by Virna DePaul
“What the . . . ?” Instinctively, she raised her own gun so it was aimed at the girl. Given her return to wraith form, it was likely the girl wouldn’t be able to kill her. But for the first time in ten years, Wraith felt the uncertainty, the fear, that came with believing you could die. Maybe it was that belief that would actually kill her in the end?
“I want to die. Don’t call . . . Please.”
Wraith eased her finger off the trigger. “It’s okay, Christina,” Wraith told her. “I know you don’t believe me right now, but you will be okay. Someday, you’ll be able to move on.”
“No . . .”
“Yes,” Wraith insisted, sensing it was imperative that Christina understand the gift she’d be throwing away if she allowed death to take her. “I know. I’ve felt your pain, too. For ten years, I’ve lived with it. But eventually I knew I’d get past it. I made friends. I did good things. I . . . I even fell in love and was loved, too.” Her voice broke at the end as she thought of Caleb. Knew at that moment that she’d spoken the truth. Despite all the pain she’d suffered, it had all eventually brought her to him. He hadn’t been able to take her pain away, but he’d made it bearable. He’d given her a reason to keep going that truly mattered.
“Kill me or I’ll kill you.”
Stunned, Wraith stared at the girl. Her words hadn’t gotten through. She saw the resolve in her eyes. She meant it.
Christina wanted to die, and if Wraith didn’t let her go, she’d take her right along with her. But wouldn’t Wraith die anyway? As soon as Christina shot herself?
This is it, she realized. This was her choice. Save her human form or her life as a wraith. But if Christina killed her, there was nothing to stop her from then taking her own life anyway.
If it wouldn’t prove she’d truly lost her mind, Wraith would have laughed.
Wraith had tried to kill herself so many times in the past. Now fate wanted her to do it one last time. And she was fucked no matter which life she chose to end.
Still enclosed within the Otherworld, Caleb cursed the Goddess Essenia to hell and back.
“You’re sick,” he raged. “Twisted. This is the second chance you’re talking about? To have her kill herself or kill her human self?”
“She gave up her human life so easily before. Maligned the great gift I’d given her. Her destiny was a special one, so it demanded I give her another chance. She has it. If she chooses to honor her new life as a wraith, I’ll know my lesson has been learned. If not . . .”
“You bitch,” Caleb breathed.
Fire flashed around him, enveloping him until it was eating him alive, but he refused to make a sound. Better to die now than to watch Wraith have to make such a difficult choice.
“Don’t push me, Shaman,” the Goddess said just before the flames ebbed. “I have watched the mistakes you’ve made right along with the others. You lack trust in yourself and your purpose, as well. But trust me, I love you as I love Wraith. I’ll grieve her final mistake far more than you will.”
His throat had been parched raw by the fire, and he could no longer speak. But there was moisture still left in him, moisture that leaked from his eyes as he turned back to the image of Wraith and Christina, kneeling on the dingy floor of a 7-Eleven with dead bodies surrounding them.
He and Essenia waited for Wraith to make her choice.
Wraith’s two selves were sharing the same space. Didn’t that violate the laws of physics or something? Shouldn’t one of her selves, the wrong self, have imploded several minutes ago, before she’d ever spoken a word to the girl she’d once been?
But they were both still there, and Wraith didn’t know what it meant. Even more importantly, she realized, she didn’t care. All that mattered was she wasn’t going to kill the girl. But she wasn’t going to let the girl kill her wraith form, either.
Swiftly, she snatched the gun from Christina with her free hand.
Immediately, Christina closed her eyes, waiting for Wraith to kill her. When that didn’t happen, her eyes flickered open, flashing with anger. “Do it. Please.”
Wraith shook her head and holstered her gun. “That’s not what Annie would have wanted for you, Christina.”
Christina looked over at the lifeless, unseeing eyes of her sister and whimpered. Then she began to cry, sobs tearing from her chest. Hesitantly, Wraith enveloped the girl in her arms and, rocking both of them, began to cry, as well.
Whatever the Goddess Essenia chose for them, they were ready, and they would face it together.
When the air around her began to vibrate, and she sensed the end was near, Wraith smiled. “Hang on to me, Christina.” Then she spoke for the last time. The world exploded in a blinding flash of light and took their bodies with it, but she knew those final words would somehow survive, floating in the universe until Caleb heard them. Heard her. “Caleb, I love you.”
FORTY-ONE
Wraith regained consciousness slowly. Her body ached and her head throbbed, but otherwise she felt a tremendous sense of peace, as if mentally she’d been emptied of all stress, worry, and pain. Her memories were there, memories of two lives lived, first as Christina, then as Wraith, but the memories held no sway over her.
Had she died? Was she in heaven, reunited with her sister, Annie, and pondering her former lives in a lovely abstract void, knowing it was all behind her?
It was with that thought that the pain came. Because if it was all behind her, then so was Caleb. Her friends. The Para-Ops team. Even the idea of never seeing that arrogant prick Mahone gave her a twinge of regret.
She sighed, surprised when she heard sounds indicating she wasn’t alone.
Her eyes popped open, but all she saw was the light that had filtered through her eyelids.
Heaven, she thought again.
“No, Wraith. You are not in the Otherworld, but in a space between your world and mine.”
Sweeping the space around her, Wraith strained to attach form to voice, but there was nothing in the light but more light and yet more light. She knew who had spoken, however. “Essenia,” Wraith croaked.
The Goddess laughed, the beautiful sound tinkling all around her as if she was back in her mother’s belly, waiting to be born. Perhaps she was.
“That’s right. I am your soul’s mother. Will you curse me, Wraith? For what I’ve done to you?”
Wraith hesitated, then shook her head. “No,” she said.
“Why not? I’ve given you pain. Pain upon pain. Pain to your dying breath.”
“But you’ve also given me love,” Wraith whispered. “A sister. Parents that loved me. Even as a wraith, you gave me friends. And a man . . . a man . . .”
Wraith couldn’t continue. The pain was closer now. Sharper. Sneaking into her body every time she thought of Caleb, yet she couldn’t stop thinking of him. Wouldn’t. If thinking of him brought her pain, and pain upon pain, she’d welcome it. She’d cling to it until the Goddess destroyed her completely.
“You cling to him—to life—even now. Despite the peace that surrounds you. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Wraith said, even though she did. But what did it matter now? Part of her knew he was lost to her, and speaking about her feelings for him made her feel panicky, as if the words that left her would take the feelings and memories right along with them.
“You care not for your human self? You don’t wonder where she is?”
“I assumed she became me, and I her once again. I remember everything. I know why you punished me. Why you punish wraiths. She gave up. I gave up. I could have fought off my attacker. I was. I was winning. But when I saw Annie die . . .”
Grief washed over her, a powerful surge of sensation accompanied by confusion. Why? Why had Annie died?
She bit her lip to keep the words inside her. She could rail at the Goddess. Condemn her for letting a young innocent like Annie die a violent death even as she saved others, but she knew exactly how that would end—with evasion or vague explanations about higher purpose
s and free will and fate. Annie had died right along with Christina. Wraith couldn’t be blamed for Annie’s death, but clearly the Goddess blamed her for her own. “I stopped,” she continued. “I let him rape me. Kill me.”
She felt a small pinprick of anger for her foolishness, but the irony was, if she hadn’t given up, she might never have met Caleb. Could she really regret that?
“Then you’ve learned your lesson.”
“Is it the lesson that all wraiths must learn? Is it the way to save my”—she hesitated, then lifted her chin before continuing—“to save my family?”
Essenia laughed even as her expression shifted into one of regret. “It doesn’t work that way, Wraith. Each wraith has her own lesson to learn. It is not something you can reveal to her, nor I to you. But since you’ve learned yours, tell me—and I won’t give you another chance, Wraith—why do you reject the peace I give you in order to keep your memories of Caleb O’Flare?”
“Because I love him,” Wraith whispered, knowing she had no choice now. Essenia knew her fears and could take her memories of Caleb at any time. Better to obey her than risk that. “And he loved me.”
“And do you think you were worthy of his love? As a wraith?”
“Yes,” Wraith answered, meaning every word. “I was worth it. Mahone taught me that. My team. And Caleb. They did, too. I will always be grateful to you for bringing them to me. Now, please, either do what you’re going to do or stop talking. Because I just want to rest now. Rest and think of him.”
Essenia remained silent for several moments, making Wraith wonder if she was contemplating a new punishment for Wraith’s insubordination. Instead, the Goddess said, “Do you want to say good-bye?”
A surge of energy passed through her, giving her awareness of her bodily form. She struggled to move her heavy limbs until she stood. “He’s here?” Frantically, she looked around her.
“He’s always been here, Wraith.”
The light around her began to shimmer, and then she saw a form drifting toward her.
“Caleb,” she whispered.
He took her hand and she felt him. Their bodies were solid. Alive. Warm.
She looked down at their joined hands with a frown.
“What is it?” Caleb asked.
“Your touch. I feel it, but it doesn’t hurt. I . . .” She gulped in a breath. Stared. She knew it was their hands that touched, but the hand he cradled in his was tan, just shades lighter than his.
She shook her head. “Christina . . .”
He tipped her chin up with his other hand until her eyes met his. His face was vibrant with colors she now knew the names for. And she’d been right before. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of green . . .
“You are Christina, Wraith.”
Now the fear slammed into her. The human fear that came with hope and the knowledge that it could be snatched away without warning.
“Am I dead? Are you?”
Caleb brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, then shook his head. “You’re alive, Wraith. We both are. Look around you,” he whispered.
She had, but she did so again.
The light faded, giving way to shapes and sounds. She was in a hospital room, she realized. No longer standing in a vastness of light, but lying in a bed with Caleb sitting next to her. Surrounded by familiar faces. Mahone. Dex and Lucy. Felicia and Knox. And . . .
She narrowed her eyes at the older couple standing closest to her. “Who . . . ?”
But she knew. Linda and Ronald Mercer. Her parents.
Annie’s parents. How they must hate her for not saving her little sister. Renewed grief threatened to overwhelm her, and when she choked out, “Annie,” the same grief flashed on their faces.
Caleb let go of her hand, and Wraith panicked, reaching out for him. Only to have her mother take her hand instead. “Annie’s gone, Christina. But you’re here. And we’re so, so grateful for that.”
Her mother bent and hugged her, and then her father joined them. Hesitantly at first, and then with greater and greater strength, Wraith hugged them back. They hugged and they cried and they grieved for what they’d lost, but at the same time, Wraith kept her eyes open. She kept them locked on Caleb’s, and she knew, despite the pain she felt, it would get better.
FORTY-TWO
Caleb held her hand as they walked. Wraith looked around her and remembered the last time she’d been here. How the peace had enthralled and called to her. It boggled her mind that Caleb could walk this place whenever he chose to but rarely did, and even more so, that he always returned. “Are you ever tempted to stay?” she asked him.
Shaking his head, he stopped walking, cupped her face, and stared intently into her eyes. “Never. Certainly not now.”
She smiled, knowing what he saw. Outwardly, she bore no resemblance to the wraith he’d once known. She was young, vibrant, and healthy again. But inside, she was still the same female. She didn’t answer to the name Christina anymore—it just hadn’t felt right when she’d tried. She was Wraith—once human and risen from the dead to be human again. Once painfully alone, but now bursting to the seams with family—her human parents, her wraith family in Maine, her team, and of course, Caleb. Only one thing—and admittedly it was a huge thing—kept her from moving on completely.
“We’re almost there,” Caleb said quietly.
She took in a deep breath and nodded. Tightened her fingers around his and began walking again. A short time later, he stopped. “Remember, this is a one-time thing. And Essenia said your time will be short.”
“I remember. I’m thankful for whatever time she gives me. I just need to see her one last time. To make sure she’s okay . . .”
“She wants the same thing.”
He didn’t specify who he meant, Annie or Essenia, but it didn’t matter. When he bent to kiss her, she tilted her face up to his, cherishing his touch. It was something she never took for granted. She never would. Pulling away, he rested his forehead on hers.
“When we return,” she murmured, “we need to talk to Mahone. He’ll want to start looking for a new recruit.”
“Make that two new recruits.”
Surprised, she pulled back. “But I thought we decided—”
Smiling, he shook his head. “You decided I should stay on the team. And I will. I’ll return eventually. But I have much more important things to do first. Like be with you. And watch you be a mother to our baby. I figure after a year or two, Mahone will still be able to use a healer on the team. And if he can’t,” Caleb shrugged, “I have trust in fate.”
She swallowed hard and cupped his cheek. “So do I,” she whispered.
They kissed again, and this time she took control, pouring all she was and had been and would ever be into the kiss. When she pulled back, he was still smiling, but the heat in his eyes told her he was looking forward to being alone. And horizontal. But right now . . .
He nudged her forward. “Now go. She’s waiting.”
Wraith turned her head and caught her breath. She squeezed Caleb’s hand again before letting go. Slowly, she walked toward the glowing light and the silhouette of a young girl encased safely within it. The girl’s face was split by a huge grin as she ran toward Wraith.
The sisters embraced, and Wraith felt the peace and happiness that radiated from her.
The girl’s grin matched Wraith’s own, and even though her sister no longer had a beating heart, Wraith’s heart beat for her.
“Annie,” Wraith breathed. “I love you.”
This time, when Mahone sensed Essenia’s presence, he barely managed to acknowledge her. It wasn’t disrespect or anger or even indifference he felt; he was simply tired. Worn out. Wondering what was going to come next and if he could possibly muster up the energy to face it. Wraith’s return to humanity and her happily-ever-after with O’Flare should have had him pumping his fists in the air in victory and gloating that the prophecy was well on its way to being fulfilled. Instead, he was calculating the chanc
es that another HEA could possibly be on the horizon.
After all, in his experience, life tended to lull people into a false sense of security just before it cut their legs out from underneath them.
“Feeling sorry for yourself, Human? Regretting that you haven’t gotten your own happy ending?”
Mahone smiled but kept his eyes closed, his head resting on the back of his office chair. “Not so much,” he murmured. “I think I’ve finally accepted that’s not in the cards.”
He sensed her move closer to him. Felt the dual heat and chill she emanated. Felt both horror and pleasure, but somehow it was distant; he was aware of it in some plane of his mind, but once again he couldn’t find the energy to respond.
She sighed and he felt the brush of something soft against his face. A gentle caress, as if from a mother to her son. Or from one lover to another?
The thought had his lids slowly lifting and her visage took up his entire line of sight, blocking out everything but who she was and what she wanted from him. What she could give him.
“I’m tired,” he murmured.
“I know. And I know you crave rest. But I can’t give it to you. Not yet. There’s still much to be done. Many we must expose in order to defeat.”
“You’re powerful. You can crush us without a thought. Why can’t you simply defeat those who displease you?”
Again, that soft caress despite the fact he didn’t see her move. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“A miscalculation by whoever created us, I have to say.”
She laughed and this time the sound penetrated his malaise enough to curl his toes and make his dick lengthen. What the hell?
He straightened, narrowing his eyes as she backed away. She backed away. From him.
Interesting.
“Don’t be arrogant, Human. It is merely time for me to leave.”
He stood, knowing that something had shifted between them. Sensing the way, for just a fraction of a second, her gaze could no longer quite meet his. Was she giving up on them? Did she realize the futility of what she’d asked of him?