Angel Dreams (An Angel Falls Book 2)

by Jody A. Kessler

  In the meantime, I’ve been hiding on top of the clothes dryer wallowing in self-pity, in the dark, by myself. Not hiding exactly — no one can see me after all — but the closet felt like as good a place as any for a ghost like me. I hear the two of them as soon as they enter the house. My uncertainty eats at me like battery acid. Will Juliana be able to see me like this? If so, will she listen? Do I have the courage to go through with this? Will she forgive me for not telling her sooner? Would it be easier if she doesn’t forgive me? It is a risk I am willing to take. She couldn’t see me at all the last time I was here, but I would wait until the end of time to speak with her once more.

  I will help Corrine. I wasn’t lying when I practically begged to return to what I left behind. It’s just that I didn’t mention Juliana and Jared Crowson to those who have an effect on my future. After I have a chance to speak with Juliana, then I’ll find Corrine and do whatever I can for her. Will Travis’s demons attack me the moment I enter the house? In some ways I hope they do. It would be a welcome distraction from the misery I’m about to face.

  “I call the shower first,” Jared says.

  I don’t sense Marcus’s presence near, but that doesn’t mean much. All the comforts that come with the title of Angel of Death have been stripped from me, like knowing where my fellows are without seeing them. All but the ability to move from place to place with thought. Marcus will undoubtedly find me if he’s in the house. I’ve never completely understood the extent of his angelic abilities. I only know he’s powerful, and he’s a master when it comes to death, dying, and the afterlife.

  Someone walks by the closet. I think it’s Juliana. Her steps are lighter than her brother’s. The kitchen is near and I think I hear the refrigerator door open and close. Passing through the wood door, I’m reminded that I’m not myself anymore. I round the corner and see Jules standing behind an open cabinet. Shock, then grief, grips me by the throat rendering me speechless. She has that affect on me, cutting off necessary life support when I’m in her presence. She’s in every way beautiful and when I’m near her, I only want more. More of her thoughts, more of her smile, and more time with her. Like a coward, I leave the kitchen before she sees me. In private, I’ll tell her what I have to say. I have to. Then I’ll leave her alone.

  It quickly becomes apparent Marcus isn’t inside the house. He should be here. The meaning of this doesn’t escape me. Jared may have some time left. It could also mean Marcus had something come up which required his immediate attention. Time without my mentor nearby is a precious and rare gift since Jared is here. If I had an ounce of intelligence in me, I would get this over with as soon as possible, or I may be explaining everything twice, once to Juliana and then again to Marcus. He could be here any second.

  Juliana walks into her darkened bedroom and sets down a coffee mug on the large brass-trimmed trunk. Her hand reaches under the edge of the lampshade, and with a tiny click, the room is filled with soft yellow light. She doesn’t see me standing in the far corner of the room near the window. I’ve become a ghost, barely there, existing like a shadow of what I was. She’s preoccupied with her stereo and CDs. I watch as she takes her time picking the exact right music to fit her current mood. Repetitive piano chords blend with distorted guitars and a haunting bass flow from the speakers. Juliana turns and sits down on the edge of the bed and then lies down flat on her back, eyes closed. She’s wearing the same clothes from when I last saw her in Travis’s basement. I thought at least a day had passed, but maybe not. Time isn’t the same after you die. When I’m not with the living, time has little importance and even less influence on my surroundings. What could she have been doing? Will she even know I’m here? She couldn’t see me at Travis and Corrine’s house.

  “I promised I would come back to you.”

  Her entire body jumps off the bed and flies toward the door. An ear piercing yelp escapes from her mouth and then stops almost as soon as it had started. Our eyes meet only long enough for me to see recognition in them and then she cuts me off. She stands with her eyes closed for so long I begin to worry for her. Her hands hold the front of her chest as if to steady her pounding heart.

  Just as I am about to say something, she finally speaks.

  “I thought you died,” she whispers.

  Her green gaze flicks up at me and then down to the floor. Her curtain of black hair falls forward covering most of her pale face.

  “Travis’s unholy creatures,” I say with detectable disgust, “they changed me.” I take a step away from the window wishing none of this had happened. Wishing — no — yearning with my soul to hold her close and protect her from all the unknowns of the world. “It’s different now. I didn’t mean for it to happen. You were…I tried to help. I’m sorry. I failed.”

  She looks up and finally lets me see her. She is gaunt, hollow cheeked, and bleary eyed. The vitality, which normally radiates from her, is missing. “You’re not well,” I say.

  My misery swells as I take in her appearance. She’s rumpled, exhausted, and maybe sick.

  “I’ll be all right,” she says, unconvincingly. “You’re…what do you mean, changed?”

  “Juliana, I didn’t come back to talk about what happened. I’m only here to tell you about your brother. Then, I can quit hurting you, and go finish what I started.”

  She looks out into the hallway where we can both hear the low din of running water in the bathroom. Slowly, she reaches over and closes the bedroom door. Then she walks over to her bed and sits down again. She slides her back up against the wall and pulls her knees to her chest.

  Her green eyes look like the heart of the forest. The gold flecks in her irises are like the sun shining down through the branches. At least this part of her appears the same.

  The strain in her voice is obvious. “Tell me what happened to you,” she says.

  I could almost convince myself that the worry I see on her face is equal to my own, but I can’t let myself get distracted. I have to get through this. The pain in her life is my fault and I have to put a stop to it. Only, my news is going to hurt like no other pain in the world.

  “Jared,” I start, and then move back to the window, looking out, as if the night were not black and all the world was out there to see. “I’ve made two mistakes. The first one was the day we met. I chose to follow you instead of Jared.” I pause, hoping she hears every word clearly. “The second one, I’m trying to fix right now. I should’ve told you before, but I didn’t. Jared’s time is coming to an end, Juliana, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

  The silence is long. The soft music coming from the speakers is the only thing keeping the room from cracking with tension. I want to escape right through the wall, to let the night take me from her, but leaving without letting her retaliate would be another insult to the injuries I’ve already inflicted on her.

  Juliana finally speaks. Her words are definite and pained. “It’s my fault,” she says.

  “Of course it’s not.” How could she even think that?

  I hear her move off the bed, but I don’t have the guts to face her. Not yet. Then she’s standing next to me by the window.

  “I know about my brother, Nathaniel,” she tells me and the misery in her voice makes me believe that being torn to pieces by demons wasn’t a severe enough punishment.

  From the corner of my eye I notice she’s wringing her fingers. I don’t think she’s finished so I wait in silence for my verbal punishment.

  “But you…what’s happened to you. Is my fault.”

  I turn and look down at her. Can she see the hurt and the guilt I feel? Her hand rises to my chest, and ever so slowly, she tries to lay her fingers on me. They pass through the air as if I’m not here.

  “Can you…” Her mouth tightens and the fear in her eyes deepens the color to a darkened forest. “Your body? What’s wrong with you? This happened in Travis’s basement, didn’t it?” She keeps her hand hovering near the front of where my shirt should be. “I c
ouldn’t see you. But somehow I knew when this happened. This is my fault,” she says again.

  Her sadness shreds what little resolve I have left. “It wasn’t really you acting that way. I didn’t understand at first, but I know now something else was controlling you. Travis’s binding ceremony couldn’t be allowed. You would’ve been gone forever. I would do it again, Juliana. I don’t regret not letting that evil spirit take you.”

  Huge tears fall from her gorgeous eyes. She lets me see the first of them and then she looks down, hiding beneath her lashes.

  “Did you see me…were you at the bar?” she asks.

  The tears continue to fall down her face like a solemn rain, drenching us both with sorrow.

  I shake my head, not sure what she’s talking about. “No. I wasn’t at any bar. I came back here, to your house, like I said I would. You were sleeping. I couldn’t understand what was wrong.”

  She turns farther away from me, staring down at the floor. Her hand moves to brush away some of the tears.

  With my answer, I sense a mix of relief with something else. My not being at the bar seems important to her so I continue. “I found out about the succubus after.” I pause, seeking the correct words to explain to her. “Few earthly things cross over with a person’s soul when they pass. But I had to know about you, Jules. I passed into another level of the afterlife and you were still with me. As long as the soul is willing to know the truth, then the answer is always there. That’s how I found out. After death, the answers come like the ease of breathing air when you’re alive.”

  My arms ache to reach out to her. But I have nothing physical to offer her anymore.

  “I dreamed you were here Nathaniel. The day after I…she took possession of my body. I heard you. I think I saw you sitting on my bed. Why? How is it possible? Can you tell me why I can see you in my sleep? Can you tell me why I know you’re not the same now as you were before? Can you tell me how I’m able to talk to someone who isn’t alive? Why can I see these things and not be able to protect myself from…it?”

  She stops herself before saying the words succubus, or evil. The pain from her experience is tangible in the room. I am as much to blame for what happened to her as the succubus. How could I have been so ignorant? The questions are gnawing away her insides. It troubles her that she can’t understand or explain what she sees, or knows, or feels.

  “You want a simple answer and there isn’t one. You were born exactly the way you were meant to be. For the last twenty-three years I’ve been trying to figure out why I was chosen to help others cross over. You helped me understand that if I’d never become an angel, I wouldn’t have met you. There’s a purpose for everything, even if we can’t see it.”

  I know how special she is. I know how rare her abilities are. But she’s the one who has to accept who she is and my answers are not hers.

  Soulful eyes search mine, connecting us for a heartbreaking moment, and then she breaks the tie and changes the focus from her to me. “Are you still an angel? What have I done to you?” she asks.

  “It doesn’t matter. What matters is what I’ve done to you. It’s unforgiveable.”

  “I disagree. I’ve met Marcus, and I know what’s coming for Jared. Now I need to know how you came back. Please tell me.”

  “It won’t work for Jared. My case is different because of what I was,” I say. I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch as I shatter her hopes.

  “Damn it. I’m not asking because of Jared. You were clear about the fact that nothing can change his future. Tell me about you.”

  Juliana’s never been angry with me before, but she’s pissed off now. Color flushes her cheeks. This is what I deserve. Having to explain myself. It’s not what I expected, but who gets the luxury of choosing their punishment.

  “I’m like a ghost, except I have a responsibility to fulfill. I’ve been granted one last attempt to fix things for Corrine, but I’ve been stripped of all my powers. If I succeed, and she finds her will to live, then I’ll be reinstated to my old position. If I fail, then I will be lost to eternity, like this. I’ll be an outcast from everything. I pleaded and argued and begged for another chance to help Corrine, but I came to see you first, because you are everything to me. Now you know what happened. I’m worthless beyond description for letting you get involved in this, and not telling you sooner about your brother. I am sorry, Juliana. I can’t continue to hurt you. After tonight, you’ll never see me again.”

  I start for the door, my humility and grief greater than it has ever been. She doesn’t try to stop me as I drift away.

  As I’m about to leave the room, she asks, “My brother?” Her voice catches in her throat, but she gets through the rough spot and keeps going. “Is there anything, any way at all?”

  “You can keep trying to give him more time, but I’ve never seen or heard of anyone cheating death for very long.”

  ∞

  Juliana

  Dead on my feet. Oh God, save me — what an awful expression. Choosing which tragedy to deal with first is like picking the rack before getting smashed in a head crusher. Simple times, right? During the Inquisition, I would have been tortured to death for being a witch. Corrine seems to think I’m one and Ashley Johnson’s favorite accusation would have had me condemned a year ago. But no, I live in the twenty-first century, and all I have to worry about is keeping an Angel of Death from taking my brother to the afterlife, staying away from soul-shredding demons, and try to figure out what just happened between me and my ghost/angel boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend. Drawn and quartered, thumb screws, a decent flogging? Do I know anyone who would be able to help a girl out? Would anyone be willing to torture me so I can escape from my supernatural woo-woo problems? Yes, dead on my feet would be preferred right about now.

  Stop daydreaming, Julie. I always hear Gram’s sweet voice when those three words enter my head. I really don’t have the time for daydreams anyway. Time is what it always seems to come down to. The mysterious illusion of time has become a blight in my life. Why is there never enough of it?

  “Hey, Jared?” I tap on his bedroom door lightly with my knuckles.

  “Aye,” he answers.

  The blue light bulb in his lamp is on, filling the room with deep shadows highlighted in cobalt. The smells of freshly washed body and aftershave waft around the room. Jared sits on the end of his bed holding his guitar. The cast on his left hand and arm won’t let him play, but he looks like he’s attempting it anyway. Guilt, sadness, grief, longing, desperation, the whole gamut of emotions ripple through me as I see him holding his one true love and lust.

  “I’m about to collapse,” I start to say.

  He interrupts. “Do you need to go back to Mom?” he says, looking worried as he sets his guitar down and stands up.

  “No. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just exhausted. Sit back down,” I say.

  He does and I do too. I cross my legs into a pretzel, grab one of his pillows, place it in my lap, and hide my hands under it.

  “Make yourself at home, why don’t cha’?”

  “This may take a while,” I say. My shoulders droop with resignation.

  Jared picks up his Gibson by its slender neck and places the guitar back in position. The fingers on his right hand immediately start to pick and strum. “Go sleep, and we’ll talk later.”

  “No. I have to say it now because it affects you and once I’m asleep, I may be there a really long time.”

  I tell him everything I can think of that he doesn’t already know. How I met Nathaniel and who and what he is. Who Marcus is and more importantly, why he’s hanging around. And much more. Jared listens and asks very few questions. Before I leave his room I make him promise me he will: 1) stay home until I wake up and, 2) wake me if he needs anything.

  “I swear I’ll figure something out, Jared. I just have to rest first, okay?”

  His brows are knotted with concern, but he gives me a nod of acceptance.

  “Do you want me to
sleep in here? Would that make you feel better?”

  “I, err,” he sits up taller, stretching his back, “I think I want to be alone.”

  Slowly, I slide off his bed. My legs feel stiff and much older than nineteen years. The reluctance to leave his side is painful. How can I go sleep? What if he doesn’t make it through the night?

  I console myself by giving him a huge hug and a small kiss on the top of his head.

  “Would you get out of here already? You’re stinking up my room.” A half smile plays around the corners of his mouth.

  I notice the smile doesn’t reach his eyes as it normally does. I feel awful inside and out, and after everything I’ve been through I probably smell worse than I look, but I’m too tired to even shower. “Night, J,” I say as I step into the hall.

  “Night, Jules. Don’t let the bed bugs tickle your toes, or your nose,” he says to my back.

  It’s what our dad use to say to us when we were little, and after he died, we kept it up as a way to remember. I’m not sure when we stopped saying it to each other, but it’s been a few years. I blink hard, making an attempt to shut off the tears pooling around my eyes, but it’s impossible.