My Soul to Win

by Robin Roseau

  And for the longest time, nothing happened. Longest time. All right, not really the longest time. But it was… a while… before a form appeared ahead of me. And all the white light faded several levels.

  I stood in a room, an all-white, featureless room, and before me… She.

  “Hello, Teigan.”

  At first, I stared, but then I looked down. She stepped closer and cupped my cheek. “Thank you.”

  “I don’t know why you needed me. Couldn’t you have retrieved her yourself?”

  “That tends to cause a greater stir than you did.”

  I looked up. “I flashed wings in front of the entire congregation. I ported back and forth to Hell several times in front of the same congregation. I’d say that was a pretty big stir.”

  “And yet, none of them will ever talk about it. Life will go on for them. Oh, I imagine some will become more devout in their beliefs.”

  “Did you send me to that church?”

  “I believe you found it entirely on your own,” she replied. “Although I was pleased and amused to see where you settled down.”

  “You believe I found it on my own?”

  “Well, I didn’t look to see whether anyone else steered you. I didn’t.”

  “Ah. Now what?”

  “Well,” she said. Then she reached inside my jacket and withdrew the badge case. “I’ll keep this.” Then she reached to the other side, removing my gun. “And this.”

  “That’s not my original Glock, is it?”

  “No. I’m glad you didn’t have to use it.” She offered a slow smile. “Michael wants it back.” She tossed my badge and gun into the air, and they both flew away with a little pop.

  I stared after them. “That was a little showy.”

  “Oh, and these aren’t?” She set a hand on my shoulder then ducked underneath the extended wings, coming to a stop behind me, both hands now on my back. Then she did… something… and the wings retracted.

  I felt as if she were clipping my wings, quite literally.

  I turned my head. My voice cracked as I asked, “Are you disappointed in me?”

  “Of course not. Why do you ask?”

  “You just… demoted me or something.”

  She gave a little laugh. “I got the impression you found the wings inconvenient.” While still touching, she moved back in front of me, her hand now on my arm. “You’re not mine, you know. You were only a loan.”

  “One of the demons called me the angel who isn’t an angel. I kept denying it, but it was hard to argue when the wings kept popping out every time Beth came near me.”

  “I know,” she replied. “Well. Thank you, Teigan. Someone is waiting for you.” She gestured, and when I looked, I saw Alathea standing to the side, watching both of us.

  I folded my arms. “That’s it?” I asked. “All that, and I get a ‘thank you, don’t let the door hit you on the way out’?”

  She smiled. “You expect a reward?”

  “Maybe a few answers. Let’s start with this? What did you do with Evaline?”

  “Ah.” She tapped her lips for a moment. “You were right.”

  “I was right about what?”

  “Rachel and Evaline. Evaline struggles with her basic nature, and she wasn’t going to free Rachel in time. If she had corrupted Rachel’s soul beyond repair, I could never have forgiven her.”

  “Did you give me those dreams?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But you are the one who decided what to do about them. You saved Rachel’s soul, Teigan. And you gave Evaline a continued chance.”

  “You brought her home.”

  “That would depend upon what you consider home for her. This has never been her home.”

  I looked into her eyes. She didn’t rush me, but she didn’t explain, either. “You’re going to make me ask?”

  “I’m not going to make you do anything, Teigan.”

  “Cute. What did you do to Evaline?”

  “I sent her home. I made a few suggestions.”

  “Are you going to share them?”

  “I suggested that claiming souls wouldn’t keep her in my good graces. I also suggested the only reason I didn’t permanently ban her from Earth was because she honestly has helped people very important to me.”

  “You cared about her enough you sent me to Hell for her.”

  “There are 247 souls that would definitely have gone to Hell if she hadn’t helped them, and countless others whose lives she has touched in a fashion pleasing to me. I rather would prefer she continue to do so.”

  “You sent her back to Earth.”

  “Free of all debts,” she confirmed, “but not yet forgiven for ancient acts.” Then she waved a finger at me. “And don’t think your forgiveness is binding on me.”

  “I never did, but after Quentaslart, I wasn’t taking chances.”

  “Prudent. You seem upset with me, Teigan.”

  “I risked my friends.”

  “I know.”

  “Several of them have binding agreements I would much rather they didn’t have.”

  She frowned. “You need to have more faith in them.”

  “They have binding agreements with demons! And I have seen how seductive a demon can be when she wants.”

  “You worry for their futures.”

  “Of course I do. I don’t think I can protect them.”

  “That isn’t your responsibility.”

  “If it’s not mine, then whose is it?”

  “Mine.” She smiled. “Besides, do you really think anyone could see the souls of Hell and be fooled? On top of that, I’m playing a long game, Teigan. One demon at a time. I do not believe anything will come of it in the near future, but the work of the good is endless.”

  I wasn’t remotely satisfied with that answer, and I’m sure it was evident. “Teigan, you rescued Rachel and Evaline from their respective poor fates. You then suffered, and I am sorry for that. But then you sent fifteen souls to me. You returned Quentaslart to me, and then you rescued Evaline, and she is now back where she can perform decades of good, if not further centuries. You didn’t accomplish all that without a little risk and a little sacrifice.”

  I wasn’t satisfied, but it was the best I was going to get. But she smiled. “Thank you, Teigan. But I am afraid I must give you back now.” She gestured, and Alathea stepped up. Without a word, she took my hand and tucked it in her arm. Then she turned us, and without a backward glance, began walking me away.

  * * * *

  We made it ten steps before the world shifted, and then we were back in that place where she’d first brought me. She led me to the front porch of the little cabin, and we sat down on the waiting bench looking out over the lake.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  “That’s an interesting question.”

  “I imagine the answer is even more interesting.”

  “You might be right.”

  And then for a minute or two, we sat there. Finally, frustrated, I asked, “What are you waiting for?”

  “I’m waiting to see what you decide to do.”

  I pulled away from her and stood up, then paced back and forth before moving to the steps and sitting down there, still looking at the water. “Are you leaving me here?” I asked in a subdued tone.

  “Is that what you want?”

  I looked over my shoulder at her. “Is this what you do? Make these places for your distant descendants?”

  “Not usually.”

  “What happens to them?”

  “It has varied.”

  “Give me an example.”

  “Some are in Heaven.”

  “This isn’t Heaven?”

  “This is one form of the afterlife,” she explained. “Heaven is more specific. Some are in Hell, although thankfully, not many. Some have come to me.”

  “And?”

  “You’ve heard of the Elysian Fields, I imagine.”

  “Ah.” I rotated so I was facing her. “Is it unreasonable to want
to know what you’re going to do with me?”

  “No, Teigan,” she replied. “That isn’t unreasonable. Do you know what you want?”

  “No. I’m still broken.”

  “I wouldn’t use that word,” she said. “If you could, would you go back to your old life?”

  “Which one? I’ve had a few old lives.”

  “Would you go back to being a police officer?”

  “Not if I have a choice,” I said. “I’m not that person anymore. Too much has happened.” I dropped my gaze. “I’m tired.”

  “I know,” she said gently. “Maybe you’ll let me take care of you for a while.”

  I thought about it and then slowly nodded. In response, she opened her arms to me. I climbed back to my feet and moved to her, sitting down and then cuddling into her, letting her hold me.

  We didn’t talk.

  Time

  Time. It passed. At the time, I wasn’t sure how much. Alathea spent every minute with me. If her attention was divided, it wasn’t apparent to me. But she’s a god. How do I know whether she can be in two places at once?

  For the first few days, we didn’t talk. For most of it, she held me, and I clung to her, even in sleep, I clung to her.

  And I cried. A lot.

  There was a time I wouldn’t have been caught dead crying, and there I was. Dead. And crying.

  When I wasn’t a basket case, sometimes we simply sat together. Sometimes we went for walks. We held hands much of the time. If we were still, we were touching, perhaps cuddling, perhaps simply pressed side to side.

  That didn’t last forever. A few days. It was morning after another crying session when I said, “I’m such an idiot.”

  “That is far from the first word I’d use to describe you.”

  “You’re a god.” I turned to her. “Right? This is real, and you’re an ancient Greek god.”

  “This is real,” she said. “And yes, I was an ancient Greek god.”

  “You’re not anymore?”

  “Well, I suppose I am. But there hasn’t been a temple devoted to me in two thousand years.”

  “Do you need a temple to be a god?”

  “No. And I have followers, in a way.”

  “Anyone who searches for the truth?”

  “Anyone who devotes her life to it,” Alathea replied. “But they don’t really know about me, not as a personification of Truth.” Then she cupped my cheek. “I love you, Teigan.”

  And that set off another crying session. She pulled me into her arms.

  And didn’t judge, even if I did.

  * * * *

  We went for more walks. We talked, sometimes about nothing. Much of the time, we spoke English, but I tried my Greek on her. She told me my accent was unusual, but understandable. We talked about philosophy, and the works of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle.

  In some ways, it was a little like being with Theophania when she was in one of her kind moods, taking the best parts of my time with her without any of the bad parts.

  I told Alathea that, then realized I’d just compared my time with her to time with the demon. I began to stammer an apology, but she set her hand on mine. “Life is complicated. Very, very few people are purely good. Very, very few people are purely evil. That is even true of those we think of as truly evil.”

  “Including demons.”

  “Including demons,” she echoed. “Yes.” She gestured to me. “She gave you this body. She did it for selfish reasons, but not evil reasons. Would you rather have your old body back?”

  “No, not really,” I admitted.

  “Few would, if given the choice. She gave you experiences. Yes, some of those were terrible. But some were pretty good. And she opened your mind to intellectual pursuits.”

  “She did.”

  “So, not all bad.”

  “Not all bad,” I agreed. “Could I ask you why you’re giving me so much attention?”

  “I enjoy your company, Teigan.”

  “Thank you. I enjoy yours, too. But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. You need healing. I got you started; Grace Ware helped. But you’re not done. I think it will be a long time, but you’re getting your resiliency back. Letting you go back to Hell for Evaline didn’t do your mental health any good.”

  “But I did good things.”

  “You did.”

  “Is that all of it?”

  “No, Teigan. There is something I would like very much, but I haven’t decided if I’m going to ask you.”

  “Will you tell me what it is?”

  “If I decide you’re ready. Would you like to go for a walk?”

  “Yes.”

  * * * *

  Time passed. I cried less often and smiled more readily. Alathea and I swam in the lake, and then the next day there was a rowboat, and we went for a boat ride. In the evening a week later, music began to play, and she asked if I would like to dance.

  “I would be honored.”

  We danced together for a couple of hours, easy dances with me in her arms.

  It was lovely. She was soft and warm and smelled amazing. And I felt absolutely safe with her.

  I’d never felt so safe.

  We swam after, and then she brought me to my bed, and when I invited her, she held me. I think she stayed the night, as I fell asleep in her arms, and I woke in her arms.

  In the morning I asked her, “If I’m dead, why do I need to sleep.”

  “You died,” she said. “But you’re not dead. The two aren’t the same thing. This is not some sort of metaphysical existence, Teigan. You’re very much alive here.”

  “There are some biological functions I haven’t been experiencing.”

  “Yes, well. When I make the rules, I can make them however I want.”

  I laughed at that. “Point taken.”

  After that, we danced most evenings, taking a swim after, and she held me as I slept.

  * * * *

  Time passed, but not that much more time. We’d been dancing, but then we grew still. I thought Alathea was about to suggest a swim. Instead, she leaned away from me slightly and cupped my cheek. “Teigan, you know: you’re not my daughter.”

  “I know.”

  “Nor my granddaughter.”

  “You’re going somewhere with this.”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a lover.”

  I blinked several times after she said that. And then I smiled.

  And kissed her hand.

  She smiled, and then she drew me to bed.

  We didn’t sleep for hours.

  Decision

  I stayed there, with Alathea, a year and a day. We were lovers for something more than half that time, happy and very satisfied lovers.

  She is a Greek goddess, after all, and I had been trained by two demons.

  We both had skills, and we were both also practiced in receiving pleasure.

  It was morning, and we were sitting together, holding hands and watching the lake, when Alathea said, “You’ve been here a year, Teigan.”

  “Are you tired of me?”

  “No. Teigan, if you wish to remain here with me, I’d like that, but I don’t believe this is the existence you want forever.”

  “Are you about to suggest I move on to the Elysian Fields?”

  “I’m about to ask if you know what you want.”

  “I don’t know what’s possible.”

  “I can’t change history,” she said. “And I won’t subvert anyone’s free will. Otherwise, if you don’t ask, you won’t know.”

  “Did you just offer to send me back to Earth?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “That means leaving you.”

  “I’ll always be with you, Teigan, and we’d see each other again.”

  “I’d… begin to age again. All that.”

  “Perhaps not. Your knowledge of human medical achievements is 25 years out of date. The average life expectancy for people in the uppe
r half of the socioeconomic status in the first world is now 120 years, and that figure is struggling to be accurate, as the age is retreating faster than people are hitting it.”

  “Seriously?”

  “75 is the new 40.”

  “So why would you say I’d see you again?”

  “Oh, if nothing else, maybe you’d come visit from time to time.” She smiled. “And I like spending time on Earth.”

  “But you wouldn’t go with me?”

  “If you return to Earth, it’s for the life you would make there, Teigan,” she said. “This isn’t something you need to decide today. I thought you were ready for a conversation.”

  “You still haven’t told me what you want to ask me to do for you.”

  “You’re right; I haven’t.”

  “I think I’d like to hear what that is.”

  “And I think I’d like to know what you want.”

  “We’re playing that game?”

  “I don’t want to influence your decision.”

  “Would you like to go for a walk?” I offered.

  For a while, we didn’t talk. We walked and enjoyed the beauty of the place she’d made for me. “Is this a real world?” I finally asked.

  “I'm not sure what you’re asking.”

  “I don’t know. It looks like somewhere on Earth. Is this an alternate universe or something?”

  “It’s an alternate Heaven,” she replied.

  “Now that it exists, does it take effort for it to continue to exist?”

  “No. Well, yes. The rules of entropy match the rules from your universe. So if I literally want it to exist forever, I would periodically need to do something.”

  “But you’re talking a billion years?”

  “No, because it isn’t as vast as your original universe. But a very long time.”

  “Will you reuse it if I leave?”

  “No. It will be right here, waiting for you, Teigan.”

  “Could you come with me?”

  “I could, but I’m not going to. I’d visit, if you invite me to remain in your life.”

  “But it wouldn’t continue like this.”

  “We can continue like this if you decide to remain here. That’s a decision you can revisit whenever you want.”

  “What would I do, if I went back?”

  “The world is your oyster.”