He answers like everyone else has. “Likewise.”
I reach out one last time and place my hand on his arm. Derek's fear and uncertainty ooze into my mind, and something else... something that alarms me to my very core. He's angry. He wants to lash out, to hurt someone.
Me.
I let go in surprise. This isn't my Derek. He's not vindictive or a grudge-holder. Doesn't he understand what I went through? Can't he forgive me? He can't pin his bad choices on me. His being here isn't my fault.
Anger, like I haven't felt in a long time, well, for at least a few hours, erupts inside me. How dare he use my death to justify his joining this... this satanic fraternity! I take one last look, and leave.
CHAPTER FORTY
~Running Away, Again~
Alisa
I don't have anywhere to go, and I don't want to go all the way back to Idir Shaol. So instead of appearing in some strange place like Egypt—which is tempting—I decide to go back to Brecken.
The mere thought of being in his presence twists my mind into knots of anxiety. Our last moment together had been a kiss. He'd kissed me. And the ache that kiss creates in my heart... It all rushes back—the light, the heat, the wonderful magic.
And, heaven forbid, I want it to happen again.
Questions ramble around inside me. Why did he kiss me when he has a girlfriend? Does Raphael know? Will he send for me? Will I lose my post? It's not like I instigated it, but I didn't stop it either.
I like Brecken. Really like him. There is no way around it. I didn't plan this, but I don't want it to end yet either. Secretly, I wanted that kiss, and now I have to suffer the consequences. I have a job to do after all. This isn't just about life and death. This is about redemption and eternity... and a timeless existence in Soul Prison—surrounded by evil—if I don't succeed. And what will happen to Brecken? What is his destiny if I fail? I can't bear to think of it.
Brecken, when I find him, is in the process of grabbing his gym bag and running out the door. “Where're you going?” I ask as he runs past.
He stops abruptly and stares straight ahead. “Lacrosse practice.”
“You play lacrosse?”
He turns, facing the direction of my voice. Sunshine spills through the window, casting long shafts of light across his face. I'm pretty sure he can't see me, but he faces me square on, only a foot away. “I used to. There a problem with that?”
His angelic-ness vanishes and his tone rocks me back on my heels. The force of his anger is like a physical blow. “No. I just never pegged you for a lacrosse player.”
“Really? And just what sport do you think I'd play? Or am I such a loser that all I'd do is sit around like a pothead all day?” He smirks and walks out the door, leaving me alone in the kitchen.
“Uh, well.” I can't think of a single sport I think he'd play. Not that he isn't athletic. He just portrays himself as the bad boy in a leave me alone kind of way. He doesn't scream sports. I follow him to his mom's car. He pulls out of the driveway, the tires shrieking.
“Why are you driving so fast? Are you trying to kill us?” I hate it when people let their anger determine their driving. My brother does that.
Brecken doesn't answer.
I watch the road, one hand on the dashboard, afraid we'll crash. Not that I'd get hurt, but he would. “Why are you so mad?” I still haven't figured it out and can't seem to get past his porcupine bristle.
With an audible sigh, he glances my way and then back to the windshield. “It's just... you took off. Again.”
The look of hurt on his face and the guilt of my constant running is beginning to haunt me. “Oh. I'm really sorry about that.”
“Was it that bad?”
“What?”
His lips tighten and he shakes his head slowly back and forth. “The kiss.”
“Oh, Brecken, no. That's not it at all. The kiss was... well, it was... just wonderful.” I turn away, embarrassed to admit my feelings, and watch the trees zip past in a blur. “There's just the whole thing about me being dead that kinda puts a crimp in it.”
“That's a minor detail,” he says, a slow grin spreading across his face.
“Yeah. Minor.”
“I thought maybe you were... disappointed.” He stares at the road stretching in a straight line ahead of us. “That seems to be what I do best lately.”
“What? No.” I place my hand on his arm. “Not even close. And why would you be worried about disappointing anyone? I haven't seen you do that since I've been here.”
“Oh really?” He glances toward me. “You've never been disappointed in me?”
I think back over our time together, the constant arguments, the constant frustration, the break-in, Jill. “Oh. Well, as your guardian, there are times when I'm disappointed, but then we work it out. You're totally not supposed to even know I'm here. It kind of messes everything up. It's much easier to influence people when they don't know you're around. As for the other stuff, well...”
He glances at me again, rolling his eyes. “Well what?”
“Never mind,” I say, suddenly shy. How can I discuss this? It's too new, too crazy.
We pull up next to a cemetery.
“What are we doing here?” I don't like cemeteries. I don't like dead bodies or the idea of people decaying under my feet.
“This is where we practice.”
“You have got to be kidding.” I follow him to a wide grassy area where no headstones have been placed yet. Fifteen other boys are there, tossing a lacrosse ball to one another. Some wear protective pads over t-shirts. Others wear their pads directly over their skin.
“We tear up the park's grass too much so we practice here half the time.” He proceeds to take off his shirt and put on his shoulder pads.
“I had no idea you were part of a team,” I say with an amazed chuckle.
“I'm not. I don't play in the games. I don't have the money for dues, new gear, or any other fees. We're too poor,” he says with a sneer. “But the team feels sorry for me, and I'm pathetic enough to still want to come once a week.”
The hardness in his eyes doesn't dispel the hurt in his voice. I hadn't realized how much he'd had to give up when his mom died. My heart breaks just a little bit more for him, but I can't stay in that aching place long. It brings up too many memories of my own. Instead I stare at his half-naked body, his muscles rippling as he fastens his gear.
Surprisingly, his body doesn't disgust me like before. I don't know what has changed or is different, but his bare skin doesn't elicit feelings of revulsion. I don't associate the tanned skin of his chest with Mr. Roland or feel the need to hide. Maybe I am healing. Maybe Gram is right after all.
And Brecken is beautiful.
I've never seen him like this in broad daylight—his chest, muscles sculpted like a Grecian statue, his dark hair, glistening with streaks of auburn in the dense summer sun.
I take a place on the sidelines and watch him stretch out with his team. Their goalie leads them around the cemetery in a brisk jog. After a couple of laps, the coach waves them in. They divide into two teams. Skins and shirts.
Lacrosse seems like a game I would have enjoyed... with a body. It's fast paced, intense and full of constant action. Then an idea blossoms in my mind and a smile grows on my face. I close my eyes and re-appear beside Brecken.
“Hey,” I say, floating next to him. A sheen of sweat dots his brow, but he isn't out of breath. He also doesn't answer me. I crouch next to him as though I am about to run the next play, which I am.
He whispers, “Go away!”
“No way. I'm gonna to help you get a goal.” I don't know a lot about lacrosse, but I saw a couple of games at my old high school. How hard can it be?
The play begins with two guys in a face-off. The skins win the ball and it flies from stick to stick. Brecken guards the goalie, helping to protect him and the goal. A guy on the other team catches the ball and searches for a teammate. I sidle up next to him. “Pass it to the
kid by Brecken,” I whisper.
A frown creases the boy's brow, but he throws the ball to the appointed player. It passes in front of Brecken, who intercepts it with lightning speed, tearing off toward the other side of the field. He throws the ball to a teammate, who scores a goal. Cheers erupt and I dance over the field, monumentally proud of myself.
“I told him to do that,” I call out as Brecken runs past me, back toward his goal.
“What?” he says, almost stopping.
“Nothin' man,” a teammate answers. “Get over by Dodson and we'll run that play again!”
“Okay.” Brecken ignores me.
I stay beside him, trying to influence one player after another. Not all of them listen, but most do, and by the end of practice, Brecken has made four goals. His team has eleven points all together. The shirts can't keep up. I giggle with glee the whole way home. “That was so fun!”
“You didn't do all that.” He faces forward, his expression grim.
“Most of it. All I had to do was whisper in their ears and they obeyed. It was fantastic.”
His frown deepens and he grips the steering wheel tighter. “That isn't right. You shouldn't do that.”
“Why not? It's why I'm here,” I say, returning Brecken's frown. “That's what guardian's do. Influence. I'm one of the good guys. Geez.”
He glances at me, his eyes squinting. “Do you even know who the bad guys are, Alisa?”
I ponder his question. “What do you mean? Bad guys are murderers, rapist, and child molesters. Yeah. I know who the bad guys are.” I can’t help but think of Mr. Roland or his tortured expression as he reached for me in Soul Prison.
“That's not what I'm talking about.”
“Then what are you talking about?” I don't understand why he's trying to ruin my good mood. I'm not ready to argue again. I want to go back to the fun, happy, romantic Brecken.
“There are bad guys out there that are spirits like you... or something.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “There are no bad guys like me. If they're truly evil, they're in Soul Prison.”
He shakes his head. “You don't get it. There are other... beings out there. Bad ones.” He glances at me again, his expression wary. “Don't tell me you haven't seen them.”
Uh, no. I haven't. There are evil spirits around? Doing what? Doing what guardians do but in reverse? Trying to get people into trouble? I'm not sure I believe that. Then I remember the ghostly beings that had swirled around Jill and the lady in red. But those weren't real spirits, actual people, like me. They were more like slithery demons.
“I haven't seen any spirits like me... who are bad,” I say hesitantly. I don't want to scare Brecken into thinking bad things might be lurking. He has enough problems as it is. “Bad spirits are held prisoner. They don't get to come here. I've seen it myself.”
His snort tells me he can't believe I'm so naïve, and I don't correct him. “Hey, I'm just telling you how it is,” he says. “I've seen them. They're around.” He pulls into his driveway and gets out without saying another word.
I follow, sullen and thinking.
He throws his bag by the door and rummages for food in the kitchen, finding crackers and cheese-wiz. He sits on the couch and flips on the TV. I think about what he said, and about what I've seen, but he can't be right. Spirits would be aware of each other. Wouldn't I know if there was an evil minion trying to influence my charge? “So do you see evil ghosts? And if so, how often?” I sit down on the couch beside him.
“Not as much as I see you,” he says, teasing and crunching loudly on a cracker.
“Very funny.”
“Well,” he begins. “They're more like shadows. They're dark. They don't glow like you, and they don't ever talk. They just watch me.”
I ponder this. They sound just like the strange spirits I saw in the basement of that old house. They hadn't spoken either. They were just kind of there, seeming to silently suck the life force out of their host. “It doesn't make sense,” I say finally. “Who are they, and what do they want?”
He glances at me, still chewing, and shakes his head. “I don't know.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
~Life Isn't Fair~
Alisa
The fact that Brecken is seeing other weird beings throws me for a loop. Totally confused, I know I need outside help with this one. Taking a mental breath, I close my eyes and picture Raphael's glowing face. A moment later, I stand outside his office door. The quick trip between worlds leaves me dizzy and for a moment, I rest against the wall. Then, before I lose my nerve, I rap on the wooden door three times.
Raphael greets me with a smile and a hug. “Alisa! How good to see you! How is everything?”
As if he doesn't know. “Fine.”
“Good, good. Have a seat.” He walks around his desk and sits in his chair, facing me. “So, you have some questions?”
I have tons of questions. And I decide to get one off my mind that's been there since I saw my brother at that old house. “Yeah. First off, why doesn't my brother, Derek, have a guardian? Or anyone else in my family, for that matter? Aren't they just as important as Brecken? Isn't everyone? Why haven't I seen any other guardians since I've been on earth?” I stare him down, daring him to say my family doesn't matter.
“Ah. Right to the point as always. How shall I explain?” he says mostly to himself as he steeples his fingers. “Everyone is watched over. Everyone. No one is left out... until they are past feeling. Past hearing. Too closed.”
“My brother is not closed!”
“I never said he was. Let me finish, Alisa,” he says with a sigh. “Your job is different than a guardian angel's. You are in the processes of paying back a debt. You don't get to fraternize with other guardians, nor do you get to see other guardian angels. You have to do this on your own, like penitence. Understand?”
I nod slowly, starting to see the picture, but it isn't clear yet.
“Since you are in the general area, we thought we'd let you help watch over your family a bit. I knew you'd want see them, and honestly, I don't see the harm in it, which is why I'm allowing it.”
So visiting family isn't something everyone gets to do. Suddenly my heart warms toward Raphael just a bit more. “Thank you.”
“As far as your brother goes,” he continues. “We are aware of his situation, but there are valuable lessons for him to learn. If he doesn't respond to our influence, there isn't much we can do. He'll have to learn the hard way.”
I don't want Derek to learn the hard way. He deserves to have a wonderful, happy life with as little stress as possible.
Raphael seems to read my mind. “You can't force people to listen, Alisa. Haven't you noticed?”
A sarcastic chuckle escapes my mouth and I sit back, my arms crossed over my chest. “Nope. Haven't noticed that.”
“Any other questions?” he asks with compassion.
Letting out a long breath, I sit back up, facing Raphael fully. “Yes. Brecken says he sees... dark spirits. They don't talk to him or anything, but now I've seen them too. What are they? Who are they, and what do they want?”
“Hmm,” he says, flicking invisible dust from his desk. “I'd hoped we wouldn't have to have this conversation, but our luck hasn't held out.” He glances at me, his mouth drawn, his eyes sad. “But you should know since they are showing themselves.” He stops speaking for a moment and swivels in his chair to stare at the wall. “They are damned souls, Alisa. Souls that have never been born and never will be. They have been cursed to roam the earth forever because of the evilness of their hearts—because of evil choices they made long ago.” He turns and watches me with no emotion marring his expression, waiting.
Damned souls? Cursed? Evil choices? “But who are they?”
Raphael shakes his head slowly. “It doesn't matter. You have more influence than they do—more than they could ever dream of—because of the goodness inside you.”
“But they can influence people?”
I ask to clarify.
He nods. “At times, yes. At other times, fully. They can possess the bodies they cling to if their host is weak.”
“But why? What do they want?” This is a whole new world of information I have to sift through. It's confusing, and I don't like surprises. I don't like learning there is an enemy team I have to fight against.
With a heavy sigh, he explains further. “They made a pact of sorts, eons ago, so they could experience the physical world. They acquire souls in trade for... well, the body.”
“Acquire souls? Like steal them or something? Who would make a pact like that? Not God.” I don't want to believe in a god who would promise someone's body to an evil being.
Raphael chuckles. “No. Of course not. Someone else. Just do your job and worry about Brecken.”
“So they possess bodies?” My mind automatically goes to all the horror movies I've ever seen, like Exorcism or Twilight Zone. I don't want something like that to be real. It feels unsafe, making all humans vulnerable and defenseless.
“In a manner of speaking, but not like you're thinking.” He sighs and leans back in his chair. “It's not something you need to worry about right now as you aren't a guardian angel. These are things guardian angels deal with. You only have to accomplish your one assigned task, and then someone else will be permanently assigned to Brecken if there's a need.”
I hadn't thought of anyone else guarding Brecken. I know I'm not an actual guardian angel, but the thought of someone else taking over for me leaves me aching and speechless. Then Raphael’s last words filter through my mind. “Wait. If there's a need? What's that supposed to mean?”
For a moment, Raphael's mouth sags, his brow furrowing, as though he is reluctant to admit he's made a mistake in saying anything at all. I can tell he doesn't want to answer, so I quickly reach over the desk and grab his hand. Flashes of light, scenes of Brecken's life, explode in my mind, painful and overwhelming.
I push away, gaping at Raphael. “What was that?” I lean against his desk, my chest tight.
“You shouldn't have done that, Alisa.” He stares right back, his jaw clenching. “It's not for you to see.”
“You can see the future? Do you already know what's going to happen to Brecken? To... me?”
“It's not like that. Nothing is set in stone. What you saw,” he says with a sigh, “is what will happen if circumstances don't change.”
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