“But she could...”
“It won’t happen,” he cut off my Mother sharply, and I cringed on her behalf. At least some of this must be my imagination. There was no way it couldn’t be. Right? My Mother wrung her hands together in a way I’d only ever really seen her do when she’d had a fight with Dad. Which was weird again. I didn’t remember her doing that at this meeting either.
“Please.”
If she wasn’t my Mother, I think I’d have been disgusted with her. She clearly didn’t think that her little girl was worth anything without the powers she should have. Wait, no, that little girl was me. I squashed the thoughts and feelings back down, not wanting to examine them any further than I had to. I hated facing how much my parents despised that I couldn’t be who they wanted me to be. With good reason too. They were so...judgy? If it didn’t fit into their neat little box then they didn’t like it. Sure, my Mother had become far better at dealing with me than when I was little. I loved my parents, and they loved me, but they weren’t accepting of some of my choices. Even when some of those choices hadn’t really been me making them.
“There could be one way, but it’ll hurt her.”
“Do it,” my Mother answered instantly, her voice losing the softer edge and gaining something a lot colder and more determined. I gulped. I’d never heard her talk like this. Ever.
I glanced over at Child-Me, who seemed to be doing nothing more than studying the tablecloth in front of her, tracing her fingers along the patterns every now and again. Why had I been so oblivious? How hadn’t I noticed these people wanted to talk about me, and my worth? My Mother had almost been my entire world as I’d grown up. Maybe all of that would have been lies. Maybe I actually had a younger sister, Tabatha, who liked to playing the piano and sewing. Weirder things had happened with my parents about.
“It could harm her. Or leave it so that she’s never able to do anything other than direct the dead.” This time, the headmaster did sound a little concerned, which had me worried. A lot worried.
“Do it,” my Mother repeated.
“Very well, but if this goes wrong...”
“You’re not to blame, I get it. We can draw up a contract that exonerates us both from any responsibility should the procedure go wrong. Though I don’t imagine that it will.”
“Perfect,” the headmaster said. “Now, we just need to take her to the real classroom.”
He smirked, and I backed away slowly. Even if knew it was just a memory, I could still feel, and right now, my emotions were going crazy. I nodded my head in agreement, though I knew he had no way of actually seeing me.
“I’m glad to hear that,” my Mother replied. She scraped her chair back just as the headteacher passed her chair. “Anima, come,” she said, and Child-Me ran to hold her hand, leaving Adult-Me to question far more than I ever had done before.
I did the only thing that I could, and slipped along behind the weird almost-family of three.
Seventeen
Was I really following them? As in physically putting one foot in front of the other? Or was this just some weird manifestation in my brain? It was difficult to tell, especially with the headmaster, and this whole memory being completely alien to me. I mean, I’d remember this, I thought? And yet, I didn’t. Not one part of it. My Mother was acting weird, and Child-Me just seemed to be going along with it, like this was completely the norm.
We turned a corner and into a long, white, clinical looking corridor. Again, something I would remember, but for some reason didn’t seem to be able to. What on this Earth was going on? This was ridiculous. Why was Hell showing me memories of my childhood that didn’t actually exist? It seemed bizarre, even for the standard of weirdness I’d been experiencing today.
“This is the one,” the headmaster said, his voice changing from a little toneless, to almost gleeful. Well that was never good. Why the fuck could I not remember any of this?! I clasped my head in my hands, almost tempted to whack it against the corridor’s walls to try and knock some sense in. Except that probably wasn’t a good idea given where I was right now.
“Okay.” Well, at least my Mother seemed nervous now. Child-Me on the other hand seemed as happy as could be. She skipped through the door, the long dark hair that we shared swinging along behind her back. My Mother made to follow, but the headmaster held out his arm to stop her.
“You can’t come in.”
“Why not?” She bit her lip and glanced after Child-Me with a concerned expression on her face. Took her long enough. I’d almost started to believe she didn’t care.
“It’s not safe for you in there,” the headmaster replied, his glee now very thinly veiled. Dread settled in the pit of my stomach. My Mother nodded, giving up the fight far more quickly than I’d have liked. Was she really that desperate for me to be able to reap? Tears prickled at the corner of my eyes. No one needed to know that they weren’t good enough for their parents. I thought my Mother had come around to my predicament, but maybe it was just the guilt that changed her outlook towards me. Well, it sucked to be Nim.
“Thank you,” she said, and I stared at her in shock. Part of me really wanting to go over and slap her. How dare she thank a man who clearly didn’t have anything good planned? Not that slapping her would do any good at all. Not only was this the past, and I was completely convinced it was a true representation of the past, but the three people, Child-Me included, didn’t seem to be able to see me, making me doubt very much they could feel me either.
The headmaster slipped into the room, leaving my Mother behind him, and I hurried forward, ensuring that I was in the other room too. If I had no recollection of these events the first time, then I wanted to know what happened this one. Though I needed to remember that Hell could still be warping it. Maybe all of this was just a dream? I snorted. Seemed unlikely.
“Hello, Nim. Why don’t you take a seat,” he said. Not in the same cold tone he’d been using. Instead, he sounded almost friendly. Which was equally disconcerting to be honest.
“Please don’t call me Nim.” Child-Me was surprisingly polite. I didn’t think I would’ve been in present day. And I’d never liked being called Nim. Unless it was Than saying it. Something about the way he formed it seemed intimate and affectionate. It was special between me and him. So, no one else could call me that. Ever.
“Very well, Anima. Please take a seat.” His politeness was sickening. It was so fake that I wanted to hurl. Or pull his tongue out. Or annihilate him into Oblivion. I frowned and glanced down at my arms, which weren’t actually glowing at the moment. Guess sending him into Oblivion was out then.
Child-Me hopped up onto what looked like a hospital bed, swinging her legs back and forth and humming to herself softly. I smiled. I’d forgotten I used to do that. I really was a happy child. I wasn’t sure when I became more jaded. Maybe around here somewhere? And yet, I still didn’t even have an inkling of what was going on. Well other than that it wasn’t a good thing. But that was just the vibe I was getting now.
“Hold still, Anima.” The headmaster prodded Child-Me, and she whimpered slightly. His tattoos started to swirl, and he placed a firm hand on Child-Me’s wrist, clamping down with what looked like more force than strictly needed. I lurched forward slightly, wanting to get pull his hand away. “I think this will be the last time Anima.”
“Last time for what?” Child-Me asked, her voice small and almost insignificant sounding.
“Removing your powers from you. I explained last time, don’t you remember?” he asked with an evil smile. Child-Me shook her head. “Good.”
His tattoos danced along his arms, and the whimpers from Child-Me increased. “No, stop,” I half-shouted, but nothing happened. No surprises there. I was as useless as a chocolate sun hat. What did surprise me, was the soft glow coming from Child-Me’s arms. Almost like what had been happening to me since I’d arrived in Hell. Creeping forward, then questioning why I’d bothered, I took a closer look. There, on Child-Me’s arms, were the
same swirling patterns I had, with the same soft yellow glow and movement as my own had.
Wait...did this mean I was a normal Reaper? Or had been at one point? Could all Reapers do the Oblivion thing or was it just a symptom of what the headmaster seemed to be doing to me.
“Why?” Child-Me whimpered.
“I want more power, you’re just a child. You don’t need it.” He shrugged as if he didn’t see there was anything wrong with what he was doing. I stared at him, flabbergasted that he thought stealing anything from a child was acceptable. If he’d gotten this wrong, then he could have accidentally stolen my soul. Where would I be then? Other than dead? Which was an interesting thought. Would the Oblivion work on other Reapers too?
“Will it grow back?” I could tell from Child-Me’s voice she was close to tears, but fighting them. I didn’t blame her. I couldn’t imagine that having her powers stripped was fun. Wait, not her powers. My powers. Could I get them back? How could I even go about that? To confront the headmaster, I’d have to have proof to take before the other Reapers, and I was pretty sure that would be impossible to find.
“I don’t know,” he said with a frown. “But I’m excited to find out.” He fell silent, and we all watched as his tattoos slowed in their movements and ground to a halt.
“Is it done now?” Child-Me asked softly, sounding drained and in pain. My heart went out to her, no not her, me. Damn this was confusing. But I longed to take her in my arms and comfort her. Tell her it was all okay and would work out fine. Talk about a paradox. That was enough to mess with anyone’s head, never mind one like mine that’d spent the past few hours being messed with.
Hours? Was it really only hours? Felt more like years. It’d been a truly draining experience, that was for sure. The moment I got Than back to Earth, I was going to find a vacant hotel room and lock the two of us in there, and all we’d do was sleep. Okay, not all we’d do. I imagine that, so long as he’s not injured, we’d have a lot of sex. But basically, sex, food and sleep, is all we’d do until the two of us were ready to face the world again.
“Yes, done now, Anima.” The headmaster’s words cut through my fantasies, and it took me a moment to realise what he was on about. But when I did, dread settled within me. That wasn’t good at all.
“And now you make me forget?” Child-Me asked. Wait, what? Make me forget?
“Yes.” The man held something up in front of Child-Me’s eyes. It almost looked like the little stick things they had in this movie I saw one time. It was about aliens, but I wasn’t too sure. But anyway, he held it in front of Child-Me, and her eyes glazed over, becoming unfocused and dull, like the world didn’t exist at all to her.
“Hello? Where am I?” she asked in child-like wonder when she came back to. The man smiled, but this time it was softer, more like you’d expect someone in a position of power to interact with a child. The bastard, hiding his true nature. If he hadn’t just made Child-Me forget, then I was sure I’d have repressed this memory anyway. No one would want to remember this. It was a violation unlike any I’d ever heard or seen of before.
“Hi, Anima is it?” Child-Me nodded. Adult-Me felt like she was going to be sick. It was that nauseating to watch. “You banged your head, we had to let you rest, but it’s all better now.”
“But I don’t feel like I hurt my head?” Child-Me asked, lifting her hand and touching around the base of her skull. Smart girl. Which was when it hit me. I did remember this. Or at least, I remember waking up and being told I had a head injury. It was the rest that didn’t seem to exist in my head.
“I know, that’s the worst bit about head injuries. Sometimes you just don’t realise that you’ve had them.” He smiled again, and while Child-Me clearly had no clue, Adult-Me did. That was a smile that said he’d gotten exactly what he wanted. “It’s a good job your Mother brought you to us.”
Sick. I was actually going to be sick. Could you be sick when you were living in your own memory? That was a philosophical question that was probably best saved for another time. Aka one where I hadn’t just received news that shattered my entire world.
“Oh okay.”
Wow. Was I really that naive? That trusting? That accepting that things had happened exactly as he’d said? But then, I had no reason at all to suspect otherwise. If he’d erased all the suspicious bits, there was nothing that would make me question anything. Especially given how young I’d been.
Child-Me hopped off the table and sauntered towards the door without a care in the world. Poor, innocent, ignorant fool. Just like I’d been until Hell had opened my eyes just now. Oh wow. That was the last thing I expected to actually be saying. Hell opened my eyes. It also nearly killed me a couple of times, and I wasn’t even done here yet, but it also sort of did me a favour. That was more than a little worrying I would admit.
“Goodbye, Anima, I hope to see you soon.” His words sent shivers down my spine. I didn’t remember seeing him ever again, but that didn’t mean anything when he could seemingly just wipe my memory at will. Then again, I’d never been able to reap. Until I came here anyway.
Which led me back to the question of if all Reapers could do the Oblivion thing, or if that was just me? Theoretically if he’d taken my powers, was just one he didn’t know how to steal? But also, what if it was only unlocked when a Reaper’s normal powers were drained? What if that was exactly what he intended? That would mean I was some kind of tool he’d created purposefully.
I backed away slowly. I didn’t like where any of those answers led me. None at all.
Eighteen
I blinked my eyes quickly. What the actual fuck was all that? And why was I lying on the floor? I’d been following someone, right? Well, following a memory, so why was I on the floor now? That just made no sense whatsoever.
My eyes focused a little more, and I took in the rest of the room I was in. Oh shit. If I’d thought what I’d just learned was bad, then this was immeasurably worse. Especially the part where cold metal cuffs seemed to have made their way around my wrists. Great. Snakes, torturers, weird overwhelming heat...none of that had defeated me. But one little memory? That weakened me enough that I ended up captured and chained to the floor. Great. Just my luck really.
“You’re awake. Good.” The voice was as beautiful as a song. A good one that was, not like some of the music humans listened to these days. Eurgh, it tended towards ear destroying sometimes.
No, Nim, focus.
I turned my head to the side, looking in the direction that the voice had come from, and gulped loudly. The owner was beautiful. Except that wasn’t quite right. She was beyond beautiful. Long white hair that seemed to bounce naturally, and shimmer in the torchlight, fell to about her ass. She was pale, probably the result of not seeing the sun. Seriously, I’d seen vampires more tanned than she was. Then again, vampires could go out in daylight anyway, there was no reason they couldn’t get tanned. Ooops. I’d gotten side tracked again. I really should do more to stop that happening.
“Who are you?” I croaked, already thinking I knew the answer. Not many people down here had wings after all, and if they did, they weren’t beautifully feathered. Hers started bright white at the top, the colour you’d expected an angel’s wings to be, but they graduated downwards so that the tips were a midnight black. The story of her fall from Heaven, no doubt. Though that was only if this was Chesca. I had no evidence to the contrary, and it made sense for her to be. No other Demon would bother trying to look so perfect.
“You know who I am,” she replied, her startling blue eyes sparkling with a playfulness and innocence that could only be feigned. No one became a Demon Queen without losing the doe eyed look. I wasn’t saying all Angels were innocent. Not at all. Some of them were downright nasty. But it took a lot to become one of the Fallen. It didn’t happen overnight. Nor did it happen without anyone noticing. As far as I was aware, there were only two ways to become a Fallen. The first was to get kicked out of Heaven. That way just meant you did something to
piss the wrong person off though. I heard that Archangel Michael was a bit of a dick sometimes. It was the other way that worried me. The other way to become a Fallen was to choose to become one. And choosing to come to Hell...well that said a lot about your personality.
Looking at the beautiful woman in front of me, I shuddered. Something told me she was one of the latter. It only scared me a little bit. Honest!
“What are you doing here?” Not what I’d meant to ask, but somehow you had slipped out instead of referencing myself. Ah well, if she answered then my curiosity would be sated at least. No. That was not an appropriate thought to be having while I was locked down on the floor.
“Trying to get back to Heaven,” she said sweetly, and my mouth gaped open. Yep, I looked as ungainly as anything, but there was nothing I could really do about it. Not when she’d just given me that revelation.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” I managed eventually.
“Is it not, Anima?” She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow, and her gaze rested on my bare arms. Huh, how hadn’t I noticed my sleeves had been ripped off? Considering I was always conscious to wear them, you’d think I’d notice. The pale tattoo-like lines were clear for everyone to see. Though by everyone, I meant myself and Chesca. There was no one else around as far as I could tell. Not even Than, which seemed like an oversight. Surely, she realised he was probably the best chance she had at getting me to do what she wanted. Oops, probably shouldn’t be thinking that. Knowing my luck, there’d be some kind of Demon that was able to hear thoughts. All he’d need to do then was whisper in Chesca’s ear and I’d have put Than in more danger than he already was.
“No,” I responded, already worrying that I’d take too long to reply, even if I’d been thinking about something completely irrelevant to her question.
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