Return to Eden

by G. P. Ching

His toes hit the base of the step she was standing on. He ran his hand down the outside of her arm and entangled his fingers in hers. "I’m happy with you here. You don’t make me want something more than this existence. Instead, you make this eternity feel like so much more."

  She stepped down, her feet falling between his, the front of her jacket pressing into his chest. She slid her hands inside his coat, her palms settling on his hips. An earthy scent of dark spices with a hint of smoke filled her nose. She breathed him in. "What are you saying, Henry?"

  He lowered his forehead to hers, his eyelashes brushing softly against her skin. "I’m saying, Mara, that as impossible as it seems, I’m falling in love with you. I want you. I choose you. And nothing would make me happier than if you could stay." His voice cracked.

  As much as she knew their situation was hopeless, she couldn't stop herself from pulling him nearer. She tipped her lips up to meet his, her fingers sliding into his hair. Strong arms wrapped around her, tangled in her hair as his kiss grew deeper, more urgent. He kissed her as if he could breathe her in and hide her away inside himself forever. The way their mouths moved against each other said more than any words possibly could. Desperate, wanting, gripping kisses that tried to master the wind, that begged to hold the river of what was coming back with a shaking hand.

  She closed her eyes. At nineteen, Mara had some experience with love, but always from the sidelines, on the fringe of what was real. This was different. This was standing in the center of the ocean and burning brighter than the sun.

  When she opened her eyes, they were standing in his bedroom.

  "How did we get in here?" Mara asked into his lips.

  "Well, I didn’t do it."

  "Are you saying that I zapped us here just by thinking about it?"

  A smile broke out across Henry’s face. "Then you admit you were thinking about kissing me in my bedroom."

  Heat crawled from her neck to her ears. "Yes."

  Placing a hand in the arch of her back, he pulled her against him. "Mara, you’ve never felt embarrassed before to kiss me. For as long as you’ve been here, we’ve spent every spare moment in each other’s arms. Why the blush now?"

  "Because I think now it means something. I liked you before but the other part was, um, physical. Now, I think it means something. Henry, I think I’ve fallen in love with you, too."

  "My Mara." He kissed her again and the room started to spin. There was no more embarrassment. For Mara the planets aligned and everything she was and would be would always be about Henry. In some ways, knowing her life was over made everything crystal clear. She didn’t have time to take things slow or to analyze her feelings. Every part of her wanted this, wanted him.

  She snaked her hands between their bodies and franticly unbuttoned his shirt.

  He caught her wrist. "Mara, we’ve only known each other a short time—"

  "I don’t care. I don’t care. Who knows how long we’ll have together? I want you. I want to be with you before I die. I want this to be forever."

  "The right thing to do would be to marry you, Mara. That’s what I’d do if I were alive. I’d marry you in a church with all of our friends and family watching."

  "I have no family and neither do you. Who is there here to marry us? You’re immortal and I'm undead."

  He took a step back, his eyes never leaving hers, and held out his hand. A ring formed in his palm, platinum with a skull. He slid it onto her ring finger. "Mara, I give this to you as a sign that I am yours, always. No matter what happens, or where you go, if you have this, a part of me is with you."

  Mara held out her hand and formed a similar ring, although it took her longer to finish it. It was platinum, too, but instead of a skull, she formed the front into an hourglass, a symbol of her power before she died and the thing she wished she could share with him always, more time. She slid it onto his finger.

  "Henry, I give this to you so you will know that no matter what happens or where I have to go, my heart is here with you, forever."

  Henry ran his fingers down the side of her face, then brushed his thumb over her lips. "I’ve never been with anyone before," he whispered.

  "Neither have I, but I think we can figure it out."

  He nodded, moving in slowly to kiss her again. He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. The room darkened and candles blazed to life on every surface.

  She stretched out underneath him, pushing his riding jacket off his shoulders as his hand found the collar of her blouse. The rest was as easy and magical as falling into each other, as limitless as their imaginations.

  Chapter 15

  Katrina

  Late for class, Katrina rushed across the quad, cursing Mallory for being such a pig. She'd finally found her textbook kicked underneath Mallory’s bed, behind a wadded sweater. She carried it in her arms. No time to add it to her backpack. If she was lucky, she'd get to class in time to avoid a front row seat. Professor Rahkmid liked to give the front row first crack at every question.

  Yanking open the glass door to the building, she slipped inside. She almost dropped her book when she saw her professor talking to a boy in front of the lecture room door at the end of the hall. Crap! Not wanting to draw attention to her lateness, she ducked to the side of the vending machine in the hallway.

  "Saturday," the boy said. "It is imperative that you and your team arrive exactly as I’ve directed you."

  The voice chilled Katrina to the bone. Cord. The Watcher who'd possessed her was only a few steps away. She hugged her book to her chest in an attempt to cover up the bass rhythm of her pounding heart.

  "Of course," Professor Rahkmid said. "As you wish."

  "Excellent. Go teach your class, Professor. You’re late."

  The classroom door whooshed open. She wedged her body tight into the wall, wishing she could fit behind the vending machine. Cord raced right by her and out of the building. Tentatively, Katrina stepped toward the glass door and watched Cord disappear into the nearest tree.

  A breath escaped her lips. The book tumbled out of her arms onto the floor, her hands shaking and sweaty. Looking left then right, she was relieved no one heard the slap of the hardcover on the linoleum.

  She dropped to her knees and fumbled with her backpack, digging for her phone. As she exited the building, she wondered if she’d ever be able to make up what she missed today, but there was no way she could sit in class. Not when she’d just seen Cord influencing her physics professor. She tapped Gideon's number. His greeting was a welcome comfort.

  "Meet me in my dorm room," she said.

  "Why what’s happened?"

  "I saw Cord. Gideon, they’re here on campus. Something is going down."

  "I’ll be right there."

  Katrina quickened her pace. Her stomach twisted and her heart pounded in her ears. Every student walking across the quad was suspect. Every shadow held the potential of evil. She held her breath until there was a locked door between her and the outside world. Gideon was already there, leaning against her desk. She took a seat on her bed and hugged her knees to her chest. She told him everything she'd seen and heard.

  He paced the small patch of carpet between the twin beds. "Why your physics professor, Katrina?"

  "I don’t know. But this school is one of the best in the country. The brightest minds in the world come here to teach. Whatever Lucifer is planning, it must be complex."

  "You are right. If he was simply planning an attack with Watchers and magic, he wouldn’t need humans."

  Katrina rested her head against the window. The cold glass on her forehead did nothing to squelch the hot prick of tears that welled in the corners of her eyes. She pressed her eyelids together and tipped her chin up, hoping the waterworks would drain away. This was no time to fall apart. Despite her best efforts, hot, wet trails carved their way down her face.

  "You are upset," Gideon said. "I have experienced crying once. It is a horrible empty feeling. I can’t cry as an angel, although I
feel something, here." He rubbed his chest where his heart should have been.

  "I thought angels could cry."

  "Some can. I’m not that kind of angel. I’m a messenger and in order to be useful, I can’t become emotional over the message."

  "But you said you've cried?"

  "It’s a long story. Tell me, Katrina, what causes you to cry now? Is it fear? I will protect you."

  She wiped under her eyes but it was a useless effort. More tears took their place. "I'm afraid but that’s not why I’m crying. I have this awful feeling that Lucifer is going to win." She reached for a tissue from her desk and blew her nose. "Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always dreamed of having my own family. I thought I would fall in love, get married, have children. The biggest problem I thought I’d ever face was deciding between a career and being a full-time mom. Now, I’m threatened with a lifetime of being some Watcher’s flesh slave."

  "He will not be successful. Abigail and I, along with the Soulkeepers, will stop him. That’s what we’re here for. That’s what we do."

  "I know. I know you guys saved me before. But this time feels different. Like something has shifted. Can’t you feel it in the air? It’s like this time Lucifer is one step ahead of us.”

  "Don’t talk like that," Gideon said. His eyes darted to the shaggy pink area rug between the two beds.

  "You feel it, too. I can see it in your face," Katrina said.

  Gideon shook his head. "Dane. Dane may be the key."

  "Dane Michaels? What about him? I heard he was missing."

  "Lucifer has him. He's holding him for ransom. He says he wants the list of Soulkeepers."

  Katrina's hands flew to her mouth.

  Gideon continued, "Lucifer wants us to believe that Dane is the bait to get what he wants, the Soulkeepers. But what if he’s not the bait? What if he’s a distraction? Lucifer wants us to concentrate on Dane and protecting the Soulkeepers so that we won’t notice what he’s doing here with your professor."

  Pressing her palms together in front of her lips, Katrina tried to absorb everything Gideon said. "That makes sense. But how do you figure it out? How do you find out what he’s planning to do in order to stop him?"

  "I need to talk to Malini."

  Katrina groaned.

  "Katrina, she’s our Healer. She’ll know what to do."

  "She’s sixteen."

  Gideon placed his hands on her shoulders. "I will figure this out. We’ll keep you safe. I promise."

  Katrina tossed her arms around Gideon’s neck. "Thank you, Gideon. Thank you for being here for me."

  Chapter 16

  Abigail

  A stagnant ninety-two degrees, the air in Hot Springs, Arkansas, clung to Abigail's skin like a wet blanket. Still, steam rose off the pool at city center. Hot Springs wasn't a misnomer. The water here bubbled from the ground at one-hundred-forty-seven degrees, dwarfing the June heat. Old women in house dresses and men in worn hats lined up around a spout near the pool with jugs to collect their day’s water. Local wisdom claimed it had medicinal properties.

  Abigail remembered this place. A few hundred years ago, she knew a Quapaw Indian named Wasa, who taught her about the healing waters and the plants that grew from it. More than a lifetime ago, her tribe ruled the forest in this area. Now the antique stores and spas reminiscent of the roaring twenties attracted tourists by the busload. She'd heard The Pancake House made the best deep fried French toast in the south, but she couldn't stop. It was almost 2 p.m. and Abigail promised Malini she'd stick to her instructions. The new Soulkeepers would be expecting her.

  Slipping through the door into the brown wood paneling of The Bean Grinder Coffee House, she eyed the only two customers in the place, a man and a girl at a small table. A tired looking blonde made sandwiches behind the counter. Through a door at the back, a man entered with his arms full of bottled beverages. He rested the haul on a chair and began stocking the fridge to the left of the counter.

  "Can I help you?" the blonde said, leaning up against the counter. Dark circles loomed black and blue under her eyes.

  For the purposes of looking natural, Abigail ordered. "A small vanilla latte, please." She placed a five-dollar bill on the counter. "Keep the change."

  "I’ll bring it to your table." The woman got busy making her drink.

  Abigail turned to the small round behind her. "Are you August?"

  The man stood up and straightened the tie at his neck. He extended a calloused hand. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Abigail."

  She accepted his handshake. August's tanned skin crinkled like leather. He'd spent too much time in the sun. Abigail took the chair next to the girl across from August. "You must be Bridget," she said.

  "Yes, Ma’am."

  The girl's short, brown hair fringed her face unevenly like she'd cut it herself. Her long, wiry frame made her seem younger than Abigail had expected. If she had to guess, she’d say the girl was thirteen. Freckles danced across her cheeks. Like August, the top of her nose and ears peeled slightly from sun damage.

  "I’ve come to tell you it’s not safe for you here anymore," she whispered. "They're coming. They have your names." Abigail lowered her chin.

  "We wondered if it wasn’t somethin’ like this. We've been on the move for weeks. Killed six Watchers between Georgia and here. We’ve never seen so many." He rubbed his forehead. "I lost count of how many souls we've saved. We thought somethin’ big must be coming."

  "Something big is coming. We think Lucifer’s trying to make a move to take over our realm."

  Bridget placed a hand over her mouth.

  "We’ll help any way we can," August said.

  Abigail checked over her shoulder. The barista prepared the latte behind the counter with her back to their table. "I can't believe they're forcing me to work a double again today. It feels like I haven't slept in a week," she said to the man stocking drinks.

  Pain pounded into Abigail’s brain, distracting her from the barista's conversation. A wire whip scraped against the inside of her skull. She yelped and her head hit the table. The pain stopped.

  "You shoulda told me you were a Watcher. It hurts Watchers," Bridget whispered. "Human's can't feel it."

  Abigail pushed herself up and swallowed hard. "You saw my thoughts?"

  "Yes. I can take them out and I can put them in. I'm sorry, I was just curious about you. I didn't think it would hurt you."

  "That’s a formidable gift."

  "Thank you." Bridget lowered her eyes.

  August smiled and nodded. "She incapacitates 'em and I decapitate 'em." He laughed quietly.

  Footsteps brought a hush over the table. "Your coffee, Abigail,” the barista said.

  A latte landed in front of her.

  "How did you know my name?" Abigail turned toward the blonde woman, and frowned at the knife in her hands. It was the knife she’d been using to cut the sandwiches but it was odd how she twisted it back and forth. It glinted in the light from the window, reflecting a pattern onto Bridget’s face.

  Abigail reached out, meaning to touch the barista. She smelled human but something wasn’t right. Before her hand made contact, darkness shot up around her, swallowing her, transporting her. The coffee house washed away and she was spit out into a pale tube, like an insect trapped under glass.

  "Welcome back, Abigail," Lucifer’s voice rang out. He swaggered toward her. She was in a different place in hell this time, a sitting room decorated in gold and red.

  "What do you want?"

  "I want you to help me." Lucifer’s eyes burned into hers from the other side of the magic that surrounded her. "I’m not going to stop until you help me."

  "I said, ‘No.’" Abigail turned her back on Lucifer. She wouldn’t let him get to her.

  "Have it your way but know this. You hold the key to what I want, and I won’t stop until I get it." He brought his face closer and whispered, "I can peal apart your life person by person until you are begging to be by my side."r />
  She didn't answer his taunt. Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore him. Lucifer wouldn't waste his time keeping her there if she refused to give him the satisfaction of a response.

  Smoke filled her tube, buoying her up, up, back into her body, to the coffee shop. She landed in her seat at the table, jerking into the present.

  Blood. Everywhere, blood.

  Abigail bolted upright, knocking her chair to the floor.

  August’s body draped across the table. Blood gushed from a stab wound in his neck. It soaked his tie and one short sleeve of his white dress shirt. Bridget had made it as far as the door, well, part of her had. Her arm remained at the table. The rest of her body sprawled dead in front of the glass.

  Abigail turned in a circle. The barista's blood covered hands poked out from under the seat behind August. Her body lay sprawled on the ground with a gunshot wound to the head. Blood and something more splattered the wall beside her. The stock man stood behind the bodies. He brought the gun to his own head, his hand shaking.

  "NO!" Abigail cried, flinging her power in his direction. He collided with the wall, the gun slipping from his hand.

  The door swung open and the sound of a woman’s scream cut through the room. Abigail stared as the stranger ran from the massacre. Blood spattered the window. Blood soaked the floor. Blood oozed across the counter. Blood dripped from the bodies.

  Something inside Abigail snapped. Whatever part of her was closest to human shut off and the Watcher inside took over. Numb calm spread across her body. She twisted into shadow, to the sound of approaching sirens.

  Chapter 17

  Dane

  Dane repositioned himself on the slab of stone but there was no reprieve from the pain that racked his body. The circle of fire scorched his skin, even when he pulled his knees into his chest. Weakness and pain were constant reminders that his body should have given out by now. Day after day without food or water in the ever-shrinking prison should've meant death. But this was hell. Lucifer was using him and death would mean his freedom. Whatever magic kept him alive would end when he was no longer useful. As he pushed himself up to his knees, he welcomed that day, he prayed for that day.