Shimmer rb-2

by Alyson Noel

  A bright, raging red that shimmered and glowed and bubbled all around until it was big enough to house me.

  Anger.

  All I could feel—all I could see—was a burning hot anger that raged deep inside me.

  An anger so intense it came to define me.

  And so I vowed my revenge, vowed that every single one of them would pay for making me like this.

  Ignoring the vague, magnetic pull of something bright and promising and good—preferring to spend the rest of my days in my angry new world.

  I watched the massacre continue, lasting just over a month, watched as the death toll and bodies all piled up. Allowing those I’d deemed innocent to follow that pull to whatever bright thing lay beyond, while luring the rest of them into my shimmering trap of revenge—watching it grow bigger and bigger with each and every soul I admitted, until it became the large, dark globe where we lived.

  My throat grew dry and constricted, and for someone who no longer breathes, I had the sensation of desperately needing to before I was suffocated. The weight of Rebecca’s soul becoming so heavy, so burdensome, I couldn’t even begin to describe my relief when I found myself back on the other side of it.

  I coughed and sputtered, and tried my best to center myself. And even though Bodhi patted my back and Buttercup softly licked my hand, it took a while till I was able to face them again.

  When I did, I looked right at Rebecca and said, “I’m sorry for what happened to you.” I fought to keep my voice steady, sincere. “But I’m also sorry to tell you that you’re wrong. Dead wrong. Every thing you’re doing here and all of your reasons behind it are way off. You are sorely misguided, and too many people are suffering because of it.”

  But even though I tried to gaze upon her with love and compassion, I guess I didn’t really realize until it was way past too late that the look, the word, and the emotion was completely unrecognizable, completely meaningless, to someone like her.

  The next thing I knew, little Shucky had transformed into the Hell Beast I’d first met, as Rebecca stood before us, shaking with uncontrollable rage, her eyes glowing in the same way as her dog’s.

  “You will never leave this place!” she screamed. “You will never find your way out of here! Never, I swear it!”

  The ground shook, the wind howled, and a steaming hot blaze flared and burned all around, and less than a second later, Rebecca and her Hell Beast were gone.

  20

  I will never forget the sound of it.

  For as long as I continue to exist, I know for a fact that that sound will exist right along with me.

  I mean, how do you get past the shriek of hundreds of souls screaming in agony?

  How can you possibly get over something like that?

  Just because they were no longer encased in real, physical, flesh-and-blood bodies—just because they were no longer in possession of a beating heart and central nervous system—didn’t mean they were aware of that.

  Rebecca ruled their perception in a way that made all of their mental and physical agonies seem all too real, just as she continued to rule our reality too.

  The gale raged around us, whipping my hair into a frenzy, causing it to lash hard against my face, leaving me with no choice but to duck my head low, squint my eyes tightly, and yell into the howl of the wind. My voice rough, hoarse, as I struggled to be heard over the blare, warning Bodhi and Buttercup to concentrate, to locate the small gap of silence in their own heads, reminding them as well as myself that it was the only way to keep us from sinking even deeper into Rebecca’s hell.

  Yet, despite all of that, despite the fact that we all knew better, it was pretty rough going for each of us. It was one thing to know we were playing into the false reality of Rebecca’s world—quite another to spare ourselves from it.

  I manifested a leash for Buttercup, something he usually hates, but at that moment he was all too willing to be anchored to me, and we clung to each other, making our way between souls, our bodies getting battered and buffeted as we desperately searched for the prince. But there was so much wind and smoke and debris, so many traumatized souls, it was impossible to see his.

  “We have to split up.” Bodhi grasped my arm and shouted into my ear. “I know you don’t want to, but trust me, it’s the only way. We have to free these souls one by one. If we stay like this and do nothing, we’ll never get anywhere. We’ll just get sucked into the vortex of extreme suffering, along with the rest of them.”

  I looked at him, not at all sure if I was really up for the task. Even though I felt like I knew the territory, possibly better than him, there was still a small part of me that didn’t trust myself.

  There was still a small part of me that didn’t quite believe I could actually, effectively accomplish all that.

  I was barely handling myself with them, so how could I possibly maintain my concentration and focus without them?

  I mean, it’s one thing to talk the talk—it’s quite another to actually walk it.

  And as far as I and focusing went, well, let’s just say we were like two distant cousins who’d rarely met.

  But Bodhi, sensing, if not hearing, my hesitation, along with every worried thought in my head, looked at me and said, “You can do it, Riley. You’re going to be fine. Heck, you helped me, didn’t you?”

  I nodded. That much was true, though the reminder didn’t do much to ease my own nagging doubt.

  “And what about Buttercup? Where would he be right now if it wasn’t for you?”

  I gazed down at my dog who was gazing up at me, and I couldn’t help but hope he couldn’t hear my thoughts just like I couldn’t hear his. I didn’t want him to know what a big wimp I’d become.

  I wrapped my arms around my waist and bent my head low, my hair whipping all around me, getting thrashed pretty good, as I danced around on my tippy toes to keep my feet from being burned.

  Some apprentice I was turning out to be—I couldn’t even concentrate my way past Rebecca’s manifested weather storm.

  I’d barged my way in here without ever once stopping to consider just what I might be getting myself into, only to flip out and lose all my nerve at the exact moment it truly began to matter.

  It was like gazing into a mirror and seeing the absolute very worst version of me.

  But then again, I was only twelve.

  Eternally stuck at twelve.

  And with that in mind, how much could really be expected of me?

  It’s not like being dead made me any wiser than I’d been when I was alive.

  It’s not like being dead made me any more mature, or instilled any more confidence or strength in me than I’d had on my very last day on the earth plane.

  I mean, maybe if I’d been allowed to make it to thirteen, I’d be grown-up enough to face something like this. But as it was, thirteen, and all that it promised, was never going to happen for me, so why should I be expected to deal with something as big as all this?

  But just after I’d finished the thought, Bodhi tugged hard on my sleeve and said, “You’re wrong.”

  I raised my head slightly and peered at him through my tangled up bangs.

  “You can concentrate and focus, you’ve already proved that.”

  I swallowed hard. Even though my body no longer made saliva that I could actually swallow, I did it anyway. Old habits really do die hard, it seems.

  “Not to mention the fact that you don’t know squat about the Here & Now.”

  He had my full attention.

  “You have no idea how it works, do you?” Bodhi asked.

  My eyes locked on his.

  “No one is ever stuck anywhere, Riley. Seriously, what kind of a place do you think it is?”

  I looked at him, because to be honest, I really wasn’t sure. At that point, I still had a whole lot of questions as to how it all worked.

  He ducked his head lower and clenched that green straw between his teeth as he said, “Then again, I guess now you’ll never find out j
ust what you’re truly capable of over there. You know, since you’re choosing to be stuck here instead.”

  I gaped, at first unable to utter the words, though it wasn’t long before I said, “You mean, I can … I can, maybe … actually … turn thirteen someday?” I pressed my lips together, sure it was too good to be true.

  But Bodhi just quirked his brow and shrugged in a vague, noncommittal kind of way. “There’re no limits that I’m aware of—pretty much anything is possible there. But, the sad part is you’ll never even get close if you can’t find your way out of here.”

  I stared down at my toes, my dancing scorched toes. Hearing his voice in my head urging, “Concentrate. Focus. See the true reality of this place, not the one Rebecca wants you to see.”

  So I did.

  And it wasn’t long before the wind stopped, the fire extinguished, the ground went still, and my toes cooled, though my hair still looked like a fright wig.

  “You can deal with that later.” Bodhi laughed, chucking me under my chin. “But first, we have some souls to release.”

  21

  Buttercup and I went one way, while Bodhi went another. Each of us approaching the nearest, suffering soul, taking hold of their hand, and immersing ourselves in their world of pain until we could introduce that small space of silence that guided them out of their hell.

  And if you think that sounds simple, if you think that sounds easy-peasy, well, let me tell you: It isn’t.

  Not even close.

  The truth is, we were subjected to some pretty dark things—along with some pretty scary things, and some pretty horrific things, and some pretty sad things. And I’ll speak for myself when I say I personally witnessed the kind of suffering I never could’ve imagined, never wanted to imagine, before.

  I felt the crack of the whip against my bare back that caused my skin to break open and ooze.

  I watched with an indescribable fear as an intentionally aimed bowling ball whizzed right past my face, missing me by only a fraction of an inch.

  I heard the horrible thwonk as that same bowling ball slammed into a far less fortunate friend, filled with the horrifying knowledge that yet another brother had passed.

  But still, I kept right on going, offering hope, love, and compassion—the three biggest, most powerful forces in the universe—and when I saw that moment of reprieve, when I saw that small gap of silence introduced, well, I encouraged them to seize it, focus on it, and grow it until it became big enough for them to climb into.

  Big enough for them to fly away in.

  And somewhere along the way, a funny thing happened.

  With every soul we released, Rebecca’s world, her darkly glistening bubble of anger, grew a little bit smaller.

  Though I couldn’t see her, I could tell by the way Buttercup stilled, lowered his head, and pulled in his tail, that Rebecca was somewhere among us. But for the time being anyway, she didn’t dare approach, and honestly, I felt so empowered by the work I was doing, I’m not sure I would’ve cared if she had.

  Suddenly, I had something that was missing before: a strong belief in myself and the promise of a future I hadn’t dared to even think about.

  Because if what Bodhi said was true, I just might get to experience my biggest dream yet: that of being thirteen.

  But first, we had some serious business to attend to.

  Each soul was different. No two were alike. Some were angry with themselves, some were angry with others, while some had lived lives so horrendous it was truly impossible to fathom.

  Still, I wasn’t there to judge: I was merely there to provide some relief. So I continued to make my way through the ranks, thinning the crowd significantly, until I stopped to take a good look around and was amazed to find the world had been dwindled down to Bodhi, Buttercup, Prince Kanta, and me.

  To say I was thrilled to see the prince again would be putting it mildly. Though I’d tried not to think too much about it, tried to stay focused on the soul at hand, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been pretty disturbed by his absence.

  But when I tried to introduce him to Bodhi, I realized they’d run into each other just a little earlier, around the time the walls really started to close in and they’d bumped right into each other.

  And though none of us actually said it, I knew we were all looking for Rebecca. Her world had shrunk to the point where there was only one place left to hide—in the big yellow house, a manifested replica of the one she grew up in.

  I stared at the mansion, unsure if we should make the first move and go get her, or wait for her to come to her senses, acknowledge her defeat, and find her way outside to wave her white flag.

  But when Bodhi mentioned tearing the house down in order to get to her, I had another idea.

  I slipped right in front of them and made my way in, swiftly ascending the stairs with my friends right behind me, knowing exactly where I’d find her since I’d already lived the experience.

  I went straight for the closet. And while I admit, for a split second I considered manifesting some kind of facade that looked just like her father, knowing that would certainly lure her right out, in the end, I decided against it. Partly because it just didn’t seem right—it seemed cruel and unkind—and partly because I really had no idea how to do that (though I made a mental note to ask later).

  I paused before the door, glancing over my shoulder to see the prince and Bodhi nodding their encouragement, while Buttercup thumped his tail against the floor.

  Then I grabbed hold of the knob and yanked the door open, my eyes narrowing as they adjusted to the dimness, spying nothing more than the tips of her shiny brown boots, the hem of her flouncy dress, and the stray paw of the dog she clutched to her chest, until I moved all the old hanging clothes aside and could gaze upon the rest of her.

  Our eyes met. And for a moment, I was sure I couldn’t go through with it. But the thought was quickly overcome by something I can only describe as a thought wave—this big, wonderful swarm of love and support that came from my friends.

  Strengthened by the way it swept right over me, pooled all around me, I looked at Rebecca and said, “It’s over. Everything’s over. You’re the only one left, and now it’s time to come out.”

  But if I’d had any illusions it would be anywhere near that easy, well, I quickly got over them.

  Rebecca wasn’t going anywhere. And somewhere in the midst of all her yelling and cursing and ranting and raving, she’d told me as much.

  “He’s not coming,” I said, deflecting each verbal blow, letting it just whiz right past me. “Your father is gone. He moved on a long time ago. Which means there’s really no point in reliving all this.”

  She scooched back even farther, clutched her dog tighter, and kicked at me with her boots. And when it was clear I wasn’t going anywhere, when it was clear that none of us were, she did the unthinkable.

  She let go of her dog and sicced him on Buttercup.

  I screamed.

  I couldn’t help it.

  The sight of that beast charging my dog caused me to lose all my focus.

  But luckily, I had backup.

  Backup that wasn’t the least bit fazed by any of it.

  And no, I’m not referring to Bodhi, or even Prince Kanta as I definitely heard them suck in a fair amount of air—I’m talking about Buttercup.

  My sweet yellow Lab who, seeing the dog now grown to one hundred times his size, equated it with the game of fetch he’d been playing earlier, the game that started all this. Manifesting a lime green tennis ball, just like the one we’d been using, he sent it bouncing toward the door, down the hall, then barked and wagged his tail harder as he watched the hellhound chase after it.

  The last thing I heard as Shucky ran down the stairs and out the front door was the sound of Rebecca screaming, “Nooooooo!” when she realized her dog, thanks to mine, was now on the other side of her globe.

  We tried to cajole her, tried to convince her to join him, but she refused. Even a
fter we’d stripped away the closet, the house, and tried to show her just how quickly her world had shrunk down, that besides the three of us, she was the only inhabitant left, she still resisted the truth.

  Choosing to fight back by manifesting all manner of hateful, anger-making memories along with every natural disaster she could think of.

  But we remained calm, focused, and united—each of us happily residing in the small, quiet space of silence she could no longer take from us.

  “What now?” I glanced between the prince and Bodhi, looking for some wise words, if not guidance.

  “We leave her.” The prince shrugged. “Now that my brothers and sisters are freed”—he nodded toward the place just outside the globe where they all stood, peering in at us—“it is time for me to go. I was hoping to reach her, but that does not seem to be possible just yet. And for that, I am sorry. It is a very great failure on my part.”

  Though Bodhi was quick to agree that we should all just leave and possibly revisit that sad, angry girl on some other day, I had another idea entirely.

  “I know exactly how to get her out of here,” I said, looking at each of them. “Just follow my lead.”

  22

  “You can’t do it,” Bodhi said, but I turned my back on him, determined to go through with it no matter how he might choose to protest. “You cannot force someone to cross the bridge. It goes against all the rules. And I can’t believe I have to repeat this to you when you already know that.”

  I glanced at the prince, embarrassed to be bickering in front of him like this. Still, I had every intention to stand my ground. I’d had an idea. A good one if I might say so myself. And I was sure it would work, if Bodhi would just give it half a chance.

  “No one’s forcing anyone to do anything,” I said, making it a point to roll my eyes and shake my head. “I mean, sheesh, whaddaya take me for? Some kind of amateur?” I screwed my lips to the side.