“I’m sorry,” I whisper to him, for it’s all the volume my voice will allow. Fear, shame, and anger have taken the life out of it. To the demon, I manage to choke out, “Thank you, sir. I would appreciate an escort out.”
“It would be my pleasure,” the demon says with a cruel smile. He won, and he loves it.
“Of course. I’m so glad I crossed paths with you,” I say. After that, our trek back to the gate is silent, although I notice the longing look Penn gives to the corridor leading to the prison of souls. We’re all cowed into submission after what was done to Webber.
When we get to the outskirts of hell, the demon stops walking. “You can take it from here, Reaper. The gate is just there.” He gestures behind him. “If you’d like, come back tomorrow night and see if you can find your wayward Reaper. Maybe I’ll feel generous and return him to you. But don’t get your hopes up. I think we’re going to have fun with him.”
“I know better than to hope in a place like this, demon,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.
He smiles broadly at me. “Good. I look forward to seeing you again, Reaper.” He walks away, leaving us alone in front of the gate.
There aren’t any demons milling about this close to the outskirts, so we all stand where we are, looking at the gate in front of us without seeing it.
“Are we really leaving without Webber?” Galenia asks. The horror in her voice cuts me straight to my core. I fight the urge to crumple into a heap on the floor of hell.
“Of course we are,” Penn says. The anger in his voice startles me out of my doom spiral. “His attitude finally caught up with him. He made his own fate, now let him stew in it. I think we should make our way to the prison now that we’re alone.”
Galenia shakes her head. “He’s still our brother. We can’t just leave him there.”
It’s too late. We’ve spent too much time with the demons. “I’m afraid we have to,” I say as a tear winds its way down my face. “For now.”
7
None of us want to leave. It’s something I never imagined would happen. Hell is such a horrible place that no one would ever choose to stay there, but I just can’t bring myself to take that first step outside, knowing we’re one man short. If we leave, it’s like making it real. Final.
Penn is the first to go out, clearly not as disturbed by Webber’s situation as the rest of us. I don’t want to leave the girls in hell, but I also don’t want to leave Penn wandering around in the mists. As a heavenly being who was banished, he’s in almost as much danger out there as he was in hell. I give them each a gentle push, and they reluctantly exit.
I’m the last to go. With one last glance over my shoulder, I whisper to the darkness, “I will come back for you.” But I know the sentiment will die on my lips without ever reaching Webber’s ears. Hell does that to hope.
When I join the others, I see Penn pacing around at the edge of the mists. “Couldn’t he watch his mouth for just a few hours?” he demands. “It’s his fault that we couldn’t get into the prison, not to mention the fact that we were forced to leave him behind.”
“It was a mistake to bring him. I should’ve insisted he stay behind,” I say. I shiver as I think about how Webber might be doomed to share my past assignments’ fates.
“All he did was make more work for us. Just because he couldn’t control his pride in a place that eats that kind of thing up.”
“You’re right. Hell thrives on those attitudes. Yet another reason why it was a mistake to bring him,” I say, starting to wallow in my poor decisions.
“Michaela, stop. You aren’t responsible for Webber’s actions. He is. When God sentenced me to banishment, I blamed no one but myself for my fate. The punishment was just, so I accepted it. Like on Earth, there are direct consequences for your actions here in the heavens. And Webber is justly feeling his.”
“Those are harsh words, Penn,” Galenia says.
“That doesn’t make them untrue,” he says, staunchly standing by his anger.
Horatia goes to him. “You’re just angry. Maybe you’ll see it differently once you settle down. He was just scared and desperate.”
“Would you still feel that way if the demon had taken me instead?” He looks deep into her brown eyes. His question makes me shiver. Would I have given Webber the benefit of the doubt if he were here in Penn’s place, and Penn was gone forever?
“No,” Horatia says honestly. “But you wouldn’t have mouthed off to a demon. So you would never be in that position in the first place.”
“Exactly,” Penn says. “Webber had full control over his actions. The demon’s decision was a direct result of that. And now, instead of helping us, we have one more name on our ever-growing list of souls to save from a horrible existence.” His fists clench and unclench, like he needs something to throw.
I sigh heavily as we stand at the edge of the mists. The black gate still looms behind us, but our golden entrance home calls to me.
“The bottom line here is that it isn’t our job to pass judgment on Webber,” I say. “Our bias comes into play too much, as you have so acutely pointed out. No, I wouldn’t feel the same way if you were in his place. But we’re not God; we’re ill-equipped to sentence him to anything.” My voice is swallowed by the mists, leaving us in silence for a time. Penn looks away from me, and his posture slouches a little. I can tell my words reached him, but perhaps they didn’t get all the way through. I shake my head, knowing it doesn’t really matter.
“I can’t believe we had to leave him there though,” Galenia says. “What are we going to do?”
“Do you think we should tell God what happened?” Horatia asks.
I laugh, but I don’t mean to. It just a release of pent-up energy. “I’m sure He already knows. But I’ll bet He’ll wait to see how we handle this before intervening.”
“So, how do we… handle it?” Galenia asks.
Despite the fact that I’ve been moving through a fog of disbelief over what happened, my mind has been working hard to think of solutions to our most imminent problems. “I suggest Penn disguises himself as Webber. I know you’ve been itching to spin anyway, Penn. Just watch your productivity. Webber is slow. If you suddenly have a great day, you’ll draw attention to yourself.”
“But think of the ground we could make up, Michaela. Our team, back together again.” He smiles at the girls and reaches for their hands. They take his gratefully. Standing there in a triangle, they leave me on the outside. The image fills me with mixed emotions; I’m happy to see them back together, where they belong, but I long to be inside that triangle with them.
“I know you’ll do what you think is right… and nothing I say will sway you from that path. But please try to blend in. You’re in more danger now than ever. And for heaven’s sake, stay away from the new Weaver. He would be the first to notice. Have Galenia or Horatia deliver all the threads, and make sure to work with the door closed. Be careful.”
He nods, as if he knows the risks and willingly accepts them. “It’s only a day, Michaela. Anyone can have a good day. Tomorrow night we’ll go get him, and he can get back to work.”
My laughter sounds bitter. “Right… Assuming the demons let him go, he’s totally unaffected by his jaunt through hell, and our decision to leave him there to be tortured doesn’t affect his productivity.” The pessimism I feel is uncharacteristic, but I’ve reached my limit of failures for the day.
I know Webber is on his way out anyway, but if this experience does damage his productivity further before a replacement can be found, it will have a vast effect on Earth. Combined with the added ghosts and the surprises, it makes me feel like we’re in the middle of a perfect storm.
“He did this to himself as far as I’m concerned,” Penn says, his tone dark.
“And as far as I’m concerned, it was my half-baked idea that got us into this mess in the first place. It’s as much my fault as it is his.” Frankly, I’m hurt by what’s happened, even more so by my role in it
, and Penn’s intolerant attitude is wearying.
Penn breaks the triangle and comes toward me. I turn my back to him, not wanting him to see my pain. But he takes my hand anyway, walking around to face me.
“This is not your fault. Maybe the person at fault for this whole mess is the same one who cut those threads short. I don’t know.” He hesitates and looks over my shoulder at the girls before returning his attention to me. “But I do know one thing. This is dumb. All of this. It’s beyond stupid. I shouldn’t have fallen in love with a human. I shouldn’t have made a mistake bad enough to get banished. People shouldn’t be dying before their time. The Reapers shouldn’t be letting the humans become ghosts. We shouldn’t have gone into hell. And Webber shouldn’t still be there. Nothing like this has ever happened, and somehow, we’re the lucky crew who gets to deal with half a dozen problems at once? It’s all just bat-shit stupid.”
I laugh. It’s one of those moments where if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.
Horatia pipes up. “Dumber-than-a-doornail stupid.”
I laugh harder.
“Get-your-tongue-frozen-to-a-lamppost stupid,” Galenia offers. “I’ve seen that happen to humans. It’s a real thing,” she earnestly adds.
“A-Fate-without-a-fate stupid,” Penn says quietly as he holds both of my hands in his and looks into my face. “But we have each other, and we will muddle through it as best as we can.” He looks over at Galenia.
“We’re not leaving him in there,” he adds to reassure her. “We will go back for him at our first opportunity. Hopefully tonight. I won’t even entertain the idea that the demons won’t give him up. We’re getting him back. Just not right this second. We all have a job to do today, and if we don’t work, the problems we’re facing will only become worse.” The conviction in his voice gives me faith.
I nod. Together, we walk back to the golden door, short one Fate. Despite the fact that our mission was a complete failure, we cling to the hope that it’s not over until we quit. And we’re not quitting.
Penn changes back into his Keeper’s robes before we go through the gate. We stop by my quarters so the three Fates can change back into their robes before heading to work for the day. I urge Penn to stay in his Keeper’s robes until he gets to the workshop.
“If you don’t, the guards at the weaving room will recognize you, and they’ll act first and ask questions later.” Archangels had been posted there not long after Kismet was taken in an attempt to stop the damage to the tapestry.
He reluctantly agrees, but I can tell he’s itching to wear Webber’s spinning robe. I think he just feels good about returning to familiar territory, to the work he loves, and he wants to do it on his own terms. But if he doesn’t keep himself hidden, he’ll disappear, and he will become one more loss. One more sacrifice to the storm. I’m not sure I could handle that.
We’ve spent an entire exhausting night in hell, and I’m having trouble facing the day to come. The others don’t speak as we go through the motions of getting ready, but I can tell they’re just as drained as I am.
I watch them as they head toward the common area on their way back to their workroom, hoping they can get through the day without being caught. I don’t believe for a second God doesn’t know what we’re doing, but if someone forces His hand, He’ll follow through with the consequences he laid out for Penn. My friend may be the greatest Fate the heavens have ever known, but he isn’t above the rules. He must remain inconspicuous today.
Realistically, no one visits the Fates. There’s no need. The Weaver is the only one who sees them at work, and if one of the girls delivers the threads, Penn will be perfectly safe. But the odds haven’t been in our favor recently, so I can’t help but fret.
My heart is heavy with the things that have happened, and the things to come as I walk to the naming room. How in the heavens am I going to get through the workday, knowing what Webber is going through today? Knowing how many more ghosts will be made today if the strike continues? Knowing how much worse it will be if another surprise is named? Knowing the loss we will all feel if Penn is discovered?
As I take a deep, shuddering breath, Miette appears at my side. She takes my hand and squeezes it.
“Ready?” she asks me with a meek smile.
“Not really,” I admit.
“Me neither.” But we walk through the glass doors and into the naming room together.
Much to my disappointment, the dissenters still refuse to work. Ryker says nothing. He simply comes in, makes sure we all get our assignments, and leaves. He usually says at least a few words to us—have a good day, good luck, something. I’ve never seen him this silent before, but at least there are no new surprises. It’s been a few days since the last one landed. But I don’t allow this change to comfort me. Perhaps it only means we’re in the eye of the storm, and the worst is yet to come.
I turn to Miette. “Do you think it’s over? The surprises?”
“I don’t want to let myself hope that’s true,” she says as we leave. The dissenters are cackling at us the whole way to the door.
When we reach the gate, I wish Miette good luck before we step into the mists. I hope this will be over soon. I’m not sure how much more I can take.
My first assignment is a middle-aged woman who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Even after all this time, it’s hard for me to watch things like this unfold. I still have an instinct to call out, to stop her from turning her car in front of the driver who’s looking down at a phone. She dies instantly after her car is hit broadside at forty-five miles an hour. Her soul stays standing where the impact occurred, although her car is clear across the street, sandwiched between a cement light pole and the car that hit her. Emergency vehicles have not yet arrived, and an eerie silence hangs in the air in the moment before people get out of their cars and rush to her aid.
She’s looking around rather frantically as I make my approach. I simply reach out my hand, saying nothing. As she looks at me, I smile. She half smiles back, more out of courtesy than genuine intent, before looking back at the wreckage of her car.
“I’m dead, aren’t I?” she asks as she brushes at a stray piece of her red hair. She’s dressed in a black pencil skirt and a white pinstriped blouse. She was on her way to work.
“I’m Michaela. I’m here to take you home.” I extend my hand a little further, hoping she’ll take it this time.
She points over my shoulder instead. “Who are they?”
When I turn and look, I see about five ghosts gathered around the scene of the accident. A few of them have seen me, and they start walking toward us. Silvery gray and quite a bit more opaque than this new spirit beside me, they range in age from early twenties all the way up to a hunched-over old man.
“Come. We need to go.” I try to take her hand, but she pulls away.
“Who are they?” she asks, her voice full of fear as she backs away from them.
“You will become one of them if you don’t come with me.”
She glances back and forth as the ghosts come closer, and then clutches my hand.
It’s not the casual walk to which I’m accustomed. We’re running. Actually, I am running, and I’m dragging my assignment with me. The ghosts are right at our heels, and they’re grabbing at us. They don’t understand. I can’t take them with me now. Their time came and went.
Their behavior strikes me as odd. Normally, ghosts don’t give me the time of day. Most of them have chosen to stay. Even those who haven’t stayed by choice seem to instinctually know I’m not their ticket home. Once a spirit is rooted to the Earth, a Reaper can’t change that for them, no matter how much they are drawn to me.
But these ghosts accept nothing. They didn’t choose this, and they’re not taking it lying down. They’ve found me, and they want to go with me.
More than once, my assignment looks back as I drag her into the mists. I keep running, long after there’s a need, and her memories fly by us. I don’t pay attention to them or ev
en let her take comfort in them. By the time I finally come to a stop, she is shaken. She tries to pull her hand away from me, but I hold firm.
“Just let me get my bearings,” she says, but I don’t let go.
“No. If I release you in the mists, you’ll become one of them—an unmoored spirit. You must wait until you are home.”
She frowns at me. “Where is home?”
“We will find out.”
“You don’t even know where you’re taking me?”
“I know it will be one of two places,” I say honestly.
“Jesus. I better not end up in hell. I might not have lived long, but I had a good life… I had such plans, Michaela.” She smiles in spite of our circumstances, but she chooses not to elaborate. Her thoughts must have turned back to the ghosts because her face turns serious.
“What happened to them? Why were they chasing us?”
I look back over my shoulder, but there’s only mist as far as the eye can see. “I imagine they want to go home too.”
Horror fills her face. “Why would we leave them behind? Let’s go back for them.” The urgency in her voice confirms what I already suspected—the black gate won’t be waiting for this one.
“Their chance to go home has come and gone. I can’t help them now. Earth has become their home.”
She frowns and turns away from me, naturally driven to walk forward. I walk half a step behind her, trying to give her as much space as my arm will allow. More memories play out while we walk, but she still doesn’t seem to pay them any mind. They’re all happy—birthdays, family gatherings, successes at work, and her favorite hobbies. I enjoy watching them, even if she doesn’t.
“Is it like that for you every time you take someone?” she asks, just before her final memory starts to play.
“No.”
“So I’m special?” The word catches me off guard.
“Of course you are special, but not in a bad way.” I take her hand in both of mine. “You were just unfortunate. In many ways, I’m afraid.”
The Children of Wisdom Trilogy Page 23