Doomed

by Jayde Scott

  The anticipated broadcasting hour was almost over and we hadn't even gotten to Theo's plea yet. Research said viewers usually switched off after sixty minutes. If we didn't hurry up, we'd lose people's attention. Obviously, I could just read Martha's mind, but I wasn't the necromancer here. The information had to come out of Amber's mouth. I shot Dad an imploring look. He smiled back.

  "Don't make me send you back to Hell!" Amber warned.

  Martha growled. "Where do you think I am, you moron?"

  "Tell her," Dad said. His voice was silent, barely more than a whisper, and yet everyone's attention snapped to him.

  I watched Martha gulp, eyes scanning the room for an escape even though she probably knew there was no way out for her. One snap of Dad's fingers, and she'd regret ignoring his request for the rest of her existence.

  "Behind the fireplace, on the right hand side just above her head, is a loose stone. She'll have to squeeze in the thin blade of a knife and jiggle it about to be able to pull it out. The money's there,"

  Martha said.

  Amber recited the ghost's words calmly.

  "We don't have a fireplace," Helen said. "Maybe she's not telling the truth."

  "That can't be," Amber whispered, mortified.

  I turned to Martha as I forced my way into her mind, pushing aside memories of poison and cold-hearted apprehension, of a slippery street in the middle of the night, and the unfortunate car ride that consequently killed her.

  Closing my eyes, I pushed harder, fighting to get into those parts of her life she had been desperately trying to hide from those around her.

  The house came into focus; a shabby thing at the outskirts of town, with a back garden that had never been tended and a weeping willow that had seen too many secrets. Inside, old clutter covered every available surface. It made sense. Martha liked to hoard things, and so she collected her husbands' life savings, robbed children of their inheritance and stacked them all away behind a brick inside a large fireplace with a marble sill. Years later, the house still looked the same except that a thin wall covered the once magnificent fireplace.

  I opened my eyes and leaned toward Amber, whispering in her ear. She nodded.

  "What? What did you say?" Martha asked, warily.

  "Helen," Amber said, ignoring her, "the fireplace is hidden in the living room, behind the wall facing your brown sofa."

  "Let me check," Helen said.

  We waited in silence as she thumped into another room, what must be a portable phone transmitting the sounds of a door opening and knocking on a wall.

  "It's hollow," Helen said.

  I nodded at the camera. "You can kick it in."

  The line crackled. We heard a few bangs accompanied by groans. A chair or table shifted. Something clattered to the floor.

  "There's something behind it. Yes, the fireplace is here."

  I shot Martha a triumphant look. She dropped down on the floor, sulking. If I had a secret as big as hers and someone forced it out of me, I'd probably be sulking too, but I couldn't quite bring myself to feel sympathy for her. What she did was wrong.

  "Get a knife and start digging," Amber instructed.

  Ginny signalled we had five more minutes. I turned to Amber.

  "Didn't you say something about a message from beyond?" Amber's expression went blank. "Theo," I whispered.

  "Right." Amber paused. The camera focused on her. "There's a girl, Theo. She wants her sister, Sofia, to know that she did something wrong and now she's in Hell, but the place isn't bad and she's safe."

  I nodded, and she continued, more confident than before, "Sofia Murphy, if you can hear me, your boyfriend's the brother of the one who murdered Theo. He lied his way into your life with bad intentions. You must get away from him this instant and never see him again."

  It wasn't good enough. If I were Sofia, in love with a man I implicitly trusted, I'd never believe a television broadcast trying to convince me otherwise. "Tell her something only she can know," I whispered.

  Theo tapped a finger against her lips, only now coming to life.

  "Let me think. When I was five years old, right after our mother's death, I thought I saw mum's face and bent over to peer into the fountain in the backyard of our old house, the one we had to sell because we couldn't afford the upkeep. I almost fell in, but Sofia caught my leg. We swore to never tell anyone."

  The camera fixed on Amber echoing Theo's words. I hoped somewhere out there a girl called Sofia was watching and remembered the incident, thinking of her little sister who died too young.

  "The brick's out," Helen said. "I can't believe it." She laughed.

  "The money's here. There's savings bonds and deeds and what else not."

  Ginny signalled we had only seconds before the hour was up. I smiled into the camera. "I'm glad we could help, Helen. We'll be back next week with more Messages From Beyond The Grave. Don't forget to tune in, same time, same place."

  "That's it," Ginny shouted. "Well done, everyone."

  I beamed at Dad who seemed impressed. I just wished Dallas were here to watch what a great job Amber and I did, but then he might not be so inclined to think we were still holidaying in Disneyland.

  Chapter 23 – The Seer

  Dallas was awake and working when I arrived at the mansion. I found the office as I left it—a big mess. Countless sheets of paper covered every inch of surface. My notebook was switched on with yet more brainstorming ideas jotted down on virtual sticky notes for step two of our campaign, and empty cups littered the cabinet behind the desk because I hadn't yet found suitable replacement for Ginny. Even with a map, I doubted anyone could find their way around this place. I tiptoed around Dallas's chair and planted a sloppy kiss on my fiancé's cheek.

  "So sorry I missed your big TV debut, babe. You should've woken me." He pulled me onto his lap, cupping my face in his hands. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up, revealing the tanned skin and taunt muscles of his forearms. A glitter sparkled in his honey eyes as he looked at me, making my heart skip a beat.

  I moistened my lips. "No worries. You didn't miss anything.

  Barely anyone watched."

  "Yeah? I'm sure you were great." A lazy smile spread across his lips. "It'll catch up next time."

  "Maybe."

  He pulled me closer until our lips met. "Your aunt's staying over for dinner."

  "Aunt Krista?" I pulled away, narrowing my gaze. "Why?"

  "Don't know, but your dad said if you want to escape the visit from Hell, you'd better make a run for New York now."

  "Why? What's in New York?"

  "Your aunt Selena."

  I took a gulp of his water to calm down, but my temper flared nonetheless. "He told you the location?"

  Dallas nodded, brows raised. "You seem upset. What's wrong?"

  "Well." I ran my fingers through my hair and started playing with a strand just to keep my hands occupied so I wouldn't pull out my phone and beam myself wherever Dad was to give him a piece of my mind. "What else did he tell you?"

  "Nothing." Dallas regarded me. I could see he was curious just as much as I realised I was overreacting, but I couldn't help it. If I could delay Dallas finding out what Aunt Selena was like, I would stall for time. The later he met her, the better.

  "So, you didn't talk?" I finished his water and placed the glass back on the table with a little too much force.

  "We did."

  "About what?"

  Dallas hesitated. "You don't like me spending time with him, do you?"

  How could I when Dad was a fallen angel who could burst Dallas's bubble of living in Disneyland any time? I doubted Dad had taken a liking to the idea of me getting married, so it was only a matter of time until he let something slip and Dallas put two and two together. "No. I’m just curious. You don’t have to tell me if you don't want to."

  "No secrets between us, remember?" He grabbed my hand. Our fingers intertwined. For a moment, I honestly believed he meant it.

  Guilt
nagged at the back of my head, until I remembered he had been keeping a few secrets as well. I knew his sister was an immortal being, but not because Dallas confided in me. He still didn't trust me with that part of his life.

  "He's invited me to stay here," Dallas said.

  My jaw dropped. From all the things Dad could've said, this was the one thing that didn't make any sense. "Why?"

  "Because he offered me a job."

  "You didn’t take him up on the offer, did you?"

  Dallas avoided my gaze. There was my answer then. Groaning, I threw my hands up. "Why would you accept, Dallas? You know I can't wait to get away from here."

  His eyes sparkled with curiosity. "See, that's weird. You have a beautiful home. Bob's a great guy, and the pay package is so much better than anything I could find in London. Why don't you wanna stay?"

  "Because no girl wants to live at home. Now drop it." I stomped out and slammed the door so he'd get my point. Aunt Krista said, once I started working in the 'family business' I'd never get out to see the world. She might be eccentric with the attention span of a five-year-old, but she probably had a point. I doubted I could break Dad's heart by raising his hopes and then crushing them again. Offering Dallas a job must be part of his plan to keep me here. There was no way in hell I'd let him take Dad up on the offer.

  Furious, I burst into Dad's office without knocking and planted myself in front of his desk so he couldn't ignore me. He looked up and sighed.

  "What's wrong?"

  "You offered Dallas a job. How could you?" I took an accusatory step forward until my thighs brushed his armrest.

  "The boy's looking for work and he likes it here." Dad shrugged.

  "You should be happy for him."

  I couldn't believe the cheek. "Dallas hates the heat. He'd only accept because he wants to take care of me, and you know it."

  "That's not what he assured me." Dad stacked away the loose sheets from his desk and turned to regard me. The expression on his face was serious, too serious even for him. "Cass, have you given any thought to your financial position?"

  I snorted and rolled my eyes. That was Dad, always the practical soul with no romantic bone in him. "Don't worry about it. I've got it all covered."

  He seemed unconvinced but didn't comment further. "As you wish. What about Dallas getting older and you not? Don't you think he'll notice?"

  "Maybe."

  "No, Cass. It could happen now or in ten years, but he'll start asking questions eventually." He rubbed his forehead. "I offered him the job because at least here, he gets to stay the same."

  As in, he wouldn't grow old and die. That tiny detail must've slipped my mind. Nothing ever changed in Hell. How ironic that what once irritated me was actually the answer to one of my biggest problems: Dallas's mortality.

  "Thanks, Dad," I whispered, burying my head into his shoulder.

  He nodded. "Don't sweat it, kiddo. I want to see you happy.

  That's all that matters to me. You did a great job with the TV show."

  Embarrassed, I smiled and ran a hand through my hair. "Thanks."

  "You're so grown up and all." Dad slapped my shoulder awkwardly. "I've decided to give you a break from Kinky and Pinky. At least for the time being so you can spend some time with Dallas. But don't do anything stupid, or they're back in no time."

  I gaped at him. "Are they gone?" I peered around me, looking for the tiny angel and demon, suddenly realising I hadn't heard from them in a while. "What did you do to them?"

  "Pinky's back in heaven on vacation and Kinky's, you know—" he waved a hand in the air "—around. I thought that was what you wanted ever since your mum and I decided to make them your companions."

  I nodded because he was right. For years, I had been complaining, and yet, for some inexplicable reason, I felt sad. I pulled my nose and fanned myself air to dry my suddenly wet eyes. "I would've wanted to say goodbye."

  "Don't be sad, Cassie. You can visit them any time."

  I nodded again, the thought comforting me a little. I wanted to grow up and be alone for a change, without the constant yapping in my ears and watching over my shoulder. It was probably for the best. I smiled, pushing my melancholy to the back of my mind. "I'll invite them for my wedding."

  "Don't you have a plane to catch?" Dad winked, smiling.

  "Spending hours on a plane and the consequent jetlag sucks." I kissed him on the cheek and dashed out shouting over my shoulder,

  "Sorry about before."

  "One last thing before you leave."

  I stopped in mid-stride, suspicion washing over me again. "What, Dad?"

  "When you travel together—" he cleared his throat, avoiding my gaze "—what are your sleeping arrangements?"

  "Huh?" I laughed. "You're kidding." He inclined his head, his face remained dead serious. No kidding there, then. "You've kept us so busy it's taken us forever to even share a first kiss."

  "Really? That's exactly how I like it. I gather you'll continue to be busy, yes?" Dad beamed up at me. His broody mood from before seemed completely lifted. For a fallen angel, he sure was conventional.

  "We'll do our best." I headed for the door, hesitating because something didn't quite feel right. For a brief moment, my vision blurred and my ears picked up a piercing sound, like the cry of an eagle. And then it was gone again. I turned, shaky on my feet. "Did you hear that?"

  "Hear what?" Dad asked, brows raised.

  I shook my head, wondering whether all the stress from the TV

  show finally got to me. "Nothing."

  "Have fun in New York, then," Dad called after me. Ignoring him, I went in search for Dallas.

  The office was empty, but the door to his room stood open. He was leaning over his small suitcase, arranging his clothes meticulously.

  I wished I could tell him I could program anything into my phone and it'd all be completed by Hell's energy from which the phone drew its power, but firstly we hadn't reached that level of trust yet. And secondly, he looked so cute with his forehead creased in concentration, I wouldn't mind watching him for hours.

  "Hey." I tapped him lightly on the shoulder because I didn't know what to expect after our first fight.

  "Hey." He turned and smiled, pointing at his luggage. "Want to give me a hand? I was never good at this stuff."

  "Sure." I didn't point out I'd never manually packed anything in my entire life.

  "Are you okay?" He sounded so cool and nonchalant, as though we hadn't just argued less than half an hour ago. His easy-going attitude sure beat the drama and shouting I was used to from past boyfriends.

  "Yeah. Are you?"

  He shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?" I started tossing his clothes in haphazardly, my mind a million miles away. "On a second thought, you might want to get your own packing done," Dallas said, pushing me away.

  "You're right." For a moment, we stared at each other. The air was charged with something, making my mouth dry. My hands turned clammy as he leaned forward and planted a kiss on my lips. My skin tingled, my heart raced. He broke off the kiss too soon. As usual, apart from the golden speckles in his eyes, he seemed unfazed.

  "When's the flight leaving?" Dallas asked.

  He was too observant for his own good. In all the drama, I completely forgot to check.

  "There's plenty of time," I said, hoping he wouldn't persist. "See you later."

  Outside, voices carried over from the ground floor. I leaned over the balustrade to get a better look when I realised no one was there.

  It was the same whispering—countless voices speaking at once—from before, all in my head. After seventeen years, I was used to reading minds, but usually they were accompanied by a mental picture of the person speaking. This didn't make any sense.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, willing the mysterious voices to go away. They persisted. My phone rang. For a moment, the piercing sound competed with the sudden screeching in my head. I didn't feel like talking to anyone, but it might be import
ant, so I picked up.

  "Cass, someone broke into Distros." The tension was palpable in Dad's voice. "I need you to stay inside until we've found the intruder."

  How could anyone break into Hell? There were only two gates in Distros, one leading to the lower and upper plane, the other to the world of the living. Both were heavily guarded by the Keepers aka Dad's winged demons. "The TV show did its purpose then. You're famous. Everyone wants a piece of you," I joked.

  "Not me, your friends," Dad said.

  "What? How do you even know about them?" I asked, but he'd already hung up.

  Chapter 24 – Mortal

  For the first time in years, I actually missed Kinky and Pinky.

  Truth be told, I was starting to feel kind of lonely without the tiny devil and angel. If only they were here, they might know what the voices in my head were all about and advise me how to get rid of them. I realised, without my companions I was completely on my own.

  Only after we were out of Hell and on the way to the airport did the murmurs drop to an unobtrusive level that could be ignored. I was finally able to sustain a conversation with Dallas, but he seemed engrossed in his phone, typing furiously.

  "You okay?" I asked, leaning closer to get a glimpse.

  "Sure. Just busy." He turned away from me, hiding the screen from view.

  My trust in him instantly evaporated into thin air. He was hiding something. Once again, I wished Kinky were here so he could peak over Dallas's shoulder and spy on him.

  "Anything important?" My attempt to sound nonchalant failed.

  Dallas put his phone away and sighed.

  "Nothing worth mentioning."

  "Ah." I nodded, scolding myself for not having the guts to ask him straight out. The problem with being too interested in his matters was that he might misinterpret it as being snoopy, or insecure. That isn't a message one wants to convey so early in a relationship, so I kept quiet and put on my poker face, ready to pretend all was well with the world and I wasn't in the slightest bit obsessed. But I was so very desperate to know his secret. Would my phone be able to find out?

  I tapped my fingers on my thigh, considering whether to give the tiny device a try at mind reading when the car pulled up at the airport. We got out and headed for the checkin area, followed by the driver, a six-feet Schwarzenegger-type of guy who seemed to be glued to us. It wasn't the poor guy's fault Dad was obsessed with the idea we were not safe after someone broke into Hell. Now I knew from which part of the family I inherited my tendency toward OCD.