Angel Dreams (An Angel Falls Book 2)

by Jody A. Kessler

  Chapter Seven: Ghosts and Goodbyes

  Juliana

  Digging through my herb cabinet yields very little, not because there isn’t anything useful in there, but because my growing fear for Nathaniel’s injury is distracting me, making it impossible for my brain to engage with my actions.

  “Why don’t you go? You need to take care of yourself right now,” I say, as I walk over to the sliding glass door and put my anxious cat, Ariel, outside. She’s acting so weird and I can’t take her weaving around my ankles right now. She turns and attempts to get right back inside as I close the door in her face.

  “I’m staying as long as I can.”

  Moving back to the herb cabinet, I look at the labels on the jars for at least the fifth time. “You’re being silly. I know it hurts. You should take care of it sooner than later.”

  “It’s going to hurt whether I’m here with you or not,” he argues.

  “Yes, but you said that you thought it would heal if you could go rest?” My hands fiddle with the jar lids in front of me.

  “I also said I wasn’t sure.”

  “The sooner you leave, the sooner you can come back,” I say, using logic.

  Nathaniel looks down at the countertop and doesn’t answer.

  “Are you worrying about—” I whisper.

  “Everything,” he admits, interrupting me.

  He moves like a shadow. Standing in front of me, he closes his eyes, hiding the swirling emotions I can see there. His entire being shimmers like watching evening sunlight glimmer across the surface of a lake. I think he’s about to leave me, which I said I wanted, but in truth I never want to be apart from him. He opens his eyes as his body becomes whole again. Pain sears across his face for a split second, but it passes as he searches my face.

  “I have to do this one more time before I go.”

  “Nathaniel, don’t. You’re not strong enough.”

  “Shh, I have to.”

  He raises his hand and with gentle fingertips, runs them over my temple and brushes my hair back behind one ear. His caress continues, sweeping over the curve of my skull and trailing down my neck.

  The heat rushing through me is instant. It warms my chest and makes me take a few deep breaths, which brings in his scent, clean and bright, and mixed with a hint of sweetness, like honeysuckles. His smell creates an urgency inside me, desperate to drink him in before he goes away. My head automatically tips upward, exposing more of my neck and making it easier for him to find my mouth.

  He doesn’t keep me waiting long and now I do drink him in. Passionate, urgent, then slow and soft, lingering and teasing. Over and over, I try to feel every part of his kiss and memorize it. I move in closer, wanting to feel all of him next to me. Then I remember his injury and have to hold myself back. It takes every last once of energy but I manage to not throw myself on him. I pull back first, afraid to death I’ll hurt him.

  He cups the back of my head not letting me get too far. Our foreheads almost touch as he stares into my eyes. The raging storm going on inside of him scares me, but I’ll gladly ride through it with him for however long it takes, forever if need be.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assure him. “And you’ll be back soon.”

  Worry emanates from him. He doesn’t have to say it, I can feel it.

  “Won’t you?” I ask.

  He takes my hands and holds them to his chest. A sudden urge to cry chokes me. What if he’s not coming back? I bite my lower lip. How does an angel get slashed open in the first place? How will he recover from it?

  “Nothing can stop me from coming back to you, love. It’s only that I don’t know about this.” He shifts his left side slightly and the creases of concern deepen around his penetrating eyes. “And I can’t forget the last time I left you when I didn’t want to. Things were not fine. You and your brother were almost killed.”

  There is a new weakness to his voice. He’s draining the very last of his strength to stand here and talk to me. “This time there’s no crazed meth-head chasing me. Now go. I promise, promise, promise, not to leave until you’re back. Unless I absolutely have to,” I amend, and then qualify it as I watch his expression change to one of severe disapproval. “In a life or death situation, I may need to leave the house.”

  Nathaniel starts to disagree, but he gets cut off.

  “Who are you talking to?” Corrine asks.

  Her pretty doll-shaped face is tinged with fear and uncertainty as she stands in the entrance to the kitchen. Nathaniel takes a slow step back as we both watch Corrine. I look at Nathaniel for an answer.

  “She can’t see me.”

  “What?” I ask him, totally confused.

  He’s still in his physical form. What does he mean, Corrine can’t see him? He’s standing right here.

  Corrine answers me instead. “Who were you talking to?”

  “My imaginary friend,” I say slowly and then smile like I’m joking.

  “Oh, right.” She looks away staring out the back door.

  “I thought you were resting upstairs while I make you something to drink,” I say, trying to sound and look normal.

  “My stomach is starting to cramp again,” she says, and scrunches up her face.

  “I have something that may help. It’s outside,” I add hurriedly as I have a flash of brilliance remembering a long ago conversation between my Grandmother and a customer about controlling uterine bleeding and a bunch of other stuff, including miscarriage, and what can be done to help. Taking another quick look at my two cohorts I make a split decision to try it. She refuses to go to the doctor and it may help. Chances of making her worse are virtually none, so it’s the least I can do.

  “I’ll be right back,” I start to say, but I get interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

  “Hello?” I call out, not able to see the front entry from the kitchen.

  There’s no answer. I look around the end of the wall between the living room and the kitchen and see Jared.

  “Hey,” I say, and then take a couple of steps back. The last time I saw my brother we had a full blown screaming fight and I don’t want a rematch. Jared exploded in a rage, something he’s never done with me before. The fight was the reason why I left the house in the middle of the night to go camping. Movement catches my eye and I peer around Jared and see he’s not alone. A familiar looking tall black man with dreadlocks moves quickly out of sight and up the stairs. Jared doesn’t follow his friend but comes into the kitchen. I check to see if Nathaniel is still showing himself, or not, and he’s not. I let out a relieved breath. I’m not quite ready to explain him yet.

  Unsure of Jared’s feelings about our last run-in, I go back to my cabinet full of jars and pretend my feelings aren’t still hurt. He was so unlike his normal self last night. If he’s still acting strange, I don’t want to talk to him.

  “What’s up, Jules? Mixing up one of your noxious teas?” he asks, and gives me an eyebrow wiggle and a half grin.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Hey, where’s our car?” Jared asks.

  He sounds like himself, spunky and full of misguided mischief. Apparently he’s not holding a grudge about our recent clash of wills.

  “Oh, well, umm, is there any way you can go get it for me? There was a situation and I had to leave it parked.”

  “Sure. Clue me in to where I can find it,” he says.

  “Hey, I know you. You’re in Mostly Mayhem, right? You play a blue Gibson. I love the guitar. It really looks good on you too,” Corrine says from the kitchen table where she sits tucked neatly into a chair.

  Jared sees her for the first time and turns one of his heartbreakingly beautiful smiles on her. “Yeah. You’ve seen me play?”

  “Sure, a couple of times. In different clubs. I think you know my brother, Patrick Dawson. And I’m Corrine.”

  Searching through the labels for raspberry leaves, I make my best attempt not to roll my eyes. Corrine is starting up again. I can feel and see the flir
tatious tease coming out in her, like when she was talking to Eli. Her aura changes. It’s sudden and unnerving. She has a darker aura, unlike any I’ve seen before, but when she was with the bikers, and now with Jared, her energy field expands and looks like what I can only describe as an eddy, dark and churning, and devouring anything that comes too close. And of course, my brother is eating up her attention like gobbling down gooey chocolate lava cake. This could get messy in a hurry. He has an endless appetite for adoration, especially from cute girls.

  I look over to Nathaniel who is still managing to hang on. He looks as if he’s worrying about the same exact thing I am. Unable to ask him my next question aloud without sounding like a psycho, I raise my eyebrows, shrug, and turn my palms up. His look of concern deepens and he shakes his head with uncertainty.

  Dissatisfaction and a need for answers propel me to reach across the countertop for a scrap of paper and a pen and scribble down a question. Why couldn’t she see you?

  Nathaniel leans over and takes a look. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out. It’s a first for me. Something’s way off. Be safe while I’m gone. If things get too strange, do whatever you need to, but please be here when I get back.”

  Both our attentions turn back to Jared and Corrine. What’s going on with her? Nathaniel’s worry is really starting to freak me out. And Corrine is acting as if the pain is gone again. Prickles on the back of my neck alarm me to the things in the room I don’t understand. Grandma Charlotte would say pinpricks on the back of the neck mean someone on the other side is trying to protect you. A silvery chill passes down my spine.

  “Patrick’s your brother. Really? He’s a sly kid,” Jared says.

  “Yeah. He can come through in a pinch when you need him.” Corrine smiles a sweet shy smile and lifts her chest a little higher showing off her petite but curvy front.

  Nathaniel steps in close to me and whispers in my ear. Even though I shouldn’t be able to feel him in his spirit self, I think I do, like a disturbance in the air next to me. “As soon as I can. Don’t forget me while I’m gone.”

  “Never,” I whisper.

  He bends down and gives me an angel kiss on the lips and then leaves the room.

  “I have to run out to my garden for the ingredients to make the tea. You’ll be all right for a minute until I get back?” I ask Corrine.

  She appears perfectly content to flirt with my brother and doesn’t acknowledge that I’ve spoken, but Jared hears me.

  “We’re cool,” he says.

  I slide open the back door and then turn back to my brother. Fresh air rushes passed me and the rays of the late afternoon sun warms my skin. “Shouldn’t you go see what your friend is doing upstairs?”

  “Is that code for leave your friend alone?” he says.

  “No. But he’s probably getting bored upstairs by himself,” I say.

  “You didn’t tell me anyone was here,” Jared accuses.

  Playing innocent in front of the girl, that’s Jared for you. He’s all courteous and charming, and not wanting to leave the pretty little thing alone in the kitchen.

  “Whatever, Jared. Hey, our car is over by Grandma’s land. It’s parked on Spruce Court. Do you know it?”

  “Sure. I’ll try to find a ride over. I need the car later tonight.”

  “Thanks, Jared,” I say with sincerity. My brother is back. At least for right now he seems sane, and not high. I step onto the deck and start to close the door, and then I hear Corrine make an offer.

  “I’ll call Patrick. I bet he’ll bring a car over. My stepdad has a couple of great cars. He lets Patrick drive them whenever he wants. Hey, I know where your car is too. We can ride together.”

  My eyeballs roll to the heavens. She can’t go anywhere, at least until after I dose her with my noxious drink, as Jared so bluntly put it, and not until Nathaniel comes back either.

  ∞

  Nathaniel

  Marcus is here. Inside Juliana’s house. Being torn apart by conflicting mental arguments is a precarious place to stand, but what choice do I have? Marcus is here, so on one side I don’t have to worry about finding him to answer my growing pile of questions. Will I recover, or, am I dying? How do I defeat a demon? These are the first things I need to know. The other darker side is, that Marcus is here, with Jared.

  Juliana’s brother is the only case I’ve ever lost. The only good part is he didn’t escape into the world of the tormented souls. Instead, he lived — also my doing — and he was taken away from me as my client. The problem was I got involved and saved the life of someone who was about to die, which is not acceptable when you’re an Angel of Death. Because I saved him, albeit unknowingly, and fell in love with my client’s sister — Marcus doesn’t know that part either — I have been reassigned to a whole new set of clients.

  I can interfere all I want now, as long as they’re suicidal. I can choose to help, or watch her commit suicide, and then escort her to the afterlife. Believe me, if it was easy, then I would be finished with this case. But in my opinion, Corrine doesn’t really want to die. How can I not help?

  I should have known Marcus would take on my failure. He will stay with Jared and ensure I don’t interfere, again. Juliana will never forgive me if I do nothing. Worse, I already feel like I’m failing. I am failing Juliana, the only person to whom it truly matters. Deceit isn’t in me, it never has been, but how can I tell her that her only brother is running out of time in this life? How can I not tell her? I should’ve already and somehow I haven’t found the time, or the words. She’ll hate me and it will be my own fault.

  “Nathaniel,” Marcus says, as I step into Jared’s dimly lit bedroom. “Do I want to know why my friend looks like he has been chewed up and spit out like bad meat?”

  “No. Do I want to know how much time Jared has left?”

  “No, man. Don’t go there.”

  “Okay,” I say, feeling a new level of exhaustion ripple through me like an aftershock. Sitting down on the chair by the desk is more for appearance than easing my pain, but I do it anyway. I watch my dread-headed friend and hide none of my discomfort from him. “Want the story or not?” I ask.

  “The suspense is murderous,” he says in his deep baritone, brows rising in anticipation.

  ∞

  Juliana

  The bittersweet fumes waft up my nose as I strain the pale infusion into a blue coffee mug. May the angels and fairies bless these plants and may they do only good and never harm, I pray silently over the cup in my hand. It’s something I’ve never done before, but it feels appropriate, being as unsure as I am about what’s going on with Corrine’s body. I grab my bottle of cramp bark extract from the cabinet to go with the shepherd’s purse, raspberry leaves, rose petal, and licorice root infusion and then head back upstairs to my room.

  “Still willing to drink this?”

  Tears pool in the corners of her eyes. “Anything,” she sobs. “It hurts so bad.”

  As I hand her the cup, my thoughts return to her bizarre behavior. Ten minutes earlier and no one in their right mind would have guessed Corrine was suffering in any way. Jared certainly didn’t notice anything wrong with her and now that he’s not in the room with her, she’s back to whimpering. The urge to protect myself, the way Chris Abeyta was talking about earlier, gnaws at me, but I blow it off with the excuse that I’m just a little uncertain.

  Opening the small brown bottle of extract, I squeeze one full dropper of the dark liquid and hold it out to her. “Take this too,” I say.

  She opens her mouth and I watch the extract disappear. She chases it with some of the potent tea and her face exclaims exactly how unsavory the flavor must be. The delicate muscles of her throat and jaw quiver as she tries not to gag.

  “It’s strong, but that’s a good thing,” I say.

  “What’s it going to do?” she asks.

  “Help the bleeding and ease the cramping. I hope.”

  “You still claim not to be a witch? Your room doesn’t look
anything like I thought it would. No altar, or pentacles, or anything Wiccan.”

  Grinding my teeth really doesn’t help anything other than keeping my mouth shut when I want to say something rude. “Still not a witch,” I grumble through tight lips.

  “You did say a spell over my drink though, didn’t you?”

  “No,” I answer immediately.

  She widens her large blue eyes at me in disbelief.

  “I don’t know any spells,” I tell her flatly.

  She shrugs and takes another drink. The little blessing and calling of the angels and fairies plays in my head like a recording. It wasn’t a spell for crying out loud. It was more like a prayer. And, how did she know?

  “Ooooh,” Corrine moans. “It’s not working yet.”

  “I can still take you to the emergency room. Let’s go right now.”

  “No! I can’t.”

  “Do you want to tell me why?”

  “No. I’ll be fine. I believe in your potion. It’ll work,” she says, sounding more determined than I feel for a positive outcome. She tips the mug to her lips and drains it to the last drop and then sets the empty cup on the floor.

  Curling into a tight little ball on my chair she says, “My stepfather.” An uncertain and fearful look passes through her eyes. Then she grimaces, her face contorting for longer than I can stand to watch, but the pain must subside because she continues. “He gives me valium, or dilaudid, but I don’t really like taking drugs. They make me feel foggy and sick to my stomach.”

  “I don’t have any drugs,” I say, and then pause looking at her. “Should I call someone for you? Where’s your mom, Corrine? Can I call her?”

  The silence is heavy in the room before she finally answers.

  “She liked herbs too, not Travis’s pills,” Corrine tells me as she stares out the window. She turns sad blue eyes on me. “I don’t know. I think she’s dead. Or maybe she’s still in New Mexico. I haven’t seen her in almost a year.”