Death Lies Between Us (An Angel Falls Book 1)

by Jody A. Kessler

  She listens to Chris. After he speaks I see her try to make a decision about something. Her expression-filled face gives her away easily. I decide it’s in her eyes. They rob her of any secrecy. I wonder if she has any idea how transparent those green eyes are. They’re wavering at the moment.

  Chris strides away from her toward the trees, toward me. The creak of the stage door followed by voices makes Juliana and me look over. Her least favorite people appear with cigarettes as they step out into the evening light. The group, Ashley and friends, with Mason and Fredrick don’t look her way but I’m not the least bit surprised when Juliana rushes after Chris.

  I run through a two second silent debate in my mind. Stick close to Juliana or take the opportunity to speak with Marcus. I decide to get some answers first. I’ll know when Juliana needs me. Like it or not, she’s inside my soul now.

  Mason’s apartment above the garage is large and open, and looks similar to the inside of the main castle. The stone walls and the furniture are more or less the same but the overall feel of this space is very different. A light film of dust coats everything from the large screen television and the coffee table to the window panes, filtering the view of the mountains. Dirty dishes and empty beer bottles litter the granite countertops. It’s a place to hang out or sleep — a bachelor pad.

  Mason stands over his guests. Fredrick the weasel plays the tax collector. He takes a pile of cash from Eric and stuffs it in his pants pocket. Ashley and Carrie sit together on a leather couch inspecting pictures in a tabloid magazine.

  “Anyone interesting come your way lately?” I ask Marcus.

  “Sure, man. My last case was this corporate type who was tryin’ to escape prosecution for fraud, money launderin’, tax evasion; you name it. And don’t forget to throw in some adultery as the cherry on top, right. This guy was a real piece of work. He rigged up some fantastic scheme to disappear and then…?” He pauses, smiles at me showing the gap between his two front teeth and drawing out the dramatic conclusion in playful suspense.

  “Let me guess. He died.”

  “Bingo. On his getaway boat. Fell off and drowned in the ocean.”

  “Hmphh,” I snort.

  “He told me he deserved to drown. Said he’d done all those thing and more. Said he was relieved to be finished with all the guilt.”

  “Too bad he didn’t suffer the consequences of his actions. Death was an easy out for the crook.”

  I’m edgy and cranky, and not able to hide it. I look at the three kids and the two good-for-nothings, and the waste of it all. This is getting to me. And the disturbance in the air outside, near the ghost hunter, Chris, what was that? I try to shake off my agitation and focus on my friend Marcus.

  “Well now, Nathan,” he says with a hint of surprise, “you believe in an eye for an eye. I find that very interestin’.”

  “People should reap what they sow, that’s all.”

  “And what about his next life?”

  “Do you believe in that?” I ask him. This is a good segue. I had not been sure how to ask him what I wanted to know, but this is leading in the general direction.

  We’re talking by a north facing window. The sun in the west is far below the treetops, ending another day in Juliana’s life. It’s not her last day though. I would feel a stronger pull to stay close to her physically if it was, and with relief, I’m not getting that feeling. I focus my mind on her and can sense her close enough to know there’s some time left. Things can change abruptly though, I remind myself. I want to make this meeting with Marcus as quick as possible and get back to her.

  “I know reincarnation exists because I remember my previous lives.”

  Marcus’s husky voice brings me back into the now. “So you think your guy, the launderer, will pay for his crimes in another life?”

  He considers my question before giving an answer. “Some of them have to keep comin’ back until they get it right. We never stop learnin’, you know.”

  “What about us then?” I search his eyes for an answer I may not want to hear.

  “I think we graduated to our position.”

  “Graduated to this?” I say with mild irritation. I wave a hand toward the people in the room with us. They’re so self-involved, they have no idea we’re here.

  “What we do,” he strokes his chin with a large thumb and finger, “is help. There’s no greater honor than to serve one another.”

  “It doesn’t feel like I’m serving anything worthwhile. And, I don’t remember signing up for this.”

  “Not many meet the requirements. It’s an honor. You’ll figure it out, man. You should give it some more time.”

  I shake my head and refuse to meet his eye. Across the room, Ashley leans over the coffee table and snorts a line of crushed powder up her nose through a rolled up dollar bill. She hands the little tube over to Carrie who declines it, saying she’ll drive them home later. Carrie stares out the window not watching the others partake. Eric scoots over on the couch. He lifts the makeshift straw to his nose and snorts the drug in a quick hard sniff then passes it over to Fredrick. Another line disappears with a loud sucking sniff. Mason takes his turn last. He bends low over the coffee table. The leather seat creaks under his weight. With his sausage fingers, he holds one side of his nose closed while his other hand supports the tube under his right nostril. With speed and greed and in quick succession, the remaining two lines of methamphetamine disappear into his bullish face. He taps the make shift straw on the mirror creating a miniscule pile of the off white powder and then sniffs it up, not wasting a single speck. He sits back in the chair, hands gripping the armrests and snorts loudly as if he is sucking a loogie from the back of his throat. The sound disgusts me and makes me want to leave immediately, but I don’t. I watch his eyes as he scans his house guests. There is madness there, like a rabid boar lurking just behind those cloudy brown eyes. It makes me shudder with irritation and anger. I’m helpless to get these kids out of here.

  “It’s coming soon for her, isn’t it?” I finally manage to ask Marcus as I watch Ashley’s high kick in. The bitterness begins to wash out of me. In its place is sadness as I watch these people choose such a devastating path.

  He nods. “You can’t change it. Life comes and goes, man, like everything else. We’re here to help them understand and make peace with the change. It’s all good. We both know it.”

  “What if I’ve already changed things?”

  His broad forehead wrinkles as his eyebrows rise in question. “Changed what?”

  “Changed my client’s future.” I take a deep weighted breath. Saying it aloud didn’t ease any of my stress over the situation. “I think it’s already too late. What if I’ve made her circumstances worse?”

  “It happens. We’re not supposed to interfere with life. It can bring chaos to the natural order. We’re here, but we don’t exist in the physical. We can’t pretend that their world is ours anymore. If you’ve done somethin’, let it be the last time and hope the consequences aren’t severe.”

  “I feel like the consequences are already severe enough. In here,” I say and pound my chest with a fist. “I can’t explain it. This case is different, she’s different. I can’t take it, and I can’t control myself around her.”

  I watch him, wondering if he can even begin to understand what I mean.

  “I’ve done this for a long time, man, and I’ve been where you are now. I’ve worked with many of us and we all have doubts of some kind. But you…you’re good with them. I know that much, and here’s something else I know. You’re supposed to be here, right now, in this struggle. It’s from the struggle that we grow the most. Do you think Creator isn’t listening to you? Creator listens. If you need a change, ask for it.”

  “Just like that, ask and you will receive.” I let out a little huff of contempt.

  “Yeah,” Marcus answers in his laid back rumble of a voice.

  He ignores my disdain like the saint I’m beginning to think him. I just
confessed and he acts like what I’ve done is normal. Marcus had come for me when I died. I was more comfortable with him, his friendly face, the laid back attitude, and the fact that he had all the right answers at the time, than I’d ever been with anyone in my life. There was an instant bond of trust with him and he never steered me in the wrong direction, but right now, I’m feeling resistant to his words. Like negative poles trying to pass one another, all I can feel is an invisible shield pushing me away.

  “What if I ask for it to be taken back? What if I don’t want this afterlife anymore?”

  “I would have to say I don’t believe that’s what you really want. You have strength no one else has. The strength to help people understand and be able to let go. You have the ability to listen to anyone with an open heart. Do you think just anyone can do what we do?”

  “I can’t do it anymore. Tell me how to be done with it.”

  “Our path isn’t always ours to know. Have faith you’re moving in the direction of your best interest. Nathaniel, you feel for everyone, which is why you are what you are. Get through this case. The next one will be easier. You must let them experience what they came to do and when their time is over, then you help them make the transition.”

  I know what he’s saying and it makes sense to a rational part of me but Marcus isn’t feeling what I’m feeling. Having no control over my actions when I’m around Juliana isn’t helping her, or me, or anyone. Now she’s at risk of something unfathomable.

  “What if I refuse to do anything when someone dies? What if I stay silent and let them figure it out on their own?”

  “You won’t do it,” he states.

  He’s right. I couldn’t ignore a helpless soul. “I can’t seem to stop myself with her.” I tell him the truth and hope he’ll realize my urgency.

  “You’ll make the right choice.”

  “What if I don’t?”

  “Remember who you are my friend and you will.”

  Marcus will keep this up, encouraging me and avoiding my negativity. His faith in me isn’t what I want to hear right now. “What about the stories of Liam?” It’s a last attempt. One last ditch effort, a long shot at stirring up a concrete answer out of him.

  His eyes become steel hard and I fight the urge to take a step back. “No one takes that road. The stories are a lesson for all to learn from. It’s not and never has been a solution for anything. Severe consequences don’t begin to describe what happened to him and, the ones he loved.”

  The fierceness of his features and the glacial tone penetrate my soul, leaving no doubt that Liam’s decision won’t be one I can follow. I finally let the subject drop and turn my attention to the people in the room.

  Mason prowls around like a caged panther before mealtime. He settles behind Carrie and begins to massage the tops of her shoulders over the back of the couch. “I’ll do you first, then you can do me, darlin’.”

  Carrie shrugs out from under his meaty grip and stands up muttering, “No thanks.”

  I see his muddy eyes linger on Carrie’s low cut top. I clench my fists in rage, overwhelmed by the urge to pummel him into a soggy black and blue heap.

  Marcus touches my arm.

  “Just wait,” he says in his calm and serene way.

  I set my jaw and watch.

  Carrie folds her arms over her chest and then pleads to her friend. “Let’s go back, okay Ash?”

  Ashley is fully engrossed in toying with Eric’s nipple over his shirt on the other end of the couch. She doesn’t stop her teasing or look over at Carrie as she answers, “Yeah, whatever.”

  Carrie moves toward the door. She looks from her friends to the door, and back again.

  “Stay and party with me, doll. We can go at it all night long.” Mason draws out the ‘all night long’ into nasty insinuation that makes my blood boil. He licks his chapped lips and is sneering at Carrie’s breasts. “How ‘bout a cocktail?”

  “Ashley,” Carrie whines.

  She looks as if she’s about to bolt and I wish she would.

  “Fine!” Ashley spits out in her baby mouse voice. She jumps up. “Come on Eric. The real party is happening without us.”

  Ashley prances toward the exit. Carrie rushes in front of her and throws the door open, disappearing in a heartbeat and leaving it hang open on its hinges. Eric unfolds his large frame from the cushions. His hand rubs absently over the spot where Ashley had been toying with him. The dull expression on his all-American face no doubt mirrors the inner workings of his mind. On speed or not, I don’t think this kid is all that quick.

  Eric nods at Mason. “Hey thanks, dude.” Eric is halfway to the door.

  “When you’re in need, you come find me, or Fred. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

  “Sure, real good shit,” Eric says. Then I hear him thump down the stairs.

  Outside, the broad expanse of darkening sky above the evergreens seems to absorb some of my frustration and anger from being near Mason. Ashley dances in circles around Carrie and Eric. Every part of her body moves including her mouth. She babbles non-stop across the car park and into the castle.

  “Can I get fired? Has that ever happened to anyone like us before?” Marcus and I take our time following them to the castle.

  “You make me laugh.” His wide shoulders shake under his linen shirt. “But no, I don’t think so. That bein’ said, our circumstances can change. Figure out what you want and hold onto it. Hold on as tight as you can for as long as it takes and things will change.”

  “Change how exactly?” I want a definitive answer from him.

  “Change is different for everyone. Living or not, we have our own soul, our own will, and most important, our own experience. Try to accept what comes to you. A great man once said, ‘In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.’”

  He looks over at me. I feel him studying my face so I scowl at him.

  He smiles, wide and bright. His white teeth glow in stark contrast to his dark skin. He lets out a low rumbling laugh that makes me frown deeper. His upper body shakes in a private joke.

  “Nathan, my friend, you are the most contrary angel I’ve ever met. Man, listen, things could be a lot worse.”

  “So you say.” I don’t want to agree with him. I’m trying not to feel ridiculous as he laughs at me, and it’s only working because anger supersedes indignation.

  “It could,” he reiterates in a more serious tone. “You could be stuck in hell on earth like some of the poor misguided souls around here.” He gestures to the omnipresent castle in the background and then continues his speech. “Moping around tormented all day and all night, unable to pass on, or do anything. Tell me what you do is worse, man.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I hear his point loud and clear but am unwilling to admit it just now. “Why are there so many lost souls around here?” I ask.

  “Not sure, but they’re a miserable, sad, and miserly lot. They refuse our help, so don’t bother with ‘em. It’s as I say, they’re in a self-created hell on earth.”

  “Handling the recently dead is more than I want to deal with right now, let alone wanderers from the past.”

  “That man, the American Indian ghost hunter, he helps them. What he does is a good thing. He’s a special one, very unusual.”

  “I’m not so sure about him.”

  “No worries, he’s one of the good guys.” Marcus nods. His dreadlocks shake in agreement. “Go now. You’ll figure this all out, Nathaniel. You’re a good one too, don’t forget it.”

  Chapter Fifteen: Spring Of Souls

  I find Juliana standing on top of a rocky overlook. Her thin silhouette and long hair is unmistakable against the backdrop of sky and mountains. The ghost hunter is too close to her. I want to be the one standing next to her but I keep my distance and wait for one of them to move. Chris says something close to her ear. I position myself between the spruce and fir trees so I can see Juliana and whatever the two of them are staring at.

  I watch with th
em, instantly drawn into the scene below, much the same way Chris and Juliana are, frozen with fascination. Part of me knows the person I watch is no longer alive but it in no way matters. This is like nothing I’ve ever witnessed before.

  The entire scene glows in an unfamiliar light. It’s dark but I can see everything happening as if there is a full moon tonight even though there isn’t. The pool of water below suddenly shimmers and the pond shrinks. The surrounding stones change in a way I can’t completely describe, some disappear and others appear.

  There’s a natural peace to this place. The ground itself seems to command respect and reverence. Inside my mind I know I’m witnessing another time, a time when the Native People were still free of outside influence.

  Stepping out from the shadows, a woman moves toward the hot spring pool with the slow trudging steps of someone carrying an enormous burden. The fringe on the bottom of her simple leather dress brushes against her moccasins. Her head hangs down and her long dark hair hangs loose around narrow shoulders. At the water’s edge she removes a large pack off her back and places it in the grass at her feet. Kneeling down beside it, she removes a small bundle from inside.

  I think it’s a baby at first, but it can’t be. It is too small and not moving.

  The woman unrolls the bundle and removes a tiny shirt. She presses this to her silent tear strewn face and I see her breathe in its scent. Her hands shake as she reaches forward and lays the small shirt on the surface of the water. She gently pushes it away. She reaches again for something and this time she holds a small gourd in her hand. As she lets it go into the water I see the lines and shapes of its painted decorations, a baby’s rattle. Last she lifts the fur the other pieces had been wrapped in. It looks velvety soft in the strange glow and perfect for wrapping a newborn in. Her face is a mask of anguish as she adds the fur to the steaming water. She rubs a fist across her eyes but the tears continue to pour down her cheeks. On her knees, with her hands clenched over her belly she begins to sing. Half wailing and full of mourning she sings as she watches the current take the infant’s belongings away from her. They fall over an edge on the far side of the pond where the water seems to disappear into the earth.