I nodded, breathing faster.
She seemed to relax. “The only way to balance the whips of hope are to know the blades of despair. The world will require that balance, or all will be lost. Hope is nearing his understanding. The world must birth despair.”
I shivered at the casual finality of her words. She had to be talking about Nate.
But she was the creature known for riddles.
She could mean anything.
I thought about her proposal. She had sworn it on her power that she intended me no harm. That she would only offer me a doorway to see through. And that she would await me on the other side.
I nodded.
She studied me in silence. “Your decision will require a price. You must sacrifice your purity, your innocence. This sacrifice will not be permanent, unless you will it. The choice will always be yours. For a time, the world will not be as beautiful as it once was, but it is your only chance. The world’s only chance.” Phix was silent for a time, watching me as I consciously slowed my breathing, considering. I nodded again.
“This is a wise decision. The world may continue spinning a bit longer, now. But do not worry, Penrose. I shall wait for you, and guide you on the other side.”
“Will it hurt?” I asked, waiting for some kind of spiritual uppercut.
“You tell me,” she said, turning back to the fire.
And I suddenly felt as if the skin over my entire body had tightened – not necessarily in pain, but almost like the third day after a full-body sunburn, when your skin felt just a little too tight for your body. Like I was suddenly wearing a spandex bodysuit.
And… that was it.
I panted, my tension fading. I had made it worse in my head than it had ended up being.
Phix studied me from across the room. “The door is now open, but only you can make it to the other side. How may I serve you, Penrose?”
And there was the catch. I hadn’t gone through the doorway yet. I resolved myself to doing whatever it took to get to the other side. To hear, touch, and feel the darkness – to use it, but not to let it consume me.
I glanced down at my hands, wanting to find some kind of sign that I had changed. “How does this work?” I asked her.
“You call, I answer.”
I nodded thoughtfully. Like Nate’s unicorn, Grimm.
Phix snorted indelicately, reading my mind. Then I flinched, thinking about the Whispers. How many voices could I safely harbor in my mind before I cracked?
“I am not a Whisper,” Phix said disapprovingly. “You and I are bonded. They cannot hear me, and I cannot hear them, unless you will it so.” She hunkered down onto her front paws. “But I take precedence,” she said smugly.
I tucked my hands into my coat pocket, suppressing a sudden shiver at her words – that she was preventing the Whispers from communicating with me. Had been doing so this entire time. I froze after a few moments, and slowly looked back up at Phix. She lifted her head, and ever so slowly, gave me a nod. A vague thought began to take form in my mind.
After a few moments, Phix grinned, appearing amused. “Oh, that is delightful. Despair suits you well, Penrose. You might be better at riddles than you give yourself credit for.”
“Will you help me do it?”
She grinned, flashing white teeth at me. “Of course. You need only think a request like this, and consider it immediately accomplished. But to succeed, you will need a talisman. As I am your spirit guide, you must take note of my presence if you see it.” She studied me, slowly nodding her head as if proud. “Succeed in this, and I believe I will see you on the other side of darkness sooner than I thought possible.”
Well, that hadn’t been my intention. I’d been thinking about my recent troubles, wondering if this newfound darkness – although I didn’t necessarily sense anything different about me – would show me things in a different perspective. “I need to clear my head. Meditation helps me lay it all out.”
“I’ll follow along in silence. You will not be disturbed,” Phix said, standing to saunter over to the door, where she curled up on the floor.
For better or worse, it was done. Now, the real work began.
I took off my jacket, set it beside me, and got comfortable, closing my eyes to meditate.
Chapter 37
After a time, I opened my eyes, finally feeling content and at peace. I glanced over at Phix and she opened her eyes in an instant. I nodded at her. She smiled knowingly and then closed her eyes again, resuming her nap. “Done,” she said.
With a guarded sigh, I reached out to them. “What are you?” I asked out loud.
Silence answered me, but I felt them drawing closer, as if they had been far away.
Now she wants to listen… one murmured. After she let another inside her soul…
I grimaced guiltily. “I… was afraid,” I admitted in a soft voice. “I feel lost. Adrift. Explain it all to me. Help me overcome my fears. What does all this mean?” I asked, opening my heart and walling off my mind.
We are Angels. You have the ears to Hear us.
I shivered involuntarily at the direct confirmation, but was suddenly glad to hear that I didn’t actually have them living inside of me. I could just talk to them.
“Why do you argue if you are all Angels?” And I hoped that my mind wasn’t suddenly going to be immolated for my insolence.
But I merely heard a chorus of amused sighs.
Iron sharpens iron.
We are not all the same.
Strength through diversity.
If we were all identical, why would He have made so many of us?
Not every Angel takes the same path to salvation. We all seek His approval in different ways.
I found myself nodding. That made sense. And they wouldn’t be getting along so amicably right now if my initial suspicion had been true. That I had both Angels and Demons in my head.
“I want to try something with you, to attempt to better understand this part of me.”
It suddenly felt as if a small group of bodies were huddled around me, focusing on me or protecting me from an enemy. Or simply eager to interact with me rather than each other.
Try… they encouraged in perfect harmony, like, well, a chorus of Angels. A song, of sorts.
With every fiber of my being, I focused on my plan, knowing that small aspects would change, but that it was pretty well fleshed out. I felt a faint throbbing at the strain, the precursor to a headache, but I kept at it until I came to the end of my plan.
Silence met me as I breathed woozily, waiting for their response.
I focused so intently that my head actually began to throb, giving me an instant headache.
Yes, this might just work…
But it is dangerous, another muttered. Perhaps too dangerous…
For some reason, I had the sudden suspicion that one of them had remained silent, choosing to observe rather than offer an opinion. But something about the talkative Whispers convinced me that he was no intruder. Just the strong, silent type. The brief pauses of hesitation from the others seemed to be them waiting for him to offer an argument, and when he didn’t, they proceeded to speak to me. It was annoying. I was the landlord here, not him. Then I realized I was basically growing upset that one imaginary friend wasn’t talking to me like the others, and muttered under my breath.
I felt a sudden wave of amusement from the silent presence. He didn’t talk, but I felt more passion from that sensation than I had from any of the other Whispers’ comments.
“Can you help me?” I asked.
No.
Yessssss.
More oppressive silence from the silent emo Angel.
I waited patiently, listening to them debate and discuss my plan. The conversation finally died down, and I felt them shift their attention back to me.
The Whispers felt suddenly closer again, making me cringe. How close would they get, eventually?
We will help you in this… they finally agreed in a serious, b
ut somber tone. All but the silent one. But it seemed the others only cared if he spoke, not if he remained silent.
Better than nothing.
“Thank you,” I said out loud, opening my eyes.
I glanced over at Phix, nodding. She climbed to her feet and stepped out of my way as I scooped up my jacket and tossed it on.
I walked past her, determined. I had some phone calls to make.
Chapter 38
We stood outside an old gothic church building that was borderline blighted. The lot was overgrown with weeds and the concrete slabs were spider-webbed with cracks and loose chunks of rock that had broken off long enough ago to be weathered by later storms.
Paradise and Lost – the stand-in Alpha werewolves of Kansas City – stared up at the church skeptically, trying to see past the shell to find something marginally positive about it. The brick façade was aged, but in good standing, no bulging walls or anything, although it was covered in gangland graffiti. It had only a few parking spaces out back since it had been built in a time when cars were not as common as today.
Spires and stone statues of both Angels and Demons lined the top of the three-story church. The statues were covered with lichen or missing limbs where they had broken off long ago, never having been repaired. The two werewolves let out dual sighs, obviously not seeing the pearl beneath the shell as they made their way back over to me.
“No wonder the real estate agent hates us,” Paradise said, kicking a loose stone on the ground, “we drag her out to the nicest properties.”
I smiled. “She treats you with disrespect because she probably doesn’t believe you have the money to be serious, and that your church is doomed. Because this alleged Father Roland is not present to meet her personally, and his two assistants are named Paradise and Lost, but look suspiciously like smoking hot party animals.”
And they were. Both of the women were exotic, tan-skinned brunettes. Paradise was taller than Lost, but both exuded the kind of aura that college boys died for. Home-wreckers. Or, church-wreckers, in this instance.
“Maybe that’s why she can’t seem to get our names right,” Paradise said, frowning.
“You have to admit,” I said, “Paradise and Lost sound like a mockery of Catholicism.”
Claire grunted, arms folded. She wasn’t very pleased with me. It had started off with me taking almost exactly two hours before coming back home. And then, within an hour of my return, news had spread in the supernatural community that I had done something borderline suicidal – and I hadn’t notified her as we ate popcorn and hung out at my apartment.
In fact, she hadn’t found out until we were on our way here.
“Where is the bitch?” she snarled, glaring out at the street, then up at clouds that threatened to unleash more rain on us any moment, searching for anything to take her frustration out on.
“She’s late. Again,” Lost agreed, sounding annoyed.
“How many times has she been late?” I asked, frowning at them, not pleased to hear that they actually had been treated poorly by this real estate agent.
“This makes six,” they said in unison.
“Maybe she did a drive-by, saw the property, and high-tailed it out of here with a sudden case of explosive diarrhea,” Claire offered, eyes leveled on me.
I felt Paradise staring at me and sighed, pretty sure I knew what was on her mind. “Yes?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “You just… don’t take this the wrong way, but you look tired. Exhausted, even. Then again, you don’t.”
“She looks older,” Claire muttered angrily, having already told me – in not too pleasant terms back at my apartment – that I looked to have aged a few years. Which had been news to me. I assumed it had something to do with Phix bonding me, but didn’t have time to worry about it. Water under the bridge. I had looked in the mirror, noted the difference, and pressed on. It wasn’t substantial unless you’d spent time around me recently. Just a few years older.
Lost was studying my face thoughtfully. “That’s it. You do look older. Only by a few years, but more… mature.” Sensing the darkening look on my face, she winced. “Still as cute as a button, though,” she affirmed.
“Let me do the talking, this time,” I said, changing the topic. “I’ll take the heat for this one. It was my idea anyway. She probably doesn’t like speaking with what she perceives as Father Roland’s minions.”
They shrugged, not imagining our conversation would take very long, considering the state of the property. “But we are his minions in this. It’s going to be his new home when he gets back, yet we’re doing all the arranging. Minions,” she said, as if she had recited the definition.
“Yep,” I agreed. “Definitely minions.”
Claire frowned at me. “Why do you look so pleased with yourself, Callie? Let’s wrap this up and get out of here, because we still need to argue about Dorian’s text blast. Everyone is talking about your stupid idea to—”
As if on cue, an expensive Look at me, I have money SUV pulled up to the curb, and a middle-aged woman hopped out of the car, face overly professional. She was layered in make-up and jewelry, and propped up by shiny stilettos with heels that were probably bigger than her rich, country club husband’s magic stick. I knew her type, and instantly understood what Paradise and Lost had implied.
This type of woman loved her position of assumed power, and enjoyed lording it over those less fortunate, toasting magnanimously to the poor souls who couldn’t afford her services.
She shuffled over to us, and I pointedly stepped in front of Paradise and Lost, making it clear I was the new face of this meeting. I shot her an elitist smile, one she could read like its own language, and her posture visibly changed, picking up on the possible presence of a fellow woman of wealth. Still guarded, but more comfortable.
She didn’t even glance at the property. “Hello. Unfortunately, this one is now off the market. Someone scooped it up this morning.” She didn’t sound displeased as she spoke over my shoulder at Paradise and Lost.
In fact, she sounded hopeful – thinking that this news might convince them that buying an old church in town was a lost cause.
As it should be for their type. The city was better off without it. Or them.
Claire, Paradise, and Lost all cursed loudly, making the real estate agent’s eyes climb up to her scalp. She pursed her lips, their outburst only solidifying her predetermined disdain. Three women working for a man of the cloth, wearing tight clothes, and obviously foul-mouthed.
I, on the other hand, kept a polite smile on my face. “You will address me for the duration of our scheduled meeting,” I said in a clinical tone, glancing down at my phone before putting it away. Her shoulders locked up at my tone. “We had an appointment to see the place. An appointment in which you arrived abhorrently late. Surely, the paperwork hasn’t gone through yet. Could you show us the property, while the property is in…” I smiled in amusement, “purgatory? Might help us better clarify what we do and do not want when you spend hours searching down the next dozen potential properties.”
She blinked at me. “And who might you be? My contract is with these two… women.”
“An interested party,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m sure it won’t matter to you,” I said in a tone that heavily implied that she wasn’t worthy of hearing about me.
I saw her fingers clench, and no amount of make-up could have hidden the sudden flush to her cheeks. Rather than reaching out to grab a fistful of my jaw-length hair, she plastered on a very bureaucratic smile, shaking her head in mock empathy. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible. The paperwork has concluded, and it’s no longer available to show.”
She waited for me to blow up. I didn’t. I just sighed, staring up at the church. “That must have been a nice commission,” I mused.
“Yes, well. You win some, you lose some,” she admitted, not sounding particularly pleased that she had missed out on the sale – even though she didn’t like work
ing with us. But her tone implied that she didn’t believe she had actually missed out on anything, because Paradise and Lost either hadn’t been good for the money, or serious about buying a church.
“Pity,” I said, kicking a pebble on the concrete as I continued to stare up at the tall, imposing church. It wasn’t big. Tiny, really, but it definitely had the creepy vibe. Like Count Dracula had built a pool-house for his son.
My three friends were frowning at me, likely wondering why we were still standing here. Especially Claire, who looked about to blow up on me in a fit of impatience.
“I have other appointments, I’m afraid,” the agent said. “Let me know if you find any others you would like to take a look at,” she said, leaning as if to speak over my shoulder at Paradise and Lost.
“Perhaps if you were punctual you wouldn’t need to rush off to your next appointment. Father Roland always says Proper prior planning prevents poor performance.”
Paradise piped up. “He does say that quite often.”
The agent curled her lip at us. “Yes, well, I wouldn’t expect you to know the numerous responsibilities I have running one of the most successful real estate agencies in town. And this was the last one on the market that fit your parameters. Unfortunately.” She clicked off the lid to her lipstick, applying a faint touch-up to conceal her triumph.
I could practically feel her purring with contentment. No other listings meant no other dealings with us.
A limousine pulled up to the curb, and I let out a sigh of relief. Finally, I thought.
A muscular blonde man climbed out of the limo, wearing tight jeans, boat shoes, and a white tee despite the rain to come. He waved as he approached, muscles bulging beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.
The real estate agent had slid between us like an octopus, flashing him a bright smile. “You must be the new owner,” she said excitedly. “Congratulations. I wish I could have helped facilitate this transaction, but if you need anything else in town—”
Angel's Roar: Feathers and Fire Book 4 Page 18