Deciding I’ve had enough, I return to the hallway. It dumps out in the front of the house, where a large living room runs the entire length of the home. Mara has a television and couch set up on one side, and three walls of books line the other.
I’m drawn to the books, wanting to know more about where she came from and how her mind works.
Scanning the titles, I see books on everything from witchcraft to the afterlife and the heavens. All are human authors. I’m overwhelmed by curiosity, so I pull out the volume on the afterlife. It’s by a woman I reaped not too long ago. She and I had a good laugh over her theories when she saw what it was really like. I smile as I flip through the book. They’re pleasant ideas, with one or two notes of truth peppered throughout. Humans have always believed in ghosts, and she correctly theorizes that they exist, but she also speculates that everyone will be a ghost before they “go into the light.”
I return the volume to the shelf, searching for more clues. The books on her craft intimidate me, so I skip them. There’s too much in them for me to learn anything useful in the few moments I have to look. And what I find in them may frighten me enough to lessen my odds of defeating her. No, I don’t need the details of her craft. I need more than that. I need the details of her Achilles’ heel.
One other thing stands out to me as I continue my search. Most of the self-proclaimed witches I’ve met in the past have a healthy respect for the dark side of their craft. Demons, some would call them. The underworld, others would say. But Mara has nothing about hell, demons, or the dark arts. I can’t help but be intrigued by that. It’s almost as if she’s deliberately ignoring the possible consequences of her actions.
I run my fingers along the spines of the books as I walk past the shelves, desperately searching for some sign of weakness in her. But a sudden sound disrupts my search. A cry, just outside the window.
I stop dead in my tracks. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but I can definitely tell it’s Webber. And he sounds panicked.
I rush to the front door and open it carefully, not sure exactly what I’m going to find out there. All I know is that it can’t be good.
Webber is standing in the grass, halfway between the house and a line of trees. From this angle, I can only see him, not who he’s yelling at. He has his side to me, and he doesn’t look over when I slip out of the house. I crouch down, trying to stay hidden behind the porch railing. Conflict rages inside me—should I reveal myself? He seems like he’s in distress. His feet are planted firmly in the grass, almost in a defensive stance, and his hands are out in front of him, but it’s clear he’s not trying to surrender. He’s ready for a fight.
“Michaela was right!” he shouts. “You won’t stop, will you? You’ll never stop. Until we stop you.”
I hear a woman’s laugh. But it isn’t joyful. It’s malicious.
Mara. My heart sinks.
“Archangels couldn’t stop me, but you think you can? This isn’t an episode of Scooby Doo, Spinner.” The hate in her voice sucks the fun out of her joke. She’s impatient, not to mention irritated by the unexpected challenge he’s giving her.
Webber glances nervously at the house, and that’s when I realize what he’s doing. He’s delaying her. He’s keeping her out of the house to give me a chance to escape. I can’t believe it. This selfish Fate is risking his own existence to save me. I want to cry, hug him, and slap him all at the same time. Can’t he see she’s dangerous? Of course he can, and that’s why he’s giving me the chance to escape. My emotions war with themselves viciously as I crouch there and watch him.
“Of course we will stop you. And if we don’t, someone else will. Evil doesn’t prevail. Ever. Or did you miss that memo?”
“And that’s where we will agree to disagree,” she says. I hear the grass crunching, as if she’s walking toward him. Webber takes a step back in defense, but she advances on him until I can see her.
Where is Nathair? I wonder, scanning the grass. She never goes anywhere without him, so I know full well he’s lurking somewhere.
“You see, this isn’t an issue of good and evil, right or wrong, black or white. This is simply a mother trying to keep what’s hers—nothing more, nothing less. You’ve taken it among yourselves to make it a moral issue. Really, I’m owed his life after everything else you’ve taken from me.” She says it with such conviction that I know she believes it. It’s astounding how someone’s truth can be a total lie.
She’s closing the gap between them. She could touch him at this point if she wanted to.
Enough, I think. I can’t let this go on any longer. I need to help him. But something stays my feet. He gave me this opportunity to escape. If I go to him, I’ll be throwing his sacrifice away. But does he really need to sacrifice himself?
I sigh impatiently with myself. This indecision isn’t helping anyone but Mara. I know one thing is true: I won’t be able to live with myself if I leave him, knowing I willingly abandoned him to her.
Just as I’m about to step off the porch, I think I see something out of the corner of my eye. Penn? The shock causes me to take a half step back and stare off to the side of the house. He doesn’t appear again.
The logical voice tells me that I must’ve imagined him. I want him here, so my mind summoned him up. That’s all. But my heart wishes that isn’t true.
“Tell me something, Spinner. What did you hope to accomplish by coming here?” she asks, giving me enough time to stand up. If she glances over here, she will see me. I straighten my back and start to walk toward him. I will stop this. Now. For good. The determination I feel leaves no room for doubt as I reach the steps and descend to the gravel path.
“I intended to rescue Michaela and return to the heavens. That’s it,” he answers truthfully.
She laughs. “If you have no grandiose plan to stop the villain of your story, what are you doing out here without your dear Reaper?” She’s putting the pieces together. Her eyes narrow on him.
I’m watching her as I step into the grass and start walking toward Webber, skirting the porch, staying close to the house.
“You’re out here while she’s inside, alone, with—” She stops suddenly and turns to run into the house.
That’s the moment she sees me. I glance nervously at Webber as her hands fly into the air.
“Even if you eliminate me here, Mara,” I shout. “You can’t win this. There is no scenario where you win. In fact, the further you take this, the more loss there will be.”
“I already have a Reaper. I don’t need one who’s going to cause me this much trouble.”
I brace myself and say a silent prayer that there’s somewhere for my innocent soul to go, even though my heart knows there isn’t. Heaven is for human souls. Heavenly beings are made to last forever. If we’re destroyed, we’re gone for good.
Time slows down. Each heartbeat is another movement. I see Webber just a few yards away from me. I see Mara raise her hands in my direction. Then something puzzling happens. Webber is in front of me, screaming. His hands are on me. He’s pushing me down. He’s on top of me.
A thunderclap so loud it deafens me echoes through the forest around the house. Instinctively, I freeze and bring my hands to my ears, although it’s much too late for that.
When I finally feel like I can open my eyes, I can’t see anything but white. I’m blind, I think. Panic rises like bile in the back of my throat. I blink continuously, and objects start to take shape in front of me. But one thing is noticeably missing.
Webber. I can’t breathe. Webber. He’s gone. There’s nothing left of him at all. Not even a shoe left behind, like what led us to him in hell. Nothing. Just like those Archangels.
There are hands on me, dragging me through the grass. But all I can make out are fuzzy shapes and a few colors as my sight slowly returns.
Finally, my lungs fill with a huge breath. Just as I’m about to let it back out as the loudest scream I can muster, someone claps a hand over my mouth and turns me to
face him.
Penn.
Fifteen
Penn
I don’t release Michaela once she sees me. I don’t trust her to stay quiet. Mara is too close. What she’s done is too fresh.
“Damn it. I could’ve used him,” Mara says. “Oh well. At least we don’t have to worry about either of them now. Come on.” I hear her footfalls crunching down the gravel walkway. It takes every ounce of control in my possession to stay put as I hear her coming closer to us.
As quietly as I can, I drag Michaela down behind the porch on the other side of the house. Mara walks up to the front stoop, and then slips into the house. We can hear her moving around inside for a while before the commotion settles down. Finally, I feel safe enough to grab Michaela by the hand and make a flat-out run for the woods.
Horatia and Galenia are already there. When I saw the showdown happening, I told them to run for cover. I darted out onto the lawn just before Mara struck Webber, and was able to feel my way back behind the house before that blinding light died down. By then, no one was there, leaving Mara to assume she got both of them. Or so I hoped.
I thought I could help them. But Webber…
What the hell was he doing here anyway? Why wasn’t he in the heavens? Did I honestly just see him sacrifice himself for Michaela? That’s so out of character for him it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around what just happened, even though I saw it unfold in front of me as plain as the nose on my face.
I can hear Michaela’s ragged breaths behind me as we run, and I grip her hand tightly, hoping it’s enough to help her keep it together until we reach the cover of the woods. With Mara in the house, I’m not foolish enough to think we’re safe out here, but we’re safer than we were on the porch, that’s for sure.
Once we are deep into the woods, I finally let her go. She collapses, and I can see the sob wanting to get out.
“Michaela, please. We need to be quiet.”
Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears as she falls to her knees at my feet. “He…he sacrificed himself. For me.”
Galenia, the most nurturing of all of us, rushes over and throws her arms around her. Michaela buries her face in Galenia’s shoulder and cries. I walk off to give her some privacy, and Horatia follows me.
“What just happened? What exactly did we witness, Penn? What on Earth was Webber doing here?” Horatia asks as we watch the house.
“I think it was the end of…” Of what? Our friend? That’s playing it a bit fast and loose with the word friend.
“It was the end of Webber,” I say, feeling sad for what’s happened. As much as I didn’t like him, he didn’t deserve that. Now he’s nothing. He’s not at peace, but he’s not being tortured either; he has just ceased to exist. It’s the worst possible outcome for a heavenly soul.
“How?” she asks, grappling to understand what she’s just seen. We all are.
“I don’t know. Clearly, Mara is a formidable human.”
“Formidable. Terrifying. Whatever,” she says, not taking her eyes off the house.
“What was Webber doing here, Michaela?”
“He came to save me,” she says in a shaky voice. “He found me in Mara’s thread, told Ryker how to find me, and then Ryker brought him here. But he left him alone. I can’t understand why he did that. If he’d stayed, maybe…” She trails off. She’s staring in the direction we came, as if Webber might come through the woods at any moment.
“I’m sure Ryker knew what he was doing, Michaela. After all, Webber did save you. Isn’t that what he came to do?” Galenia soothes.
“But his sacrifice seems so needless,” she says before dissolving into silent sobs.
“Redemption comes in many forms, dear Reaper. You know that,” Galenia says as she smoothes Michaela’s hair.
Michaela’s tears slow to a steady trickle, and we stand in silence for a few moments. Then Horatia poses another question. “Penn, what are we going to do?” It’s barely above a whisper, and I know she needs an answer, not some joke to make her laugh or some philosophical BS. An actual answer. She needs direction.
“I think we should wait for nightfall.”
Once Michaela’s tears are all shed, for now at least, she and Galenia join us at the edge of the forest.
“Well, what do you think?” Michaela asks, her voice thick with grief.
I turn to her. She has twigs and leaves in her hair, her face is red, and her eyes are swollen. She’s an absolute mess. While I didn’t love the soul she’s mourning, it breaks my heart to see her in such pain.
Taking her in my arms, I smooth her glossy hair and try to collect some of the leaves from it. “I’m sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen,” I say, as if that will make anything better.
“I know,” she says, and I feel her arms slowly wrap around me. I find myself enjoying her embrace. It feels like home.
“You saw what he did, right?” she asks.
“I did,” I say. It was a beautiful gesture—so out of character for the Webber I’ve known for centuries. The way he purposefully drew Mara’s attention away from Michaela, making as much of a commotion as possible to tip Michaela off to the coming danger… And then throwing himself on her, taking the full force of Mara’s attack. It’s still hard to believe he did such a thing.
We don’t speak again. We just stand there in the woods, holding each other, trying to make the world recognizable again with a single embrace. When it doesn’t happen, we pull away, and she edges her way to the tree line, staring at the house.
Galenia joins her, offering silent comfort, and I settle in on her other side. Horatia holds vigil on the edge of our little gathering, watching for God knows what.
“I don’t think Mara knows you survived her attack, Michaela,” I say. “And she definitely doesn’t know we’re here. We have the upper hand. What do you know about the house?” I had only seen a small part of it while watching the threads. Any insight she can give us from actually having been inside will be helpful.
“I know it has a really dark basement,” she says as she grips her arms across her chest.
“And?”
“It’s a typical human house. Kitchen, couple of bedrooms, bathroom, living room, and an extensive library on witchcraft and the afterlife.” She’s irritated for some reason. “What do you want to know, Penn?”
“Who’s inside?”
“Mara and her son Shiloh. This is all about him. She’s using the threads to keep his soul here. It’s horrible. He’s trapped in that house indefinitely. He knows he doesn’t belong, but there’s not a thing he can do about it.” Her voice wavers, and I can tell she’s close to tears again.
“I know. What about Nathair?” I ask.
“He’s here, and he’s with her,” she says with a nod. “But I didn’t see him earlier. Did you? After what she did to Webber, everything went white. He usually isn’t far away from her, so maybe she sent him on some errand. Or to collect another thread.” She shudders.
“I heard her talking to him,” I say, knowing he will present a complication.
“I know you’re anxious to stop Mara now, but we came here for Michaela,” Horatia says. “And here she is. Let’s go. We’re ill equipped for this mission. And we have other things to think about. Kismet and Andrew for one. We can come back later with reinforcements.”
At the mention of their names, I cringe. We do need to save them…and soon. But if we don’t stop Mara, none of that will matter.
“We can’t leave Mara here to do what she wants,” I say. “If we do, the cycle will just continue. The girl Michaela collected has certainly joined Kismet and Andrew in the prison of souls by now.”
“Lily,” Michaela breathes. “Yes, Mara and Nathair took her from me at the gates of heaven.”
“This cycle won’t stop until we stop it,” I say. “We have to do something.” I gesture toward the house to emphasize my point.
“But I don’t think Michaela—”
She cuts Galenia off. “I
’m fine. I know we need to get her. That’s why Webber was out there in the first place. I wanted to figure out a way to stop Mara, and he wanted to leave. So I told him to wait outside for me. I sent him to slaughter.”
“If he hadn’t been out there, you would’ve been caught off guard by Mara’s return. And you certainly wouldn’t be here right now to discuss it with us. Stop guilt-tripping yourself—it’s not helpful,” I say. My tone’s a little harsh, and I realize I’m angry about what Webber did. The whole thing just seems so…unnecessary. If they’d sent someone more capable to rescue Michaela, this never would’ve happened. He’d still be back home, waiting to jab us with some inappropriate comment. Instead, he’s just gone. Forever.
Michaela looks at me, and I can tell she’s trying to understand what I’m going through. It’s something she always does when she’s confused by someone’s tone or actions. But judging by the look on her face, she doesn’t come to any solid conclusions. Neither do I.
“My point remains,” she says. “We can’t just leave her here. If we do, we’ll have to come right back in a few days. By then, there will be more souls in the prison to rescue,” she says.
“So,” Horatia says from behind us. “This is where we transition from a rescue mission to seek and destroy.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“No. It’s…recovery, I guess. We need to bring her back to the heavens in one piece. We are not equipped to deal with her. To judge her. And thank goodness for that,” Michaela says. Her answer astounds me. Why wouldn’t we judge her? We’ve all seen firsthand what this woman has done—the destruction she’s wrought. If I had my way, we’d bring her straight to hell to let the demons take care of her punishment.
Michaela is watching me, and it’s almost as if she reads my thoughts. “You wrote her Fate, Penn. It’s not for us to decide to take that away from her.”
The Children of Wisdom Trilogy Page 39