Grave Intentions

by Sjoberg, Lori

  On his way out, he found pen and paper by the phone in the kitchen. He scribbled a quick note, leaving it on the nightstand beside her bed. Then he was off, slipping out the front door like a thief in the night.

  The sound of the door closing woke Sarah from a deep, restful sleep. She let out a yawn and stretched, her arm instinctively reaching across the bed in search of David.

  He wasn’t there.

  What the hell?

  “David?” she called out, her voice rough from sleep. As she propped herself up on one elbow, her eyes scanned the room. Maybe he got up to get a drink or use the bathroom. “David?”

  No answer. No movement. The apartment was as still as a tomb.

  Groggy and confused, she looked around again and saw a folded piece of paper beside the alarm clock on her nightstand. Even from a distance, she recognized his immaculate penmanship.

  My darling Sarah,

  I apologize for lacking the courage to tell you face to face. Please forgive me.

  Unfortunately, our time together has come to an end. I wish I had a choice in the matter, but my presence is required elsewhere.

  For as long as I exist, I will never forget you, Sarah. You are my heart, my soul, my absolute forever.

  I love you, now and always,

  David

  “Presence required elsewhere?” What on earth does that mean? She combed a hand through her tangled hair as she read the note a second time. And as the words sunk in her pulse quickened, her confusion giving way to anger.

  “Son of a bitch.” She’d just been dumped.

  After everything they’d shared, after everything they’d been through, did he honestly think she’d let him off the hook so easily? Obviously, he had no idea who he was dealing with. No way was she letting him slip out of her life without a fight.

  Or, at the very least, a piece of her mind.

  Temper building, she sprung out of bed and threw on a T-shirt and pajama bottoms. By the time she’d brushed her hair and slipped on a pair of sandals, she’d worked up a major case of lover scorned. She stormed across the living room and yanked open the front door, only to stop short at the sight of a strange man standing in her doorway.

  The guy looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of a magazine: tall and lean, wearing a tailored navy suit and freshly polished shoes. His dark hair was cut short and slicked back, framing a face marked with high cheekbones and a long, straight nose. Judging by the subtle lines around his eyes and mouth, she’d put him somewhere in his late thirties to early forties.

  “Good morning, Ms. Griffith,” the man said with a tip of his head in her direction. His British accent carried an air of refinement and a hint of condescension. “Pardon the intrusion, but I just had to see what the fuss was all about.”

  “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

  “Not yet, but we share a mutual acquaintance.” The angles of his face sharpened when he smiled, giving him a slightly reptilian appearance. “Mind if I come in?”

  He stepped forward, and Sarah took a defensive step back. Something about this guy made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Her gaze darted back toward the couch, and she wondered if she could reach her purse—and the canister of pepper spray tucked in the side pocket—should the occasion arise.

  “Relax, Ms. Griffith, I only wish to speak with you.” He walked into the foyer and closed the door behind him. His eyes moved over her with dispassionate scrutiny, coming to rest on the crumpled note still clutched in her left hand. The harshness in his features softened a fraction. “You do realize, he’s doing it all for you,” he said, a note of sympathy in his voice.

  “Excuse me? Who’s doing what for me?”

  “Your … paramour. Mr. Anderson. You know, the man you were preparing to—how do you Americans put it? Oh yes, tear him a new one.”

  “How did you know that?” As soon as she asked the question, the answer popped into her mind, and she inched a little closer to the pepper spray. “Holy crap, you’re Samuel.”

  Samuel scowled, his brow crinkling with disapproval. “Yes. I see he’s broken that rule, also.” He let out a barely audible huff. “I guess it hardly matters at this point.”

  “Back up. What did you mean, he’s doing it all for me? Doing what?”

  He stared at her as if the answer was obvious. “Surrendering his soul for immediate judgment.”

  Sarah’s jaw dropped open. “What? Why?”

  “Mr. Anderson committed a serious breach of protocol. More specifically, he broke the rules—damn near every one of them—for you.”

  “For me? How?”

  “You’re an intelligent woman, Ms. Griffith, so I’m certain you do not need me to lead you by the hand. Reason it out.” And with that Samuel crossed to the dining room, pulled out a chair, and, after giving it a swipe with his handkerchief, took a seat. He clasped his hands together on his lap and gave her an expectant look.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Sarah said, her patience wearing thin. She wasn’t in the mood to play head games with an omnipotent being, especially when David’s soul hung in the balance.

  She should have known something was wrong with David. He’d been acting weird the last couple days, quiet and reflective one minute, then passionate and intense the next. At the time she’d written off his mood swings as the byproduct of job-related stress, but maybe it was because she’d had that close call at …

  “The lab,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I was supposed to work that day, but David convinced me to call in sick.” The last piece of the puzzle fell into place and she felt a little queasy. “I was fated to die in the explosion, wasn’t I?”

  A ghost of a smile crossed Samuel’s face. “Clever girl.”

  It took her a few moments to sort through the rush of emotions. She couldn’t deny she was happy to be alive, and deeply touched by the lengths David had gone to save her life. But then she considered the consequences of his actions, remembering what David had told her about the fate of reapers sent to judgment prematurely, and her eyes began to water.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Chalk it up to enlightened self-interest. Good help is so hard to find these days.” He met her gaze, and his eyes seemed to bore right through her. “Mr. Anderson is preparing to surrender his soul in exchange for your continued life. As you have a vested interest in the matter, I felt compelled to grant you the opportunity to rectify the situation.”

  “And how exactly am I supposed to do that? I’m just a mere mortal, Mister … what is your last name?”

  “That isn’t important. Samuel will suffice.”

  “Whatever. Just tell me what I have to do to save David’s soul.”

  “The answer is simple. Mr. Anderson changed fate to spare your life. To accomplish that, he altered the fabric of destiny. The damage must be repaired, and only you have the power to make things right.”

  For Pete’s sake, why couldn’t he give her a straight answer? “Suggestions would be helpful,” she said through clenched teeth. “What am I supposed to do, lock myself in the bathroom and slit my wrists?”

  Samuel pursed his lips. “Heavens, no. Why would I ask you to do something so distasteful?” He stared at her for a few seconds, as if weighing his next words. Then he rose from the chair and crossed the room, stopping less than a foot from where she stood. “All you have to do is accept your fate and the timeline can be repaired with minimal complications.”

  “Accept my fate.” The words sounded hollow in her ears. “You mean let myself get killed.”

  “You make it sound so unpleasant.”

  Was this guy for real? “Silly me, but I assumed the whole dying part wouldn’t be a bed of roses. If I accepted my fate, how would I die?”

  Samuel arched a brow, his expression unreadable. “Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to disclose that information. If I told you, it could color the outcome of your decision, and that would compromise the conventions of free will.”<
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  “Aren’t you doing that by speaking to me in the first place?”

  “No, I’m merely offering you the choice Mr. Anderson neglected to give you. As both of you will be affected by the outcome, it seemed prudent to solicit your input.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Sarah cocked a hand on her hip. “And if I choose to live?”

  “In that case, you would not be allowed to make any further impact on humanity.”

  Alive, but inconsequential. It meant she’d never marry, never have children, and never be allowed to make any substantial contributions to society, positive or negative. And while she could probably come to grips with a life of mediocrity, she doubted she could bear the weight of David’s soul.

  Samuel glanced at his pocket watch and frowned. “I apologize, but my time is growing short. You need to reach a decision.”

  Sarah blew out an unsteady breath, suddenly aware that her knees were shaking. She plopped down on the couch, staring straight ahead but seeing nothing, her mind racing so fast it was difficult to focus her thoughts. How could Samuel expect her to make a decision of this magnitude with so little time? Of course she didn’t want David’s soul damned, but she didn’t want to die, either.

  Logic battled emotion, each making a valid case in her mind. She thought of the people who would miss her, of the things she wanted to do and had yet to accomplish. But then she thought of the man in the next apartment, prepared to damn his soul in exchange for her safety. How could she allow him to make that kind of sacrifice? And how could she live with the knowledge?

  She pressed her fingers against the growing ache in her temples. The time for a decision was fast approaching, and she was no closer to one than when she started. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, but instead heard a familiar voice in her head.

  “I see great love and great pain. I can’t tell you any more, ’cause you’d only try to change things. But don’t worry. You’ll make the right choice, and it’ll all work out in the end.”

  At the time, she hadn’t thought much of Pearl’s vision. But now the words coalesced in her mind, sparking thoughts she hadn’t even considered. Her life would come at the cost of David’s soul, and that certainly didn’t fit the parameters of things working out. On the other hand, if she willingly accepted her fate …

  Sarah sharpened her focus, drawing on the knowledge she’d gained from both David and her grandmother to form a cohesive hypothesis. Could it possibly work? She didn’t know for sure, and the only way to test it allowed no margin of error. But for once in her life, she was willing to put her faith in one of Pearl’s visions.

  David flexed his hands as he paced the length of the living room, pausing at the window to peer outside. It was uncharacteristic of Samuel to be late for anything, especially something of this importance. The waiting left David restless and edgy, not wanting the moment to arrive but at the same time impatient to get it over with.

  His thoughts turned to Sarah and his heart clenched. God, how he hated the idea of hurting her, but he didn’t see much in the way of alternatives. Fate demanded a soul and he refused to relinquish hers. Ultimately, it was a hell of his own creation; no sense making her feel guilty about it.

  He heard the sound of a door closing in the hallway outside, followed by footsteps on the stairs. Then his breath caught as he watched Sarah emerge from the building. She wore basic denim jeans and a black polo shirt, her ponytail swinging back and forth as she strode across the parking lot toward her car. Her face held no hint of emotion as she unlocked the door. But then her gaze tracked upward, and a look of surprise crossed her features when she spotted him at the window.

  David smiled, pressing a hand against the glass as he burned the moment into his memory, another small token to take with him to judgment. She smiled in return, but the light didn’t quite reach her eyes. Then she opened her mouth, and David could have sworn he heard her voice in his mind.

  “I love you, David.”

  “I love you, too, Sarah,” he said, knowing she couldn’t hear him but needing to say the words out loud. His soul ached for her touch, for that smile, for the feeling of peace that settled over him every time she was around.

  Sarah’s smile twisted, a sadness filling her eyes as she turned back toward the car. She slid behind the wheel, and when the engine turned over, David sensed the unmistakable spark of mortality.

  “God, no.”

  The Miata began to back out of its spot and the call of death intensified, the buzz in David’s blood growing stronger by the second. Somehow, Sarah had triggered an event that would ultimately lead to her death. How could that be? Was this the reason behind Samuel’s unexpected absence? He didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to hang around long enough to find out.

  David bolted out the door, taking the stairs three steps at a time until he got to the ground level. He reached the parking lot in time to see the little red Mazda brake at the stop sign.

  “Sarah! Wait!”

  Sarah glanced back at him through the rearview mirror, but then her gaze cut forward and the car turned left toward the exit.

  David reached into his pocket, only to remember Adam had taken the car when he left with Buford the night before. “Shit!” Desperate to catch her before she left the apartment complex, he took off on foot, cutting between bushes and buildings, praying the shortcut would give him enough time to beat her to the exit. The pulse of mortality continued to grow stronger, fueling his panic and driving him to run faster than he’d ever run before.

  He rounded the last building and the main entrance came into view. Sarah’s car rolled to a stop, unable to turn until traffic cleared. Too breathless to call out to her, David raced in her direction. Maybe, if traffic delayed her long enough, he could stop her in time.

  His spirits sank when the traffic cleared, and he watched her car turn right onto Goldenrod Road. The Mazda picked up speed, heading south toward University Boulevard. Knowing Sarah, she was probably on her way to work, which meant she’d take a left at the light.

  Sure enough, the turn signal began blinking as Sarah’s car eased into the far left lane. A black SUV pulled up behind her, blocking her car from his line of vision. The light at the intersection was notoriously long, and the line of cars looked even longer. Maybe she’d get stuck for an extra cycle and he’d have enough time to reach her. It was a long shot, but it was the only shot left.

  Arms pumping, he raced toward her, ignoring the fatigue in his muscles and the shortness of breath. He’d breathe later, after the terror bled out of his body and he was no longer operating on pure adrenaline.

  Another hundred yards, and he’d catch her.

  The pulse of death pounded in his blood now, a constant reminder of the high price of failure. If the light stayed red for just another ten or fifteen seconds longer …

  The light turned green and traffic began to move. Sarah’s car drove into the intersection, a few car lengths behind a dark blue minivan. So focused on the Miata, David didn’t notice the pickup truck until it blew through the red light.

  A scream ripped through his throat as the call of death reached its crescendo. He watched, helpless, as the truck broadsided Sarah’s car. The sound of metal crunching against metal rang in his ears as the impact crushed the Mazda. Horns blared and tires screeched as other vehicles swerved to avoid the collision. Then everything grew quiet, leaving only the sound of the truck’s sputtering engine and the stench of asphalt and gasoline.

  David stumbled, dropping to his knees a few yards from the crash. Over the years he’d witnessed countless accidents, but never had one left him so utterly destroyed. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. His chest felt indescribably tight, as if his heart had suddenly stopped beating.

  Perhaps it had.

  He fought the tears but they came anyway. He knew what he had to do next. His first impulse was to fight it, to deny the truth, to get up and run as far as his legs could carry him. But in the end, he had a duty to fulfill.


  He owed her that much.

  Sarah’s soul separated from her body and drifted upward through the wreckage. Lost. Confused. Searching for refuge from the swirling chaos of the unknown.

  “Here, love.”

  David opened himself up, drawing her essence to him with the unspoken promise of resolution. Her soul moved closer, accepting the invitation without hesitation, joining with his body one final time. He felt a rush of warmth, affection, and unconditional love as their souls twined together with heartbreaking familiarity.

  And as he lay on the street sobbing, he could have sworn he heard her speaking to him again, this time murmuring tender words of comfort to ease his pain.

  chapter 22

  Broken. Bitter. Inconsolable with despair.

  He was a dead soul inhabiting a living body; the shell of a man consumed by grief, guilt, and unspeakable rage.

  Three days had passed since Sarah’s death. Seventy-two hours of unrelenting misery, that god-awful moment playing over and over in David’s head like a broken record. In all his years, he’d never experienced such agony. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her, so very close but forever beyond his reach.

  This wasn’t a chance for redemption. This was hell.

  “Hey buddy,” Adam said as he sidled up to the bar. He took the stool beside David, the lines of his face drawn tight with concern. “How’s it going?”

  David darted a look in Adam’s direction. He knew the kid was only trying to help, but at the moment he didn’t feel like playing nice. “How the fuck do you think?” He picked up his drink, draining the glass in one swallow. “What are you doing here? Lose a bet?”

  “Actually, I volunteered.” Adam caught the bartender’s attention long enough to order a Bud Light. “Everybody’s pretty worried about you, big guy. You’ve been holed up in the bottle for three days now.”

  “One,” David corrected, and Adam gave him a look of disbelief. “I switched to water after the first day. Ask him if you don’t believe me.”