Gatekeeper

by Debra Glass

  Still nothing.

  But then, a voice inside her told her to relax, to open. She could do this. She knew she could.

  Willing herself to relax, she drew in a deep breath, filling her lungs to capacity. She blew it out slowly. Chills washed over her. She breathed in again and images flooded her. Scott’s truck was racing along the dark Nashville city streets.

  And then she knew.

  Scott was taking the button to Mt. Olivet cemetery—to Benton’s grave.

  Jillian’s eyes flew open. She had to get free of these bonds. She had to call Theo. She had to stop this.

  Her gaze darted around the room. If she could get to the scissors or a knife…but they were in the kitchen. It would be too late by the time she scooted that far across the floor.

  Her gaze came to a dead stop on the shards of mirror on her bedroom floor where the shot had shattered the glass.

  Hope swelled in her chest.

  Like a caterpillar, she shifted and inched toward the broken glass. There were pieces big enough. She turned and grappled with her fingers until finally, she managed to get a piece. Her shoulders ached. Her back burned. The only thing keeping her going was the hope of saving Benton. She’d pulled him free of the soul collectors before and she could do it again.

  With a grunt, she tried to turn the makeshift knife in her hand but dropped it. The chiming sound it made when it hit the floor was sickening.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Come on, Jillian. You can do this. Try again.” Her fingertips sought the glass once more. And once more, she managed to finagle it into place. The edges were sharp and when she tried to hold it tightly enough to sever the bonds, it sliced into her fingers.

  She cried out but forced herself to ignore the searing, stinging pain as she sawed at the terry cloth belt wound around her ankles.

  The shard of glass continued to slice into her fingers but Jillian’s focus was solely on Benton. His voice resounded in her head. Strange how one kind of pain overrides another.

  Holding her breath, she sawed and sawed, feeling sticky, wet blood running down her wrists. She had to get free. She had to save Benton. It seemed an eternity before her feet sprang free. She clambered off the floor, kicked free of the sheet and, hands bound, clumsily ran headlong to the kitchen.

  Banging her shoulder against the phone, she managed to knock it off the wall. It hit the floor with a hollow-sounding thud. Sinking to the tile floor, she tried to twist around to see the numbers to dial 911. A recorded voice came on the line.

  “If you’d like to make a call please hang up and…”

  Jillian’s heart sank. Frustration burned in her veins. She hit the reset button and tried again, her fingers leaving bloody prints on the phone. This time, she heard a woman’s voice on the other end. “Nashville, Davidson 9-1-1.”

  Relief threatened to overwhelm her and when she tried to speak her voice came out in a choked sob. She cleared her throat and forced her words. “This is Jillian Drew. I need you to get in contact with Captain Theo Carter immediately. I know where Scott Bowers is.”

  “Ma’am, are you at—”

  Jillian interrupted. She didn’t have time for that. “Call Theo right now and tell him to go to Mt. Olivet Cemetery. It’s a matter of life and death!”

  Bracing against her kitchen cabinets, she slid back up. Pain shot through her back and legs. She rushed to the silverware drawer and had to reach in backward, hands tied. She fumbled for a serrated blade. Her fingers finally closed around the hard, wooden handle of a knife. She worked it between the bonds tying her wrist and sawed until her arms burned.

  At length, the tough terry cloth yielded and her wrists burst free.

  * * * * *

  The Jag’s tires squealed as Jillian sped around a curve. She punched the gas pedal and the car growled as the engine kicked into gear.

  She had no idea what she would do when she got to Mt. Olivet. She had no weapon. She’d dialed Theo on the cell phone and the call had gone straight to voice mail. Hopefully, that meant he was on the line with Nashville P.D. and hopefully, it meant Theo and the police would get there first.

  What if Scott had already given Benton up to the soul collectors? How would she ever know? Scott had the button. Would Benton’s soul be lost, forever trapped somewhere between heaven and earth? Her heart tightened until it felt like a stone in her chest. A lump rose in her throat. Tears stung her eyes but she refused to give in to the tears.

  Gripping the steering wheel, she weaved around a street sweeper and then sailed through a red light.

  The Mt. Olivet entrance was just down the street, just past the Catholic cemetery.

  Jillian hardly braked as she flew into the entrance. As she neared the top of the hill, there was no sign of flashing blue lights—or anyone, for that matter.

  Could she have been wrong? Why, now that she’d finally come to some sort of acceptance of her psychic ability, had it failed her?

  A wave of terror surged inside her followed by a sickening sense of utter hopelessness. “No,” she said aloud. “No.” She swallowed it down. This was not the time to give up.

  Switching off the car’s lights, she barely gassed the Jag down the narrow pathways through the massive cemetery, the car’s high-performance engine purring near-silently. Her gaze scanned the darkened graveyard. The tombstones shone an eerie shade of blue in the moonlight. The limbs of ancient oaks loomed blacker than the black sky.

  Jillian’s heart fluttered rapidly in her chest. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. Where was Theo? Where were the police? Where is Scott?

  The car crept quietly past a mausoleum and a human silhouette came into view.

  Jillian froze, stopping the car. In the murky darkness, she could make out the figure of Scott Bowers in the distance—standing at the head of Benton’s grave.

  Jillian squinted. What was he holding up? The button?

  A little thrill of hope swept through her. Maybe she’d gotten here in time. Maybe Benton was safe. But then Jillian’s stomach did a somersault. The revenant ghosts were creeping out from behind gravestones, all lumbering like ghastly sleepwalkers toward Scott.

  One slid past the driver’s side window. Jillian gasped. A shudder crawled up her spine as she recalled their reaching, grasping hands, their hollow, dead faces.

  Benton…

  Would he be like them when the soul collectors were done with him? An image of his beautiful, smiling face morphing into one of those belonging to the vacant, gray ghosts rose like bile in Jillian’s thoughts.

  She couldn’t let that happen. She would not.

  Resolve flooded her being. But how was she ever going to overpower Scott? If only she had a weapon. A gun. A knife. Something—

  Jillian’s lips parted. She did have a weapon. The Jaguar. But she knew she only had one shot at stopping him. Just one.

  But could she kill a man? She bit her bottom lip. Killing Lynn had been an accident. Could she deliberately take a life? Terror and doubt surged and everything inside her screamed at her to wait for the police.

  But then a strange, silver, glittering light appeared just beyond Scott. Mesmerized, Jillian stared as the particles seemed to fuse together and form into Benton, his light softly luminous against the backdrop of gravestones and night sky.

  Shoulders slumped, his head hung and he looked weak, tired. But he wasn’t gone. The soul collectors hadn’t come for him yet. Her heart soared.

  Dammit, where’s Theo?

  Jillian sat stock-still in the car. What should she do? Wait? Confront Scott?

  She reminded herself that he had a gun. He would kill her. She didn’t doubt that.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she warred with her choices. An unearthly shriek rent the air. Jillian’s eyes snapped open and her heart turned to ice.

  Soul collectors swarmed toward Benton, swooping, diving to pick at him like vultures.

  “No!” Jillian screamed and, gripping the leather-encased steering wheel with all her might, she
jammed the gas pedal to the floorboard. The Jag’s powerful V6 engine kicked into gear and the car shot forward, careening over curbs and low-lying gravestones.

  As the car careened toward him, Scott turned. Bracing herself, Jillian saw Scott’s eyes go impossibly wide before closing her own and turning her head. She heard and felt the sickening, bone-crushing force of a body coming across the hood, slamming into the windshield. Jillian screamed. The air bag exploded in her face as the Jag bounced to a rough abrupt stop, the two front tires lodging in the edge of Benton’s grave.

  Stunned, Jillian coughed. Her mouth tasted plastic and powdery. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs out of her brain. Trembling, she scrambled out of the car and fell on her hands and knees to the ground.

  Scott lay bloody and unmoving several feet away but a groan emanated from deep in his chest. He sputtered and coughed. Jillian stared. Something ethereal rose from his body. As it hovered toward her, it formed into a woman—the most beautiful woman Jillian had ever seen—Harriet Cooke.

  Pale but fully solid, Hattie’s hard gaze never left Jillian’s. Dark eyebrows arched like delicate wings above her icy brown eyes. Her voluminous pale skirts audibly swept the ground as she approached.

  Jillian shot a quick glance at Benton as she scrambled to her feet. He was pallid, transparent—but the soul collectors had backed off and were merely hovering, watching.

  Hattie was coming closer. Jillian’s heart thundered. She struggled to remain calm, to think. She could fight Scott. He’d been a flesh-and-blood man. But how could she fight a ghost?

  Jillian took a step backward as Hattie’s hooped skirt brushed the toe of her shoe. A chill pervaded Jillian’s bones. She shuddered at the utter coldness Hattie projected.

  Hattie fingers unfurled, revealing the button. A mirthless smile claimed her lips. “I will take him to hell with me!”

  The soul collectors dipped closer.

  “Hattie, don’t do this! Benton loved you.” The tears were falling now, coursing unchecked down Jillian’s cheeks. If only she’d waited for Theo. Now there was nothing she could do but watch the soul collectors take Benton. Why had she been so impetuous? So stupid?

  Hattie merely laughed, whirled and crossed the muddy ground. Her ghost passed through the car and floated over the open grave to where Benton had slumped to his knees.

  “Benton?” Jillian called to him. “Benton, please…don’t let this happen!”

  Weakly, he lifted his gaze to hers. He muttered her name but the sound oddly did not match the movement of his mouth. Sorrow emanated from his gray eyes. Sorrow and resignation. He’d given up. Despair flooded Jillian.

  “No!” she wailed. “Hattie…don’t do this!”

  But Hattie only laughed again and seized a fistful of Benton’s coat in her hand. Her pale face turned to the sky, to where the soul collector’s lingered. “Now you have two of us.”

  No sooner had she uttered the words than an unearthly hiss cut through the air and the soul collectors dove on their quarry.

  Jillian’s heart sank. She dropped to her knees as the black beings engulfed Hattie and Benton. The stench of sulfur assailed her nostrils. Hattie’s tortured screams filled the night air but Benton remained eerily silent. They were taking him, taking him and there was nothing she could do about it.

  The other revenants slithered out of the darkness and surrounded them, their gaunt, staring faces hollow and frightening.

  Jillian doubled over and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to close out the chilling sounds of Hattie’s screams and the horrible, nauseating stink. She was too late. Too late.

  She could not let him go like this. There had to be something…

  Clarity swept over her. She did have something.

  She had her Light.

  She inhaled and raised her arms to the heavens and with all the power she possessed, she called in the Light. She called in the power of the Universe, beseeching for mercy, bargaining and begging for Benton’s soul. The darkness parted and a Light so strong it was palpable, visible—blinding—descended on the hilltop.

  Jillian squinted against it, shielding her eyes with the back of hand. Some of the soul collectors were fleeing. One dove at her, its claws raking her arm. Jillian gasped and concentrated her Light on the creature. She watched, amazed, as lightning spiraled from her fingertips and forced the being back.

  It was working. It was working.

  Her heart soared but her relief was short lived. Her Light began to grow dimmer and as it subsided, the soul collectors began to return. “No,” Jillian screamed above the din. “I won’t let you take him!” And then, Amy’s words resounded in her head.

  Love is the strongest power in the Universe.

  Jillian’s gaze found Benton.

  Had she ever truly known love before her encounter with Benton? Had she ever understood its power to render a person utterly vulnerable and yet empower them in ways unimaginable?

  Love.

  Jillian took a deep breath, mentally connecting her mind and heart, allowing herself to become one with love. Her thoughts flooded with images of Benton holding her, kissing her, loving her, until she felt as if her heart would burst. She exhaled slowly, projecting that power toward the soul collectors, toward the revenants, toward Harriet Cooke—and toward Benton.

  The wind rose and whistled through the trees. Thunder boomed. The soul collectors’ howls rang out in a strange harmony with Hattie’s screams. Pain seared through Jillian as if her own soul was being ripped out of her body. But still, she drew love in through her being as if she were a magnet, radiating it, connecting her soul with Benton’s soul, becoming one with him and flooding him with her love until she fell, exhausted, facedown in the damp grass.

  The night was suddenly still and quiet and Jillian realized she was cold and sore and aching from head to toe. There was no more hissing. There were no more screams. Only a deathly, pervading silence more terrifying than the noise.

  Jillian took deep, gulping breaths of air. A scorching pain burned her palm. She opened her eyes and unclenched her fist. It was the button! But how…

  Jillian gasped as it began to smolder and sizzle. Acrid smoke choked her and she watched as the button disintegrated, leaving nothing but a charred stain on her bloody palm.

  Jillian’s gaze shot to Benton. Bathed in a brilliant white glow, he smiled at her. The other revenants were no longer hollow shades. Their faces were bright, gleaming—and turned toward the Light which radiated down from above. Even Harriet smiled.

  The soul collectors sizzled and exploded like fireworks when the Light’s rays touched them.

  Vaguely aware the Light was drawing the souls up one by one, Jillian could only stare at Benton, his handsome face illuminated by the Light. Joy coursed through her being. She had rescued him. She had saved not only him but all of them.

  Scrambling up off the ground, she staggered across the damp grass until she was only feet from him. He was beautiful in the glittering Light. Beautiful and whole.

  But the Light was about to take him away. His feet left the ground. “Wait! Wait!” he yelled at the sky and at once, he descended, his boots firmly returning to the ground.

  Jillian trembled. “Will I see you again?” A solitary tear made its way down her cheek.

  Benton’s eyes shone with gratitude, with love. He glanced up at the source of the Light and then returned his gaze to Jillian’s. His gray eyes turned wistful, sad. “I see heaven…but I don’t want to leave you.”

  Jillian’s heart turned over hard. If only she could touch him, hold him, feel his arms around her one more time. But she knew better. He was free of the Earth’s bonds. Free. She had released him and she knew he had to go. “I love you,” she said, her voice but a whisper. “I will always love you…but they’re waiting for you.”

  Benton’s gray eyes rimmed with tears. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.” He extended his fingers toward her. And for one brief instant, they touched before he was swept into the Li
ght and Jillian was left in darkness.

  Bringing her trembling hand to her lips, she sank once more to the ground. Tears welled in her eyes and coursed down her cheeks. He was gone. Gone. But the pain she felt was mingled with an odd sense of joy.

  She finally understood what Amy had felt the night she’d sent their mother into the Light. She knew now. And in that clarity, all her fear, all her guilt, all her remorse left her body in an audible rush, leaving in its place understanding and love. Through the power of love, she had saved all those souls—all those lost souls. And through her own love and forgiveness, she had even released Harriet Cooke’s spirit into the Light. It was an oddly empowering feeling and Jillian’s whole body hummed with it.

  She sniffed and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. Her gaze swept the star-filled sky as she pushed herself up. Could Benton see her now? She felt as if he could, as if they could all watch over her from the Other Side.

  A sudden clap of thunder shook the earth and a lightning bolt coursed to the ground right in front of Jillian, the force of it knocking her off her feet.

  Heart thundering, Jillian blinked and there, where the lightning had struck, stood a man. Unbelieving, she gaped.

  Jillian shot to her feet. “Benton?”

  He stared.

  “Benton?” Jillian was incredulous.

  He looked at his hands and then raked his palms across the fabric of his uniform as if to see if it were real. And then he rushed into Jillian’s arms. He was completely solid, utterly hard—and absolutely alive.

  Jillian clung to him, sobbing. “What happened? What happened?”

  He tilted her head back. Joy filled his eyes as he searched hers. He burrowed his fingers into her hair. The breath left his lungs in a quick rush of air. He whooped and lifted her off her feet, spinning her in circles.

  Jillian could scarcely believe it herself but here he was in her arms, a living, breathing man—alive!

  Sirens wailed in the distance, coming closer and closer, but Jillian did not leave Benton’s embrace. Instead, she clung to him. She had never known such joy. Such love. She wasn’t sure she understood it, but he was here and he was all hers. She searched his gaze. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”