by Carla Rehse
“What the …!” I searched the ground like Lawson and the others had shrunk—darn all those Marvel movies I watched with Sadie.
Sebastian smiled. “My way is better than the highway.”
I raised an eyebrow. Did he just crack a joke? Angels didn’t joke around; they had notoriously poor senses of humor. The back of my neck crawled.
“I am no longer able to sense the Archivist.” He stared at me as if he expected a specific answer. What it could be, I had no clue.
“That is the main reason we were returning to the sanctuary. The Archives room was empty. Do you know what’s going on? And, uh … where did you send my friends?”
Sebastian’s face fell. Once again, whatever he wanted from me, I’d failed to deliver. “Nevaeh and I are researching ways to breach the lockdown.”
The most non-answer of all non-answers thrown at me.
“Do you have any knowledge on the spell used? Or any ideas on how I can track down the witch casting the spellwork?”
He bent toward me and whispered, “Tien has donated his essence to me to replace my lack of Grace. Jera will donate hers to Nevaeh. Do not fear. We will protect you from what is coming. So do not worry, you most likely will not die.”
Donated essence? I had no clue what that meant, but it sure sounded ominous.
Sebastian patted me on the head, then disappeared into an orb of white light. Protect me? From what? And where in the hell had he sent Lawson and the others?
“Sebastian?” I hissed. “Sebastian!”
The crunching behind the fence began again.
F-bombing angels!
THIRTEEN
Demon smiting: the great stress reliever
A white orb of light flashed overhead, then dropped on top of me.
I blinked, then found myself staring at a grimy wall in a dimly lit, stuffy hallway. No doors, exit signs, or windows were visible. Sebastian and I needed to have a serious conversation. I turned slowly to get oriented as a bout of Post-Angelic Transportation Sickness Syndrome made my head spin. And yeah, I made up the syndrome’s name, but it wasn’t like WebMD hung around a boundary town.
Calling attention to myself in an unknown situation would be a dumb rookie move, so I didn’t call out for Lawson and the others. I stared at my feet so I could concentrate on my hearing. How does staring at my feet help my ears? Heck if I know. Why do people turn down their car radio when they get lost?
The sound of sobbing echoed in the hallway, though I couldn’t pinpoint the location. For a heart-stopping second, I thought it was Sadie. But after surviving her teenage years, I knew her weeping very well. I guessed the crier to be a girl but couldn’t tell if she was alive or a spirit. Just another fun day in Crossing Shadows.
An audible Crying Ghost usually landed closer to the vengeful spirit spectrum than say, an after-death specter or a lost soul. Vengeful spirits were nasty pieces of work. While they couldn’t possess me due to my Marked Blood, they had strong telekinetic ability. Getting stabbed in the heart by a person or having a flying fork embedded into your brain by a ghost had the same result. Dead was dead, no matter the perpetrator.
Vengeful spirits were also notoriously hard to neutralize, requiring more than an iron knife or a handful of salt to counteract them. Not that I had any salt. Or Luna’s knife, now that I thought about it. Another thing I would have to “talk” to Sebastian about. Where was a font of holy water or a sane angel when you needed them?
It felt blasphemous to suggest Sebastian or any of the Seraphs had jumped on the crazy train, but this was beyond ridiculous. And what did he mean that Tien had donated his essence? The last I saw of Tien, he wasn’t offering up anything, just getting sucked into a vortex. Though, come to think of it, Sebastian didn’t say Tien had voluntarily donated his essence. Is that how Sebastian was strong enough to transport me? Using Tien’s power in a creepy, cannibalistic energy-sucking move?
The thought of angel-on-angel violence creeped me out more than Crying Girl.
Ignoring the angel situation for the moment, I needed to figure out where I was and how to get to the sanctuary. No matter where Lawson and the others had been sent, that would be their goal as well. Beyond that, I’d always had a touch of claustrophobia, and this hallway made me uneasy. My heart rate increased, and my fingers tingled, which were my anxiety warning sign.
Focus on a concrete goal, I told myself. I won’t repeat how the snarky part of myself responded.
I scanned the area for a way out. The ceiling appeared to be solid drywall or whatever, not a dropped ceiling with those moveable square pieces that always seemed to be stained from a leaking roof. So, no climbing into the ducts, although I had a strong feeling action movies made that look far easier than it actually was.
Unpainted cinder blocks lined the walls; cracked, uneven concrete covered the floor. None of this gave me a hint as to my location. But the stench of mildew and rot, plus the lack of windows, seemed a solid clue that I was in a sublevel of some sort. If I knew where I was, then I might have a better understanding of the Crying Girl. Alive or dead, she might be a possible help or hindrance to my escape plan.
To my knowledge, only three places in town had basements. The Celestial Building’s basement was entirely made up of the sanctuary, and this obviously wasn’t it. The Archives had one for storage. I knew it well, as Lawson and I spent a lot of time there as teenagers … um, filing and stuff. But it was just a large room filled with shelving, file cabinets, and other odds and ends.
That left The Spiced Tea Shoppe and Bakery, which used theirs for storage. Tillis Market rented part of it for their overflow. I’d never been in the bakery’s cellar but always figured it would smell of cinnamon and nutmeg versus mold and rot.
Assuming the crier was not alive, I also didn’t recall any of the three locations having a ghostly mascot, like the school gym’s poltergeist. Though it wasn’t like anyone here would allow a vengeful spirit to hang around, crying and/or possessing people. No matter your age or vocation, every human in town received training in defense against the Hellspawn.
So where did that leave me? In a stinky, stuffy, dark, unknown hallway. Yay, me.
Unless—and this was a really, really bad unless—Sebastian didn’t transport me to a basement in town. Since he couldn’t send me outside the boundary, what if he stuck me in a space bubble or a dimensional time portal or something like that? If his cheese had completely slid off his cracker, then maybe he put me in a “time out” to keep me safe. In a never-ending hallway without food or water or even a bathroom or—
For Saints’ sake, Everly, get a damn grip.
I stared at the closest cinder block and counted the dimples in the concrete until my breathing came under control. Since I entered perimenopause a couple years ago, I sometimes had anxiety issues. My doctor suggested I concentrate on a random item and over-describe it in my head. Her suggestion usually helped.
With a firmer grip on myself, I decided to head left for no real reason besides the need to do something. Finding a ladies’ room would be more than awesome as well. The sobbing continued, so sad and hopeless that it rubbed my nerves raw, like nails screeching down a chalkboard. Kids these days, with their dry erase boards and pretty markers, will never know the irritation of the class clown making chalk squeal on the chalkboard.
The hallway lights were motion activated, which meant I only had illumination in a ten-foot circle or so. As I moved, the lights behind me blinked out. And, of course, I had neither a flashlight nor my cell phone. I couldn’t be less piss-poor prepared for this town if I’d done it deliberately. Sweat tickled my temples and my neck kept itching.
After passing under thirty lights, traveling a guesstimated three hundred feet, I still hadn’t found a door or a window or even a vent. Just an endless, dark corridor of the same cinderblock walls and concrete flooring. And the never-ending crying.
I stood still, debating what to do. How much time had passed? Five minutes? An hour? With no windows or
clocks, my time sense was messed up. Anxiety started to bubble up, so I shoved it down. I needed to think, not panic.
From what I could see, the hallway continued ahead. I still had no clue where I could be as Crossing Shadows had no large buildings or tunnel systems. And how did I hear crying but no other sounds? Without a visible vent or speaker?
Every step I took made it more likely that Sebastian had stuck me somewhere for safekeeping. Or un-safekeeping. But what the holy hell was up with the Crying Girl?
Should I keep walking or conserve my energy? Retrace my steps and try the other direction? I had no food or water. And worse, I hadn’t eaten much yesterday and had eaten nothing today. The Hellhound interrupted my steak dinner last night, and I never had a chance to try Mrs. Baker’s kolache this morning.
Dehydration was the more pressing concern. One cup of coffee before things went hell-in-a-handbasket wasn’t much help, especially as I had limited my fluid intake yesterday due to the drive. Middle-aged bladders weren’t BFFs with forty-four-ounce drinks.
The most important question? I needed to figure out Sebastian. Had the lack of Grace made him crazy enough to accidentally kill me? Or … not accidentally kill me?
I decided to keep going. After twenty lights and no clues, I increased my speed.
Thirty more lights. Nothing but an endless hallway.
Fifty more lights. Nothing, nothing, nothing. I began running.
Seven more lights. My bum knee gave out, and I crashed to the ground. Flipping onto my back, I stared at the light above me. Sweat rolled down from my forehead and stung my eyes.
I was trapped.
Irony. Not just an entry in the dictionary. I’d found someplace away from the hot mess of my marriage all right. I had no idea how to get out of here.
I would never find Sadie in time to save her. She would die, like Mama did. All because of me. Boss Angel had been right. I was old. Untrained. Incompetent.
Panic overtook me, as every negative name thrown at me over my life pinged around my brain. My heart pounded in my chest, and the icepick headache in my left eye thundered back.
Weak, pathetic, stupid.
My body trembled as the muscles in my back and neck spasmed.
Lazy, useless, worthless.
The mother of all hot flashes swept over me. Sweat and tears poured down my face.
Fat, ugly, slob.
My stomach roiled. I gagged against the acid searing my throat.
Idiot, loser, moron.
The hot flash kept hitting me in waves. My lungs felt like they couldn’t expand.
Bitch, whore, skank
Worthless, worthless, worthl—
Images of Sadie floated in my mind in a collage of her life. My beautiful baby girl with her dark curls and give-them-hell attitude. She was the best thing I had ever done.
“No! I. Am. NOT. Worthless!”
I staggered to my feet, then punched the wall. The pain cleared my head. I wasn’t a bad person, though I’d made many bad choices over my life. Even worse, Janice was right. I had spent the last twenty-seven years running. Letting others choose my fate. The Council. My husband. The FBI and DEA.
Reacting to life, instead of acting.
That stopped now. I was in control. “I am Everly Ivona Popa. The Gatekeeper!”
The hot flash centered around my stomach. Like a mini-sun burning in my abdomen. But there was no pain. Just power. The disc in my arm grew cold.
The power flowed through every vein, artery, and nerve in my body.
Bathing me.
Coating me.
Strengthening me.
Finally, I understood what Nevaeh meant. I had found the Gatekeeper’s power.
The crying sounded louder. Closer.
“Where are you?” I yelled.
It stopped mid-sob, then turned into a high-pitch giggle that bounced around the hallway.
I spun around.
A blob floated in the air, elongating into a humanoid but featureless shape. It touched the ground and came into focus. A little girl, around eight or nine, in blue jean overalls with long, black pigtails. Like Sadie used to wear. This wasn’t my daughter but a demon with glowing orange Hellfire eyes.
The demon pouted. “You aren’t any fun. Why aren’t you on your knees, blubbering for help?”
Huh. I’d been so focused on the crazytown angels that I’d forgotten the wackadoodled demons. So, this must be a Devil’s Box, a never-ending maze, and the higher demons’ favorite way to torture a human. I’d never been in a Box before, but the stench of rot should’ve clued me in. What an extravagant, stupid use of Hellfire energy.
“Is this your doing?” I pointed at the hallway behind her. She couldn’t be strong enough to construct the Box; she was most likely a guard sent to watch me. Few demons in town had the juice to do this, though Warden Zim certainly could.
The demon shook her head in the exaggerated way little kids do. “Uh-uh. But since you’re here, I thought we could have some fun.”
“Let me out of here.”
“Nope,” she said, popping the “p.”
Whatever patience I possessed had run out twenty-four hours ago. “Let me out now, or I’ll give you an express trip back to Hell.”
“You can’t do that,” she said, in an obnoxious singsong tone.
By choosing a child’s shape, the demon gave me a height advantage. And no one looms better than a mother. I loomed over her and used my best I-mean-business voice. “Open. The door. Now!”
Orange Hellfire spilled from her eyes and streamed to her hands. She threw it at me. “Bitches who won’t play can burn!”
The Hellfire covered me in a shimmering orange waterfall. Without iron to counteract it, Hellfire should be burning my skin like an acid bath. Instead, I felt nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. The min-sun in my abdomen continued to blaze with a comforting warmth.
I waved my hand. The Hellfire oozed into an angel-like energy orb and floated above my palm.
The demon took a step back. “You … you can’t do that. They said you’re powerless!”
“Demons who don’t behave will burn.” I tossed the orb at her.
It exploded into a wall of flames surrounding her. She shrieked and tried to escape the fire but couldn’t. So, she really wasn’t that strong. Nice to know the town lockdown was affecting the demons as well.
I concentrated on the floor. A human-sized puddle of light shimmered between the demon and me. I waved my hand, and the flaming demon levitated to the shimmer, then slid through it with a gelatinous pop. The shimmer disappeared. Instinctively, I knew the Hell Gate had closed.
“Whoa.” I pushed the sweaty bangs off my forehead. That was the most surreal thing I’d ever been involved with. I’d sent two demons back to Hell. Would that be enough to reassure the Archangel that the Gatekeeper remained in charge? And a more uncomfortable thought: By opening the Gate did I just give the demons additional jolts of Hellfire power? Would that tip the scale to their favor? Note to self: avoid all demon smiting for now.
Another hot flash slammed into me. I staggered back against the wall, but it was no longer there.
I fell through nothing.
FOURTEEN
Who’s the walking ‘kick me’ sign?
I kept falling. My throat closed in terror, choking off my scream. I flailed my arms around, desperate to grab onto something—anything—to break my landing. Darkness transformed into bright light. My eyes teared up in response, obliterating my vision.
“Everly!” Lawson yelled.
The next thing I knew, I landed on top of him, knocking us to the ground. A very hard ground, I might add. And right smack on top of his muscular chest, which wasn’t that soft either. How freaking embarrassing.
Chase leaned over us. “You fell. Out of the ceiling!”
Ignoring the temptation to relieve my pain with a quick snuggle, I rolled off Lawson and onto my back. “Double ow.”
Having a hot dude catch you sounded a lot
less painful in the trashy novels I secretly loved to read. “You okay?”
Lawson gave a silent thumbs-up.
Luna helped me to my feet, while Janice frowned. So, the gang was all here.
I pointed at the white marble walls. “The Celestial Building? I’m in the Celestial Building? Why aren’t y’all down in the sanctuary?”
“Because this is where Sebastian dumped us,” Lawson said, dusting off his backside.
I’d been demon trapped for hours. Or what felt like hours. “Y’all just waited here for me to show?” Loyalty was great and all, but that seemed a bit extreme.
Chase tilted his head. “But Gatekeeper, we just arrived. As you did. Just not falling from the ceiling. Orült.”
I blinked again, feeling like I was trapped in a “Who’s on first” joke. “What? How did you just get here? Did Sebastian keep you in limbo or were you thrown into a Devil’s Box too?”
“Devil’s Box?” Lawson and Janice said in unison. Luna and Chase looked puzzled.
“Never mind for now.” I rubbed my forehead. Figuring out metaphysics equaled a migraine. “Let’s check on the sanctuary first. Wait. Chase, how are you in here? It’s warded.”
Lawson caught my eye. “Someone or something must’ve removed the warding. From the inside.”
My stomach cramped. Removing Seraph-installed warding meant the witch or witches had been here. Plus, they must be far more powerful than I realized. Unless—and there I went again with another bad unless—Sebastian or another angel did it. But that made no sense. The Seraphs didn’t play games. If they wanted us dead, they would just outright kill us. And what a cheerful thought that was.
Everyone remained armed but me. Reliably armed, I should say, as I might’ve tapped into my Gatekeeper power but had no idea how to use it. The Devil’s Box-building demon must’ve stolen Luna’s knife from me. When I had five free seconds, I’d have to work on getting it back.
Lawson and Luna went down the stairs first. Followed by me, Janice, and then Chase, watching our rear. Halfway down the stairs, the sound of crying wafted in the air. The back of my neck crawled. Without the warding, had demons taken over the sanctuary? Were we walking into another Box?
