Tales From The Mist: An Anthology of Horror and Paranormal Stories

by Scott Nicholsonan

She surprised them both by smiling. “Never expected one.” With a shaky breath, she rubbed her face. “When do we do this?”

  “How does now sound to you?”

  ∼ ∼ ∼

  The wall in front of Sarah looked just like the others—rich, luminous white marble, a garland of malachite vines trailing down the sides.

  Nathaniel glided forward, held out his hand to her. “Ignore what you are thinking you see. It is a doorway, one I have used many times. You will have only moments once I open the way in, so now is the time to say no if you are uncertain.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t be more uncertain.” She took in a deep breath, shook out her hands. “Okay—let’s do this.”

  Nathaniel glided over to the wall, raised his hand. “Come, stand next to me.” Sarah joined him, wiped her palms on her wool pants. “Close your eyes, now.” Her gaze snapped up to his. “What you may see when I open the doorway is not meant for the living. You will feel the light on your face, and I will give you the word to step forward. It is your trust I am needing now, Sarah. Can you do this?”

  She nodded, swallowed past the fear clawing up her throat. Facing the wall, she closed her eyes. Icy fingers brushed her cheek, rested on her shoulder.

  Nathaniel didn’t need to tell her when the doorway opened—light seared through her lids, bathed her in heat.

  “Now, Sarah!”

  She stumbled forward, hands clenched at her sides to keep from flinging them out in front of her. Braced to slam into the wall she knew was right in front of her, she let out a gasp when she kept going.

  Her eyes disobeyed and flew open—just before the toe of her shoe caught on an obstruction and she hit the ground, tumbling until she smacked up against something soft. That something let out a muffled groan.

  “How did you break through my barrier?”

  The deep roar threatened to burst her eardrums. Before she could move iron hard fingers closed over her arms and jerked her upright. She stared at the wide, silk covered chest.

  “Those clever fools. They sent through a living soul. I made no concessions for your kind.” The bruising grip eased, set Sarah on her feet. “Look at me, now. There is no reason to be afraid.”

  Even at a low, smooth pitch, that voice scared the hell out of her. Still, she felt compelled to obey.

  Lifting her head, she expected to be instantly blinded. Instead, she looked into the most beautiful face she had ever seen.

  ∼ ∼ ∼

  “Which one of them sent you?”

  Blinking, she tried to clear her head. The more she stared at the man holding her, the less attractive he became. “I don’t know—who he was.”

  Ice blue eyes narrowed. “You would dare to lie, to me? And not even a convincing lie. This is what you would have in our kingdom, brother.”

  With an ugly snarl he tossed her. This time she saw what she collided with just before she hit—another man, just as beautiful, but more approachable.

  He didn’t groan, but pain flared across what she could see of his face under the heavy gag. Sarah slid down, landing beside him on a surprisingly soft, luminous surface.

  She lifted her head in time to see the first man stalk out of sight, the light that surrounded them swallowing his figure. Gritting her teeth, she moved, slowly, every nerve raw, until she knelt in front of the captive.

  “I’m going to remove the gag.” He shook his head. “I understand he’ll know I did it, but I need answers, and I think you’re the answer man.”

  Leaning over one shoulder, she worked at the knot until it finally came loose, then eased the heavy, soaked fabric out of his mouth.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. Even raw and edged with pain, his voice had the beauty of music. He coughed, leaned his head back against what looked like a crude, short cross, forcing him to kneel. When he moved she heard the rattle of chain. “You should not have come here.”

  “Who are you? And who is your—brother?”

  He refused to look at her. “I can shift enough for you to slip back, if you go now. Please, you must go. He will hurt you, to punish me.”

  Instead of answering, she crawled under his arm, caught sight of the chain that held him. And the blood circling his wrists. “Oh, God—”

  “No—do not touch the—” Her scream cut him off. Sarah cradled her hand, her palm burning where it brushed against the electrum bright chain. “Show me.”

  She obeyed, her arm shaking from the pain. “What is it?”

  “Poison. Look at me.” Swallowing the scream in her throat, she met his eyes. A warm, gentle brown, they soothed, calmed, made her believe anything was possible. “Bring your hand up, Sarah, next to my face.”

  When she did, he turned his head and pressed his lips to the burn. Blissful cool spread through her hand. She sagged against him, watched the burn heal, leaving her palm completely unmarked. The injuries from her frantic escape attempt also disappeared.

  “Who are you?” she whispered. “And how did you know my name?”

  “In your heart, you know.” She looked up, met the gentle eyes. “I am Michael.”

  ∼ ∼ ∼

  Sarah inched away from him. “ The Michael—as in the archangel Michael, guarding the Golden Gate to Heaven, smiting the wicked. That Michael?”

  A smile touched his mouth. “One and the same, child.”

  Scrambling to her feet, she put as much space between them as she could, fighting the desire to drop to her knees and beg his forgiveness for, well, everything.

  “Sarah.” That beautiful voice laid over her heart. “You have nothing to fear. Your intention is honorable. You carry their grief, and the need to put them to rest. I would see that done, but I am—” A low cry cut him off, pain scoring his face.

  Before Sarah could second guess herself, she darted over to him. Just in time to see the cuffs that trapped his wrists dig deeper into his skin. Michael bowed his head, dark blonde hair brushing his shoulders. Sweat and blood mixed as they trickled down his skin. It hurt more that she thought possible to witness his suffering. “Please—what can I do?”

  “Nothing, child.” He lifted his gaze to her, and she couldn’t stop herself from wiping away the sweat with the cuff of her jacket. At least the worn suede would be soft on his skin. “Your kindness, and your concern will help sustain me.” Swallowing, he leaned his head against the rough wood. “Now I would have you go, while you are still able.”

  “Sorry. Not leaving.” She was out of her mind, thinking she could save an archangel, never mind every soul waiting on the other side, but she refused to walk away. “Tell me what I can do—to help you, to help them.”

  “There is only one way, and I will not allow it—”

  “Please.” Even now, the multiplied grief scraped over her heart. “They are in so much pain. I can’t—I can’t leave them like that.”

  Michael closed his eyes, despair shadowing their depths when he finally looked at her. She swallowed, already knowing it wasn’t going to be good.

  “Would you offer your life in exchange for their salvation?”

  “My—” Her throat closed up. If she hadn’t already been on her knees her legs would have buckled. “Is that—is it the only way to help them?”

  “You know the answer, child. I would save them, but I am bound, and my Father is—unresponsive to my pleas. You must offer, freely, or Uriel will not believe—”

  “Uriel?” Her breath stuck in her throat. “The man with the cold eyes and a don’t–mess–with–me temper is Uriel? I thought—he’s supposed to be the champion of mankind.”

  “He stands now with those who would see you forbidden from contact with our Father.”

  “He did this—closed the way into Heaven, chained you with that—”

  “Celestial metal. It is impervious to any power I use against it.” His voice gentled. “I must have your answer, Sarah, before my brother decides—”

  “Speaking for me again, Michael?” Before she could even think of retreating Uriel caught
her wrists and yanked her to her feet. “He gave you the loophole, did he? The one way you can open the doorway without my consent.” Leaning in, he whispered against her cheek, his voice scraping over her soul. “Your life for theirs, and it will be done.”

  He let her go and stepped back. Sarah covered her mouth to hold back the scream clawing up her throat. Nathaniel didn’t know, couldn’t have known the price that would be asked. She closed her eyes, tears slipping free. How could she do this? How could she simply say one word and have it be the end—

  The same way Edward did, pushing her out of the path of the runaway car and dying in her place. He gave his life for her without hesitating, without question.

  There really was no choice, not for her. Not with the guilt of Edward’s death like a weight on her heart. Not with the knowledge that those lost souls would suffer because she was too scared to do what needed doing.

  “My life for theirs,” she whispered.

  Uriel looked surprised. “Say that again?”

  Meeting that ice blue gaze, she obliged him. “My life for theirs.”

  “No, Sarah—”

  “Will Michael be freed?” She couldn’t look at him. His anguish hurt enough without actually having to see it on his face.

  “You offer yourself, mortal, and there will be nothing I can do. He will be free by default.”

  “Okay.” She took a shaky breath, twisted her hands together. “What do I need to do?”

  “That is simple, mortal.” Uriel reached out and pulled her into his chest. “You die.”

  He laid his hand on her forehead. And her world exploded.

  ∼ ∼ ∼

  Fire roared through her, an inferno of agony that just built on itself, moment by moment. If she could still see, she fully expected flames to be shooting out of every pore.

  But she couldn’t see, couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. She could feel, though—Uriel made damn sure she could feel every slow, excruciating second of her death. He must really hate—

  A furious shout tore through her mind. The agony shifted, changed, eased its fiery grip on her.

  Invisible hands yanked her clear. Sarah fell, tumbling through darkness, and braced herself for the inevitable landing. Those same hands caught her, settled her to a soft, blissfully cool surface. When the gentle fingers brushed her throat, she sucked in a raw, painful breath, and felt her body again.

  Every inch ached, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat—

  Her heart was pounding.

  Am I—

  “Yes, child. Open your eyes for me, Sarah.”

  I can’t—shouldn’t I be dead? Uriel blew me straight to—

  “He tried.” Michael’s low, beautiful voice brushed over her sensitized skin, a healing balm. “But he forgot the most fundamental truth. The one that will bring our Father every time.” Gentle fingers cradled her cheek. “A selfless act.”

  Sarah pried her lids apart, the effort leaving her breathless. Michael leaned over her, his rich brown eyes sharp with anger. One arm slid under her, helped her sit. She clutched the ground as her head threatened to spin right off her shoulders.

  “Slowly now, child. One breath at a time. I will not leave you until you are ready.”

  “Ready?” Her throat rebelled at being used. She may not have heard herself scream, but the hoarse whisper masquerading as her voice told her otherwise.

  “To return home.” He smiled when she looked up at him. Any pain he may have suffered was gone, his face smooth and—yes, she was going to say it, at least in her head. He looked angelic. His smile widened. “I have so little time with those who pass through my gates. Knowing your thoughts, your view of me has been—enlightening.” His smile faded. “I have also read your heart. You miss him, your Edward.”

  Tears blurred her vision, the grief she pushed down every day gripping her again, squeezing harder than ever. “I thought time was supposed to make it better. Make it easier.”

  “For some, losing the other half of themselves leaves a terrible wound. One that takes more than time to heal.” He brushed hair off her cheek, and cradled it, his touch soothing. “I promise you, child, your grief will ease.”

  Lifting her into his arms, he turned around. And Sarah blinked, not sure she actually saw what appeared in front of her. When her eyes cleared it was still there.

  High, delicate gates stood open, almost translucent, shimmering like a rare diamond.

  “Are those—”

  “Yes, child.” Michael gazed down at her, the same light in his eyes. “Your sacrifice spoke to my Father, showed him what Uriel had wrought while his attention lay—elsewhere. Offering your life, freely, saved those trapped souls.”

  Movement beyond the gates widened her eyes.

  So many they crowded the doorway, spirits made their way through the gate, the despair falling away as they moved past it. Sarah could see it disappear, like a shadow extinguished by sunlight.

  “Looks like you have some work to catch up on,” she whispered. Michael’s laughter startled her. Low and warm, it washed over her, left her feeling—hopeful. For the first time in a year. Her eyes stung, the tears coming again. But they were cleansing tears, removing some of the grief that stained her heart. “I really did—this?”

  “It is what you came to do, when you stumbled into my realm.”

  “I never expected to actually be successful.” She felt a smile tug at her mouth. It was odd, freeing, and painful all at once. It changed to a gasp when Michael moved forward, walking among the spirits. Insubstantial fingers brushed over her, breathless whispers speaking her name, thanking her, blessing her. By the time he reached the threshold she couldn’t see through her tears. “Is this how it feels for you?”

  “Every moment. I have withered without it these last months.” He kissed her forehead, left behind a sense of peace. “Live your life, Sarah. I will see you again, when you are ready. But not for many years.” Those deep, dark eyes studied her face, and she swore she saw regret flash in their depths. “Close your eyes now, child. It is time to go home.”

  Panic skated through her. She hadn’t felt this loved, this safe, since Edward died. “What if I want to stay?”

  “This is the realm of the dead. You know already you do not belong here.” Michael tightened his grip on her, his voice low. “I never thought a mortal would—touch me, as you have. Offering your life also freed me, and that is a debt I will begin to pay now. Close your eyes, Sarah. You are not meant to see what is reserved only for the dead.”

  She looked up at him, memorized that face, the peace simply being near him gave her. Michael nodded. Swallowing, she let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes.

  The same searing light burned through her lids. This time she traveled through it with the knowledge that she had succeeded. Between one breath and the next his support disappeared and Sarah fell into that bright, blazing light.

  ∼ ∼ ∼

  “Open your eyes, leannan. Sarah—please, girl, don’t be giving me the permanent pleasure of your company.” The low voice filtered past the buzzing in Sarah’s ears. She swallowed, moaning when the simple movement flayed her throat. “Breathe for me, Sarah, there’s a good girl.”

  Her lungs punished her for it, but she obeyed, taking in a fire–edged breath. Icy air caressed her cheek. She leaned into it, the cold touch a blessing on her feverish skin.

  “Nathaniel?” It took more energy than she expected to open her eyes. He hovered over her, that piercing blue gaze so filled with concern it tightened her throat. The light flickering through him, and the cold stone under her hands told her they were in the mausoleum. “Are they—”

  “Crossed. You saved them—I do not want to know the how,” he said, when she opened her mouth. “I am simply going to thank you for them.”

  “They already did,” she whispered, remembering her last moments with Michael. “They passed me when—before I came back.” Tears stung her eyes again. She blinked them back, groan
ing as she levered herself up, her arms shaking from the effort. Nathaniel followed her, hands hovering as if he could catch her. She found it oddly endearing. “So, I guess my work here is done.”

  It took much longer to get to her feet. She used the chair to help her up, biting back a curse every time she moved. Her skin felt scorched, like the second day after a bad sunburn. She had a feeling it would have been much worse without Michael’s protection. Moving with the care of an old woman, she made her way outside. The cold breeze slapped her.

  “You will be missed, leannan.” Nathaniel stood at the edge of the wide path, arms crossed, his face blank. “I will leave you to your—”

  “I could come back.”

  He dropped his arms, obviously startled. “You are a Yank, you cannot possibly—”

  “The tour company I work for is based in Edinburgh. I may be a bloody Yank, but I live here.” She stepped to him, the cold that swirled around him familiar now. Almost like moods, it changed in temperature. “Would I see you, if I came back, say, next weekend?”

  “Why?” The anger in his voice, pouring off him like frost, had her stumbling backward. “Why do you taunt—”

  “Is that what you think?” Fists clenched, she stalked back to him. “I have spent the last year running away from everyone who held out their hand to me. How you got through, I’ll never be able to explain. But you did, ghost or not, and I want to—I can’t believe I’m saying this—I want to learn more about you. I have the feeling you are as lonely as I am, for all your posturing.”

  She wanted to scream when he winked out of sight.

  Still aching, her skin flinching every time it brushed fabric, she moved to the wrought iron gates—and hid her smile when they swung shut. Nathaniel appeared, gliding forward until he towered over her.

  “I do not posture. And I am not—” Pain sharp in his eyes, he turned away from her, staring out at the rows of monuments. “So few of the living care enough to even see the spirits who reach out to them for one last touch, one final farewell. I watch them, their sorrow like a cloak, as they turn away from those they loved in life. My small gift lifts that sorrow, shows them the way to peace.”