Kneeling, the figure reached out to each human form in turn, a glowing orb in its hand, and lay the orb on the chest of each of the deceased. The orb floated just above the body and then was absorbed. The orb was the soul.
For death is not permanent and life can be restored by those with the power, those on the other side working for good.
Ricky Martin was the first to open his eyes.
At first, he doubted both his eyesight and his sanity. For there before him knelt the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her yellow eyes glowed like they were lit with fire. Her mouth was red and perfectly formed, smooth, and smiling. Her black hair flowed down her back and over her shoulders, ending in curls. Her fingers were long, and her body was slender. She wore a long black gown tied at the waist with a shiny black ribbon. Her eyes sparkled as she held out her hand to Ricky Martin and helped him effortlessly to his feet.
She raised Conner and Almira the same way. Then she placed an orb in Ricky’s palm, where it hovered just above his skin. Taking his wrist, she led him to Flower and guided him to place it on her bosom. There, the orb glowed pink before disappearing.
Flower opened her eyes, breathed once, and shed tears of joy as she gazed upon a woman so beautiful she could be an angel.
And she was.
The Angel of Death. The one sent to release men and women from their mortal struggles. Sent from the spirit of the universe that many call God, but who is beyond all human comprehension.
The beautiful Angel of Death helped Flower ease to her feet. When all four were standing and had recovered, the Angel spoke. When she did, it was the sound of maidens singing the most comforting lullaby imaginable.
“My servants have been bad,” she said, not even bothering to look at the specters lining the walls around her. “Please accept my apologies. They will be dealt with. May I take you out of this world where you do not belong and get you safely back to your own world, and your own homes?”
Not a single second passed from the moment those words left her perfect lips than Conner, Almira, Flower, and Ricky Martin were back in their hometown.
The sun shown with a light it never had before; the sky was bluer, clearer than ever before. The four stood together and breathed it all in. The sounds of the birds, the smell of the air.
“It is not your time to go,” a soft voice said. It was her. Speaking to them from the other plane, the other dimension. But they could hear her as if she was standing right beside them. “Each of you have a long journey ahead.”
Flower looked at Ricky, then looked away.
“The ones taken, the ones dear to you,” the Angel went on, “they will be returned to you. Flower, your parents. Almira, your father. Ricky, your father, too. Your friends, your neighbors. Everyone taken in the last weeks who were not scheduled to be brought across the veil will be returned.”
Flower fought back the tears in her eyes but lacked the strength after all she’d been through to hold them back. She sobbed loudly, covering her face. Ricky put his arm around her shoulders and whispered words of comfort to her.
“Everything will be put to rights, my dear ones. Those Shadows who escaped were the worst of my teams, meant only for the murderous, the Satanic, the worst of mankind. Good people are helped across by the good Angels in my army. The very best, I personally take on the journey to the other side.”
Flower was able to stop crying, and so was Almira, who joined her almost as soon as Flower started bawling. She was held by Conner, as Flower was held by Ricky Martin.
“Go now, it is over. May God be with you,” the Angel of Death said. “Be with the people you love.”
The feeling that the Angel was present with them suddenly vanished; they all had that same sensation. The two worlds were separate again.
“That’s the best advice I’ve ever heard,” Conner said. “Let’s do like the lady said.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Sleep of Angels
When they returned to their neighborhood, things were different already. That sense of menace had been lifted. The group of friends stopped at Almira’s house first.
Inside, Almira’s mom was making dinner—with the kind of ingredients Almira loved: all fresh, even the spices came right from their garden. It was a perfect day.
“¡Hola, mama!” Almira said cheerfully.
Nita Fuerza licked the sauce off her finger and smiled. “¡Hola, Almira! Good, you are home. It’s burrito night. Can your friends stay?”
“Hi, Mrs. Fuerza,” Conner said. He added, “¡Hola!”
“Can you stay for dinner?”
“Can’t stay, have a bit of business to attend to first. But I would love to come back later, me and Almira. If that’s all right?”
“That’s fine. Que pasa?”
“Oh, we’re just walking Ricky and Flower home, that’s all, mama,” Almira answered. She rushed to her mother and gave her a strong hug.
“What was that for?” Mrs. Fuerza asked, laughing. When Almira didn’t laugh, too, nor let go, Mrs. Fuerza hugged her back in silence. Then both of them started to cry.
“Look at me, I’m a mess!” Mrs. Fuerza said. “I don’t even know why I’m crying!”
“I do,” Almira said, barely able to choke out the words. “It’s because we love each other, and missed each other, and care for each other.”
“Yes, that about covers it,” Mrs. Fuerza said, closing her eyes and holding the hug with Almira.
Almira let go at last. “We should get these guys home,” she said. “Can’t just stand her crying and hugging forever.”
“That would be fine with me,” Mrs. Fuerza said.
“Me, too,” Almira whispered.
“We should go, though,” Ricky Martin said.
The other three nodded in agreement and headed toward the door.
“We’ll be right back, Mrs. Fuerza. Keep the burritos hot,” Conner called out.
Next up was Flower. She walked slower than the rest, her knees buckling a bit. Ricky knew the real horror that took place in the Gardener house. It seemed as if Flower somehow had a premonition about it.
As they approached, the sun setting, the automatic porch and garage exterior lights came on, echoing the night that the lights had been controlled by the Reapers.
Flower gasped.
“You’ll be all right,” Ricky Martin said. “Let’s get inside and you’ll see. Everything will be fine.”
“I hope you’re right,” Flower said, her voice trembling.
“Mrs. Fuerza was aliv—fine,” Ricky said, carefully choosing his words. “Wasn’t she?”
“Yes, I guess. I mean, yes she was.”
“The Angel of Death will keep her promise to all of us.”
“I just don’t know,” Flower said. “Ricky?”
“What is it?”
“Hold me?”
Ricky put his big arm around Flower and pulled her close.
“I’m scared,” Flower whispered.
For a moment, Ricky held her. “I know you’re scared, Flower, but you need to do this. Let’s go up the steps.”
Ricky guided her up the steps of her front porch and then pulled the screen door open for her. Flower reached out, pushed open her front door, and stepped inside.
“Mom? Dad?” she called.
Silence.
“Mom? It’s me, Flower.”
Still no answer.
“Ricky?” Flower turned to look back at the one man in the world she could depend on, her eyes big.
Ricky gently pushed her inside, and Conner and Almira followed.
“Let me try,” he said. He raised his voice and almost shouted. “Mr. Gardener? Mrs. Gardner?
Crashing came from the other side of the house. Ricky tensed for trouble; a flashback where dark deadly things flew at him crossed his mind and his soul.
“We’re out here!” came the cheerful sound of Mrs. Gardener’s voice. “By the bar-b-que!”
Ricky sighed and fell back a step as the
adrenaline left his body. Flower whimpered and covered her face with both hands.
“Thank God,” she whispered.
“You guys hungry?” Mr. Gardener’s voice followed up. “We got burgers here. And Ricky, your parents are back here, too.”
“What do you say, Ricky?” Flower asked. “I’m starved. I don’t think I’ve eaten in a week.”
“Me either,” Ricky said. He turned to Conner. “You?”
Conner smiled. “No way, man. I have burritos to get back to.”
Ricky Martin laughed and gave his friend a hug. “I can go with you to your house, if you’d like.”
“No reason. You stay here with Flower. I know my folks are fine. I’m just going to drop in and verify that the nightmare is over. Then, I’m eating my weight in Almira’s mother’s burritos.”
“Flower, dear,” Mrs. Gardener trilled. “Can you bring more ketchup? And your father and Mr. Martin would like another beer.”
“Sure, Mom,” Flower called back.
Three of four best friends laughed and hugged, but Flower had already run out in her back yard, crying and hugging and kissing—and mostly confusing the hell out of—her parents. The beer and ketchup long forgotten by all.
“See you guys around,” Ricky said.
Then he went one way, and Conner and Almira went the other.
“Hey, Mom,” Conner said.
“Hi, son. Why, hello, Almira. How are you?”
“I am soooo great, you have no idea,” Almira said, laughing.
“You know Detective Meehan, right?” Mrs. Croyant said, stepping into the living room.
“Gloria, please,” Detective Meehan said, standing.
“She’s agreed to come talk to the kids at the children’s hospital and even bring a police dog! They’ll love it.”
“It’s nothing really. How are you two?” Detective Meehan.
“Oh, we’re good, Detective. Believe me.” Conner stepped over to where Detective Meehan had gotten up to greet them and gave her a quick hug.
“What—why?” Meehan asked.
Conner said nothing as Almira, done for now with squeezing the life out of her mother, wiped her tears and ran over to squeeze the life out of Gloria Meehan.
“What is this all about?” Mr. Croyant said, coming down the stairs. “Did I miss something?”
Conner said, smiling, “Oh, man. You have no idea.”
As Flower and Ricky lay together on a chaise lounge in her backyard, kissing and hugging, a single star shot across the sky. All the outdoor lights were off, the grownups having long since turned in for the night. The evening sky was moonless and dark, making the stars shine that much brighter.
“Look!” Flower breathed, pulling away from Ricky’s lips just enough to talk. “I wonder if that’s her.”
“Her?” Ricky said, gazing at Flower’s lips and feeling a bit confused.
“The Angel, Ricky. The Angel who saved us.”
He followed her arm to her pointing finger and stared up at the star.
“Oh . . . ” Ricky Martin said, sighing. Then he smiled. “It must be.”
“I know we’ll get to see her again one day. I just know it,” Flower said.
For a moment, they lay quietly.
“You know what, baby?” Flower whispered.
“What?”
“I’m not afraid anymore.”
“Good,” Ricky said. “The Reapers are gone. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“No, I don’t mean that.”
“Well, what then?”
“I’m not afraid of death. I’m not afraid of dying. Not anymore.”
Flower Gardener and Ricky Martin watched that shooting star fade away into the night, the evening quiet around them.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, they drifted off to sleep the sleep of angels.
Did you enjoy SHADOWS OF DEATH: Then, you might also REALLY like Carl S. Plumer’s other satirical, dark humor books . . .
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to everyone who has believed in my dream from the beginning (Kristen!), my fans, my fellow writers (Hannah!), my family (Kira, Joe, and Lee), and everyone who helps shape these books, both directly and indirectly. I hope you know how much you mean to me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CARL S. PLUMER was born and raised in New York City, and was writing as soon as he could successfully hold a crayon. Now he holds advanced degrees in writing. He has spent his life surrounded by words. He’s delivered newspapers, worked at a printing press, managed a bookstore, taught writing, wrote for literary magazines and pop culture newspapers (in NYC), and published technical books. In short, even before he started creating novels, he’d been a writer. He is proud (and humbled) to be an Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Quarterfinalist and a National Indie Excellence Award Finalist. He was selected as a judge for the international writing contest, World’s Best Story. He lives with his wife Kristen and their two black cats. Their children live around the globe, pursuing their dreams.
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SHADOWS OF DEATH: Death Comes with Fury (and Dark Humor) To a Small Town South of Chicago Page 20