Soul Corrupted

by Lisa Gail Green

  I stop fighting. The only thing that moves is my chest as the air presses in and out of my lungs, desperate for some reprieve that I know isn’t coming. I’m about to die. Again.

  “See you in Hell,” I say before he forces my face into the basin.

  Chapter 12

  Josh

  Grace is gone. I made her run from the room, run from me. And now my heart is in tiny pieces lodged in my throat. Either that, or I’ve swallowed a bunch of broken glass.

  I sink into the leather sofa I insisted on adding to our room. I guess I’ll be moving to my own room now. What have I done?

  But if Grace knew about Noah—if I hadn’t made the counter deal—they’d both be in danger. I despise Lucifer, but I can’t argue his point—if she knew, she would have gone to him and made her own counter deal, and he all but admitted he’d make her fall again. But Grace deserves to be in Heaven, and I’m going to help keep her there.

  It takes a minute for the rest of the world to come back into focus as I fight the very manly tears threatening to break free. The screen in front of me is focused on an image. Grace was working when I walked in.

  I’m about to turn it off when the creepy girl from yesterday stands up, snapping her book shut and sending the porch swing into a frenzied wobble. The gray eye travels over me and lands somewhere to my right, where it focuses on something that makes her tense up. A short, roundish woman walks into the scene, beaming, and I freeze.

  I know who it is. I remember seeing her argue with Grace before Mr. Griffith threw her from Heaven.

  “You’re dead,” I tell the screen. “You’re supposed to be in Hell.” So what is Ms. Alvarez doing there? But I know what happened: Lucifer. Of course he’d want her working with him. She murdered both Grace and me in her determination to find the Antichrist. So if she’s with this girl…

  “Hi, Lucinda,” Ms. Alvarez says. I wonder how Grace could stand that annoying, high-pitched voice for so long.

  “Lucy,” says the girl. She sounds hoarse, like she hasn’t spoken recently. “I told you the other day.”

  “Of course, dear. But let’s get right to business, shall we?” She offers a pudgy hand, which Lucy stares at with her good eye, the other one trained on Ms. Alvarez’s face.

  “I don’t like to touch people,” Lucy says. “But you can come in.”

  “Lovely. Oh, and I see you’re reading. I adore literature. May I?” She grabs for the book, but Lucy’s faster and snatches it away. I remember talking my way into Cam’s room and complimenting his torture device designs.

  I can’t let Ms. Alvarez play that role for Lucy. Instinctively I reach for the comfort of Grace’s hand, and find only empty air. Because I just broke up with her.

  I broke up with Grace.

  I lean back into the couch, rubbing both hands over my face. “Screen off.” It comes out muffled from my hiding spot, but I can no longer hear Ms. Alvarez’s awful voice, so I guess it worked.

  My phone alarm goes off and I slowly drag my hands down. I completely forgot I was supposed to meet with Mr. Griffith to update him on our progress. Crap. I can’t go over there now. How am I supposed to keep my deal a secret from him? Lie and tell him I’m dating a human girl? I’m pretty sure he won’t approve like I told Grace he did.

  I’m still sitting, trying to figure out how to handle this, when there’s a knock on the door. Mr. Griffith pops his head in a minute later.

  “Josh? You okay, buddy?” He’s concerned, judging by his narrowed eyes and the wrinkle in his normally smooth brow.

  “Come in,” I say, even though he already is.

  He sits next to me on the couch with a sigh. “Something’s up,” he says. “You’re never late.”

  I slowly turn to face him, in no hurry to explain myself. “I’m just tired.”

  His brow wrinkles deeper and I’m filled with an immediate sense of guilt for lying—and guilt is not something I’m used to.

  “You know I have a lot of souls to work with, Josh. It’s tough to fit everyone in. I wish it weren’t like that—it shouldn’t be. It’s Heaven, after all. Everyone should get what they need when they need it.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry I missed our appointment, Mr. G.”

  “Josh, I’m not angry. Things happen. But I know you, and you’ve never been more than ten seconds late for a game or a chat. So I know something else is wrong.” He lays a hand on my shoulder, tilting his body toward me to give me his undivided attention.

  I lick my lips, wanting to confide in him. But I can still see my dad’s face when I told him I accidentally broke his most expensive whiskey bottle. I flex my hands, remembering the way the glass cut into my palms when he made me clean it up, standing over me, screaming and cussing the whole time.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Josh.” Mr. Griffith brings me back to the present.

  “I’m not afraid of you. I feel bad for forgetting our appointment.” I lay on the old charm. I haven’t used those muscles in awhile, but it’s like riding a bike. “Grace and I are having some trouble and I guess I got a little distracted with the job.”

  “You and Grace? Having trouble in literal paradise?”

  “Yeah.” And then I know what to do. It’s what I’ve always been good at: twisting the truth. “I told her I think we should focus on researching the souls and lay off the romance for awhile and she didn’t take it so well. But you know, with her family and all, I thought it just complicated stuff.”

  “That’s very…insightful of you.” Mr. Griffith straightens. “But don’t you think Grace needs you right now?”

  “What Grace needs is to accept that other people make their own choices, and if they screw up, to not take it personally.” As the words come out, I realize they’re exactly how I feel. I am angry at Grace. Angry that she feels responsible for everyone else. Angry that I have to worry that what I do or say is up to the standards she expects of me.

  Mr. Griffith nods and pats my knee. “Maybe you need to tell her how you feel. But try to remember that Grace is a Guardian Angel now, and trying to help others is her job.”

  “She needs to let Noah make his own choices, no matter where he ends up. She can still love him. She still loved me.” The words pour out of my mouth and I wonder if Mr. Griffith cast some sort of Angel voodoo on me to make me spill my guts.

  “I see,” he says, and strokes his chin. “Have you considered that perhaps Grace’s caring so much is exactly what saved you from Hell?”

  I straighten up. “Maybe she shouldn’t have saved me.”

  The words settle around the room, working their way into the corners as we sit in silence. I swallow hard, then lean back into the cushions and hide my face behind my hands again.

  “Maybe this isn’t only about Grace,” Mr. Griffith says a minute later. “Maybe it’s about you. I can tell you one thing, if it helps, Josh. You wouldn’t be here if The Man Himself didn’t know you belonged. He’s the only one capable of stepping in when an Angel or Demon dies. And that dagger pierced your heart.”

  Mr. Griffith leans in, pressing a hand over my chest where my heart thumps wildly like I’ve just run a mile. He waits for me to make eye contact before standing.

  “Take your time,” he says on the way to the door. “It can be hard to cope with the afterlife, but that’s why there’s no hurry. If you want, I can give the research job to someone else—”

  “No.” Of this much I’m sure. I can’t take this from Grace. If she didn’t have a job to focus on, she’d be completely obsessed with her family, with no other outlet. “It’ll make me feel like I’m earning my wings.”

  Mr. Griffith smiles and slips out the door, leaving me alone with too many thoughts.

  Chapter 13

  Grace

  My mother copes by sewing. She’s had her own business since I was two: Sue Sews. She’s really amazing at designing dresses for little girls. I was her model for years and business practically fell into her lap. I had so much fun helping her pi
ck out fabric and colors and even when none of my choices matched, she’d humor me and make them into something amazing. I used to come down here and sit in the big, blue armchair in the corner on the rug, curled up with a notebook in my lap, writing poems or short stories. Sometimes she’d have me read them to her while she pinned trim on an outfit, tugging it down over the mannequin and laughing at my jokes or gasping at scary parts.

  When our first dog, Tommy, died, Mom never cried—at least not that I saw. But she spent so much time in her basement workshop that I had a new outfit every day for the next month and so did Noah. I wonder what she did with all the outfits she must’ve made after I died. Maybe business is so good she sold them all.

  She’s still working, locked in her sewing room down in the basement, humming as she goes. Her fingers guide the material through the whirring machine, twisting and turning the fabric as she stares intently at the needle. I stand over her shoulder, watching, inhaling her familiar, lavender scent. I adore it—to me, it smells like love.

  This time I’m so much more worried than I was with Tommy. This time it was me she lost.

  Mom releases the dress she’s working on from the machine and slides away, forcing me to back up while she stands to examine her work. If we touched, she wouldn’t feel it—but it makes me feel like a ghost and even further away from my parents.

  The dress she holds is blue corduroy with ruffles at the bottom and the neck. I remember wearing something a lot like it when I was four. It was my favorite jumper. It’s weird to see an outfit that looks so familiar, because everything Mom makes is one of a kind.

  She holds it against her body and turns toward the blue chair, worn, but inviting in the corner. One of my notebooks is still tucked in the side of the cushion, a pen sticking out. Mom rubs her nose on her arm and lets out a punctured sigh before sitting back down hard on her chair.

  “Oh, Mom.” I rush to her and throw my arms around her, but as always, I stay invisible, and she can’t feel me.

  “I’m okay,” I tell her, stroking her hair. But it’s a lie. I’m empty inside. I’ve lost everything that matters. Her, Dad, Noah, and now Josh.

  I want to say more, but I can’t—I’m pretty sure I have no more tears to shed, but I don’t want to find out if I’m wrong. Instead I sit with my mother as she goes back to work, laying the dress out on the long table next to her and picking up some yellow cotton with tiny, white flowers. Another familiar fabric.

  “This can’t be right,” I say, settling into the blue chair. “Why do I have to let you suffer? I could reveal myself just for a moment and let you all know that I’m safe, and you could go on living.”

  I sit, curled in the blue chair, observing my broken mother as she sews. Her fingers are raw, but she doesn’t slow down.

  Unable to watch anymore, I decide to check on Noah. He’s the one coping by lashing out at everyone else. So I will myself to him, and end up in his room.

  What I find makes me scream.

  Keira. The Demon responsible for corrupting Josh and who knows how many others. In Noah’s bed, next to him.

  My vision turns red. “Get away from him!” I run at her, becoming visible only to her, and she turns, shock written all over her face.

  I rip the covers away and yank her off the mattress with more strength than I ever knew I had. Noah moans and turns on his side, flipping the blanket back over himself.

  “Get out!” I scream. “Get out of my house. Get away from my brother. And if you ever touch him again, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” she asks, in a hushed voice. She stands up, completely naked, and my stomach turns. What has she done to him? No wonder he’s been acting so awful lately. This explains everything! I knew Josh was wrong about Noah making his own choices. Keira is the cause. She’s the one manipulating him, convincing him to do horrible things.

  “I’ll rip you apart,” I say evenly.

  She grins. “Such an un-Angel-like thing to say.”

  My face burns and I start to shake. I clench my fist so tight, my nails pierce my flesh, but I don’t care. I’ve never felt so much rage in my life and it feels good to let it out. Everything is spiraling out of control, and I finally have someone to blame.

  “I hate you,” I say. “Stay away from my brother, bitch!” I reach out for her smug face and slap her hard. My palm burns, but I know it hurt her worse because a fiery handprint appears on her cheek and she presses her own hand over it.

  “I’m proud of you, Gracie,” she says, though her eyes water. “Embrace the hate. You’ll be with us in no time.”

  I recoil, disgusted. “I mean it, Keira.” I point at her and she flinches. “He’s only a kid. Get. Out.”

  She snatches her clothes from the floor. Knowing her, they’re so slutty she may as well stay nude. I wait as she storms by me to the door. She could just disappear, but I guess she wants to be as dramatic as possible. Fine with me, as long as she leaves.

  “For the record, I’ve never used glamour on him,” Keira says suddenly. “He wanted me to stay. If Noah calls me again, I won’t say no. It’s not up to you.”

  Before I can respond, she slams the door and Noah groans again, flipping over in the bed. His sunshine hair is all messed up and his face is covered in stubble, but I still see my baby brother as he wakes up, running a hand down over his face.

  He sits up in bed, reaching first for the empty mattress beside him. A wave of nausea hits me when I see the disappointment on his face at not finding Keira there. Better he get over her now, though.

  Noah rubs a hand down his face and this time reaches for his nightstand drawer. First he pulls out his phone and checks the time and few texts. Then he digs farther and pulls out a baggie and a lighter. I watch, sickened further, as he rolls a joint and lights up like it’s his second nature.

  I nearly gag as I sit on the bed with him and examine his face. His eyes are bloodshot and his breath is awful, or maybe it’s just the joint, which smells horrible, too. Tears swim in my eyes, blurring his face. Tears I didn’t think I had left.

  “This is Keira’s doing, right?” I ask. “You have to stop this, Noah. This isn’t you. I know it isn’t.”

  I reach for the joint as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and knock it out of his hand. He examines his fingers for a minute, confused, then fishes it off the floor before it ignites his dirty clothes. He takes one more puff, letting it hang out of the corner of his mouth as he pulls on a pair of ripped jeans.

  When did my baby brother grow up? He’s got the muscles of a man, which shouldn’t make me sad, but for some reason it does. I follow him out into the hall and then to the bathroom. I can’t believe he’d walk through the halls of this house with a lit joint, but he doesn’t even seem to think about it. I guess he knows Mom won’t be coming out of the basement anytime soon, and Dad won’t be home ‘til late.

  The anger I felt toward Keira flares again, but this time it’s focused on my parents. They need to wake up and pay attention before they lose both their kids. And if they don’t do it soon, I’m afraid Noah won’t end up with me.

  Noah pulls a comb through his tangled head once and fluffs his hair. Ironically, it looks good messy. He gargles some mouthwash and rubs some deodorant under his pits. Then it’s back to his room, where he puts out the joint, tosses it in the drawer, and removes some more bags filled with either powder or pills, followed by a gun.

  My heart races as I sit hard on the corner of the bed. I thought the joint was bad. What did Keira do to him? She can’t force him to do something, but she can guide him. She must have tricked him somehow.

  He yanks on a T-shirt and tucks the gun in his waistband. The shiny, black metal frightens me even more than the drugs. What if it goes off accidentally? Worse, what if he uses it on purpose? I wish Josh were here. He’d know what to do.

  No. If Josh were here, he would tell me what a terrible person Noah is. But Noah hasn’t lied about what he’s doing. Noah hasn’t told someone he’s in love
with her only to turn around and throw her out like yesterday’s trash.

  “Noah, don’t.” I beg, reaching out a hand as he throws open the door again.

  He pauses, and turns to look back at the room. His eyes are still young and maybe a little frightened as he searches from wall to wall. But a moment later the hesitation is gone and he bounds down the steps and out the front door.

  Chapter 14

  Keira

  I’m not sure why I wasn’t expecting Grace. Of course Little Miss Perfect would be keeping watch over her perfect family. But as much as it burned to have her hit me, it was also pretty damn satisfying to see her crack. Everyone has a dark side; Lucifer taught me that. Still, I’d been enjoying the quiet in Noah’s bed. It was…nice.

  Lucifer expects me to go check on Annoying Irma’s progress when Noah is “tired” of me. Well, he isn’t tired of me yet. Still, if the Boss wants it done, it’s best to do it. So I transport myself to the house of the girl she’s ID’d as the next Antichrist—the one Lucifer wants Josh and Grace distracted from finding. Well, I’ll give her props for the creep factor. The kid’s eye reminds me of my favorite short story by Edgar Allen Poe. That guy’s a real kick in the ass when Lucifer lets him out to play.

  Anyway, I don’t want Irma to know Lucifer sent me, so I keep to the shadows, which is easy in this place. It’s a huge, old house, the kind you find in horror movies where the people are secluded and the killer could be anywhere. In this case there’s a potential killer and a couple of Demons.

  Irma’s tutoring the kid. She’s the fourth person “hired” by the mom to homeschool her embarrassment of an offspring. The mom stays as far away from her daughter as possible—I guess even she’s creeped out. The kid has siblings, too—a toddler brother and a sister who’s about seven years old. They both have two good eyes. The mom stays with these two “normal” kids on the other side of the house and I’m not sure I blame her.