by Tara Fuller
Dad leaned around the canvas to see what I was working on. “What’s this one supposed to be?”
I narrowed my gaze on the canvas, at the shadow eating up the fiery sunset behind it. Its hungry, hollow eyes watched me. Its gaping mouth, a cavern of bloody darkness, drooled. A chill ran down my spine.
“I haven’t figured that part out yet,” I said. God, I wish I knew. If I knew, maybe I could find a way to make them stop.
“Have you eaten dinner yet?”
I shook my head.
“How long have you been out here?”
I dropped my brush into a bucket and stared at the ceiling. “Do you need something?”
He took a step back and frowned. “Your principal called.”
I slid my gaze his way, careful not to make eye contact.
“He said you’ve been skipping school again.”
“I told you, I haven’t been feeling good.”
He crossed his arms over his burly chest. “You never feel good anymore. Haven’t you been using the inhaler they gave you? Taking the breathing treatments?”
I’d been cramming my body full of meds for a little more than a week since the fire. None of it worked. Whatever was wrong with me, whatever it was that was stripping my insides away a little each day, wasn’t anything modern medicine could cure. I needed a freaking witch doctor. A priest. Or better yet, a miracle.
I picked up a clean brush and started again. The eyes still weren’t right. Could you even call them eyes? They looked more like black holes when they watched me at night from the corners of my room. The edge of my bed. I squeezed my eyes shut and shuddered.
“Cash?”
“Hmm?” I opened my eyes and flicked my wrist. Another violent stroke of black. Another shadow driving ice through my veins.
“Are you doing drugs?”
I laughed. “Not lately.”
Dad made a sound in the back of his throat like he did when a case didn’t go his way. “It’s not funny. I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” I spun around on my stool to face him. His blue button-down had a coffee stain under the breast pocket. His salt-and-pepper hair wasn’t quite as neat as usual, and the lines bracketing the corners of his mouth were a little deeper than they’d been this morning. He’d had a bad day and I wasn’t in the mood for one of his stress-induced lectures. If only he’d get laid. Maybe then I’d get some peace.
“I think you should talk to someone about what’s going on with you,” he said. “If you don’t want to talk to me, then there are people we could pay—”
“You think I need a shrink?” I laughed.
Dad pulled a business card from his front pocket and chose to look at the fancy font on the front instead of me. “Dan’s nephew saw this therapist. He’s supposed to be good.”
“You talked to your snob coworkers about me?” I was about to explode. I could feel the anger boiling under my skin. If anybody in this house needed a shrink, it was him. The guy was married to his work and hadn’t been on a date in like eight years.
He threw his hands up. “What do you expect me to do, Cash? Pretend this isn’t happening? Pretend everything is fine?”
“Look, I don’t need a father-son talk right now,” I said. “And I sure as hell don’t need your shrink.”
“Then what do you need?”
I tensed as a dark-as-death shadow slithered across the ceiling.
Not now. Not now. Not now.
Tearing my eyes away from the shadow, I took a deep breath. The smell of death and decay tainted the air. It felt like a cold rattle in my lungs. I coughed into my fist, trying to get the cold out, and something electric buzzed under my skin. I flexed my fingers as the tingling sensation raced throughout my hand until it felt like it might explode out of my fingertips. What the hell? I shook my hand until the feeling dulled.
“I need to finish this.” I nodded toward the half-painted canvas, still flexing my hand. “That’s what I need.”
Dad’s gray eyes watched me. Waiting. For what, I didn’t know. Just like those damned shadows. He finally nodded and turned on his heel to leave, but stopped in the open doorway.
“You left your phone inside,” he said. “Emma called. Five times. And she left that for you on the front porch.”
He nodded to the container he’d tossed on the table when he’d walked in. A bright-pink label with “zucchini bread” scribbled in familiar bubbly writing was stuck to the lid. Emma. My best friend. At least the girl I thought was my best friend. The fact that she thought she could buy me off with food just twisted the knife in my gut even further.
“You two have a fight?”
Fight? As in she’d been living a double life, blowing me off so she could date some dead guy, and then letting said shiny new boyfriend be the one to tell me about it? Not to mention somehow getting me caught in the middle. Why else would these…these…whatever the hell they were, be following me around, looking at me like I was lunch? It was the only explanation. Her dead boyfriend gets a brand-new life and mine goes to shit.
I wouldn’t call it a fight.
More like a total betrayal.
“Her mom told me she had a new boyfriend,” he said, almost hesitantly. “Got anything to do with that?”
“No.” Yes. “We’re fine, Dad. Leave it alone.”
“All right…” He rapped his fingers on the doorframe. “You better be in school tomorrow. Got it?”
I nodded.
“I mean it, Cash,” he said. “This crap you’re pulling reflects badly on both of us. It’s your ass if I get a call like that again.”
“I said I’d be there, didn’t I?”
“No. You nodded.”
I shrugged. “Same thing.”
Dad muttered something under his breath and pushed through the door. Cool air rushed into the room as it slammed shut and I flinched. I never knew what kind of cold was creeping over my skin. A breeze? A shadow? A hiss sounded from the other side of the studio and I spun around on my stool, holding my paintbrush like it was a machete. A shadow curled into the corner, opened its wide, dripping mouth, then seeped through a crack in the windowsill, where it dissolved into the night. What did I think I was going to do with it, paint them to death? I knew it was ridiculous, but I couldn’t seem to make myself let go. And, hey. It disappeared, didn’t it?
A breath of warmth swept over me. It started at the base of my neck and rolled over my shoulders, down to my fingertips, like raindrops, warming my skin as it went. The brush fell from my limp fingers and clattered to the ground. Black paint spattered across the concrete like a web of darkness.
This wasn’t the shadows. Whatever she was always chased them away. Maybe it was her warmth. The way she smelled like thunderstorms and dreams instead of nightmares and decay. Maybe I didn’t know what the hell she was, but I knew she was female. I’d been on the merry-go-round of chicks and one-night stands enough times to know that soft, lingering presence wasn’t a dude.
I snatched my brush up off the floor and threw it into the bucket.
“I know you’re here,” I said, wiping my hands on a rag. It looked like it needed to be in an evidence bag by the time I was done with it. “And I know you’re not like them. They wouldn’t scatter like rats every time you showed up if you were.”
She didn’t answer but I could still feel her warmth. Smell the scent of rain all over me.
“Why won’t you let me see you?” I asked. “The others don’t seem so shy.”
Only silence answered me. I balled my fingers into useless fists that were still tingling with something so electric it made me twitch.
“What, are you ugly or something? Three heads? Medusa snakes? Cankles? You can’t look any worse than the rest of them. Trust me.”
My voice broke off into a fit of coughs that left me doubled over, spouting off words that probably made my little stalker blush. I couldn’t care less. Since the night of the fire, nothing had been right. It was like something was staining my
insides with death. Every cough, every nightmare, every time I saw one of those damned shadows, I got a little blacker inside. A little weaker. And I hated feeling weak.
As soon as I could breathe again, I picked up the canvas and studied the shadow, then tossed it across the room. The still-wet paint left swirls of color smeared across the gray concrete floor.
A shock of cold sliced through the room and I shut my eyes. It’s what I felt every time she left. Her warmth being sucked away to somewhere I couldn’t find. The windows crackled as frost crept up the insides of the glass despite the balmy spring temperature outside. I froze, paralyzed by fear, listening to the shadows hiss and growl as they crept back in. I wanted to scream for it all to stop. I wanted to scream for them to tell me what the hell they wanted.
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. I didn’t have to ask what they wanted. Deep down…I think part of me already knew.
Chapter 2
Anaya
I should have been thankful for the warmth. I wasn’t. How could I be when I’d left Cash in such a cold, dark place alone with those…those…God, there wasn’t even a word for how vile they were. There should have been a name worse than “shadow demon” to describe them.
I couldn’t stand this anymore. How much longer was Balthazar going to drag this out? The woman walking beside me gasped and gripped my hand a little tighter. I squeezed back as we watched the gates pull apart and the light explode from between them.
“It’s—it’s…” she stammered, smoothing her free hand over her purple nightgown before combing her thin white hair with fragile fingers. I reached up and tucked a curl behind her ear.
“I know.”
A gust of warm wind swept over us. Dandelion cotton swirled around us like a song. Stars glinted and glowed not just from the sky above, but from every space in between. I took a deep breath and filled my lungs with peace and the scent of the sea. It reminded me of home.
“Is it…Heaven?” she asked.
I laughed. “What do you think?”
Her pale wrinkled fingers slipped from mine as seamlessly as her soul had slipped from her body while she slept. I loved my job when it was like this. No blood. No tears. Just peace. Joy. She’d lived a full, happy life and she’d been ready. That always made it easier. She stepped forward into a whirlwind of light. Amber and gold wisps of color engulfed her, smoothing the wrinkles from her face. Placing the shine back in her naturally blond hair. The aged gray color dripped away and dissolved into the clouds beneath our feet. The innocent light of youth caught fire and blazed back into her eyes. When she faced me again, she didn’t look a day over seventeen.
“I’m…” She stared at her smooth, flawless hands.
“You’re home,” I said.
Don’t be jealous, Anaya. I stepped back and smiled, wondering if the day would ever come that I wouldn’t have to remind myself. Wouldn’t have to wonder if the soul I was ushering to the other side would shake my father’s hand. See my mother’s smile. Look into Tarik’s soft brown eyes. I turned and sprinted through the gates, away from the warmth, the memories. If I didn’t get away now, I’d remember. I’d remember what Tarik’s hands felt like in my hair, his lips on my mouth, his laughter against my neck. I barreled through the mist, into the Inbetween, and collided with a black blur.
“Hey! Slow down,” Easton said, spinning around to look at me. I looked at his leather pants, T-shirt, and combat boots, all black, and shook my head. The violet eyes that lit up his face were the only splash of color in the shadow that was Easton.
“Why do you always look like you’re going to a funeral?” I brushed the ash from my arm where he’d grabbed me. As a reaper for Hell, ash seemed to follow him everywhere.
“Already with the compliments, Anaya?” Easton grinned. “You know people are going to get the wrong idea about us if you keep flirting with me like this.”
I rolled my eyes. “Only in your sickest dreams.”
“I don’t have dreams,” he said. “When you live in my world, the best you can hope for is nightmares.” He looked me up and down with cold eyes. “And, sweetheart, you wouldn’t last five minutes in one of mine.”
I sighed and pretended to pick at a nonexistent thread on my dress so I wouldn’t have to look at him. “Charming, as always.”
Easton laughed and waved to a reaper carrying a soul over. The boy’s soul looked over at us, blue eyes wide, afraid. He reminded me of the way Finn had looked when Easton had brought him to us. A little younger, sure, but the look in his eyes was right. I hated that look. The guys always said I was the lucky one, only having to deal with the Heaven-bound. I suppose they were right. None of my charges ever had that look on their face when I offered them eternal peace and happiness.
What they didn’t understand was the torture. Knowing your family, the ones you loved, were so close and still so untouchable. My eyes may have been stained gold by the utter perfectness of that place, but it didn’t take the sting away knowing how unwelcome I was there. But not for long. Once this was done, Balthazar would give me what I’d been working a thousand years for.
Redemption.
“What are you doing here?” I hooked a braid behind my ear.
“A better question is when am I not here?” Easton growled. “I swear to God, if they don’t get a replacement for Finn in here soon, I’m going on strike. I can’t handle his workload plus mine anymore.”
“Hey, I’ve been helping.”
“Not enough.” He frowned. “Maybe you’d have more time if you weren’t spending all your time stalking the human kid.”
A thread of guilt sewed a knot in my gut. I looked down at Easton’s dusty boots. A gray glittery mist circled them like fog.
“I’m doing my job,” I said. “If you have a problem with it, take it up with Balthazar. Trust me, babysitting a human isn’t exactly my idea of fun.” I didn’t mention the invisible thread that kept me tethered to Cash. Balthazar’s orders or not, when I wasn’t reaping it’s like it wasn’t even a choice. It was like…gravity.
“What’s Balthazar doing, having you keep him hanging on like that, anyway?” Easton said. “Kind of cruel, isn’t it? He can’t last much longer in that body. It’s got to be shutting down by now.”
I flinched. “It’s not my business to know. I’m just doing what I was told.”
“Which is?”
“I’m just supposed to look after him, and when his time comes around again, collect him. End of story.” I left out the part where I was supposed to completely swindle the poor boy out of his destined afterlife and deliver him into Balthazar’s scheming hands. “I’m sure Balthazar has a good reason for doing this.” He better. I may have been a slave to death, but cruel I was not. It didn’t bring me any joy to see a boy as vibrant and alive as Cash withering mentally and physically before my very eyes. And Balthazar’s secrets made me uneasy.
“Why do I feel like you’re keeping something from me?”
I forced a laugh and tossed my braids over my shoulder. “I think spending your days with liars and crooks is making you paranoid.”
“Right.” Easton rolled his eyes. “Keep your little secret, then. Just don’t come running to me when this blows up in your face. This isn’t going to end well. Not for that kid anyway. I can feel it.”
“I’ll make sure he’s okay.” I looked away. “Don’t worry about it.”
Easton made a growling sound deep in his throat when his scythe burned at his hip. I cringed away from the smoke that twirled up from the scorching blade. It smelled like death. “Just promise me you’ll stay out of trouble. I don’t need your workload, too.”
I closed my eyes, drowning in guilt. Why couldn’t Balthazar just let me take the boy? He could have been happy right now. At peace. Instead he was sick and afraid and confused every minute of the day and night. I shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have followed orders, knowing nothing good could come of them. I’d never been that weak before. And being around Cash
, close enough to memorize the tilt of his lips while he painted, the rhythm of his breathing while he slept, see every fleck of color behind his rich, dark eyes…it wasn’t safe. Something about those eyes…he made me feel like I was unraveling. I hadn’t felt that way in a thousand years. He made me feel things I had no right to feel.
“Anaya!”
“I’ve got it, okay?”
Easton looked me over and nodded once, seeming satisfied. “Good. I’ll catch up with you later.”
I watched a black puddle of screams bubble up through the mist and swallow Easton whole. Suddenly I was alone in my head again. Cornered with the memories. I ran for the gates to the Inbetween, needing to get back to Cash for reasons I didn’t really understand. Reasons I didn’t want to understand. Part of me wanted to pummel Balthazar for getting me involved in this. If he hadn’t put this on me, forced me to spend every free moment with him, then I wouldn’t feel so…so…
I gritted my teeth and shook the thought right out of my head. I did not feel anything for this boy. I couldn’t. In fact, I was about to prove it. Once I was clear, I closed my eyes and gasped, allowing the wispy white ground to fall out from under me. Warm midnight wind whipped through me. A golden light bloomed across the black of night as I split the sky. For a few perfect moments I was weightless. I landed light as a feather on the soft green Bermuda grass outside Cash’s bedroom window, leaving stars smeared across the sky behind me. They were already here. The shadow demons. I could smell them. Death and decay and rot.
You want to be here with him. Lie to yourself all you want, but Balthazar has nothing to do with what you’re feeling inside.
I scowled at the thoughts taunting me and slipped through the brick wall. It was cold and uncomfortably solid for a second, and then I was engulfed in the warm smell of Cash. The clean lemony scent of his shampoo, and the leftover bite of paint. I walked across the room toward the curled-up lump under the covers. Pale moonlight barely illuminated his outline. His chest was rising and falling beneath the navy-blue comforter; steady, like waves pushing up from the bottom of the sea.