We Are
Always
Forever
We Are
Always
Forever
JAMIE CAMPBELL
Copyright © 2015 Jamie Campbell
Smashwords Edition
Jamie Campbell asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.
Down, Down into the depths of hell
Deeper than the deepest well
Run along spirit talker, be very fast
you’ll meet Lucifer but you won’t last
Chapter One
If the devil himself didn’t kill these spirits, I was going to do it for him.
“She looks sad.”
“Terribly sad.”
“Well, her friend died. Give her a break.”
“He was already dead.”
“I know, but he was still here. Now he’s gone.”
“Gone for good.”
“So she’s going to cry about it for the rest of her life? At least she’s still alive.”
“You’re just jealous.”
“No, I’m angry.”
I started silently thudding my head against the concrete pillar beside me, it was far less painful than listening to the twenty or so dead people around me.
God, I wished he was here.
Oliver would have known what to do. He would have sat quietly beside me and put everything back into perspective. He would pick up all the shattered and broken pieces of me and gently put them all back together again.
He would have made me whole.
My soul mate had been torn apart from me. Not only once, but twice. The first time by a kid who thought he was God and murdered him. The second time by my actions.
I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him but he left anyway. Oliver promised he wouldn’t go until I was ready.
He knew I would never be ready.
“She needs to get up.”
“She was going to help us.”
“She tried, it didn’t work.”
“Some people got to cross over before the gateway was closed.”
“I wish I was one of those people.”
“Me too.”
“She can’t do it.”
“She’s got to try.”
Tuning them out was just as hard as it always was. They had their opinions and they were too used to being invisible to consider the fact I would be able to hear them. Or perhaps they hoped I would overhear and do something about their wishes.
I wanted to.
More than anything, I wanted to help the dead and kill the demon that was preventing them from crossing over to their final resting place. Until I did that, they were trapped. Doomed to walk the earth as ghosts until Kostucha consumed them for their energy.
Their time was limited. A fact we all knew too well. If someone didn’t kill Kostucha he would eat their souls. There would be no eternal peace for them.
Just nothingness.
Gone.
Unfortunately, I was that someone that needed to kill him. I had vanquished him to the depths of Hell which worked temporarily to open the gates to the hereafter but it had closed just as quickly.
I needed to go to Hell.
Literally.
It was the only way I was going to be able to kill Kostucha and be rid of him for good.
I had spent the last six weeks trying to figure out exactly how to do that. So far I had come up empty-handed. I was letting Oliver down and the guilt was consuming me.
Every second of every day.
Looking over the city from my perch in the window of a ruined building, all the kids remaining down below had no idea how the spirits suffered. Oliver wouldn’t describe all the details, but I knew it was painful for them to remain tethered to Earth. He had said as much when I listened to what he didn’t say.
Winter hadn’t been kind to the city. With no electricity and little supplies, most of the population was starving and the other half were on the verge of joining the walking dead.
And somewhere out there was my sister.
I hadn’t seen her for over six months. One day she didn’t return to our shelter. I saw her in every face I passed and heard her in every voice that whispered to me.
Another one of my guilty burdens.
The city wasn’t doing so well without adults. Everyone over the age of eighteen died over a year ago. We were left to fend for ourselves and were failing dismally.
Even with the help of people like Jet.
Speaking of which, he would probably be looking for me soon. No matter how many times I told him to leave me alone, he chose to ignore me with each occurrence. Some might call it selective deafness, I called it stubbornness.
I pushed myself up to stand, still leaning against the concrete pillar – the only thing stopping me falling over the edge of the glassless window. It would be dark soon and I didn’t want to be outside when it was.
The shadows were deadly.
Or at least the people they hid were.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement that wasn’t spirit related. Down on the road, a child of no more than seven, staggered along. She was holding her temple.
And it was gushing blood.
A red ribbon ran from her head, through her fingers, down her face, and then dripped all along her filthy clothes. She fell, sprawling out along the ground with a thud I could clearly hear even three floors up.
My feet moved before I had a chance to consciously think about it. I took the stairs two at a time. I had to reach the poor child, somebody needed to help her.
That was what Oliver would have done.
One flight of dirty stairs, then another, and then the last before I was dodging the debris and rushing through the street to kneel at her side.
I flipped her little body over but it was too late. Her lifeless eyes, ringed in blood, stared up at the sky like it was the most beautiful sight in the world.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
The wound was large, someone had hit her and nearly bashed her skull right in. What they would want from a seven year old was beyond me. She had nothing to give, nothing to hide. She was just a child.
Her spirit shook off her body, hovering in the air until she was standing upright and looking down upon herself. I stood too, there was nothing I could do for her physical form but there was something I could do for her spirit.
“I’m sorry you died,” I said. I had come to learn it was best if I was direct with new spirits. There was no point in dancing around the issue. Nothing could reverse what happened.
She looked up at me with hazel eyes so deep one could get lost in them. “Is that what happened? Is that why I’m lying there but… standing here too?”
“Yes. You are a spirit now.”
“Like a ghost?”
“Yes, just like a ghost.” How did Oliver do this every single day? He had dedicated his spirit life to helping kids cross over. I had only been doing it for six weeks and it still broke my heart every time.
I wanted to reach out to the little girl and give her the comfort of a hug or a hand to hold, but I couldn’t even do that. Spirits didn’t have corporeal form anymore. My hand would go straight through her with nothing more than a shiver of cold to show for the effort.
Her eyes, far too wise beyond her years, blinked. “Do I go to Heaven now?”
One little question.
With no simple answer.
“Not yet. You have to stay here for a little longer yet,” I replied. How did I explain – or warn – a child that there was a demon that would eat her soul if I didn’t open the gates before he got to her?
I couldn’t.
“Why?” she asked, the favorite question of little children everywhere.
“Because there is someone keeping all the ghosts here on Earth at the moment.” I kneeled down so I could be at her level, speaking to her and none other. “But I promise you, I am working on getting everyone to Heaven. You’ll go there soon.”
Her lips quirked into the smallest of smiles as she nodded. She was still shell shocked. Dying did that to a person. I stood and looked around, trying to locate some spirits. They were always around until I needed them.
I spotted a small group watching from the remnants of the building I had been hiding in. I beckoned them over. “Will you please look after her? She only just passed.”
An elderly woman stood forward, she looked enough like a grandmother to put the child at ease. She floated down and took the little girl into the embrace I couldn’t give her. “It will be okay, sweetheart.”
I backed away, leaving them to it.
Oliver would have stayed.
He would have spent as much time as was needed to help the girl adjust to her spirit life. Another reason why he was a much better person dead than I was alive.
The night had crept up on us while the girl distracted me. I had to hurry along the streets, all my senses on high alert as I turned every corner and rushed down every road. Despite Jet’s public declaration that I was under his protection, not everyone in the city cared. Dangers loomed everywhere.
I nearly ran into my apartment building when I reached it. I slammed the door and felt every rushed heartbeat as I locked and secured my sanctuary.
Jet had found the apartment for me. It was only half-finished, merely a shell of what would have been a luxury complex. It had a thick door, windows, and walls, that’s all I needed. With only one way in and out I felt safer there than anywhere else I had stayed since the Event.
I took the rooms one by one, searching for anything that might have changed in my absence. It was my ritual since Oliver left. I had to satisfy myself that things had remained unchanged, that nobody had entered my safe haven.
There was nobody hiding or waiting for me. My supplies were still in the kitchen cabinet, and my blankets were still neatly folded on the concrete floor. Everything was as it should have been.
Satisfied I was alone, I boiled some water on the camping stove I had in the kitchen and made some soup with a pinch of stock. It tasted horrible but it was enough to stop me from starving to death. I tried to imagine it was a roast dinner but the effect didn’t really work.
I washed the bowl and spread out my blankets, sitting down and getting ready to sleep for the night. It was in the apartment when I felt most lonely. Oliver used to spend all night with me. He wouldn’t sleep but he would sit there patiently and wait for the sun to make its appearance for a new day.
Now, there was just nothing.
Me and an empty apartment that creaked too much and contained noises that couldn’t be identified with something easy like a bird nesting or rodent scurrying.
I was truly alone. I might even have welcomed some spirits during those stretched out hours. For some reason they never followed me back to the apartment. I knew they could because Oliver did. But they chose not to.
It was completely dark outside now and I didn’t want to waste a candle so I lay down on the blankets that I called a bed and closed my eyes. There was very little difference between open eyes and closed eyes at night. Both ways there was only darkness.
The memory of that little girl drifted through my thoughts. All I could hear was her voice asking ‘why?’ and the fact I had no answers for her.
I hated Kostucha. I hated that he killed millions upon millions of adults all to consume their energy so he could be as powerful as any demon could. An adult’s soul was tastier than a child’s. It was the corruption that he was after, not the innocence.
Most of all I hated the fact he had caused Oliver pain.
When I thought of him I became a raging mass of hatred. My anger was so deep and thorough that I suspected it might be the only thing keeping me going.
A noise in the darkness jolted me back to reality.
Someone was at the door.
I bolted to my feet, so fast my head swam with dizziness for a few moments. I leaned against the wall, trying to shrink myself into it and become invisible.
Another rattle on the doorknob.
They were trying to break in. Whoever was out there was trying to get in. Out of all the doors in the complex, why pick on mine? Because it was the only one locked? Could they hear my heartbeats screaming in the darkness?
Whatever their reason, they were coming for me.
Chapter Two
I needed a weapon. There was no way I could fight back without something to sway the odds in my favor. All I had was my cooking pot. It was small and lightweight, but it was something to swing. If I hit my attacker in the right place it would be enough to buy myself a few seconds.
Inching along the walls, at least I was used to finding my way around the apartment without a light. I had every corner and exposed beam memorized, another advantage I hoped I would never have to use.
The pot was still on the kitchen counter, my fingers closed around it slowly and silently. The weight of it in my hand was somewhat reassuring. I had something to use, something that might mean the difference between life and death.
My heartbeats were too loud. They echoed in my ears, pounding until I could barely take it. I was going to be deafened by the beats, my breath ragged as I waited.
It wouldn’t be long now.
They were making headway with the door, I could hear it even in the noise my terror was making. I wished for somewhere to run but there was no safe place. Hiding would only delay the inevitable. If I was going to get out of there, it was by fighting my way out.
I stood poised, holding the pot high above my head and ready to lash out, just in time. The door rattled again before it opened with a whoosh.
They had a flashlight, illuminating the living room and giving away my position.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled.
Jet stood there, startled. His face relaxed into a smirk as he eyed the pot. I hurried to lower my arm and replace the weapon on the bench. Adrenalin was still pulsing through my veins like a speeding freight train.
“You were going to attack me with your cooking pot?” Jet asked, mockery lacing every word.
I wanted to throw the pot at him.
I seriously considered it.
“I thought you were going to kill me,” I replied, unable to keep the hostility from my voice. “Why can’t you just knock when you want to come in like a normal person? Why do you have to use your damn key?”
“I didn’t want to scare you.” He closed the door, making a show of locking it again before crossing the room and settling the bag he was holding on the counter – next to the pot.
He didn’t want to scare me? There was something seriously messed up with his logical processing.
“You really thought sneaking in wouldn’t scare me?”
“I wasn’t sneaking, I made noise.” He shrugged, not seeing the point. “I also brought supplies, I thought you might be running low.”
I lit a candle so he could turn his flashlight off. We had more candles than batteries in the city.
“Everyone’s running low. You don’t have to bring me food,” I said. I didn’t need Jet looking after me like I was a damsel in distress. I’d managed to keep myself alive this far.
“Thank you, Jet,” he started, imitating me. “That’s so nice of you, Jet. I’m
so glad I have food so I don’t starve to death while nobody notices.”
My eyes rolled by their own accord. “I am grateful. Thank you for bringing me supplies.”
His lips curled into a smile, a genuine one that made his eyes sparkle. “That’s more like it, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.” I unpacked the food – mainly dried pasta and a few cans of vegetables – and neatly stacked them in the cupboard. “You could have waited until tomorrow, it’s dark outside.”
“I know. I wanted to see you.”
“About what?”
He settled himself on the edge of my blankets, leaving enough room for me to join him. I did, only because there was nowhere else for me to sit.
“I wanted to know how you were doing,” Jet said.
At least that was a question I could answer. “I was at the library all day today. I’m slowly getting through all the relevant books there. I still haven’t found any direct references to Kostucha. It feels like I’m no closer to finding a way to kill him.”
“You’ll get there.”
“I don’t know if I share your faith in my abilities.”
“I wasn’t really asking about Kostucha,” he confessed in the silence. “I meant, how are you doing? Really?”
That question wasn’t so easy.
It was also one I had been dodging with polite and socially acceptable answers for the past six weeks. I didn’t want Jet to know my weaknesses. There was still a part of me that remembered how his gang had kidnapped and tried to kill me. It wasn’t wise to let the enemy see any kind of fault.
But, somehow, Jet always seemed to dive right through my walls and extract the truth from me. Perhaps I was just tired of fibbing and pretending.
I also suspected he knew the truth even when I was lying to his face.
“I’m doing okay,” I finally replied. More lies.
“You know you can talk to me. I’m sure you’re missing Oliver, you have to still be hurting.”
His voice, so gentle.
He could lull me into saying things I didn’t want to.
“I don’t want to talk about him,” I said, cutting off the discussion. If I didn’t want to lie I was going to have to say nothing at all. If I started that conversation he would see how broken and shattered I really was.
We Are Always Forever Page 1