by Lori Adams
Teriza perked up. “Uh-oh! Almost time!” She opened the quiver on her back but instead of retrieving arrows, she pulled out a black iron cylinder. Inside was a death contract.
Michael stiffened at the sight of it, the binding obstacle that stopped him and his brothers from protecting a soul. Without a contract, guardians and spirit walkers were free to fight off any dark entities trying to Take a Forgiven soul: freak accident victims, souls lost in comas, and the like. But a contract meant the soul had been marked as Unforgiven and released by The Council of Guardians. It meant guardians couldn’t protect it, and entities from below had a right to fight over it.
Michael frowned, wondering if their “call” had been wrong. They were here to protect everyone in the store, so why the death contract?
Teriza grinned with anticipation and spiced up her centuries-old routine. She greedily wrapped her hands around the cylinder and her face became animated with a kid-on-Christmas-morning look.
“ ’Twas the nightmare before Deathmas and all through the house—”
“Hey! Where are you?” A gruff voice bellowed from the parking lot, and the teens inside the store froze.
“Man, why you gotta shoot the camera? It tripped a silent alarm!” the guy in the ski mask griped and ducked behind a magazine rack. His partner followed and they peered out the door. “That ain’t no cop.”
“Who the hell is it?”
A lone man stood in the parking lot staring at the store. The teens conferred and decided the cops wouldn’t be long now; they had to make a run for the car.
Every spiritual entity inside the store flashed to the parking lot and watched the teens walk out with guns drawn. Their aim was on a middle-aged man in striped pajama bottoms, a ratty robe over a wife beater tank, thick glasses, and a Donald Trump comb-over. He had a tin can in one hand and a gun in the other. He saw the guns aimed at him and slowly raised his. He looked bewildered and scared.
Wolfgang broke out laughing. “I don’t believe it! Look who grew some figs!”
“I don’t want trouble,” the man said nervously to the teens. “I just want that guy who broke my window.”
“Hey, dude! Back off!” baseball cap guy yelled at the man. “You don’t want none of this!” He stepped closer, rolling his gun sideways. Ski mask guy grew nervous beside him. Should he shoot the man or run for the car? The driver was yelling to the teens to forget the man and get in.
Vaughn made himself a target in front of baseball cap guy’s gun. “I’ll take some of that,” he pleaded. “Come on, I haven’t had a hit all day.” The demons laughed at their antics while the guardians watched in disgust.
A streetlamp sputtered, eventually dying out, and the man with the tin can was cast in shadows. Dry wind stirred trash into the gutter as an ambulance siren faded away in the opposite direction. Ski mask guy was edging toward the curb when a loud explosion echoed against the concrete buildings, and there was Jamael standing in the doorway with the gun shaking in his hands. His aim had been careless, but return fire was instant and deafening. Baseball cap guy twitched, firing at the man who instantly shot at him. The blasting prompted Jamael to squeeze the trigger over and over. Ski mask guy whipped around, firing wildly in every direction. Echoes reverberated off the buildings and transformed the random shots into sounds of machine-gun fire. Faint spiritual lights flashed in rhythm with the blasts as the guardians protected the human souls. Random bullets sprayed into the redbrick building, the convenient store window, and the chest of the man in the bathrobe.
He gasped in surprise and then dropped the can and gun as he fell to his knees. His eyes bulged and his mouth gaped in disbelief, and then he toppled sideways, rolling onto his back.
The teens took off running and climbed into the car, tires squealing across the pavement as the car sped away.
Teriza sauntered over to the man laid out on the concrete. She peered down and wrinkled her nose like it was roadkill.
“Eeuuw! It’s still alive.”
“That guy is the Take?” Wolfgang snarled.
Teriza nudged the man with the tip of her Jimmy Choo. “Come on, sugar, die already. I gotta party to go to.” She looked up and smiled at Wolfgang. “Wanna finish what you started?”
Wolfgang’s face darkened with an evil grin, and he walked over to a parking meter and ripped it out of the ground. “Here, his time’s expired.” He slammed the metal post into the man’s gut. Both ends of the body shot up, the man nearly folding in half before flopping back down. Blood gushed from his chest and mouth.
Teriza cooed excitedly, “Oooh! Here he comes!” She opened the scroll and started reciting in a deep, authoritative tone: “ ‘Gary Wayne Paulson, I hereby claim you on behalf of …’ ” She broke form and giggled. “The fabulous me!”
“What are you doing?” Dante chuckled at her childish behavior.
“Oh, just sprucing up the festivities. You know, after five centuries of the same ol’ … a girl needs a little variety.” She winked and continued.
“Ahem, as I was saying. ‘I claim you, Gary Wayne Paulson, as my scourge and dub you … Paulson the Pervert!’ ” She thwacked him with a thorny branch that had instantly appeared in her hand. Three times across his body and the faint imprint of Gary Wayne Paulson slowly peeled off the convulsing body impaled with the parking meter. The imprint stood beside her, and they peered down at his messy remains.
“Pathetic, huh?” she said.
“Am I dead?”
Teriza looked at the others, “Dead humans say the darnedest things.”
“I’m not ready to die!” Gary cried out.
Teriza shrugged like she’d heard it all before. “Too bad, toots. Game over.”
“No! I can’t be! I … have things to do! I can’t be …” He was horrified, whipping around in panic. The angels and demons watched emotionless. “But where … am I going?” He knew instantly and threw himself at Michael’s feet. “Please! For God’s sake, please take me with you!” He grabbed at Michael’s legs, but his filmy hands passed through unaffected.
Michael looked down in disappointment. He waved a hand, casting the imprint away to float aimlessly across the parking lot.
This was the moment every soul seeker waited for, when a detached soul drifted unfettered in the night. Since all dark entities were in competition with one another, the soul was technically fair game, and Degan was craving to grab it for himself. Teriza was his good friend and had the death contract, but he could swipe it like a runner stealing home when the pitcher wasn’t looking. After all, there was nothing more enjoyable for the Master and The Order of Reapers than deadly competition, even among their own servants. Those who collected the most souls won favor, something that came in handy below. But any entity that left Hell with a death contract and returned without the marked soul was subjected to The Order’s special brand of torture.
Luckily, Degan had only to steal souls, no contract necessary. But he had a quota to meet, so he was antsy like a kid denied candy at Halloween. His fingers curled and his body twitched with need.
“Huh-uh.” Teriza shot him a warning look and then cracked her whip, snapping it around the imprint’s ankle before he sailed too far away. She laughed at Gary’s wailing, and then whistled, calling her minions. Mournful howls rose from the shadows and dark smudges pushed forth like roiling black smog. They took shape as hideous faces with razor teeth and snapping jaws. A pack of vicious piranhas, they bit and clawed and tore at Gary’s imprint, devouring him in chunks. He cried out in horrendous pain, begging for help. Teriza’s red fingernails extended into daggers and she slid one under Gary’s quivering chin.
“They can’t help you now, Paulson the Pervert. You shoulda left those poor kids alone, ’cause now you’re mine. And tonight, you begin reaping what you sowed.” She laughed and pushed his pale shivering image away. “Toot-a-loo boys!” she called to her audience, and sauntered off, tugging the imprint by the ankle like a wayward kite. Gary’s tortured cries scraped against the
night sky as they faded into nothing.
Jamael sat on the dirty white linoleum with his head in his hands. Raph and Gabe wanted to comfort him, to reassure him that he wouldn’t be responsible for the man’s death, but they remained in place, staring at their brother. Michael knew they wanted answers about Sophia and her ability to see into both spirit worlds. And Michael was finally ready to unburden his secret, but not in the company of demons.
“The show is over,” he told Dante. “You can leave now.” Michael rarely stuck around to watch reapers work, and he was disgusted by Teriza’s theatrics. It was disturbing to see the dark side of humanity get its due, however deserving. But he wouldn’t leave Jamael until the demons had gone.
Dante laughed. “I think I would like to see the second act. You know, the one where two guardians turn on their brother for keeping secrets?” He smiled against Michael’s flat stare. “I haven’t seen this one before, but let me speculate on the plot. There is a beautiful human girl, played by, hmm … let’s call her Sophia, shall we? Sophia comes upon a loser guardian angel called Michael Patronus while he is working on some pathetic human. What’s this? She sees him in spirit form? He is stunned and doesn’t know what to say.” Dante faked surprise. “Enter Degan the soul seeker who is out trolling for souls. Sophia sees him as well. More surprise and confusion! After all, a mere human should not have the ability to see into the spirit world. But more disturbing, this human can see into both spirit worlds, and this can only be dangerous. However, loser Guardian Michael withholds this vital information from his brothers because …”
Dante paused dramatically, and the air hummed with spiritual energy. He strolled around Michael, pondering the possibilities. Why would a guardian keep secrets from another guardian? They worked as a team, relying on each another. Trust was pivotal to their work; it should be without question. But why then …
It must be Sophia. Dante remembered the peculiar way Michael behaved around her. How he tracked her aura throughout the school when he couldn’t see her. And how he tried to take her away in the park. Michael’s behavior was not just protectiveness; it was too possessive, too … human.
A spark of awareness came to Dante. He stared hard at Michael, releasing his demon to infiltrate Michael’s subconscious. Michael folded his arms, posturing his indifference to Dante’s games. Persuasion was stopped cold, and Dante shrugged without surprise.
“Fine then,” he said as though they had been speaking aloud. He stepped closer and lowered his voice so Wolfgang and the others couldn’t hear. “Let me tell you what is on my mind. Whatever you think is happening with Sophia, whatever attachment you may have developed with her … you will not interfere with me. Do you understand, guardian? Sophia belongs to me.”
“Kill her and you lose her soul, and you know it,” Michael said through his teeth.
“She is already mine and I will have her. Any. Way. I. Like—”
Michael suddenly backhanded Dante across the cheek. His head snapped to the side and his hair fell into his eyes.
Raph and Gabe gasped in shock. They flashed to Michael’s side, palming the daggers at their hips. They braced themselves for what would have to be a swift and deadly retaliation.
Vaughn and Wolfgang flinched at the unexpected attack. They had never seen anyone strike Dante before, and they watched eagerly for his response. Like the others, they assumed it would be quick and brutal.
Michael’s eyes were hard crystal prisms and energy pulsated from him. Barely able to maintain control, he lowered his hands as sharp fetching rose on the back of his forearms. He was ready. He wanted this.
Dante touched his lip and came away with black blood. Despite his cool demeanor, Persuasion raged inside him, emitting a low, guttural growl. Dante steeled himself against the urge clawing up his chest. He glared at Michael with a mixture of hatred and triumph. It was as he suspected, and he gave a strained chuckle.
“If I didn’t know better, guardian, I would say that felt like jealousy.”
Raph and Gabe bristled at the statement. There was a moment of silence as Michael made his decision. Things had gone sideways, no point in stopping now.
“I will take Sophia’s soul myself before I let you touch it,” he announced to the horror of his brothers. It was a monumental threat no angel would think of uttering. The demons, too, were shocked and reached for their weapons, but Dante raised a hand, staying them.
“What’s the matter, Dante?” Michael taunted. “You know guardians don’t have first strike against demons. I took it anyway. You’re free to attack. Let’s go.” He opened his arms, giving Dante an opportunity. His fetching tightened, ready to slice the demon’s throat.
“Nice try, guardian. But you see, I have no plans to return so soon. That is what you want, yes? By provoking me?” He laughed in Michael’s face. “No, as a matter of fact, I am just getting started in Haven Hurst. By the time I finish with Sophia, she will beg me to Take her soul. And that is a promise.”
Affliction began twirling Vaughn’s daggers across his palms, and Impatience elongated Wolfgang’s fingernails into claws. Dante knew they were on the brink and struggling to control their demons. A fight with guardians would ease their needs. But it could send them all below, and that was a risk Dante would not take.
“Easy, boys, I think Michael has all the demons he can handle at the moment. Don’t you, angel?” He spit black blood at Michael’s feet. “Seeing shades of gray, are we? I wonder what The Council would say about your obsession with Sophia. Not to mention what the Grigori will think.” Dante’s eyes danced at Michael’s surprise. “Yes, we have not forgotten about them. Rather a ruthless band of angels, even for Fallen ones, don’t you think?” He laughed against Michael’s elevated rage. “With jealousy like yours, I would say you have already succumbed to the first forbidden emotion: desire. Not that I blame you; Sophia is rather beautiful. But if the Grigori and the Halos find out, you are likely to become the prey.” Dante turned to leave and glanced at Raph and Gabe. “Keep him away from Sophia. If he crosses me again, I will drag him down with me. And you do not want to know what they do to guardians in Hell.”
“Don’t threaten us, demon,” Raph sneered. “We’ll send you down to the pit where you belong. I hear the Death Bunker is bloody this time of year.”
Wolfgang pointed his dagger-like claw at Raph and growled, “We’ll see you there, boy.”
Dante grabbed Wolfgang’s arm, and the demons stepped back, slowly fading until they were gone.
Chapter 23
The Use of Fowl Language and Then One Giant Leap for Me
It’s seven o’clock on the morning of the festival and the town square is already crowded with volunteers and committee members checking booths and last-minute changes. All four roads around the park are barricaded and packed with booths not yet open. The pony ride apparatus is ready and waiting for ponies. The petting zoo is finally under control, goats secure inside.
Uriel is in charge of any and all animals and has his hands full. I peer over the fence at him in mucking boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt. Goats and sheep surround him, anxious for the smelly oat mixture he’s pouring into a trough.
“Morning,” I call from behind.
“Morning, Sophia,” he says without looking up.
That was weird. I’ve never even spoken to him before. How the heck did he know it was me?
“You got animal duty at the festival, huh?”
“I like animals,” Uriel states the obvious. He shoves his gloves into his back pocket and winds his way through the small herd. “Where are you working?”
“I’m mostly taking photos. You know, all the booths and events. Ribbon ceremonies, musical groups, stuff like that. So anyway, I was wondering, when’s a good time to take some photos here?”
We watch the animals devour the buffet while he thinks. “Hmm, mornings are better, when they’re eating, I guess.” I nod, making a mental note. Then he says, “So, when are you walking the ducks over?”
>
My eyebrows shoot up and I laugh. “Well, nobody’s ever asked me that before. What ducks?”
“Norah and Gracie’s ducks. Bailey said you guys were walking them over this morning.”
He is serious.
“Oh, I didn’t know I was on duck-walking duty. I’ll have to check with Bailey on that.”
“Make sure you do. I’d like to get Siegfried and Roy acclimated with the other animals. You know, to avoid any territorial issues before the peahens arrive.”
Again, he is serious.
“Siegfried and Roy are ducks?” I ask, and he shrugs sheepishly and then we both laugh. After a moment, I let my eyes wander around the square, contemplating how to ask where Michael might be working. I clear my throat and act all nonchalant. “So, I heard your family provides the horses for the pony rides.”
“Just Michael. And there’s only six ponies this year. But they’re a huge hit. All the children love it when he brings them out. They’re so gentle and well-behaved.”
“The children?”
“No, the ponies.” He laughs, and it sounds like something you’d hear in Santa’s workshop.
My pocket vibrates and I check a text. Momzilla vs Baileyanator! pops on the screen. Uh-oh.
I tell Uriel I’ll come around another morning for a photo op, and then head to Bailey’s B and B.
It’s a red and white Victorian home converted into a small hotel. Tall and thin, it has a narrow porch, white columns, and a balcony over the porch. A white picket fence borders the lawn, giving the property a homey feel. It’s cozy and adorable and completely booked for the duration.
I arrive just as Bailey is shimmying down a drainpipe next to an open window. She takes hold of the lattice covered with vines and works her way down. She lets go, sticks the landing, and brushes her hands clean. A professional.
“Hey.” She nods.
“What’s up?”
“I gave Momzilla some slight myth-information about a test score. She wants to ground me but I told her I’ve got obligations coming out the wazoo today.” She pushes through the side gate and we cut across the neighbor’s lawn without a backward glance.