by Erin Zarro
And...I saw my past.
The house was small, made of wood logs and very sparse. We had a wooden floor. A rickety table sat on the far end of the house, where we used to eat. A small ladder led up to a loft, where my parents and I slept. There was no kitchen, just a large space in a corner where an open fireplace stood.
There were several wooden chairs and a rocking chair placed throughout the room. I could remember reading by candlelight in one of those chairs.
I ghosted through the house. Until I got to the fireplace.
And I gasped.
I'd forgotten how different people looked from my time.
My mother stood there, cooking something in a hanging pot. Steam rose in tendrils and dissipated. I could smell spice and meat. My mother's auburn hair was pulled into a bun at her nape. She wore a long, brown dress with long sleeves. It was plain, and bore stains of dirt and food. A red knitted shawl hung from her shoulders. She was always so cold.
She was barefoot.
And pregnant.
She didn't notice my presence. I wasn't even sure she could.
If I was a participant, or not.
One way to find out.
"Mother?" I whispered. I didn't know why I whispered; it just felt wrong to speak loudly. She never raised her voice, ever. In fact, if she was really angry with you, she'd whisper. That was how you knew she meant business.
She kept humming.
I wanted to run away. Because I knew what was going to happen next.
My father strode in, his hands brown with dirt and dust. He wore the clothes of a working man, a dirty tunic and breeches. "How long until dinner?" He kissed her cheek; she giggled and leaned against him. His arms came around her, strong and protective, his fingers stroking her belly. Yes, they'd loved each other with a love I've never known.
And never would.
I couldn't look at them anymore. I spun around and headed for the ladder.
A gasp. A scream. My father trying to soothe my mother...
She was doubled over, her face distorted in pain. One hand touched her belly, which was huge. I didn't remember it being that big, but...maybe I was wrong.
"Breathe," my father commanded. "Breathe. In...out..in...out. Just like we practiced." He guided her gently to the floor.
"I....can't....do...this," she gasped between contractions. "It's not time...yet. Too...soon."
"I think it's time, love," my father said. "The baby has decided that it's time."
Without thinking, I crossed the room and knelt in front of her. Would she even see me? I'd died before this had happened, and had watched it unfold.
I shivered. I could not do it again.
"I wish Leliel were here," my mother said in a quivering voice. "She was always so strong."
Tears filled my eyes. "But I am here, Mother. You just can't see me."
"The baby comes," she said, and screamed through another contraction. I wanted to hold her hand, and send her healing energies. But I couldn't.
I glanced at my father, whose attention was on Mother. Nothing could tear him away.
I knew the baby was coming too early, but there had been nothing anyone could do.
I held Mother through her contractions, even though she couldn't feel me. Just being near her was enough. Father stroked her head and told her to breathe in and out, in and out.
Sweat poured down Mother's forehead. Tears wet her cheeks. She was in so much pain. I couldn't bear to watch it.
I hated this.
"I'm so sorry, Mother," I whispered. "I wish I could take the pain away."
Soon, almost too soon, the baby started coming.
"I see its head," Father said with a smile. "Push, push, push!"
Mother pushed. I squeezed her sweat-slicked hands with my ghostly ones. She screamed. And pushed. And screamed.
My heart broke for her.
I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. The magic of the Trial wouldn't let me.
"I got it," Father said, holding a little wiggling thing in his hands. "So small. It's a boy!"
But the baby did not cry.
"Let....me...." Mother said, her eyes fluttering closed.
Father nudged her, and her eyes snapped open. He handed her the baby, muttering to himself. "Need a towel..." He came back quickly and swaddled the baby, his hands gentle. He then handed him back to Mother.
"He's beautiful," Mother said.
"He is not crying," Father said. "Aren't babies supposed to cry?"
Mother glanced at him, but didn't say anything. The baby's little fingers reached out to touch her.
And that was when I noticed the blood.
Everywhere.
"Father," I said softly, forgetting for a second that he couldn't hear me. "Something's wrong."
I couldn't look, I couldn't feel –
"What's that?" he murmured, gazing down at his son. "Something – " His eyes widened. "Lord almighty..."
The baby still did not cry. The one glimpse I got of him, he looked...blue.
Mother's eyes were closed. She might have been sleeping, for all I knew.
But I knew.
If I didn't reap her soul....it would hang in limbo, never to be put to rest.
You know what must happen today.
If I reaped their souls, as I had originally, they'd find eternal rest.
But I couldn't. I couldn't watch the light die from their eyes again. And my little brother! Alive for a few minutes, and just...gone. Such a short, fleeting life.
And my father, who would promptly put a gun to his head and pull the trigger.
I wouldn't be...
Me.
Everything...changed.
"Something's wrong," my father said. "Alexandra, wake up. I don't think the baby is breathing."
I remembered this. Mother would not stir. She was gone, too.
And the baby... he'd be cold. And still. So, so still.
But if I didn't reap his soul...
But I couldn't. I couldn't watch them fade, watch them leave this world. I would lose them all over again. It was as real as it was before.
Maybe another Reaper would come – hellfire. No, because this was my Trial.
You know what must happen today.
I closed my eyes. The pull of reaping souls – and sending my mother and brother to the afterlife – was overwhelming. My heart raced, my palms were sweaty, and my head felt about two sizes too big.
I needed to...focus. What was I doing here, anyway? I was in the past.
I cast about, my mind racing...how could I do this again? How could I say goodbye again? Lose them again? Get my heart torn out a second time?
Hells.
You know what must happen today.
I went to my brother, the one I'd never had the chance to meet, and looked into his empty gaze. His soul needed to be reaped, and quickly.
But I found myself unable to move. Unable to face reality.
I wished I could stay in the past, lock myself into this moment forever, perched on the edge of changing everything.
I fell to my knees, every piece of me wanting to reap their souls, but my heart telling me not to move. Not to touch them.
Because touching them would make it real again.
And I wouldn't survive the second trip down memory lane.
Tears fell down my cheeks. I sobbed, my heart breaking, feeling so damn helpless...
And I felt a presence. A hand touch mine.
But that wasn't possible. I was in an illusion, watching my family die.
I spun around.
And almost fainted.
Standing before me was Rick. He couldn't be here. But somehow...he was.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, rubbing my sore eyes.
Rick smiled. "I'm not sure what happened. I've been holding your hand, and suddenly, I was here. Weird." He looked down at me, and it was almost as if he were sighted. "Leliel, you have to help them. Now."
I glanced at the still form of
my baby brother and my mother dead in a pool of blood. The tears started again. "I can't reap their souls, Rick. I can't do anything."
"Why not? You did it before, right?"
"It's complicated." I hugged myself, turning away from the horrible scene. "I can't go through that again. I can't lose them. I can't – "
"Shh." Rick took me into his arms, and I didn't question how he knew exactly where I was. "You're stronger than that. You can handle it. They need you, Leliel. So much."
"I know," I murmured. "But I can't."
"But you have to. For yourself. For me. For us."
Us.
Was there an us? I wanted to believe that, I really did.
I glanced back at my dead family. My father shook my mother gently, trying to rouse her. She'd gone pale, her body still.
Father wept.
I remembered this. In two minutes, he would get his pistol.
"No," I whispered, burying my face against Rick's shoulder. "I can't do this!"
Rick gently pulled me back, framing my face in his hands. "I believe in you, Leliel. I know you are strong enough to do this. You have to believe you can." He gasped, and his form flickered in and out of reality. "Crap! The Master's pulling me away from you! Remember, Leliel! Remember that you are strong!"
And then he was gone, as if he'd never been here.
I looked around me, at the house that had been my home, and wanted to cry. It was beyond cruel to put me through this again, but I knew in my heart that it had to happen.
I had to reap their souls.
I thought of Rick. He believed in me. But could I believe in myself?
I watched as my father set my brother down next to Mother and climbed the ladder.
My heart beat frantic. This was it. I had to do it – or not. And then my fate – along with Rick's – would be decided.
I forced myself to walk over to my dead brother. I forced myself to pick him up, to stop shaking. I blinked back tears. I had to do this.
Now.
You can do this. I know you are strong enough to do this.
I pulled Rick's words around me like a coccoon.
I took a deep breath.
Bent down and pressed my lips lightly to my brother's. His lips were cold. I tried to ignore that, tried to keep myself strong. My baby brother's soul floated out of his mouth and went into mine. It tasted sweet, and full of life, reminding me that he never got a chance to live.
I wept. "Goodbye, little brother."
The soul twisted and turned within me, nuzzling me as a cat would. It was almost as if his soul knew it was me, and knew that it was being reaped.
That just made me cry more.
The creak of the wood in the ladder announced Father's return. My vision was blurry with tears, but I knew he carried his pistol.
I set my baby brother on the floor and went to Mother. I looked down at her beautiful face, one that mirrored my own, and took another deep, cleansing breath.
My hands freaking shook. "Goodbye, Mother." I remembered her the first time, in repose, surrounded by blood. Her funeral, watching from a distance, not able to even pay my respects. She'd been dressed in her wedding gown, and bright flowers filled the room. Life amongst death. Beauty amongst pain.
My heart broke.
I pressed my lips to hers, and her soul floated to me. It, too, tasted sweet. Life filled it to bursting, and I wondered if she'd had enough life in her to last several lifetimes.
But she was gone now.
I heard movement behind me. I turned around, shaking with fear. My father was right in front of me, his eyes distant and unseeing, palming his pistol.
"Father, no!"
But I knew he couldn't hear me.
I watched, in perfect slow motion, my heart in my throat, as Father set my baby brother on Mother's chest. As he raised the pistol to his temple, his fingers twitched.
I took my baby brother into my arms and hugged him to my chest. Even though he was dead, I still didn't want him to see, to bear witness.
A scream worked its way up my throat.
Time stopped.
Father pulled the trigger.
His head exploded, blood and pieces of brain flying everywhere. My father's soul rose up in wisps from his broken body.
Slowly, I breathed his soul into me.
I wept.
#
We were suddenly back in the forest, an impossible sunset lighting everything up in impossible color. I felt hope for the first time.
"Well done," the Master said. "You have passed the Three Trials. I will take you to His Highness now."
"I can't believe I survived that," I said. "Is this even real?"
"Yes, it is. Your Rick is awake," the Master said, gesturing toward Rick. He was tethered to the Master by a rope that held him, even though he was incorporeal. "I am sorry. I had to do this because of his blindness. He will not trip on anything, though." He handed me the end of the rope.
Rick was currently sporting the Casper look. Translucent. His facial features softened, almost smoothed over.
My heart damn near exploded. "It's happening. He's...it's happening again." I reached out to touch Rick, and my hand passed through him. Crap, crap, crap.
The hellcat walked over to him and tried to bat at him with her paw. When it passed through, she whined. Saddest sound I ever heard.
"Come here, little one," I said, holding my arms out to her. She flew to me and jumped into my arms. "Shh. It's okay. We'll save him."
"What's...why am I..." Rick said.
"We need to get to His Highness quickly," the Master said. "Come, I will carry you."
My ankle throbbed, but I didn't want to be carried. Not f it wasn't Rick who was doing the carrying. "No, thank you. I'll be fine."
"As you wish," the Master said.
I'd like to say I was calm and rational, but I wasn't. I couldn't look at Rick or face what he was becoming.
As we marched through the forest and into the city proper, I tried to ignore the pain of my ankle and the hellcat's frantic crying. Tears fell down my cheeks. I only hoped His Highness would allow me to restore Rick's soul. If he didn't...I wasn't sure I could live with myself.
"Leliel," Rick said, the look on his face stopping me. He had a bit of expression left, and he looked haunted. Scared. Sad. "Why are you crying?"
"We must keep moving, Reaper Girl," the Master said. "If it gets too late into night, the demons will attack."
Yeah, I remembered the demons. They could control you with a glance, or tear you to pieces. Either way, I didn't want to experience that.
"Let's keep moving," I said.
Rick didn't say anything; cold silence covered us like a funeral shroud.
I knew he wanted an answer.
"Watch yourselves. It gets cold here," the Master said.
A blast of frigid air made me shiver. The cold seeped into every part of me.
I hugged the hellcat tighter.
"I wish I could hold you," Rick said softly. "So we'd be warmer."
Why was he thinking of my comfort when he was practically a ghost? And I was the moron who made him that way?
"Rick, don't you hate me?" I asked. "Because I think if I were in your place, I'd hate me, too."
Rick stopped walking. "I could never hate you, Leliel. Yes, you put me here, no question. But maybe we were fated to meet."
"Fated to meet? How romantic," I muttered, starting to hobble again, pulling gently on the rope. Snow crunched under my boots. "Well, if I can convince His Highness to let me restore your soul, you'll be free of me forever."
I couldn't be sure, but I thought he frowned. "What if I don't want to be free of you? What happens then?"
"I do not know," I murmured. Maybe his sanity left with his corporeality. Who'd want to be with the person who turned you into Casper?
"Leliel, I know you're in pain. Let the Master carry you." Rick's gaze was pleading. "Don't suffer just to look tough."
He didn't understan
d. "I'm not being tough. I want to be carried by you. No offense, Master," I added quickly. Didn't want to offend him.
"That's sweet. But foolish," Rick said. "I'd carry you if I could."
"Pay attention," the Master said, glancing at us over his shoulder. "Hellhounds roam this area. They are bloodthirsty creatures."
I remembered those. I'd been bitten by one and almost lost my hand.
I shuddered.
The hellcat squirmed in my arms. Reluctantly, I let her down.
We stepped into a clearing. Just in front of us stood His Highness's palace.
Hellhounds – hundreds of them – stood guard. Snarling, snapping at us. Ready to pounce.
"Holy crap," Rick said.
I glanced at him. "At least you can't be bitten."
"I want to protect you but I can't," Rick said with a sigh.
I put my hand on his chest, but it went straight through. Damn. "I can protect myself, thank you very much. It's you I'm worried about."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. You have a tendency to get into trouble," I said. Before I could say any more, the hounds attacked us.
Fur and blood and fists were thrown around. I dropped the rope and settled into battle, kicking and shoving and slicing hounds. Blood and fur flew. Every time I incapacitated one, another would take its place. My head pounded with resistance pain; dizziness threatened to make me collapse, and I couldn't stay ahead of them. I could barely protect myself from their onslaught.
And the pain in my ankle was making it hard to think.
With a growl, the hellcat jumped into the fray, claws extended and teeth bared. She managed to take out a few, but unfortunately, there were too many more.
The Master was, thankfully, holding his own.
Something had to be done, and now.
And I knew exactly what to do.
With my dagger, I sliced my wrist. Blood, bright red, welled and dripped to the ground.
I could tell the second the hellhounds scented my blood. They stopped attacking and just stood there, panting.
"Leliel, what have you done?" the Master asked. "You know – "
"Never mind that," I said, holding my bleeding wrist up. Several hellhounds came my way, their eyes betraying their hunger. I tried not to shiver, or shake. Fear was intoxicating to them. "Get Rick into the palace."
"Hell no," Rick said. Was it my imagination, or did he fade more? "I may be blind, but I can hear just fine. You've done something – "