Steve tried to smile, but since most of his jaw was missing it was macabre and heartbreaking.
The squatters gathered in my bedroom even though it was an off-limits area for them. I didn’t care. Their presence was reassuring.
One by one, they touched my head and disappeared.
I closed my eyes and prayed to an entity I didn’t believe in that they would find another way to leave this Earth. I hoped with everything I had that they would find someone who would let them watch reality TV and glue detached body parts back on. However, it was no longer my problem.
The thought made me positively ill.
I’d done what I’d had to do at the expense of others. That wasn’t how I rolled. I was nice. I was polite. But there was no other way. Steve’s afterlife was on the line. I could only hope that the ghosts realized this and would forgive me.
“It’s just me and you now, babe,” I whispered as tears for the dead rolled down my cheeks.
“Daaaauusayy. Geeeodahun.”
“What?” I asked as I felt my blood run cold through my veins. “Say that again.”
Misunderstanding Steve right now could end in tragedy.
“Daaaauusayy. Geeeodahun. Yausssss,” he said.
“Yes what?” I asked, growing light-headed and wanting to die alongside Steve.
His lips continued to move, but no words came out. He became frantic as a myriad of emotions crossed my face. I’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. It had dropped, crashed to Earth and ripped a hole in my heart that I knew could never be repaired.
“Daaaauusayy,” Steve grunted.
“Stop,” I said softly as my chest hurt so badly, I was sure it would never stop. “It’s okay. I understand. I will make sure he pays.”
Steve’s lips continued to move in a panic-stricken manner, but I couldn’t understand a word he said. It didn’t matter. I knew what had happened. Steve’s death had been in question and Gideon had won. Heather had lost. Steve had been tried and convicted of something he hadn’t done.
And the man I was in love with was responsible.
Correction. The man I now despised was responsible.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Don’t go anywhere,” I said to Steve, and then grimaced.
The absurdity of my statement didn’t escape me at all. My limbs felt like lead and I wanted to sleep for a year, but that was impossible. If there was a way to reverse what had happened to Steve, I was going to get it done.
My happiness was about to go up in flames, but it hadn’t been real. Trusting myself had been a mistake that I’d pay for the rest of my days. Never again. Never.
Steve’s lips still moved, but the garbled sounds made no sense. I couldn’t make out a single word. Maybe the Ouija board would help… maybe not. Not one of my squatters had ever been in this bad of shape. It didn’t matter. I’d figure out something.
Slowly standing up, I glanced down at the black crystals littering the floor. Were they deadly? Avoiding them was impossible. I’d sweep them up later and bury them somewhere. If they were harmful, I didn’t need them to end up at the county dump.
Hurting innocent people wasn’t in me.
Hurting myself? I was an expert at that.
Making my way to the family room, I had to hold on to the walls so I didn’t fall. Every inch of my body hurt, but that was nothing compared to what was happening inside me.
“Gideon. Heather,” I shouted. “Come to me.”
I almost laughed. I didn’t possess magic. I was simply a forty-year-old woman who used to help the dead. Now I was just dead inside. I was unsure if Heather could poof around like Gideon, but my guess was she could. If they didn’t hear me, I would text them.
Gideon heard me.
That was good. I had things to say to him privately that I didn’t want Heather to hear.
The most beautiful and deceitful man I’d ever come across stood before me with an angelic smile on his face. I closed my eyes and tried to block the picture, but his scent still intoxicated me. The memory of his lips on mine and the sound of his laugh tore at my heart. My judgment about people was terrible. Heather was right not to trust Gideon. She’d been my friend for years. I should have listened.
I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I still didn’t want to, but I had no choice. None.
“Couldn’t wait until tonight?” Gideon asked with a crooked grin.
He thought he was here for sex. It was surreal.
“No,” I said with no emotion in my voice. “I couldn’t.”
“Daisy, what’s wrong?” he asked, approaching me.
I held up my hands and backed away. If I hadn’t known what he’d done, the hurt in his eyes would have undone me. But I was a different person than I was a few hours ago. There was no going back to the old Daisy now. She was dead.
“Why don’t you tell me?” I questioned calmly as I tamped back my urge to go to him.
What was wrong with me? He’d decreed that Steve go to the darkness and I wanted to touch him? He knew Steve. He liked Steve. I would never take anything at face value again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gideon replied, putting his hands in his pockets and watching me warily.
“No games, Gideon,” I snapped. “He’s gay. He posed no threat to you and he didn’t kill himself.”
“Again,” Gideon said, his tone turning cooler. “I have no idea what you are speaking of.”
I wanted to believe him so badly. I wanted to turn back time and be happy again. But Steve was upstairs in our bed looking like something out of a horror movie. I’d just fought back the darkness that Gideon was in charge of and I’d won—hopefully.
“You lied to me,” I said coldly. “You played me with your bullshit declaration of love and I bought it. And now Steve is paying the price.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific, Daisy,” Gideon said as his eyes began to glow red.
The time in the park wasn’t my imagination. His eyes had turned red. I swallowed my gasp and stood my ground. However, I couldn’t stop the tears. Whatever. I was who I was. That wasn’t going to change.
“You tried to send him to the darkness,” I shouted, turning away from the shattered look of disbelief in his eyes. It was a lie just like he was. “You failed. You need to fix it.”
“You believe I would do that?” he asked in a harsh tone.
“I saw it,” I yelled. “I lived through it.”
“And you stopped it?” he asked, perplexed.
“I did. And there is nothing you can do about it.”
“How?” he asked.
I couldn’t believe I was going to answer him, but it felt right amidst all the wrong. He should be aware that we were no longer working together. He could move on to a different Death Counselor and charm her.
“I quit,” I said flatly. “I will no longer aid the dead. I’m done.”
“You’re amazing,” he whispered.
I whipped my head around and I pinned him with a glare. “And you’re a sorry excuse for a man or whatever you are. If there’s anything you can do for Steve, I would appreciate it. If not, you need to leave and never come back.”
The words ripped my soul to shreds. My gut said everything about this was wrong, but my gut could no longer be trusted.
“Beware what you wish for, Daisy. Words can destroy,” he warned.
“Correct, Gideon,” I said, meeting his devastated gaze. How did he think I could be with him after what he’d done? “And so can lies.”
“You think I lied to you?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied, wanting to sit down so badly. My legs were barely holding me up. “Everything about you is a lie. And I’m the idiot who believed you.”
Gideon swore and began to pace the room. My hand went to my mouth involuntarily as shimmering black ebony wings erupted from his back and a golden glow surrounded him. The span of his wings had to be six feet and the shimmering light made them sparkle. The juxtaposition
confused me.
“There is much you don’t understand,” Gideon snarled.
“Enlighten me,” I shot back.
He stopped and stared. My breath caught in my throat. He looked like a gorgeous avenging fallen angel. His pain and sadness radiated off of him.
“Why?” he inquired coldly. “You won’t believe me.”
I wanted to. God, I wanted to, but he was right. I wouldn’t believe him. How could I? He was the Grim Reaper. He sent souls in question into the darkness. Didn’t he?
Nodding jerkily as the tears flowed freely down my face, I tried one more time. “Is there anything you can do for Steve?”
I was sure I imagined it, but Gideon looked at me with such love and compassion, I sucked in my breath. In a split second it was gone. His expression grew remote and guarded. It was wishful thinking on my part. I was pathetic.
“Since I wasn’t the one who set the wheels in motion, no. There is nothing I can do for Steve,” he informed me in a tone void of emotion.
“Right,” I whispered, shaking my head sadly. “Go. Go away and never come back, please.”
I wanted to belt myself for saying please, but it was ingrained.
Gideon closed his eyes and made a sound from deep in his soul that shredded me even more than what I’d just been through with Steve. I understood the sound. It was happening inside my body and would probably live within me for a very long time.
“I will always love you, Daisy,” he said quietly. “I will take the memories of the last few weeks with me and hold them close for eternity. But we would have never worked. Trust goes hand in hand with love, and you aren’t capable of that.”
I glanced down at my trembling hands and felt faint. I wanted to throw something at him. I wanted to destroy him. I wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt me.
I wanted to touch him.
I wanted to hold him.
“Gideon, I…” I started as I looked up, and gasped.
He was gone. He’d done as I asked.
That was good. He’d lied and tried to send Steve to the darkness. He’d used me. I didn’t buy anything he’d said.
I was a liar as well. My heart believed every word he’d said, but my heart was the organ that had gotten me in trouble most of my life. My head knew I’d done the right thing.
Falling to my knees, I let the exhaustion claim me. Sobs racked my body and I was sure I would cry until the end of time. Crawling to my phone, I texted Heather. Gideon was gone and Steve was still upstairs. I owed it to my dead husband to try to help him.
Gideon had said he couldn’t undo what he hadn’t done.
Maybe Heather could.
Heather stood in the doorway of my bedroom with an expression of shock on her face. She bent down and scooped up some of the black crystals. They slipped through her fingers and floated back to the floor.
“Can you do anything for him?” I asked hoarsely.
I’d cried so hard my voice sounded like I’d swallowed shards of glass. It had taken Heather a half an hour to get to the farmhouse. When she found me on the floor in the fetal position sobbing, she freaked out. Trying to explain to her what had happened was impossible. Instead, I took her to my bedroom and showed her Steve.
“Oh God,” she gasped out as she approached the bed and looked at him. She put her hand over her mouth and tried not to cry.
“I need your help.”
“You stopped the darkness,” Heather whispered, flabbergasted. “How?”
Gideon had asked the very same question. Had no one ever stopped the darkness?
“I quit my job,” I said. “I’m no longer a Death Counselor.”
“Yet you can still see Steve?” she asked.
My gut clenched in terror for a moment, and I thought I might throw up. Gram couldn’t see the dead since she was no longer the Death Counselor.
My head whipped to the bed. Steve was there—I could see him. My cry of relief was primal and guttural; it sounded foreign and strange to my own ears. But foreign and strange had become par for the course. All that mattered was that I could see him. I wasn’t sure what that meant as far as the rules went, but I didn’t care. I was grateful that I still had the ability.
“Yes,” I choked out. “I see him.”
Heather eyed me for a long moment and shook her head. “Daisy, there is no one like you. No one.”
“Not sure if that’s good or bad,” I replied, moving to Steve and sitting next to him.
He looked bad, but Heather didn’t comment or act repulsed. That was a relief. Even though Heather was one of my dearest friends, I would have kicked her ass. Steve could hear us. He was in enough agony. He didn’t need to be made aware of his revolting appearance.
“Can you help me send him to the light?” I asked.
Heather tilted her head and gave me an odd look. “Why would you think I could help you send Steve into the light?”
The cryptic games were wearing on me, but I would play along. Maybe this was how it worked.
“You’re the Angel of Mercy. You send people into the light.”
Heather paled and sat down on a chair. “I’m not the Angel of Mercy.”
“Yes, you are. You have to be,” I insisted, glaring at her. “You can see the dead and talk to them. You are the Angel of Mercy. Stop playing games. I need you to help me send Steve into the light. I’ll give you anything you want. I just need your help.”
“Oh God, Daisy,” Heather said, letting her head fall to her chest. “You have it all wrong.”
“Have what wrong?” I asked as a feeling of dread washed over me.
“Every good story has a major plot twist,” she said slowly, growing more agitated with each word.
“Go on,” I said, not liking the direction of the conversation, but knowing I needed to hear it.
“The Grim Reaper sends souls in question into the light, and the Angel of Mercy sends them to the darkness—opposite of what you might assume,” she explained. “It’s been that way since the beginning of time. It’s for balance and to eliminate conflict of interest.”
“Don’t,” I said. “Do not screw with me.”
Heather stood and began to pace the room. “I’m not,” she whispered. “I would never do that to you.”
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. Gideon had not lied to me. Steve had tried to tell me, and I didn’t understand. Even John had warned me that everything was not as it seemed. Gideon had not sent Steve into the darkness—and I was the biggest idiot alive.
I couldn’t even comprehend what I’d done and right now wasn’t the time to rip myself a new one.
Had Heather done this to Steve? That didn’t seem right, but it was the only option left. My body trembled violently. I didn’t know how much more I could take.
“Why?” I asked. “Why would you do this?”
Heather stopped in confusion and looked at me. “Daisy, I didn’t do this.”
Fury consumed me It had happened. I witnessed it. I was there. Someone had to be responsible. If it wasn’t Gideon and it wasn’t Heather, who was it?
“Fine,” I said harshly. “I’ll play along. If you’re not the Angel of Mercy, who in the hell is?”
“Clarissa,” Heather replied. “Clarissa is the Angel of Mercy.”
The need to scream or destroy something was overwhelming. Sitting still wasn’t going to work. I’d implode.
Hopping off the bed, I stripped off my clothes and yanked on running gear.
Clarissa had warned me. She had warned me to my face. She had destroyed me in every way possible, and I’d played right into her plans. I’d banished the man I was in love with and destroyed my best friend in the process.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” I ground out between clenched teeth, wanting to put my fist through the wall. “From their titles, I would think the Grim Reaper was the bad guy and the Angel of Mercy was the good one. Even with what you told me they do, this makes no sense. Clarissa is the damned definition of evil.”
<
br /> “Nothing is black or white,” Heather said, running her hands through her hair and closing her eyes. “The simplest way to explain it is that Clarissa is a Heavenly Angel—so to speak—and Gideon is a Demon… or a fallen Angel. Bad people do good things and good people do bad things. Existence is a shade of gray. Living forever takes its toll on people.”
“I’d hardly call them people. People don’t live forever,” I snapped.
Heather opened her eyes and leveled me with a stare. “What would you call me?”
Meeting her gaze, I was at a loss. I had no idea. My understanding of just about everything was completely screwed.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” I said emotionlessly. “I don’t even know.”
Turning my back on her, I walked over to Steve and gently tucked the covers around him. It made no difference. I was aware he felt no real physical pain, but it helped me. Quickly pulling a copy of my will from the safe under the bed, I thrust the papers into Heather’s hands.
“Everything goes to Gram,” I said. “Make sure it happens, please.”
“What are you going to do?” Heather asked, alarmed.
“I fucked up, Heather.”
Her expression would have made me laugh if the situation wasn’t so dire. I never dropped the F-bomb. I’d never dropped one in my life. However, the F-bomb was merited now. Tons of F-bombs were merited.
“Talk to me. Please,” she insisted.
“What are you?” I asked as I tied my tennis shoe and broke a lace in my rage.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what are you?” I snapped, getting frustrated and grabbing another pair of running shoes. “You’re not the Grim Reaper and you’re not the Angel of Mercy. What are you?”
Heather only paused for a moment. “I’m the Arbitrator. I’m the Arbitrator between Heaven and Hell.”
“They exist?” I demanded. “Heaven and Hell are real? God and Satan are real?”
“Depends on your definition, but yes,” she told me.
I didn’t have time to even get into that right now. I had an Angel of Mercy to eliminate.
“Daisy,” Heather said in a worried tone. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”
It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis : A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: Good To The Last Death Book One Page 27
