The Dark In-Between

by Elizabeth Hrib

  A shadow lunges at her, nearly bowling her over, and she feels something sharp dig into her skin. A spray of blood, a flash of heat.

  She gasps and falls to her knees, clutching her forearm to her chest.

  Red finds her in the chaos of high-pitched screeches, his fingers prodding her arm. “Hold it tight,” he says.

  Casey manages a nod. Steel crashes against steel. There’s a groan of effort and a dark chuckle that turns her stomach. And finally, a blinding flash of pain that forces Casey to the ground.

  Down, down, down.

  Until there’s nowhere left to fall.

  TWELVE

  “LET ME GO, Red!” Casey hisses through her teeth, the burn in her arm spreading.

  “Stop squirming. You’re making it worse.”

  Red pushes the front door open as it swings closed again. It crashes into the wall, leaving a dent where the doorknob connects.

  “Don’t break things!” Casey grits out. She slumps face-first onto the couch, clutching her arm, body twitching from the pain. “And you drive like a maniac,” she mutters into the cushion. “Thought I was going to end up as roadkill.”

  “All of this and that’s what you complain about?” he says.

  “What do you expect me to tell Karen when she finds the car gone?”

  “I veiled her,” he says. “How do you think I got the keys? I told her to find Evan for a ride home.”

  “Oh, perfect,” Casey growls.

  Casey had spent a good fifteen minutes sitting in the custodial closet while Red went on his mission. Everything had smelled like s’mores. Now she wonders if she was hallucinating from the pain or the lack of blood.

  Pain, probably.

  Tears burn new tracks down her cheeks and she groans, rolling onto her side. The room spins as Red clutches her by the shoulders and props her up like a rag doll.

  “What are we doing?”

  “Relax,” he orders. His jaw tightens, muscles clenching under his skin. “Let me see.”

  He fumbles for her arm, but she keeps it seized against her side. “No. Don’t touch it.”

  “Casey, breathe. Let me take a look so I can help you.” His eyes are intense as they bore into hers.

  When she unfolds her arm, pain shudders beneath her skin, like some sort of poison leaching into her cells.

  Afraid to look, she trains her eyes on the ceiling. “What is it?”

  “The mark of the obsii.”

  He stretches her arm out and she jerks back. A weight settles over her entire body. Dread.

  “Come,” he says, sliding his arm around her waist, pulling her to her feet. “We need to stop the spread.”

  “Am I dying?” she asks as he half drags, half carries her toward the bathroom. “Again?”

  “No,” he says. “But I cannot heal you while the infection remains inside.”

  Casey remembers the night Red was injured and the dark sludge that had spilled from his wound before he could heal it. Ugh … she’s going to puke.

  He stops in the bathroom and helps Casey sit on the counter.

  “Roll up your sleeve.”

  He fills the sink with water, then grabs her arm, squeezing the poison from her veins. Her eyes roll back in her head momentarily, reacting to the sharp, stabbing jolt that feeds up her arm to her shoulder. Her entire body cringes. The poison billows and curls like smoke as it drops into the sink, turning into thick, black sludge when it hits the water.

  “Raphael, give me strength,” Red says, eyes closed, and her skin prickles where he touches her.

  She hisses, trying to pull her arm free as pain sears her flesh. Red continues to mutter strange, foreign words. Something in an old and ancient language that no longer belongs to this world. His skin against hers is agony, and she feels tears curl over the contours of her nose.

  Red’s eyes fade to blank, cold stones.

  Cloudy.

  Lost.

  Slowly, Casey’s pain recedes.

  Finally, Red slouches against the side of the counter, releasing her. He pulls the plug in the sink, letting the dark water drain away.

  Blinking back tears, Casey prods her skin, feeling the place where the gash had been, still in shock. Her arm is numb and cold, but otherwise unmarred.

  Red rubs his wet hand over his face before smoothing it through his hair. “What happened back there, anyway?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  “I’m talking about before,” he says pointedly.

  “I was looking for Liddy, okay? I got it wrong. I almost got us caught by the angel of death. My fault, I know.” She climbs to her feet.

  “That’s not what I—”

  “No, that is what you meant. And you’re right. Today’s on me. I’m sorry.” She stalks into the hall, hoping he has the foresight to clean up before her aunt gets home to find out they’ve summoned some angel-of-healing mojo into the sink.

  She stops inside her room to change her clothes. The image of that man, surrounded by those hideous creatures, screaming … it’s seared into her brain. If she hadn’t been chasing Liddy, maybe they never would have found him.

  She bends down to fetch a pair of socks that have rolled under her bed.

  “Casey, this isn’t your fault.”

  The yellow light spilling in from the hallway casts a halo around his head, and she rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me you can read minds now, because that’s really going to suck. For both of us.”

  “No,” Red says. “Of course not. I just know how you think.”

  Casey rolls into a sitting position, pulling on her socks. “That’s worse. Thinking you know how my mind works.”

  “I know you’re blaming yourself right now.” He holds his hand out for her. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “You’re wrong.” She narrows her eyes, really tired of hearing that things are not her fault. Words are not enough to fix how she feels.

  “What was Azrael talking about, anyway?” she asks, shifting the conversation. “She said she made a deal with her. Who was Azrael talking about, Red?”

  He winces, his entire body seeming to curl inward, and Casey wonders if this is the girl he’d mentioned in the church after Malakhi had visited. If she’s the one he supposedly gave it all up for.

  Her heart thunders as the moments pass. For a long while, she thinks he might not say anything, that she’s pushed too far, but then he clears his throat.

  “I loved her,” he says quietly.

  “Loved?” Casey wants to see if his face matches the turmoil in his voice. “Why do you make it sound like such a terrible thing?”

  He laughs, humorless and empty. “It’s frowned upon where I’m from. Not impossible, but it goes against what we stand for.”

  “And they took your wings for that?”

  He shakes his head. “I gave them up for her. You can’t serve the light and be completely devoted to another. It’s a sacrifice, one that grounds you for as long as you love.”

  Casey chews on her lip, processing. It doesn’t sound like she’s the only one blaming herself for things right now.

  Downstairs, the front door opens and Casey’s eyes widen.

  “Casey! Red?” Evan calls. She can hear him padding through the living room.

  “In here,” Casey yells back.

  “Uh … why is there … Is this blood on the floor?” Evan swings into the room, eyes wide. “Are you okay? What the heck happened to the bathroom? You know, Karen’s in the truck and she’s probably going to ask some questions.”

  “It’s nothing,” Casey says. “I had a little accident in Limbo. No big deal. Red fixed me up.”

  “No big deal? Your hallway looks like a scene from a nineties’ horror movie!”

  “It wasn’t nothing,” Red agrees.

  “What happened?” Evan demands. “And don’t say everything is fine. I just had to play twenty questions with myself on the ride over here because your aunt has checked out. It’s like talking to a zombie…” H
e pauses and his eyes land on Red. “You did that thing again. Your weird angel magic.”

  “I veiled her,” Red says. “I didn’t have a choice. We ran into Azrael.”

  “Who the heck is Azrael?”

  “The angel of death,” Casey says.

  “The angel of death!” Evan squeaks.

  Red crosses his arms. “She’s not exactly an angel. Not anymore at least.”

  “You called her the Fallen,” Casey says. “What happened to her?”

  “She was an archangel, gifted with the knowledge to traverse the in-between realms, to search out the lost souls. But it wasn’t enough for her.”

  “What does that mean?” she asks warily.

  “Understand,” Red says, “that this was long before my time. But, as it is told, Azrael raised an army of angels in her pursuit of power.”

  “Of course she did,” Evan mutters.

  “She believed that we should hold dominance over mankind.”

  “Typical,” Evan says.

  “But she and her followers were struck down and cast out. Never to be allowed to regain their heavenly wings.”

  “Harsh.”

  “She was banished to the world below. A world filled with cold fire. For a long time, it was thought that she would never be able to escape. But she did, finding her way back to a place that exists between.”

  “Limbo,” Casey says.

  “Yes. And even now she pursues the mortal plane, one step closer to—”

  “Upstairs,” Evan finishes.

  Red nods. “Angels have dedicated their existence to keep her from escaping.”

  “To keep her from hurting humans?” Casey says.

  “And to keep her from finding her way back to the light. She can never be allowed to reach it again. If she does, it is said that she will spread her wings, and it will plunge all worlds into darkness. For now, she is trapped.”

  “But those shadow creatures … the obsii … they’ve escaped.”

  “Because they’re lesser creatures. Someone of Azrael’s power cannot simply slip through cracks. So that is all she has. A reach through her creatures. Only a divine weapon can break the seal between here and Limbo. Since she can’t wield a divine weapon, she’s stuck.”

  “Well, that’s comforting,” Evan says sarcastically.

  Casey crosses her arms. “It wasn’t like that, Evan.”

  “Right, yeah.” He looks at her pointedly. “You want to go for a walk?”

  Translation: Can we talk about this? Alone?

  “Sure.” The look on his face when she answers is equal parts relief and apprehension. She glances at Red, but he flops down on her bed and closes his eyes. She wonders if healing her arm has exhausted him or if she only imagines the sallow turn of his skin.

  Evan waits by her door, letting her take the lead.

  She does, tiptoeing downstairs, but Karen’s on the couch and she sees them before they can retreat.

  “Hi, honey,” she says.

  “Uh, Evan and I are just going for a walk.”

  “Sure thing. See you later.” Karen reclines against the couch and continues to watch the blank TV screen.

  “That was easy,” Casey mumbles, hurrying down the steps.

  “I told you. Zombie.”

  “I’m sure it’ll wear off soon.” Casey wants to protect Karen, but she doesn’t exactly like seeing her this way.

  They walk down the sidewalk toward downtown. The sun feels good on her skin; the heat of summer is like déjà vu, and she craves giant aviator sunglasses and all-windows-down car rides and Liddy’s favorite vanilla bean ice coffees.

  For a moment it’s like a balm against the weariness she’s felt lately. And then Evan stops and slumps into a chair outside the Bean-Eatery, the sign in the window boasting specialty coffees and an open-mic night every Thursday.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks. She sits across from him in a hard, metal-backed chair, her elbows balanced on the edge of the table between them.

  “Besides the fact that you’re running around with demons? Um, I’m just living life, you know, spending summer hanging around town while my best friend keeps taking off-world journeys that she may or may not come back from.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  His frustration is masked by sarcasm, and it’s hard to get a read on which part is bothering him most. Is it the whole supernatural-turned-real thing? Because Casey’s not exactly having an easy time of it herself. Running around with angels and demons was not on her summer agenda.

  Or is it the distance? The space that’s growing between them in her pursuit of Liddy? She’s felt it, though it’s impossible to stop. She can’t let Liddy linger in that place. She won’t.

  “I know,” he sighs.

  “Then stop making me feel like I’m choosing her over you.”

  “That’s not what I’m trying to do. But—”

  “What can I get’cha?” Casey looks up as the barista pops her bright pink bubble gum near her ear.

  “We’re good,” Evan snaps and the barista wanders away, throwing the door to the café open with an annoyed flourish.

  “Maybe I wanted something,” Casey says.

  “Don’t deflect. You can’t keep doing this. It’s dangerous, Casey.” He drags his chair closer to the table, the legs scraping across the concrete. “That place is dangerous.”

  “I know that. It’s not like I’m the one who has to keep coming and going from Limbo or anything. Thanks for the brief.” She laughs, though there’s nothing funny about it.

  Evan picks at the corner of the table. “Maybe you’re not trying hard enough.”

  “What?” Casey says, dumbfounded.

  “Maybe … you don’t want to let her go.” Evan shrugs. “Maybe you like being able to hear her.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know, if you don’t help her cross over … then she’s never really gone.”

  Casey squeezes the arms of her chair. “You’re being so incredibly ignorant and stupid right now.”

  “Really?” he says drily.

  “I have been trying,” she insists. “None of this is exactly easy!”

  “You say you want to move on. That you want to be able to let her go. Well, then you have to let go, Casey! You have to let her rest.”

  “Don’t tell me about grief, Evan.”

  “Why? Have I not lost enough in my life to earn it?” Something in his gaze softens. “It’s okay that you miss her.”

  Casey shifts to the very back of the chair, putting the most amount of space between them. “I don’t need you to be my therapist.”

  “I’m not trying to be your therapist,” he says, color creeping into his cheeks.

  “Then, what?”

  “Well, for starters, your friend.”

  “I don’t need my friends telling me how to feel.”

  “’Cause you know all about your feelings, right?”

  “Let it go, Evan.”

  “That’s your problem,” he says hotly. “Since Liddy, since all this Limbo stuff started, you haven’t cared about what happens to you. If you get hurt. If you disappear.”

  Casey looks away.

  “Tell me this isn’t all because you feel guilty about what happened with Liddy,” Evan says, reaching across the table for her.

  Casey pulls farther away. “You weren’t there that day, Evan.”

  “And?”

  “You just … You don’t know, okay!”

  “I lost her, too, Casey.”

  “It’s not the same!” Her whole body is shaking, and she presses her hands to her knees to keep them from knocking together.

  “Casey, we’ve been over this. You couldn’t have stopped it even if you wanted to. It was an accident.” He sighs. “You have to try to let it go. You have to let her go.”

  “Don’t you think I want to?” she says, voice quivering. “Don’t you think I’ve had enough of the whispers and the dark images that fill my mind? Because I have. And
I’ve tried letting her go. I’ve been trying for weeks, but I can’t!”

  Casey swallows hard, standing and taking a step away from him. “It’s my fault. It will always be my fault.”

  Evan stands up but doesn’t follow her. “What does that even mean?”

  “I let her go!”

  Evan’s voice falters a bit. “What?”

  “I had her.” She holds up her fist. “In my hand. Beneath the water. And I let go.”

  “Casey—”

  “Stop,” she whispers. “You don’t know because you weren’t there. And I can’t get over it because she died, Evan. In the dark. Alone. All because I told her to go faster. And then I let go, because it hurt too much to hold her against the current.”

  His face is the same chalk gray as the sidewalk. “You never told me that.”

  “I don’t tell you everything.”

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Some things are meant to belong only to me.”

  He swallows hard, running his hands along his pants.

  She can see him working through it, trying to find something to say. It’s the same shame she feels, trying to reason with herself. Trying to place blame on anything other than the moment she let Liddy’s fingers slide through hers.

  “You know,” he whispers, “every time you go there … I go out of my mind knowing there’s nothing I can do to reach you.”

  “You won’t lose me.”

  “But you can’t promise that. And if I do lose you, I’ll be devastated.” She shakes her head and he clenches his fists. “Stop acting like you don’t know. I’ve had a crush on you since the fourth grade, Casey. And if you don’t think you matter that much to me, after all this…” His voice breaks, “I can’t help you.”

  The world shifts around her. Not now!

  Daytime. A row of hedges, roses in bloom, heavy and drooping toward the stone path below. Birds sweep down from the trees, dive-bombing into a golden birdbath, shaking water from their feathers.

  “Evan—”

  Casey!

  “Just wait,” she begs.

  A flash. The sun drops. Smoke curls from a chimney. A door opens, warm light spilling onto the stamped concrete patio.

  Casey presses her hands against her temple as Evan’s voice cuts through the vision.