A Glimpse into Darkness: Prequel of The Immortal Sorrows series

by Sherri Wingler

  My ribs itched like mad, and so did a spot on the side of my head, just behind my ear. I supposed it was where I’d hit my head against the window. Itching was a sign of healing, right? It had to be a good thing. All in all, I really felt pretty good. Maybe even great, considering I was almost turned into road-kill.

  “Voila!” Gwen whipped her mirror out finally, but held it just out of my reach. “You sure you want to see this?”

  “Yeah, gimme.” I snagged the mirror and brought it up to my face. For just a second I wasn’t sure of what I was seeing. My face looked kind of like a patchwork quilt of bruises. I had perfectly formed purple rings around both eyes. The bridge of my nose was black. The lower lip was busted and swollen. “You’re right. I do look like shit.” I handed her mirror back to her with a sigh.

  “On the bright side, Iz, the purple really brings out the green in your eyes.” She smiled at her own joke.

  I snorted. “Cool. Remind me to get some new eye shadow to match it when I get out of here, and maybe some industrial-strength concealer.” I grabbed the cup of water the night nurse had left for me and took a sip. At least the nasty taste seemed to leave my mouth as the morning wore on. “I’m gonna guess I’m so sexy because of the air bag going off in my face. Did you happen to hear what happened to the other driver?”

  She looked down and started picking at what was left of her glittery pink nail polish. “I don’t think he made it,” she said quietly. “I heard he was texting when he hit you.” I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I thought of the guy’s family. Then I thought of my own. Death was too close that night. Gwen reached out and patted my hand lightly. “Are you ok?”

  “Yeah, I’m alright. Everything just seems kind of unreal right now.” I shifted in my bed, testing to see how far I could move without hurting myself. Things weren’t hurting much at all, for some reason. I used the bed controls to raise the head of my bed up, then I wiggled my toes and realized my butt was almost numb. “Do you think the nurses would freak if I tried to get out of bed?”

  I really did want to get up, but I also wanted to change the subject. Someone had actually died in that wreck, and I just wasn’t ready to deal with it, yet.

  Gwen’s perfectly arched brows shot up toward her hairline. “Iz, do you think getting up is a good idea? You’ve been asleep for days. Seriously, the doctors didn’t seem to think you were gonna make it.”

  “All the more reason to get out of bed, don’t you think?”

  “Ok, but at least let me call the nurse so we don’t get in trouble.” She grabbed the call button and mashed it before I could stop her. “Besides, I wouldn’t even begin to know which tubes or wires to unplug to get you up, and out of bed.”

  The morning nurse came rushing in. She looked absolutely shocked to see me sitting up and awake. “Excuse me, but I’d like to get up now.”

  She nodded. “Alright, Miss Maitland, just let me check with your doctor first. We don’t want to get you up too soon.” She spun around and left before I had time to form a decent argument.

  It took almost an hour to get hold of the doctor and even longer to assure her I felt fine enough to get up. By the time everything was said and done, I was almost ready to give up, but I’m anything, if not persistent. My dad showed up right about the time I got the pins and needles worked out of my shaking legs. He’d been gone a little longer than the couple of hours he’d planned on, and I hoped he’d had a nap.

  I shuffled around the end of my bed, dragging my I.V. stand behind me. Gwen had solved the whole problem of my hiney hanging out of my hospital gown by asking for another gown. She draped it over me like a coat so I wouldn’t flash anyone in the hallway. I even had some of those cool hospital socks with the rubber grips on the soles. I was totally stylin’.

  “Isabel Maitland, what do you think you’re doing?” Dad set his coffee cup down on the rolling table which held my ice water. Uh oh, busted.

  “I think I’m tired of lounging around, so Gwen offered to walk me down the hallway.” Gwen stared at me hard. So I stretched the truth a little. She really didn’t offer to take me. It was more like she got drafted into taking me for a walk. Whatever works. I was ready to get up and move around. “The lady doc ok’d me getting up. I just can’t go very far. Around the nurse’s station and back, she said.” He just stared at me. “Did you get a nap, and something to eat? Did you feed Jazzy for me?”

  “I got a shower, which was better than a nap. Oh, and just so you know, I can tell when you’re trying to change the subject. I’m smart like that.” He put the bags he carried down on the floor, next to the chair. “I brought you some toothpaste and mouthwash, by the way, and some girly stuff. Some lotions and lip balm. Although I didn’t think you’d be in any shape to use them so quickly.” Girly stuff. I almost giggled. Going into my bathroom must have been horrible for him. He did not like dealing with girly stuff.

  “Thanks, Dad.” He gave me an awkward hug. My family wasn’t big on hugging to start with, and I was still hooked into a portable monitor so I had several tubes hanging off of me, which made it worse. I had just survived a pretty major wreck, though, so the ban on hugging was lifted temporarily. Dad was so happy to see me still alive, and more or less in one piece it might have been a good time to ask for a puppy, or a new car. I was pretty sure the only thing that survived on my old car was the license plate. Maybe not even that.

  “Are you sure you feel like doing this? Are you dizzy or anything?” He was not-so-subtly trying to steer me back toward my hospital bed.

  “I’m fine, really. Nothing hurts. The drugs here are top of the line. I highly recommend them.”

  Gwen wrapped her arm around me carefully and helped me get around my dad by guiding my monitor stand with her free hand. “Hey, Mr. Maitland. Um, the thing is, you know Izzy’s hard-headed, so I figure it’s better if we try this while we are both here to catch her if she falls. Otherwise she’s just gonna go ahead and do it anyway when we aren’t watching, and probably break an arm or a leg, to go along with all the other stuff that’s broken.” She kept running on, and my dad’s eyes started to glass over, but she accomplished what I couldn’t. He was going to give in and let me take a walk. If for no other reason than just to shut us both up. He made a shooing motion with one hand and turned away to unpack the things he’d brought.

  Sweet freedom! Ok, so it wasn’t really freedom. I was still dragging my monitor and taking tiny, little old lady steps, to keep from falling on my head, but I’d gotten out of the bed. “Thanks, Gwen. You saved me.” I grinned at her as we rounded the nurse’s station at a solid crawl. A turtle could have passed me, but I didn’t care. It was progress.

  “No problem. I would break you out of here, if I could.”

  “If only I…” I broke off, and quickly shut my mouth. I had the strangest feeling, like someone was watching me. Not just watching me, but studying me. I looked around behind me, suddenly paranoid.

  “What’s up, Iz? Did you step on your cord? Did I?”

  “No. I just got a weird feeling like someone was behind us, but there’s nothing back there but more patient rooms.”

  Gwen glanced over her shoulder. “Well, there’s a waiting room down the hall a little ways. Want to swing around and see what we can find to get into? If nothing else I bet they have soda machines and I would kill for a Mountain Dew, right now.”

  “Yeah, if you don’t mind. Unless you have something better to do, that is?”

  Gwen just laughed at me. “We are on fall break, Iz. If you weren’t out of commission we would be hanging out at my house. Or stalking that cutie pie who sits in front of me in English class. As you are not available for any of the above, my social calendar is totally empty. Besides, you’d come stay with me if I were in the hospital.”

  I grinned at her. “Can’t argue with your logic. Lead the way.”

  By the time we made it to the waiting area, I was a little tired, and felt like an idiot for being paranoid. We found vending m
achines for Gwen’s caffeine fix, and a couple of women sound asleep on the not-quite-comfortable sofas the hospital provided.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Gwen popped the top on her can of soda and took a long swig. “Oh, my lord, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” She sounded all breathless, like she’d just discovered love for the first time.

  I rolled my eyes. I wondered if Mountain Dew counted as the “clear liquids” the doctor prescribed. My mouth watered and I swear I was almost ready to mug my best friend for her soda. I turned away while she finished the can. I just couldn’t watch. I still had green Jell-O to look forward to.

  “Nope.” I turned back toward the doorway. “I must have hit my head harder than I thought. I’m imagining things.” That’s when I smelled it, the spicy scent which reminded me of leather and spices. Unless I’d dreamt it, I had smelled that scent the night of my wreck, and again when I’d woken up last night. “Wait, do you smell that?”

  “What?” She looked at me expectantly.

  “That. That smell. Like leather, almost.”

  Gwen took a delicate, experimental sniff. “I smell large amounts of Lysol and alcohol…maybe a little vanilla air freshener? Oh, and just the subtlest hint of sick people.”

  “You’re a smart ass.” Once I smelled it, I couldn’t smell anything else. The scent was everywhere. I turned in every direction, as I tried to locate the source. “What the crap? I smell it, I swear I do.”

  “Chill out, Iz. I believe you. It may just be part of the head injury, though. I’ve heard of people hitting their heads and smelling weird stuff for a while, afterwards. Or even seeing colors wrong, or halos around things. You did hit your head really hard. Thank goodness it’s so hard, or you might not be here, now.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said, distracted, “but this scent is strong. It smells like a guy’s cologne, almost. The really expensive kind. Not like grandpa’s Old Spice. Are you sure you can’t smell it?”

  She gave me a worried look. All traces of her usual sarcasm were gone. “I don’t smell it. Maybe you should tell your doctor about it later, though?”

  “Yeah, maybe I should.” I shrugged. “I guess it could be worse. At least it’s a good smell I have stuck up my nose and not road kill, or skunk.”

  2 ASHER

  Isabel. The girl drew me back to her. It must have been the blood. It sang to me, even haunted me. I found no peace until I returned to her. So I found her in the hospital. I stole into her room like a thief in the night. Her body was badly beaten. Bones were broken and organs were damaged. She endured great pain, and still, her soul was as bright and untarnished as a new penny. She was a temptation and a distraction. One I could ill afford.

  I watched her sleeping for a long time. She slept fitfully, moaning occasionally from her many cuts and bruises. I had made a mistake. I should never have interfered with this girl. Letting her live went against every law of the known universe. Time and Fate decide such things. Death just carries out the sentence they hand down.

  I found myself beside her bed, ready to stop her heart, and correct my mistake. My fingers hovered just above her chest. It was a simple matter of exerting my Will. My hand clenched and unclenched into a fist. I could not seem to force my Will to do my bidding. How strange.

  She looked so small and pitiful in her hospital bed, too weak to recover on her own. Large bruises covered much of the creamy skin beneath her eyes. Foolish old monster that I am, I found myself wishing she would open her eyes and see me. Really see me, and not shy away in fear. Her eyes, I remembered, were green. The clear green of the finest emeralds.

  Isabel twitched in her dreaming and whimpered in her sleep. Something uncurled inside me and sighed. I could not do it. I could not take her life. What is one life in the big scheme of things? It is nothing. Who, really, would I offend in letting her live? Fate and Time had overlooked this girl. It had not been her time to pass. I would harm no one in letting her live.

  There is an old saying, about the road to Hell being paved with good intentions. I cannot say, in all honesty, if my intentions were truly good. My intentions were purely selfish, perhaps, but I came to a decision as I watched her sleeping. Something inside of me wanted this girl to live.

  She would need to be strengthened, if she were to recover fully. Her injuries were too many, and too great. Just a few more drops of my blood would help her heal enough to get out of this wretched hospital.

  A quick glance about the room revealed nothing sharp. No matter. A tiny surge of Will and the nails on my right hand grew into razor sharp claws. A cheap party trick, but it comes in handy every so often. I dragged the nail of my forefinger across the palm of my left hand and watched blood well up in the wound, thick and dark. I tipped the blood into her sleeping mouth as the wound healed and my nails went back to their normal shape.

  Isabel scrunched her face up and moved away from my hand at the taste of blood. I stroked her cheek, and her mouth opened. She took more of my blood. The binding was strengthened, and my sin was compounded.

  I stayed close to her for a few days after that, just to make sure the binding would last, and that she would heal properly. I could not have her wrecking my handiwork, could I? Of course, that was the lie I told myself at the time.

  I discovered that the girl could sense me. How interesting. She had felt me watching her while she and her friend took their little stroll down the hallway. Her senses were expanding exponentially. It was a surprising turn of events all the way around, and I do not surprise easily. Still, I was not displeased with her progress.

  I noticed other changes in her, as well. The healing process was accelerated greatly by the power in my blood. The ruptured organ was already nearly whole, and her bones knit back together in a matter of days, instead of months. My blood was changing her into something other than entirely human. Hmmm…there might be Hell to pay for that.

  “Keeping an eye on your pet human, Asher?” I didn’t jump as he had hoped. As I said, I don’t surprise easily.

  “Hello, Samael. What brings you here?”

  He grinned. Sharp white teeth flashed in an otherwise handsome face. “You do, of course. I came to see what you’ve been up to.” He nodded toward the hospital room Isabel and her friend disappeared into. “She’s a bit young for you, don’t you think? A little scruffy, too. She looks like she’s been dragged down ten miles of bad road.”

  I tensed at the insinuation in his words. Was it anger? Possibly. I had not felt it for some time, but I did have the unmistakable urge to smash Samael’s head through the nearest wall. Repeatedly.

  “I find the girl interesting. Nothing more. Hers is an ancient soul. I rarely find those, these days.” I started walking down the crowded hallway. Samael, of course, followed me. Patients and nurses moved away from us. We were not invisible, exactly, but no one wants to look Death in the face. People tend to avert their eyes as we pass. Suddenly, they find the most interesting things to look at elsewhere. Occasionally someone will get a chill as we go by, but they could not describe us if their lives depended on it. It makes walking among humans most convenient.

  I glanced at Samael from the corner of my eye. He was on high alert, well aware that I do not normally interfere in the lives of mortals. “Surely you have something you could be doing, besides spying where you are not welcome?”

  Black eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. “Well I could take offense, but I’ve decided not to, Brother.”

  I sighed. Getting rid of him would be difficult. Every coin has two sides, you see, and Samael was the other side of mine. I am the Angel of Death. Samael is the Grim Reaper. Common mythology has it that we are one and the same creature. We most certainly are not. We are nothing alike.

  I outrank him on the food chain, even if we have much the same purpose. We harvest the souls ready to cross over. He is my second in command and below him are the lesser Reaper angels.

  Death has many faces, and we appear to everyone differently.
The elderly often see an old friend. To animals and children we are a warm embrace and a whisper of love from one breath to the next. For the darkest souls, however, we reflect back whatever fear they have poured into their victims. Sometimes it is enough to turn a grown man’s bowels to jelly. Samael excels at harvesting the darkest of souls. He has a flair for the dramatic and he enjoys his job to a degree one might call bloodthirsty. For all that, he was still my oldest friend and sometime rival. I trust him. I respect him. I just do not necessarily like him all of the time.

  He shifted out of existence a split second before I followed him to Isabel’s room. “I can see why you find her so irresistible, Brother.” There was no need to quiet him. He had slipped into that other space, between realities. No one could see or hear us there, which was just as well, as there was simply no shutting him up. “Hers is a great beauty. A few hundred years ago Lord Byron would have written epic pieces of poetry about her.” I glanced into the hospital room, almost afraid of what I might find.

  Isabel sat upon the edge of her bed while her friend attempted to wash that great mass of dark hair of hers. Apparently this was accomplished with what looked like a giant shower cap filled with the equivalent of a diaper loaded with something called “dry shampoo”. The cap was placed upon her head and after much massaging of the shower cap by her blonde friend, the hair was effectively cleansed. It may have been an efficient washing process, but it was by no means meant to leave the patient with any dignity. Whatsoever. The girl was a pitiful figure sitting there all small and bruised and dripping like a tiny, drowned rat.

  “She walks in beauty like the night…” Samael laughed so hard he had tears standing in those ink-black eyes of his. I had an overwhelming urge to stop his heart, if he had one.

  “Get out, Grim. Now.” I clamped a hand down on his shoulder and steered him away from the doorway, perhaps a little more forcefully than I had intended. “Leave the girl her privacy.”