Hell Can Wait (Urban Fantasy) (Caith Morningstar Book 4)

by Celia Kyle

  “You’ve taken the first step. Now you’re ready for the next.” He placed his hand over my heart—or where it would have been. “In my time, I was a Holy Knight in the Crusades. Your mother chose me for that reason—my goodness to counter her evil. The light touch of On High to offset her darkness. You’ve learned to tap in to my strength, the physical prowess that helped you through years of training. Now you must learn about spiritual strength—the strength of Faith.”

  A warmth spread through my chest, a presence and certainty that there was something more to my life and my soul. The knowledge that I wasn’t alone, someone was out there looking after me.

  I touched my chest, a wave of dizziness swamping me. I’d never been one for the sentimental, spiritual woo-woo stuff. I mean, sure, On High exists. I get that. Really. I mean, Uncle Luc was a fallen gel, right?

  But I’d never felt the divine presence like that in the past. It was the difference between knowing about something you’ve read versus seeing it with your own eyes.

  I doubted that anyone from On High was on my side. Okay, maybe Sam. But maybe it didn’t matter? There was the whole forgiveness thing, after all. I’d never gone to confession or any of that crap. I had too much pride. I wasn’t going to open myself up to rejection. I wasn’t going to be turned away if I tried to confess my sins.

  But then there was that blossoming of warmth, the smallest brush of a divine presence. And for that one moment, I realized I might just be wrong.

  And by “might” I meant that I was but I’d never say that aloud.

  I was still too prideful to admit my sins or ask for absolution, but after feeling that soft touch I knew someone was out there. If I ever decided I wanted to talk or whatever.

  Not that I would because, duh, Caith Morningstar.

  As the gentle warmth faded, I looked around, searching for Papa Leth. I wanted that heat back. But he was gone, disappeared as if he’d never been. I supposed he’d served his purpose. He’d given me something I’d never had—the gift of faith.

  With a shake of my head, I went back to the road and just started walking. There wasn’t much else to do. I had no idea where I was headed or what I’d face next, but I had a new certainty in my heart.

  I was going to find what I needed here in purgatory. I just needed to have faith.

  Chapter Twenty

  I wandered the spirit realm—it sounds better than Purgatory—for a while, searching for the next item to add to my to-do list. Time didn’t seem to have any meaning here. There was light, but no sun traveling across the sky. My spirit form had legs that I used to walk, but I never got tired. I wondered why my feet weren’t sore, when I’d experienced plenty of pain from that minotaur beating. I figured getting punched in the gut was hard to ignore. A long walk let my mind wander until I forgot my feet were supposed to hurt.

  I decided a few things as I meandered. I knew I needed a goal. If things were shaped by belief, I needed to believe I had a destination. The road hadn’t changed in what felt like hours, maybe years, and it wouldn’t change until I had a destination in mind.

  “The sigil,” I murmured and stopped. I planted my hands on my hips and inspected my surroundings. I didn’t know where it was or how to find it, but it was in the spirit realm. Coincidentally, I was in the spirit realm. So at least I was in the right ballpark.

  I closed my eyes for a moment and envisioned the sigil in front of me—there and within reach. If I could make myself believe, it would become true. Naturally, that didn’t work. I opened my eyes and was still in the middle of nowhere on a dirty road.

  At least I was still a grown-up me.

  It should have worked if I could, like, achieve Nirvana or something. And I meant Nirvana in the spiritual sense, not the band.

  But that could take thousands of years. My mind was still too tied to the physical realm. My body here looked exactly like my body in the tween because that was what my mind told me. I wasn’t enlightened or separated from my physical life enough to open my mind to possibilities.

  Okay. I needed a palate cleanser. Like pickled ginger between pieces of sushi. I needed some spiritual ginger.

  “I may be able to help with that.”

  The deep yet lyrical voice had me turning in place and I spied a pure white unicorn trotting toward me. Between one step and the next, its pale form shimmered and transformed into a human man with pale skin and a wide, beaming smile.

  My second father—Papa Finn.

  I groaned and slumped my shoulders, head tilted back while I whined. Yes, I was over six hundred and I could still grumble like a toddler. Some things could never be unlearned.

  “This is going to be a thing, isn’t it? All of my fathers in a row, each with their own lesson like an after-school special.”

  Papa Finn shrugged. “You tell me, Caith. This place is shaped by your mind, not mine.”

  “Right,” I grumbled. “Because you’re just a projection.”

  Which meant some part of me needed something from each of my fathers, so I’d have to face them all and deal with it. It was probably an outward manifestation of my insecurities and inner-turmoil.

  I dated a therapist once, but after he told me I was a hint psychotic I made him a hint dead.

  “So,” I was still grumbling. “What do I need to do?”

  “Walk with me.”

  I’d been walking for forever. I had this. “Easy enough.”

  I fell into step beside him and we made our way down the road. The terrain gradually changed until we were in a grassy field and approaching a shimmering lake. A gentle spring breeze flowed across the land, ruffling my hair and caressing my cheek. The sun was warm on my face even though there wasn’t a sun in the sky.

  That didn’t make sense, but not much did in the spirit realm.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Isn’t that an irrelevant question? There’s no physical world here. Distance is meaningless.” He tipped his head toward the lake. “If you want to be there, then be there.”

  I frowned—I was really getting fucking tired of fucking frowning. For reals. But it did make sense in its own way.

  I closed my eyes and pictured myself at the lake’s shore, but I needed more than the image. I needed to know I was there. I took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of the water. I focused on the slow rush of water caressing the rocky shore. I stuck my leg out and dipped my foot in the clear liquid to test its temperature.

  And moisture seeped through my boot.

  I opened my eyes and found myself at the very edge of the lake.

  “Very good,” Papa Finn murmured.

  “That it? Is that your test? Teaching me how to believe where I want to be?” I really wanted him to say yes.

  “What do you think?”

  That was not a yes.

  I rolled my eyes. “I think I’m sick of this cryptic bullshit.”

  He laughed. “Then stop thinking of it. You’re the one who’s making me cryptic.”

  I groaned. I knew he was right, but making him not cryptic wasn’t as easy as suddenly appearing at the lakeside. He looked and felt like my real papa. Even if he was a projection of my thoughts, I couldn’t control him. Not any more than I could control the beating of my heart. Well, when I had one.

  “Fine.” I planted my hands on my hips and stared out over the water. “I can figure this out. You showed up when I was thinking I needed to be cleansed…” I dipped my foot in the water. “If I wanna go the literal route, I could give my spirit form a bath.”

  I kicked off my boots and tugged on my shirt, stopping just shy of revealing my goodies. I glanced at Papa Finn. “I get that you’re a projection of my subconsciousness, but spiritual me doesn’t want subconscious Papa Finn watching me get naked and go skinny dipping. Because creepy.”

  He blushed and turned away. “Good point.”

  I stripped, clothes disappearing into the ether as soon as they touched the ground. I supposed nudity didn’t mean much in the spirit re
alm since I didn’t actually have a body. That didn’t mean modesty had taken a vacation after I died. I just hoped I could get my clothes back before any of the other papas appeared.

  I waded into the lake and dove beneath the surface, letting the chilled water embrace me in a frigid hug. I swam through the refreshing lake and stayed underwater for a while. I didn’t need to breathe so I figured I’d prove to myself that I couldn’t drown. After a few minutes without needing air, I relaxed. I floated there, naked beneath the placid surface. I had no worries. There was no frantic rush to do anything. When time had no meaning, what was the point of racing in circles?

  I hugged my knees to my chest and closed my eyes, letting the water hold me gently in its cool embrace. When I realized I didn’t need to breathe, I also accepted there were other things I didn’t need either. No food. No drinking. No sleeping. Bonus, I didn’t even need to pee.

  If I didn’t get my period, it would be the perfect world.

  All the things my mortal body needed were no longer required. It was like I’d cast off the tedious chores that came with a mortal life.

  But I couldn’t stay in the lake forever. I… I had to move on. In some intangible way I knew I’d taken the first step toward purifying my soul.

  Me. Satan’s niece. Uncle Luc would be so pissed.

  I broke the surface of the water and made my way to the shore. My clothing reappeared as soon as I reached dry land, bone dry. I figured there was no reason to believe that water that didn’t really exist could soak my clothing.

  Papa Finn still waited, hands folded at his waist. “That purity will serve you well. Remember what you felt and use it to cleanse others.”

  He faded, leaving me alone to continue my journey. My steps were lighter and I wondered if my spirit body was lighter. Dying seemed like a great way to lose those extra pounds I’d put on after adopting Bryony.

  My third father, Papa Eron, waited atop a small hill. He rested under a tree, tending to the flowers on the hilltop. To say Papa Eron had a green thumb would be an understatement. He literally created flowers and planted the first seeds eons ago.

  I sat cross-legged in front of him. “Lemme guess. It’s time for me to get in touch with nature.”

  He plucked a few dead petals from a flower and dropped them to the ground. They’d decompose and fertilize the roots, helping the flower to thrive.

  “Is it really nature—“

  “If it’s not real,” I finished for him. “Yeah, I got it. So, what does this not-nature have to do with me finding the sigil?”

  He smiled at me; green eyes the color of fresh grass. “Your Crusader father gave you the gift of faith. Your unicorn father gave you the gift of purity.”

  “So… You’re giving me the gift of gardening?” I lifted my eyebrows. I hadn’t inherited Papa Eron’s green thumb. My endurance and unyielding durability came from the earth and mountains that could weather any storm. But being tough and (mostly) unbreakable were only good in combat, not for the whole growing thing. Plus, I’d never been into learning about plants, much to Papa Eron’s unending disappointment.

  “Something more important. Since time has no meaning here, you may as well help me plant the garden.” He handed me a single flower seed.

  I held it between my fingers. “You want me to plant a flower? One flower?”

  “Yes,” he gave me an encouraging smile. “Plant it. Nurture it. Help it grow.”

  I shrugged. I didn’t understand how this would help me, but who was I to argue? I used my fingers to make a hole for the seed and dropped it into the dirt. I covered it and poured water over the small mound with the can Papa Eron handed me. Then I looked to him to see what he wanted me to do next.

  He held up a hand. “Just wait.”

  So I waited.

  A lot.

  Existing in a place beyond time meant I lost track of linear existence. I’d learned that the physical aspects of the world didn’t exist beyond my perception, but I still thought of time as linear. It began in the past, pushed through the present and on into the future.

  There was no reason it should work that way here, though.

  In what seemed like an instant, a fully-grown flower sprouted from the ground.

  I grinned and mentally patted myself on the back. “There. Done. Now what?”

  He gave me a patient smile. “Just wait.”

  So I waited more. Waiting sucked.

  The flower disappeared, a patch of dirt in its place. Then, as I watched, it grew into a tiny seedling and rose from the dirt quicker than I’d expected.

  Blink. Fresh flower.

  Blink. Withered husk.

  I didn’t frown this time, I glared, irritated with the stupid thing. Irritation flowed into understanding. Time had no meaning so the past or the future had no meaning either. Hurrying or waiting had no meaning.

  I simply… was.

  I might have sat there for an hour or a century rolling that idea through my mind. I couldn’t be sure. Then I accepted that it didn’t matter. When I’d started this spiritual journey, I’d been in a rush to complete each step to reach the end.

  But was there an “end” when there was no future? There was simply now and now couldn’t be rushed.

  Eventually I looked at Papa Eron again and returning his wide smile. “My gift to you is the virtue of patience. For all your six hundred years, Caith, you never slowed for a single moment. Now that you have no choice but to slow, you’ve been fighting to rush yourself. Embrace patience. Let things come as they may. It is the nature of all things.”

  I returned my attention to the ground. The flower was just a seed again; resting in a hole I’d dug. Papa Eron was right. It didn’t need to be rushed.

  I covered the seed once more and this time, I let it grow from seedling to flower without a care in the world.

  By the time I rose, ready to move on, Papa Eron was gone.

  He’d given me what I needed.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  My fourth father, Percival the Pixie King, stared down at me from his perch in a tree.

  “Hey, Papa Percy,” I gave him a small wave. “Gotta admit, I’m not sure what kind of virtue you’re supposed to teach me.”

  Pixies weren’t exactly virtue oriented beings. They were pranksters, lovers, and artists.

  “Who says it always has to be woo-woo virtues?” Papa Percy smirked at me. That’s why I loved him. He didn’t take anything—even the spirit realm—seriously. “That’s not what I signed up for. In case you forgot, your mother is the sister to the High Lord of Hell. All of us, even pure as the driven snow Letholdus, got a nice piece of—“

  “I get it! No need to go on!” I did not want to think of the magical gang-bang that had accompanied my conception. Ever. I didn’t need those details even if they were coming from subconscious Papa Percy and not real Papa Percy.

  “The point is, you shouldn’t get too caught up in this spiritual journey and forget about your roots.”

  Conceptually I knew he wasn’t talking about my hair, but his words reminded me that I’d really needed to have my roots done before I’d died. I wondered if Jezze would dye my hair before they buried me.

  Papa Percy hopped from the tree, floating gently on his wings, and landed next to me.

  Why couldn’t I have gotten wings from him?

  He led me into the woods, tall trees surrounding us. From seedlings to towering giants between one moment and the next. I was no longer phased by the fluid nature of the spirit realm. It was what it was.

  “I thought I was here to work through all the existential bullshit so I could move on to the next stage of the afterlife.” Or something.

  “Did you forget?” He trailed his fingers along the trunk of a tree. “You aren’t here just to learn to control your thoughts and focus your beliefs. You’re here to regain what you’ve lost.” He paused and I did the same. He tapped me on the chest, right over my heart.

  I frowned. So help me if I got out of this I w
ould never frown again.

  I placed a hand over my heart. What had I lost?

  “My connection to Hell,” I nodded.

  “Your first three fathers wouldn’t mind seeing you go to the playground in the sky.” Papa Percy gestured toward the clouds. “Faith, purity, patience. They were always groaning about the holy virtues. They always wanted to see the best in you.” He wagged a finger. “But I know you better than the others.”

  I smirked. “I’ve always been a bad girl at heart.”

  “Bad?” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, not at all. You’ve saved so many lives and protected the innocent. It’s safe to say you’re on the path toward good and righteousness, but is that really what you want?”

  Was it?

  My mother was a demon who’d spent millennia in Hell. My uncle was the Devil himself. I had his darkness in my blood and those evil urges had always been a part of me. I’d never considered I could be destined for anything else.

  Papa Leth’s lecture on faith let me believe I had another option. I could, if I worked hard and stuck to it, cleanse my soul. Eventually. It would take a while to earn my eternal rest behind the gates of On High. It wouldn’t be easy, but the option was there.

  Papa Percy had raised an interesting point. I’d spent my life believing I was destined for Hell along with my mother and uncle. I’d never been afraid of that possibility. For me, it wasn’t something to fear. I’d have a throne at Uncle Luc’s side and the massive hordes of Hell to command.

  Pretty sweet deal, really.

  There were downsides, of course. Like, I couldn’t return to the tween unless I was summoned. I wouldn’t be with Sam unless he let himself fall so he could join me. And I’d never get to see Bryony again. My kid was too good to end up in Hell.

  Okay, so maybe I’d keep my options open. I could have Paradise with my son (eventually) and my mate, or I could have power at my uncle’s side. Not both. Not if I committed to a specific path.

  Was there a middle option? Not pure enough for On High, but not so evil that I went to Hell?