yet?” He backs away slowly, whispering in an eerie, low-pitched voice. “A group of teens. Alone in an abandoned church. Middle of the night. No one around for miles!”

  “There’s a twenty-four-seven convenience store down the street,” she deadpans.

  “You’re no fun,” he grumbles, then winks. “In case I don’t make it back … would you miss me?”

  “To be decided,” she says. She knows he’s only teasing, that they’re both only teasing, but in light of everything that’s happened, the joke lands flat. Of course she’d miss him. He must hear it in the silence that follows, because he winces and walks away.

  He never actually leaves her sight line. Turns out the basement is really just one giant room with a lot of closets.

  “Found these.” He returns, unfurling a couple raggedy quilts and she watches a cloud of dust engulf him. “They’ve probably been holed away since we were born. But it beats sleeping on a pew.”

  He lays the quilts on the ground, doubled up for comfort.

  “I don’t know how much actual sleeping I’m going to do,” Casey says.

  “What are you talking about?” Evan flops down, stretching out and resting his arms behind his head like a pillow. “It’s just like summer camp. Pretend you’re looking up at the stars.” He loosens one hand to reach for hers, tugging until she lies down beside him.

  Evan tips his head toward her, cheeks twitching. “You know, seeing as there are dark creatures hanging around, we should probably stay close.” He shifts next to her, until she can feel the warmth of him against her, despite the layers of clothes. “Probably right next to each other, cuddled up like when we were little. Before we grew up and caught cooties.”

  “Playing the hero, are you?”

  “Heck no, you’re the Limbo-walker. I’m coming to you for protection. You can be my knight in shining armor.” He waggles his brows. “You know, buddy system. Safety in numbers and all that.”

  The candles flicker around them, flames reaching toward the ceiling. They cast orange shadows that twist and dance and sputter. The light bounces against the walls, highlighting gold-framed paintings of old stories with fiery light and winged angels with soft features. In others they are clad in brilliant armor, wings spread in defiance. And still there are more, angels painted in blues and blacks, with their wings ripped away as they’re cast down from great heights.

  Casey’s heart pounds in her chest and she lays her hand against her skin to contain the beat. Reality settles in her bones the way sleep does: slowly at first, then all at once.

  Red is an angel. Liddy’s soul is in trouble somewhere. And Casey—the girl she thought she was before—she died that night on the beach.

  Evan rolls onto his side. “What are you thinking?”

  “A lot of things,” she confesses.

  “Like what?”

  “I just … I wonder if Liddy’s scared? Being alone, wherever she is. I wonder if she knows I’m trying to find her…”

  Evan stares at her for a long moment until Casey realizes that he’s looking through her and not at her. “Do you remember that one summer when we were, I don’t know, about ten, maybe, and we went hiking in the woods behind my house?”

  “And we got lost,” Casey says, taking in a breath of memory. It surfaces like a reflection through glass, a little distorted at the edges, but preserved in crystal clarity. “I do remember that.”

&nb
sp; “But do you remember how I cried for like half an hour straight? Just sat there in the mud, bawling my eyes out. And it was Liddy who eventually dragged me to my feet and figured out how to get us out.”

  “We weren’t actually that lost,” Casey points out.

  “No, but what did we know at ten? We could have been halfway to the South Pole.” His fingertips touch the tops of her knuckles and the entire room starts to buzz. “Anyway, my point is that if anyone can figure out this Limbo place, it’s her.”

  Casey’s heart swells a bit, her entire chest tight, like there isn’t enough room for the feelings to escape. She rolls onto her back, trying to loosen the tension. She glances between the flickering shadows around them, the winged figures glowing brighter than before.

  Suddenly, thunder crashes overhead, rattling the candlesticks.

  Casey bolts upright.

  Evan rolls onto his stomach, hands braced against the floor, his eyes trained on the stairwell. “What the heck was that?”

  “Storm?” Casey offers pathetically, shifting until her back is to the wall.

  Evan hums his disagreement. “The sky was clear driving over.”

  Casey’s skin prickles. Her hair begins to float in front of her eyes, the way it does when someone rubs a balloon over their head, creating all sorts of static.

  Evan reaches out, tangling his fingers in the strands. “Weird.”

  Another roll of thunder crashes, and the entire church shudders. Casey’s hair falls limp and she scrambles up.

  Evan springs to his feet in front of her. “I was kidding about that horror movie thing.”

  “Let’s go find Red,” Casey suggests. They race up the stairs side by side, elbows knocking. At the top, Casey’s breathless, spinning wildly through the darkness until she spots a figure by the light of Evan’s phone.

  “Red!” she yells, racing down the center aisle toward him. Behind her, Evan’s heavy tread echoes, drowned out only by the pounding of rain against the roof. Rain?

  “Casey, watch out!” Evan cries, grabbing her elbow and yanking her back.

  Glass shatters near the roof, raining down in sparkling sheets. It clatters across the wooden pews as Casey covers her head. Above them a shadow sweeps across the upper level and a rustling wind blows through the organ pipes, sending eerie notes rattling around the church.