Chasing Before

by Lenore Appelhans

  “Come on, Felicia.” Neil prods me in the side with his folded-over brochure until I open my eyes. “If he’s the criminal, then things will go back to normal.”

  “Do you think Julian’s the one behind all this?” I ask, trying to keep my voice measured, but apparently failing, if Neil’s sudden defensive posture is any indication. “He rescued you. He brought us back together.”

  Neil scoffs. “He did that to serve his own agenda. You know that even better than I do.”

  Julian is a master of twisting the truth. He screwed up my life, and he’s messed with my death. And yet I am drawn to him. I yearn to give him the benefit of the doubt. There is obviously something wrong with me.

  “Were you the one who gave the anonymous tip that Julian is an angel?” I ask, half-scared of the answer.

  Neil narrows his eyes. “Me? I didn’t even know he was in Level Three. Did you?”

  I get the distinct vibe I should keep my conversation with Julian to myself. “Why would I know?” I ask so I can avoid an outright lie. “There must be something we can do to help him. You seem pretty chummy with Libby. Maybe you could ask her to release Julian.”

  Neil tenses. “Let’s let the security team handle this. If Julian’s innocent, he’ll be fine.”

  If they expose him to brimstone long enough, he won’t be fine. But I can’t tell Neil that because he’ll wonder how I know about brimstone’s effects on angels.

  As we walk, Neil taps the brochure against his thigh. I’m used to him redirecting his nervous energy into a driving beat to a song only he can hear in his head, and for several minutes I try to guess what it might be. I peek over at him, expecting his features to reflect the calming effect of music. But instead of gaiety I get grim, as if we’re on some sort of death march. I think back to the easy way Neil and I were able to interact in those months after the fall of the mainframe in Level Two. How we created top ten memory lists in different categories, even silly ones like top ten car rides and top ten root beer floats. How we recited poetry to each other and he sang me songs. And how he kept me close, even when intently counseling others on the best way to face unpleasant memories so they could move on. Now in Level Three, with Nate in the picture, and Gracie, and Julian, there are so many tiny land mines to avoid in the space between Neil and me lately.

  For Julian’s sake, though, I have to try one last time to persuade Neil of Julian’s importance to us. “But what if Julian knows a way to get all our memories back? Think about it. The Morati could have stolen our memories when we got to Level Two. They might still have them. What if Julian could help us?”

  “If Julian is some kind of evil mastermind, I wouldn’t want him to do me any more favors.” Neil squints at me. He shakes his head and opens the door of the dorm. “Deals with the devil never turn out well.”

  “Maybe Julian isn’t as evil as you seem to think.”

  We climb the stairs in silence, and when we reach his room, he takes my hands in his. “Promise me you won’t get caught up in this Julian mess. Let him lie his own way out.”

  “But—”

  “We’re still in this together, right?” His blue eyes search my face. I’m never going to be able to adequately explain to him why Julian is important to me, not only as someone who is willing to help me but as a friend. I’ll have to drop it for now.

  “Of course. And we always will be,” I say forcefully, as if mere determination could make it true.

  “Good.” He brushes back the hair from my face and kisses my forehead, then my temple, my cheek, and finally my lips. “I love you, you know.”

  My heart soars within my chest, because this is big. Because despite all we’ve been through, this is the first time he’s ever said it out loud. I don’t hesitate to say it back. “I love you.” His grin is contagious, infecting me with desire and delight. My lips long to spread kisses all over his body, and my limbs itch to spontaneously break into dance.

  He opens the door and then steps back into his room. I move to follow him, but he blocks me with his body. “I . . .” He swallows hard. “Can you give me a little time? After what happened to Kiara, I need to be alone to process all this . . .” He trails off, leaving all the other things he needs to come to terms with hanging in the air.

  He finally tells me he loves me, and then he sends me away. He might as well have smacked me across the face. “Yeah, okay.” My smile is wobbly but far more generous than is genuine. He closes the door on me for the second time in two days.

  I return to my room and spend the next couple of hours flipping through my muse workbook and wrestling with myself. If I’m a good girl, I won’t break curfew. I’ll stay here and meditate on my future until Neil comes to get me for our class tomorrow. But the sting of Neil’s rejection and the lure of getting my memories back are too strong. I didn’t actually promise Neil I wouldn’t go to Julian. He’s over there mourning a girl he barely knew. He doesn’t care about our lost memories or about finding out what happened in our relationship back on Earth. I need to know, so in case the same obstacles come up again, I will be able to conquer them, for the benefit of both of us. After the way Neil so thoroughly shut me out, he won’t miss me tonight.

  Still, as I skulk down the hallway and descend the stairs, I have to shake off the mantle of guilt that weighs down my shoulders for both sneaking out and looking for Julian without telling Neil about it.

  When I slip out the double doors downstairs, it is the semidark of twilight. I can’t imagine there are actual rotations of this afterlife realm around a sun, but who knows? Dividing time into day and night is probably something the powers that be do to help us acclimatize, like the campus construct. But it seems almost counterintuitive, like it would make it even harder for us to detach from our lives on Earth with so many reminders of it.

  I run over to the nearest tree and press myself against the rough bark. The realness of the texture against my bare arms makes me homesick for Nidda Park and the stubby pines in Grammy’s backyard in Ohio. I breathe in the earthy scent and peer up at the utterly gorgeous pattern the green leaves form against a sky filled with stars, so much more inviting than the bright, blurry whiteness of Level Two. I might have a million more moments like these missing from my memory banks because of the Morati.

  That thought only reinforces my determination to find a way to restore my memories. I have to find Julian. In Level Two, Eli taught me to think of the person I was seeking and then scan for their brain waves. It had to be someone I recently touched or knew well. I successfully used this technique to find my friend Beckah, and if it worked for me in Level Two, maybe it will work for me here. I picture Julian, his strong arms reaching out to me, drawing me toward him. A signal tingles at the base of my skull. It’s weak, but it’s coming from Assembly Hill.

  I hurry from the tree to the shadows of the Muse Collection Library to a gigantic tree in the center of the lawn. It is covered from trunk to branches with scraps of paper of all colors and sizes. One of them says “My sister’s locket.” Another says “My letterman jacket.” This must be the Forgetting Tree that Megan mentioned. I take a moment to remember Megan. It’s heartbreaking that she will never have the chance to write “My braces.”

  I continue on to the north side of the administration building. With proximity Julian’s signal from the hill has grown stronger, but it has a strange shape to it, and it makes me worry that the brimstone could already be harming him. I seek cover behind some bushes and survey the scene in front of me, looking out for the security force.

  All the booths from the fair are gone now, and no one at all is outside. Maybe Julian’s brimstone cage inside the hill is so secure, they don’t feel the need to patrol. But I don’t want to be too reckless and show myself prematurely.

  During the next few minutes there is no movement whatsoever. Not even a false breeze rustles the leaves on the trees.

  As I’m about to step from my hiding place and run for the hill, I spot Cash and his team. I duck down low
er in the bushes, praying they don’t see me. As silent as ninjas, Cash’s team continues on by.

  Once enough minutes have passed, I work up the courage to make a break for it. I flex my feet and propel myself forward. But I don’t advance a single step, because a hand clamps down on my shoulder. And a deep voice commands me to stop.

  fourteen

  I TURN MY NECK SLOWLY to get a look at the face connected to the fingers currently immobilizing me. It belongs to a young man with tanned skin, almond-shaped brown eyes, and dark hair shaved in the front and pulled into a topknot in the back. The man wears a heavy, dark gray kimono, straw sandals, and the sort of socks the Japanese wear to separate their big toe from the rest. Despite the sword sheathed on his left hip and the scar over his right eyebrow, he doesn’t seem threatening, merely curious.

  “You are Felicia Ward,” he states. “I am Furukama-Sensei.” The most important person in Level Three knows who I am.

  He lets go of my shoulder and bows. I return the bow and then stand awkwardly while he stares at me.

  “You wish to visit Julian.”

  Am I that obvious in my intentions? “Julian is innocent. I know it.”

  Furukama grips the hilt of his sword, and for a terrifying moment I think he’s going to punish me for breaking curfew. “You are sure of this.” He nods, as if pleased.

  “Yes.”

  “Julian will be released tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  He cuts off my argument. “This is my final decision. You may visit him now. My guards know to let you enter.”

  The emotional part of me begs to appeal to Furukama to release Julian immediately. But the calculating part decides it is a better tactic to appear agreeable and to try to gain him as an ally, not an adversary. He’s obviously a step ahead of me if he predicted I’d come for Julian. “Thank you.” I bow low.

  He bows and then glides away.

  Not wanting to lose any more time, in case Neil decides to check on me and finds I’m not there, I rush toward the oddly shaped hill and walk around to the other side. Carved into the hill itself is a stone door, flanked by two of Furukama’s security force. Both carry swords on their left hips. One of them is Brady, the member of the security force who took Julian away. The other one copies Furukama’s traditional samurai hairstyle, though his hair is so pale blond, it’s nearly white. His buckteeth cut into his bottom lip, and he wears his acne like a geek badge of honor. When I approach, they both wave their arms straight out in front of the door. It slowly creaks away from the stone boulders surrounding it to reveal what appears to be a dank hole. The guys look straight ahead, taking their jobs as seriously as guards at Buckingham Palace.

  Carved hieroglyphs partially covered with moss and ivy decorate the entrance. I step over the threshold. The walls are a sickly yellow, which must be brimstone. The strong smell of sulfur sends me into a coughing fit, and I have to stand still and remind myself that it can’t affect me. I’m not an angel, and I’m already dead.

  I test the first step of a narrow spiral staircase that curves down counterclockwise, like in a medieval European castle. It is solid gray slab under my feet. As I descend, high-pitched squawks reverberate against the walls, and my skin crawls as I imagine bats. Moisture drips from the drab ceiling, making plunking sounds as it hits stone. At least the entire place is not made of the suffocating brimstone.

  I tread carefully, both because the stairs are uneven and because I don’t want to touch anything. When I reach the bottom, a quick scan reveals a vast underground chamber lined with cells on either side. Only one of them is lit up with the soft glow of candlelight. It is fitted with bars forged from brimstone instead of iron, giving it the appearance of the pillars that form when stalagmites and stalactites meet.

  But it’s the sight of Julian hunched over in the corner on a threadbare rug that really sets me shaking. The glow of his cell, which appeared to be candlelight, is actually emanating from his weakened body. I drop to my knees, and the thud I make prompts Julian to wearily lift his head and gaze in my general direction with unfocused eyes. There’s yellow foam at the edges of his mouth, and his hair is plastered to his forehead.

  “Julian!” I gasp. Fortunately, the space between the bars is relatively wide, allowing me to stick my arms through them so I can reach out to Julian. It’s unconscionable that Libby and the security force threw him in here without even a trial. I can’t believe I ever thought about turning him in to those monsters.

  “Who . . . who’s there?” His voice cracks. He begins to crawl toward me, but he collapses after only a couple of feet.

  “It’s Felicia.” If the brimstone has reduced him to such a fragile state in only a few hours, I don’t know how much longer he can take this.

  He turns his head, his cheek pressed against the rug, and mumbles. “Felicia. I know that name.”

  He must be joking. So like Julian to play me like a fool. “C’mon, knock it off.” There’s no way someone as obsessive as Julian has forgotten me. I refuse to believe it, in any case.

  “I didn’t do it. I didn’t. Felicia can tell you. Ask Felicia.” His eyelids flutter and his pupils dart back and forth. It makes me dizzy.

  I can’t even talk normally to Julian. Julian said himself that brimstone makes angels crazy, but he didn’t mention that it makes them forget everything. I can’t afford to have Julian forget anything. I need him to help me get my memories back. But it’s not only that. I care too much about him to let him rot away.

  “I am Felicia, and you’re getting out of here soon,” I say in the most soothing cadence I have at my disposal. “Try to rest.” What else can I say? Don’t turn crazy while I’m gone?

  I rise and march back toward the stairs, but before I climb a single step, an unearthly screech rings out, followed by several sets of heavy footfalls from above. Coming toward me.

  My pulse racing, I run down the hallway of cells until I reach a wide hole with a safety railing all around it. I peer down into the hole, but it goes down so far, I can’t make out the bottom. The screeching comes closer.

  I slip inside the open door of the last cell on the row and make myself as small as possible in the corner, hoping that whatever is coming will overlook me.

  The racket gets louder. “Shut up, demon,” a rough female voice shouts.

  Demon? What’s going on?

  “Hold it tighter, Shan,” a man growls.

  The group stops in front of my cell. The demon glows like blue flame through its paper-thin, clear skin, illuminating the whole corridor. If it turns its head, it will see me. I shrink back even more. The demon’s face is contorted into a hideous grimace sure to emotionally scar me for the rest of my afterlife.

  The man wrestling with the growling demon is Nate. And he’s dripping wet, so he must have just returned with the demon from Earth, via the Styx River. After a short scuffle Shan and Nate pitch the demon down the hole, and its curses reverberate through the jail, getting farther away until they finally cease. Nate slaps his hands together like he’s dusting off demon germs, but fortunately, he doesn’t look in my direction. I don’t want him to know I observed him down here.

  “Good work, partner.” Shan gives Nate a fist bump. Afterward they laugh and jostle each other roughly as they make their way toward the stairs.

  I take a deep breath and press one hand to my abdomen and the other to my forehead. My stomach is in knots and my head is pounding. Still, I wait at least five minutes before daring to move. I stumble to my feet. When I reach the spot where Nate pushed the demon, my shoe connects with something metal and kicks it across the floor. I bend over and pick it up. It’s a gold charm in the shape of a beehive that hangs on a thin gold chain with a broken clasp. It looks just like the skep charm Neil gave me the day we allegedly died. But if it is, how did Nate get it?

  Pocketing the charm, I drag myself toward the stairs and climb them quickly.

  The great stone door is still open, the two sentries looking as stoic as bef
ore. After witnessing a demon disposal and Julian’s breakdown, seeing them so detached pushes my patience over the edge. Summoning a burst of energy, with my mind I unsheathe their swords and try to fling them away. They fly only about two feet before falling to the ground. The skinny, geeky one with the samurai topknot gapes at me as I grab Brady by his biceps and collapse into him, my knees buckling. “How could you do this to Julian?” I shout in his face.

  Brady lifts me carefully and doesn’t let go until I’ve regained my footing. “Calm down,” he admonishes as he flicks his wrist to send his sword flying back to him. He catches it by the hilt and sheathes it.

  “Sorry.” I sway a bit. “I’m really upset right now.”

  Brady straightens his posture, his lanky frame a head taller than me at its full height. He rubs the back of his right hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Yeah, you sure are.” He materializes two canvas camping chairs, and I sit down gratefully. I feel woozy all of a sudden. Probably from the shock of seeing Julian caged like a sick animal.

  When Brady sits down across from me, his partner clicks his tongue and curls his upper lip into a disgusted snarl. He stalks over to retrieve his sword and then refuses to look at me once he’s back in position.

  Brady rolls his eyes and mutters “Samurai poser” under his breath. It’s clear he’s not as serious as he appeared to be before. I could maybe get along with this guy.

  “Furukama-Sensei claims it takes an awfully strong dosage of brimstone over many weeks to cause an angel any lasting damage,” Brady explains. “Julian’ll be set loose before long.”

  “Tomorrow. But he shouldn’t be in there at all. He’s innocent!”

  “It’s not my place to decide, is it?” He shakes his head, hangs his thumbs in his belt, and drums his fingers on his tarnished silver belt buckle, drawing my attention to its depiction of a bucking bronco superimposed on an outline of the state of Texas. “You know, I’ve been around four months, and tonight was my first demon sighting. They sometimes follow a demon hunter back from assignment on Earth, hoping to kick up a ruckus.”