The Dark In-Between

by Elizabeth Hrib

  He strikes toward Azrael, and the fire lashes out like a serpent.

  “He’s making fire. He’s making fire!” Evan cries, leaping the altar steps in a single jump and dashing down the center aisle. He grabs Casey and Liddy as he skids to a stop, knocking them both below a pew. “He’s gonna burn the whole place down!”

  Bits of fiery ash swirl around them like snow.

  “We have to help him,” Casey says.

  “I think he’s got it covered,” Evan shouts, covering his ears as the obsii screech. “Did you not see the fire?”

  Casey crawls along the pew, watching Red and Azrael spiral above. They twist so fast, they leave rings of smoke behind them.

  Red crashes into the wall, shattering a stained-glass window. He pushes off, colliding with Azrael and sending her crashing into the altar, snapping it in half.

  Before Azrael can recover, Red slams into her, using the force of his beating wings to keep her pinned.

  “Send her back, Casey!” he cries.

  Casey bounds to her feet and she dives forward with the dagger, carving a circle around the entire altar.

  “Red!” she calls as she gets closer to the end of the circle.

  “Don’t forget to seal it!”

  “But—”

  “Close it!”

  But … he’ll go, too. He’ll disappear with Azrael, alone in Limbo. Alone with who knows how many of those terrible shadow creatures.

  “Casey, close it!” he cries.

  She does, just as Evan comes running, knocking her out of Azrael’s reach.

  Both Red and Azrael vanish. Around them the church grows still. Even the roof stops trembling.

  Casey falls to the floor. “Red?” she cries. “Red!”

  “Seal it,” Evan tells her urgently, lifting her hand until she gathers the strength to carve the symbol. When she’s done, he crouches beside her. “Is that it?” he asks. “Does he … Can he…?”

  “He can,” she rasps. “If he’s okay … I think. If Azrael didn’t—” She can’t bear to finish the thought.

  Evan sucks in a breath. “Aw hell, angel-boy.”

  A shadow suddenly explodes from the floor and Evan surges forward, roaring as he slashes Michael’s sword.

  It catches in the crux of twin daggers.

  Red stands there, looking windswept, but grins at Evan and they start to laugh.

  “Red!” Casey cries, throwing herself at him. She squeezes until her arms ache. Then she steps back to look at him. He’s roughed up, his clothes torn, with red, raised welts across his arms. And his wings are gone, hidden beneath his skin again.

  “It’s over,” he says.

  “About time.” Evan drops his sword. “This was no fun,” he huffs, taking slow, deep breaths. “Too much cardio.” He reaches for the floor and sits, collapsing onto his back. “No more of those things. Nope. I’m done.”

  “I am quite impressed with you.” Red sits beside him, a curious look on his face. He blinks like he’s seeing Evan again for the very first time. “Your skill is good … for a human.”

  “I played a lot of Little League as a kid. But, dude, you were on fire. Like literal fire. It was sort of badass.”

  “We make a good team,” Red agrees.

  Casey moves to help Liddy out from under the pew. She’s shaky and unsteady, weakened by Azrael crossing through her soul.

  “Just let me sit a second,” Liddy says.

  Casey squeezes her hands. “I’ll be right back.”

  Liddy nods, closes her eyes and rests her head on the seat in front of her.

  Evan and Red lay in front of the crushed remains of the altar, sprawled out like starfish, mumbling to each other and snickering. Still high off the adrenaline from the battle.

  Red sits up when she returns. “Is Liddy okay?”

  “Totally herself again.” Casey gestures to the pew where she sits.

  Evan gives her a thumbs-up from the floor. “I’m never moving again. Just drag me to the car.” He props his head up. “You’re a hot mess!”

  Casey laughs. “You should see yourself.”

  Evan wipes his hand over his face, which only serves to rub the shadow sludge into his skin. “Better?”

  She catches Red’s eye and they all share a smile—one of giddy relief.

  They startle when the statue of Malakhi starts to shift, rock falling from his features as quickly as it had appeared. Casey had almost forgotten that he was still here, immortalized in stone. Evan jumps to his feet, picking up the golden sword once more, and even Red keeps his distance as Malakhi springs from the rubble, landing on all fours.

  He shudders in the dust that floats around him, sucking in a sharp, noisy breath. Then he stands, shaking out his hair and brushing the dust from his shoulders. Malakhi casts an appraising look around at the scene of their battle before landing on the three of them, standing shoulder to shoulder, flushed with exhaustion. “I see Michael took care of things.”

  “Look, buddy,” Evan says. “You missed it while you were playing the freeze game over there, but all this badass destruction right here…” He gestures around the church at random with Michael’s sword. “Yeah, that was all me.”

  “You were gifted a divine weapon?” Malakhi says, his tone curious and awed. “By an archangel, nonetheless.”

  “Yeah, next time a heads-up would be nice. And maybe a bring-your-own-battle-garb note. I definitely would have preferred something lighter.” Evan sizes up the sword. “Maybe more compact.”

  “Speaking of battle gear,” Casey says. She tries to give the dagger back to Red, but he waves her hand away.

  “You’re not finished with that yet.”

  The four of them grow quiet, their attention settling on Liddy who sits patiently in the pew—waiting in a world she no longer belongs to.

  Time to set that right.

  “The way is clear,” Malakhi says to her as if reading her mind. “Michael will have made sure.”

  “I know,” Casey says, sensing as much in the calm that follows the battle.

  “Let me say goodbye?” Evan asks quickly, already backing away from them.

  “This is the right thing to do,” Red whispers to her as she watches Evan and Liddy hug. He’s almost a foot taller than she is, and he pulls her completely out of the pew and off her feet. “She won’t ever be truly happy here. Not anymore.”

  Casey nods once before leaving Red and Malakhi alone by the altar. She already knows it’s right. That doesn’t mean it’s easy.

  She doesn’t want to say goodbye to Liddy again.

  But she has to.

  Casey walks over to Liddy as Evan is pulling away. “Safe trip,” he tells her.

  Casey reaches for Liddy’s hand. “Are you ready?”

  Liddy glances between her and Evan, longing passing over her features, but she huffs, resigned. “Do I have a choice?” she says with a small smile.

  “Not really.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  TWENTY

  WHEN THEY STEP through the door to Limbo and onto warm sand, Casey recognizes the place instantly—the curved stretch of beach, the sun-bleached docks, the awnings that wrap around the boat rental shack. Even the blow-up floaties scattered across the sand are the same as that day.

  The harbor. The last place they’d been alive together and the one place that connects them more than anywhere else. Only now it looks less like a scene from a nightmare and more like they’re expecting a party.

  “It looks bigger without all the people, doesn’t it?” Liddy says.

  Casey swallows. “It’s … yeah, it’s bigger.”

  She doesn’t know what else to say, so instead, she turns around and seals the rock that marks the doorway into Limbo. The one she’ll return through alone.

  She turns and follows Liddy down to the edge of the water.

  Liddy inhales deeply, taking it all in. “I always loved it here. The parties were fun, but I liked it the most when we snuck away on school n
ights and watched the sunset. When we would build a little bonfire to keep the chill away.”

  Casey chuckles. “Evan would show off his astronomy skills. And we would freeze while he attempted to find the Big Dipper.”

  “Eventually we would nod like he had actually found it so we could sneak back before morning.” Liddy eyes her playfully. “I think he was always trying to impress you. And you were oblivious.”

  “I wasn’t oblivious,” she says.

  “Well, you sure took your sweet time catching on. Though, I guess the fact that you put up with all that was very telling.”

  Casey breathes in her own lungful of salt and sea breeze. “Do you still?” she asks.

  “Still what?”

  “Love it here?” She tries but fails to keep the pained expression from her face.

  Liddy might have caught it, but it does little to affect her brilliant smile. “I think so. We have a lot of good memories in this place.” She toes the sand, drawing swirls before the waves come to wash them away, running up over her feet.

  “And a couple bad ones,” Casey adds. The wind whips through her hair, brushing over her shoulders, but it’s infused with warmth. Any sign of the darkness is far away from here.

  “But are those really enough to erase all the good?”

  “I don’t know, Liddy.” Casey hugs herself, tucking her arms against her front. She looks across the water, to the island with the lighthouse where a hum of voices echo. “It’s a pretty bad memory.”

  Liddy picks up a stone and skips it into the water.

  “Come on,” Casey says. She gestures to the dock, where a single boat rests on the waves. The same one Liddy drove that night. “We have to take a ride.”

  Despite knowing it’s the right way, Casey hesitates on the dock, which makes Liddy giggle.

  “I’m already dead,” she says, forgoing her life jacket as she starts the boat. “It’s not like it can happen again.”

  “I know. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “Live a little,” Liddy says, echoing that day. She lifts the throttle as Casey settles into a seat, and the boat glides out into the harbor on gentle water.

  “Well.” Liddy claps her hands together. “Second time’s the charm I guess.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  With a cheeky grin, Liddy lifts her shoulder. She plops down on the padded blue leather seat next to Casey, letting the boat drift slowly, and together they watch the dock shrink. “You’ve got quite the gig going here, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah. Exactly the kind of summer employment I was after.”

  They break into a chorus of gentle laughter.

  Liddy tips her face up to the sun, seemingly enjoying the warmth. “It really makes sense when you think about it, this whole Limbo-walker thing.”

  Casey snorts. “Oh really? How so?”

  “You’ve always been good at helping people. You were the best kind of friend—good at listening, even for the things I didn’t know I was saying.” The corner of Liddy’s mouth turns up. “And … you understand loss.”

  Casey lets that settle for a moment. She’s never considered that before: the fact that she might actually be good at this sort of thing. But maybe Liddy is right, as she so often is. Maybe there’s an element of fate to this design. Still …

  “I’d rather not understand loss and get to stay with you.”

  “I am rather fabulous.” Liddy flips her hair over her shoulder and winks at her.

  “I’m serious.”

  “For the record, so was I, but I guess we don’t always get what we want. At least, not this time. I have a feeling there’s a greater plan at work.”

  “Oh, gosh, don’t feed me that fortune cookie garbage.”

  Liddy laughs, nudging Casey with her foot. “I’m serious about this, too. A few months ago we were hanging around school, worried about exams and what we were wearing to the harbor party.”

  “If I recall, it was mainly you worrying about clothing choices.”

  Liddy rolls her eyes. “My point is … well, doesn’t this feel bigger than all of that? Like all of a sudden, those things feel very small. Not exactly unimportant, but now there are other things that suddenly mean an awful lot to you.”

  Casey watches the water as it laps against the boat. They aren’t going very fast, and she reaches over the edge to run her hands along the waves. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” Liddy repeats.

  “Maybe I don’t want it to mean an awful lot.” She grimaces. “Maybe I want things back to the way they were.”

  She’s finally found Liddy—and made a mess of it, sure—but she knows she’d gladly suffer it all again if she could only go back to that day. Go back and never let them leave the beach. She knows moving backward is impossible, but the thought is still there.

  If only she could have one do-over. One chance to keep the surf from ripping them apart.

  “Don’t get stuck,” Liddy warns, bringing Casey out of her reverie. “The past isn’t a good place to dwell in.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because you’ll never go anywhere else. You’ll wait around in a place destined to always remain the same. If you get tangled up in all the maybes, you’ll miss out on all the things happening now. I’m going to be okay, wherever I end up. And so are you.”

  The boat makes a gentle arc around the harbor, heading toward the little island in the center. “How do you know?”

  “Because you crossed an entire plane of dead things to find me. And you fought a bunch of weird shadow-monsters to make sure I didn’t become one of them. If you haven’t built up some good karma by now—”

  They both laugh.

  “I am sorry, Liddy. That I lost you in Limbo. That I let you go that night.”

  “Stop,” Liddy says, biting her lip. She sighs heavily. “I have to tell you something.”

  Casey clutches her knees.

  “That night, in the water, you didn’t let me go.”

  “What?”

  “You didn’t let go, Casey. I … I pulled.”

  The truth in her eyes steals Casey’s breath.

  Liddy gives a little shrug. “I was caught by the current. It was dragging us both down and you had me so tight. So tight it hurt. That’s when I pulled away, so you wouldn’t be dragged down with me.”

  “But … I thought—”

  “You thought wrong, Casey. Always overthinking things, aren’t you?” She huffs teasingly. “I guess I wasn’t really ready to let you go in the end. Got myself lost, still looking for you. Dragging you into this awful place over and over again.”

  “I’m glad you did,” Casey says.

  “Well, recent events aside, I’m glad you came back for me.”

  The knot in Casey’s chest loosens and for the first time in months, it feels like there’s room to breathe.

  “So,” Liddy says, perking up, “stop thinking you didn’t save me. Because you did.” She catches her hand. “You found me.”

  Casey clenches her jaw to stop it from trembling.

  “And I may not be around as often now, but if I’m gonna be checking up on you all the time, I want something worth watching. So live your life. Go to college. Meet people. Fall in love … with Evan preferably. He’s good and kind and funny. And he’s got good hair, so he probably won’t go bald in his old age.”

  Casey sniffs but manages to roll her eyes.

  The boat bounces over some waves on the water and Liddy gets up to steer them to the little dock jutting out from the island. A symphony of voices swell around them.

  They both look up as the shadow of the old, abandoned lighthouse eclipses them.

  “This my stop?” Liddy asks quietly.

  “Yeah,” Casey sighs.

  Liddy throws herself at Casey, wrapping her in a hug that squeezes all the air from her lungs, but Casey doesn’t care, just hugs her back, just as tight, for just as long.

  “Be safe,” Liddy whispers.

  “Y
ou too. Be careful wherever you end up and don’t forget me.”

  “As if I ever could.” Liddy pulls away, turning to grin at the lighthouse that rises up between the rolling sand dunes. She pauses at the edge of the boat, one step away from forever. “And don’t forget. If you’re not living—”

  “You’re dying,” Casey finishes for her.

  “Right,” Liddy says. “Make sure you do enough living for us both.”

  Casey nods, her throat thick. “I will.”

  Liddy climbs over the side of the boat onto the large, flat rocks that surround the island and Casey watches her dash up the sand dunes barefoot. Liddy stops at the top to wave once before following the path toward the door.

  And when she finally pushes inside the lighthouse, the last of her long blond hair disappearing behind the door, there’s peace.

  TWENTY-ONE

  THE CHURCH IS quiet when she returns, and for once Casey manages to land on her feet instead of sprawling all over the floor. Carving the sealing mark into the ground feels like the last goodbye she can handle today.

  Gentle pillars of sunlight spill in, gathering in warm pools on the jewel-patterned carpet. The air is still around her, almost too still, like they haven’t just waged a war for Liddy’s soul.

  Afraid to disturb that lingering peace, Casey steps silently as she makes her way down the aisle toward Red, running her hands over the pews.

  Great claw marks are carved into the wood, and black smears splash across the walls where they battled the obsii. It settles like mold, or maybe even graffiti, each dent and crack passable as weather damage or rot. Definitely not some supernatural anomaly, nope.

  The town would probably condemn this place soon, tearing the whole building down on account of safety, oblivious to the war between good and evil, between angels and demons, that had been waged on this very spot. Oblivious to the fact that this spot still belongs to the light.

  A funny feeling fills her chest—sadness or acceptance, she can’t tell. Maybe that’s the crux of their burden: to forever be fighting a war that most people would never even know about.