by Gina Ardito
“You’re still not answering my question, though. Was it sex or lovemaking?”
“I don’t friggin’ know, okay? Let it go, goddammit. Let the whole damn thing go.” Tunneling fingers through his hair, he strode to the opposite wall from her. “Christ, what a fuck-up. There’s no way the Elders are going to ignore this. Whatever test they were administering, I think I just failed. Big time.”
The clipboards, ignored and neglected on top of a pile of crates, burst to life.
With a snort of derision, she grabbed the boards and placed a palm on her screen to stop the noise. “Looks like we’re about to find out how badly you fucked up.”
He covered the distance between them with long strides then pulled his board from her grasp. “I’m not going to let them take you down with me. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Chuckling, she shook her head. “Wrong again, Martino. I not only let you go, I gave you the extra power to reach Isabelle when the Elders put up the barriers. That makes me your willing accomplice.”
Shit. He’d forgotten about that detail.
“I don’t regret it, Sean,” she proclaimed.
He stared at her, at the steely glint in her ebony eyes and her proud, erect carriage. “Christ, I can’t figure out if you’re that brave, that crazy, or that plain stupid.”
“All three. And one more: I’m friggin’ pissed, too. You and me and Isabelle—the Elders seem to be manipulating all three of us for giggles. And I don’t play headgames. But if someone screws with me, I don’t back down, either. If they think they can play me, they’re about to find out Xavia Donovan is nobody’s toy.”
“Okay, then,” he replied. “Let’s go kick some Elder ass.”
“Damn straight.”
One last grin in her direction, and he focused his energies on transporting from their orb ball court to the exterior of the court of the Elder Council, the auditorium. He barely landed in front of the doors when a sixth sense danced icy fingers over his nape. His senses went into alert, and he scanned the mob for danger. A familiar figure strode by again, only to blend into the crowd. The kid.
Sean stretched upright to watch, hoping to catch his eye. All he needed was a nod, an acknowledgement from the kid, and he’d use the opportunity to actually talk to him. Find out why he was here.
Beside him, Xavia rose on tiptoes. “What? What are we looking at?”
“Just someone I think I knew on Earth,” Sean murmured.
“Who?”
With a frown, he pointed toward the middle of the throng of newcomers. “There’s a kid over there. Black t-shirt, closely shaved head, gold stud in one ear. Every time I show up here, he’s here, too. I think it means something.” He narrowed his eyes, scanned the multitudes, but couldn’t find the exact combination he’d just described. “Shit. He’s disappeared again.”
Xavia turned in that direction and studied the crowd. “Where?”
“Forget it.”
“No, wait. I think I see...” On a sharp gasp, she swayed. Eyes wide, she stumbled against him. “Noah!”
~~~~
“Noah!” she called again, waving her arms. “Noah, it’s me!” Although her shouting drew plenty of attention from onlookers and staff alike, her son never turned in her direction. “Noah! Over here!”
“Xavia.” Sherman suddenly stood in front of her, his hands on her forearms, preventing her from signaling Noah or letting him see her frantic motions over the heads of the crowd. “Stop. He doesn’t know you anymore.”
She shook off his hold, and glared down at the Elders’ chief minion, questions piercing her head with the ferocity of wasp stings. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t he know me? I’m his mother. Of course he knows me.”
Beside her, Sean sucked in a sharp breath. “Son of a...”
Shifting her gaze to him, she demanded, “What’s with you now?”
What the hell had she missed? She switched her focus from Sean to Sherman and back again. Why wouldn’t either of them look her in the eye? What was going on?
Gaze pinned to his feet, Sean murmured, “Not now, Xavia. I’ll tell you later.”
“Tell me what?”
“Later,” he repeated through his teeth.
Okay, fine. He wanted to be a jackass; that was his prerogative. Once again, she sought out Noah among the throng of newcomers, but he’d somehow slipped away. Disappointment, shaken with her swirling doubts, brewed a noxious cocktail in her belly, and she swerved back to Sherman, prepared to spew venom all over the wizened gnome. “Where did he go? Why didn’t anyone tell me he was here?”
Sherman’s expression softened, making his elfin face pathetic and mushy. “First of all, you know exactly why you weren’t told.”
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. Right. The same excuse they always gave her. She’d love to punch every one of these bastards. They were still holding her suicide against her. And against Noah—the one innocent in this mess.
“Secondly,” he continued, “he doesn’t know you because he’s lived three other lifetimes while you’ve been here. He isn’t Noah anymore. He hasn’t been Noah in close to half a century now. He doesn’t remember his life as your son. You could stand right in front of him, and while he might feel a pull toward you, he wouldn’t know why, and he’d easily dismiss the feeling as just some kind of Afterlife empathy.”
The wasps inside her grew angrier, buzzing and stinging with the impact of a thousand red-hot needles. Noah was lost to her forever. They’d told her so. Time after time, Uriah had pounded into her the fact that she would never get the chance to see her son again. But now, she did see him. He just didn’t see her. And that was the cruelest blow of all. “Why is he here, Sherman? Why isn’t he on Earth where he belongs?”
Sherman’s lentil-brown face took on a sickly green hue, mottled with spots of white. “Because he works here now.”
Oh, God, no. As far as she knew, the only employees in the Afterlife were—she swallowed the lump of fear in her throat—suicides. While chills rattled through her, she grabbed Sherman by his gold-braided lapels and shook him ‘til he rattled in direct rhythm.
“That’s a goddamn lie,” she exclaimed. “What’s he really doing here? Tell me the truth, damn you!”
“H-he’s a b-bounty h-hunter, Xavia,” the little man replied while his head snapped back and forth with the force of her anger.
“Xavia.” A soft-spoken Sean stepped between them and pried her hands away from Sherman’s wobbly neck. “Stop. We’ll talk later. I promise. We’ll get you some answers, okay? Come on. Calm down. Please.”
She took a half-step back to keep from wrapping her hands around Sherman’s throat. With the help of several deep breaths, she calmed enough to ask one more series of questions. “Tell me, Sherman. What are the Elders up to now? Why let me see my son here, knowing he’s now as doomed as I am, with me unable to help him? He doesn’t even know who I am. Is this some kind of special torment reserved for me because of what happened with Sean and Isabelle? My own personal penance to be performed through eternity?”
Sherman sighed and shook his head. “I honestly don’t know.”
“I think...” Sean interjected, “I know.” He held up a hand before she could say a word. “Please. Don’t ask me for details now. I promise I’ll tell you.” He jerked his head at the masses of souls encircling them from the queue. “But not here. Not right now.”
“The Elders are waiting for you both,” Sherman added. “Again.”
“Yeah, well, we mustn’t keep the Elders waiting.”
The acid in Sean’s tone could burn the plaster off the walls, but Xavia was immune. Numb. Scar tissue. Nothing mattered but Noah and how he’d wound up here. Her poor son. Her poor, beautiful boy who’d never stood a chance.
“Come on, Xavia.”
Overwrought, she followed Sean, blinded by the storm of tears threatening to rain down her cheeks. Her son was now an employee. Which meant, in his last incarnation, he’d somehow ended his own life. He’d bec
ome an Afterlife bounty hunter. Sean’s old job. How long had Noah been here? Had he replaced Sean? What had happened to him? Could she have changed his fate if she’d had one opportunity to talk to him, to reach out to him? How long would he remain here?
So many damn questions. No answers.
Well, she could get at least one answer.
As they strode down the carpeted aisle toward the jury of twelve Elders, she nudged Sean with an elbow. “How do you know my son?”
“Later,” he said through gritted teeth.
“No, Sean,” the red-haired woman who was his Elder Counselor proclaimed from the table on the dais. “Tell her now.”
The chill inside Xavia turned glacial. She stopped in the middle of the aisle and grabbed Sean’s hand to pull him to a halt next to her. “Tell me what?”
Instead of facing her, he looked up at the dais, at the twelve ageless sages with their emotionless, timeless countenances. “I gotta hand it to you guys,” he addressed them. “This was evil genius. And I never saw it coming. I should have. Luc warned me. Samantha warned me. Hell, my own logic told me you were up to something truly heinous. But I never even considered...” He snorted a derisive chuckle. “How do you get to become an Elder Counselor anyway? I’m guessing your work résumé must have some dandy references. Like being the chief advisor to some despot like Hitler. Or Rasputin. Or Pol Pot.”
“Tell her, Sean,” his EC repeated in the same silken tone, obviously unaffected by his insults.
Stone dread cemented Xavia’s feet to the floor. She’d seen a lot of Sean’s ever-changing moods since he’d first lounged against the door jamb in her office with that insolent attitude bouncing off his aura. But, in all their time together, she’d never seen him so...defeated. So completely at a loss.
“Tell her,” Uriah commanded from his seat beside the red-haired woman.
On a heavy sigh, Sean finally faced her, his eyes filled with so much pain, she ached to fold him into a comforting embrace. Stupid, really. Whatever he was about to say to her would crush her. She knew that. And on some deep level, a tiny warning voice urged her to run, to refuse to hear. After all, if she didn’t listen, she could go on pretending his crime didn’t really happen. But fear of the unknown paralyzed her. She didn’t want to hear those awful words, couldn’t face what he would reveal.
The walls of the auditorium seemed to close in around them, shrinking the venue to claustrophobic. She had to get out of here. Now. But the doors had disappeared, leaving her trapped. Trapped while some express train of truth was about to roll over her.
“Sean,” the red-haired woman prompted yet again—this time with undisguised exasperation. “We’re waiting.”
He offered his EC a curt nod, but kept his pain-filled gaze pinned to Xavia. “I’m the—”
“Don’t.” Xavia pressed her fingers to his lips, hoping to stem the horror barreling forward, intent on destroying them both. “Please, don’t say it.”
“Tell her!” Uriah thundered. “Now.”
The confession came out on too soft a whisper for such a vile piece of knowledge. “I know your son because I’m the one who killed him.”
Chapter 17
Christ, if he could put his service revolver in his mouth and pull the trigger again, he’d do it right now. If only to put Xavia out of her misery.
The betrayal in her narrowed eyes as she glared at him made him feel lower than worm food. On the heels of his confession, her bright golden aura dulled to muddy gray, and while she folded in on herself, she somehow found a wall of inner strength to remain upright. Upright, but shaky. Upright, but one puff away from collapse. Upright, but outraged. Her lips had tightened to a barely discernible line—as if she thought if she allowed the slightest gap in her mouth, her agony would pour out of her in a deluge.
“Say something,” he whispered. “Please.”
“Take it back, Sean.” Her husky demand scraped his nerves raw.
“I can’t. You know I can’t.” He reached for her hand, but she backed away, pulling herself taut and untouchable. “I swear, I didn’t know he was your son until just now. It never clicked. Your last name’s Donovan. I was told the kid was named Noah Alexander.”
Her words pelted like sleet. “His father’s last name, you son-of-a-bitch.”
“I’m sorry, Xavia. It was an accident. It was dark that night. My partner and I had just taken a call from a store owner who’d been held up at gunpoint half a block from that alley. I spotted a kid who fit the suspect’s description running away. I identified myself as a cop, told him to stop and put his hands up. He turned with one hand in his jacket pocket. I warned him to show me both hands, and he just laughed at me. He was high, I could tell. I warned him a second time, but—”
“Stop!” Xavia shouted at him. “I don’t want to hear anymore.” Her voice reverted to a low rasp. “Just get out of my sight. I don’t want to see you, don’t want to talk to you ever again. Get out of my face, Martino.”
She turned and strode away, presenting the rigid line of her back to him, her fury even more evident in the stomp of her sharp heels. The auditorium walls melted away, replaced by the familiar Bensonhurst kitchen, the Formica table, and Verity seated as she poured tea into old, chipped stoneware mugs. Xavia and the other Elders had disappeared yet again.
“Wow,” he sneered at her. “Are you guys satisfied now?”
“Sit down, please,” she replied with her usual aplomb. “You know it pains me to look up at you.”
He kicked out the closest chair and flopped into the seat, arms folded over his chest. “If you really understood pain, you wouldn’t have done what you just did to Xavia.”
“I did nothing to Xavia.”
“Right,” he retorted. “I’m sure it was just coincidence her dead son, who happens to now be a bounty hunter here, just happened to pop up in the crowd while we were waiting for Sherman to let us in to this audience you requested. You forget I used to be a bounty hunter. I know the only times a hunter should be at Reception is when dropping off a new bounty or when summoned by you. And lately, every time I’ve been summoned to appear before you, that kid has been here. So, either he’s the Afterlife’s busiest hunter, or you guys have been setting us up for quite a while, waiting for the opportune moment to indulge in your malicious jollies.”
While she poured tea into a second mug, her hands were steady, her face serene. Clearly, his diatribe had no effect on her. “What makes you think there was any malice in our insistence that you tell her the truth?”
Wearing the exasperation of an angst-ridden teen, he rolled his eyes at her. “Oh, I don’t know. Your timing, for one thing.”
She arched a brow. “Meaning...?”
“Meaning you could’ve said something about our...” He struggled for the right description. “...common ground before you transferred me to her department. You could’ve transferred me somewhere else, for that matter. To a department full of strangers where this kind of debacle would never have happened. But, no. You purposely put us together. You made us become friends, never once revealing to me that we were linked by my sin on Earth, and then you watched me rip out her heart for your enjoyment. Great job, Verity. Outstanding. Really. You guys should write children’s books.” She slid a mug toward him, but he shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ve drunk enough poisoned Kool-Aid.”
“Suit yourself.” She picked up her own mug and sipped, saying nothing else.
The silence became a maw between them. A maw with razor-sharp teeth. Sean squirmed in the chair, crossed his legs, uncrossed his legs, drummed his fingers on the Formica, sighed, squirmed some more, and recited the table of periodic elements in his head. Still, she didn’t speak.
When, at last, every cell inside him frayed from the discomfort and he would’ve broken out in a sweat if he still had sweat glands, he surrendered. “What happens now?”
“Nothing.” She smiled over the rim of her mug, victorious again. “You and Xavia will both go back to work. Sa
me as before.”
“That’s it? We just walk out of here, and it’s supposed to be business as usual? You’re not going to transfer me out?”
“Why would we?”
He didn’t go with, Because I disobeyed orders and probably had sex with my offender. If she didn’t bring it up, he wasn’t stupid enough to raise the topic. Instead, he suggested with stinging animosity, “Because my boss now hates the sight of me?”
She sipped her tea. “You’ll have to find a compromise between the two of you. You’ve managed to work together before; you’ll figure out a way to do so again.”
Terrific. “Oh, sure. Because I can easily smooth over this jagged mess.” He leaned over the table to enunciate, “I killed her son. You think I’m going to step into her office after this, and she’s going to forget all the pain and suffering, how she wound up here because she couldn’t deal with the loss, and the fact she killed herself because I killed her son?”
Still, the sage of the universe offered no visible reaction. “She’ll come around with time,” she replied in her usual cool tone. “Because that’s all you and she have here: time.”
He sighed and clasped his hands together. “Look, you’ve punished Xavia enough. You took her son from her forever. You made her work with, and actually come to like, the one person responsible for the hardship she’ll face for eternity. Give her a break. Don’t make her have to keep seeing me. Move her forward. She’s earned it.”
Verity shook her head. “I’m sorry, but that’s not an option. You and she must work through your issues together, Sean. Contrary to your opinions of us, we do not manipulate our charges here on a whim. Use this opportunity to make peace with each other. Your future depends on it.”
“My future?” he balked. “What future? As far as I know, I destroyed any hope I had for a future the day I put my service revolver in my mouth and pulled the trigger. At least, that’s what you guys have been telling me since I got here.”
“No. What you were told was that a new future had to be created for you because you had destroyed the life path mapped out for you. Your selfish action also affected anyone whose life you would have touched had you not put your service revolver in your mouth and pulled the trigger. All of those lives had to be remapped, as well. Such a massive endeavor takes time. You serve here not only to wait until we’ve created a new life path for you, but also to learn and grow as an individual so you won’t make the same mistakes in your next lifetime. I’m also fairly certain you were advised that justice denied on Earth must be satisfied here in the Afterlife. You and Xavia would have crossed paths in your previous lifetimes, had you both not so precipitously taken the decision into your own hands. Therefore, you must work out those issues here.”