Accidentaly Divine

by Dakota Cassidy

  They all looked at each other with knowing glances, and in stoic unison said, “Demon.”

  George blanched, her eyes wide, her hands clammy. “Demon? As in a minion from Hell? Horns, pitchforks, soul-stealing demons?” she squeaked, her heart racing.

  Everything she’d been taught about Heaven and Hell had turned out to have some merit to it—and it freaked her out. How could this be happening? More and more she felt as though she’d stepped into a horror movie and she was the dumb friend who got whacked because she was too stupid to believe there really was a killer.

  “Yep,” Nina said with an all too matter-of fact-tone.

  George’s finger shot back up in the air as a small, probably obvious-to-everyone-else revelation hit her. “Then wait. If guardian angels are running around down here, I guess it makes sense that demons are, too. So just for confirmation purposes…are demons really here,” she looked around, her eyes ready to bulge out of her head, “like, here-here, too?”

  “They are,” Dex said quietly, his face hard as stone, his distaste for the subject of demons clear. “But we have people who take care of them, George. Angels who are, what some might call, the bouncers of the celestial way. We call them cleaners.”

  “Well, guess what, Wings Sr.? You got a rogue demon running the fuck around, trying to steal your girl’s wings. I told you dipshits this was gonna happen. So what now?” Nina asked, her expression smug.

  Marty held up her pink-rhinestone-covered phone. “Already on it. I texted Darnell. He’ll be here with Carl any second now.”

  “Who’s Darnell?” George asked hesitantly, her eyes flitting from face to gorgeous face. “Santa Claus? The Easter Bunny? Tooth Fairy?”

  Honestly, if they said yes, she wouldn’t bat an eye at this point.

  “Our demon,” Nina said on a cackle.

  No sooner had she spoken the words than an enormous man shaped like a teddy bear in high-top sneakers and a NY Giants jacket appeared out of thin air, with what appeared to be a young teen boy who had the strangest green cast to his skin.

  George fought a gasp while everyone else didn’t even blink, as though people appearing from the ether was completely normal. In fact, in their world, this was clearly a normal occurrence.

  “Boss?” the big man said, dropping a kiss on Nina’s lean cheek while enveloping Wanda and Marty in his embrace. “You rang?”

  Marty stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his cheek, patting him affectionately on the back. “We’ve got a problem, big guy.”

  “Demon problems?” he asked, his deep brown eyes twinkling when he caught sight of Dex.

  Dex held his hand out to Darnell and nodded. “It looks like it. Sorry to take you from whatever you guys were doing.”

  Darnell took Dex’s hand and pulled him into a hug with a wide, generous smile. “Aw, man. No worries. Just a little man time with my main dude Carl. I was teachin’ him how to fish. But it’s good. I’m always here for ya.” Then he smiled warmly at Dex. “So how you been, buddy?”

  Dex grinned at the man as if they were old friends. “I’ve had worse days. Though, all things considered, I’m still pretty good.” Then he turned to George. “Darnell, meet George. She was recently turned into an angel by my very clumsy hand.”

  “Well, well,” Darnell said on a grin as he held his hand out to her. “Ain’t you fancy? Can I see your wings and halo?”

  Hold the phone. Since when were demons and angels friends? If she recalled correctly, they were sworn enemies. A glossary to the ecosystem and inner workings of the paranormal might be in order because no one, least of all Dex, seemed upset by the appearance of a demon.

  George didn’t place her hand in Darnell’s, instead she gave him a skeptical look and took a step back closer to Arch, her eyes still on Dex. “Aren’t we technically supposed to be enemies? Why is everyone patting his back and hugging him? I don’t understand.”

  Darnell wasn’t at all fazed by her hesitation. He hiked himself up onto a stool at the island and crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Well, I s’pose, biblically speakin’, we’re s’posed to be enemies. But things ain’t always what they seem, Miss George. I’m not your enemy. No way. I’m your friend. Trust and believe that. I’m here to help. That’s all.”

  “He’s right, George,” Wanda reassured with one of her infamous motherly smiles. “Like most of us, Darnell got a bum rap, though it wasn’t an accidental one. He’s a huge part of OOPS and of our lives, and if anyone knows demons, it’s Darnell—him being the squishiest one of all.” She wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him. “If that was a demon trying to steal your wings, he can find out why. Or at least try and find out who would want them. His finger’s on the pulse of Hell.”

  “So you wanna try again?” he asked with another friendly grin. “I’m Darnell. A nice demon. Pleasure’s all mine.”

  She gave him a hesitant smile. She couldn’t help it, due to the fact that his grin was so infectious. “Georgina Maverick. Kind of an angel. Nice to meet you.”

  “Darnell, my friend. Surely you’re hungry after your camping trip with Sire Carl?” Arch said. “We were just preparing to sup. Come. Sit. It’s your favorite.”

  Darnell put his arm around Arch, dwarfing him with his big body. “Roast pork and that creamy mustard sauce you make so nice?”

  Arch’s eyes twinkled. “That’s the one. And gobs of mashed potatoes with butter and warm cream.”

  Darnell dropped a kiss on top of Arch’s head and rubbed his round belly. “You sho’ know the way to my heart, old pal.”

  Arch laughed, then held out his hand to the boy with the green cast to his skin and duct tape at the crook of his elbow. He pulled him close, giving him a half hug the boy named Carl returned with a thump to Arch’s back.

  “Master Carl, shall we roast some broccoli for you? While I know my favorite demon is aces at building campfires and catching fish, did he make you anything of substance for your meals?”

  Carl, quiet and soft-spoken, said with stilted words, “Burnt…burnt hot…hot dogs. Ick.”

  Arch threw his head back and laughed with a shake of his finger. “Aha! I knew it!”

  “Did not either burn them, boy,” Darnell joked with a light nudge to Carl’s ribs. “I made ’em well done.”

  Carl threw his arms around Darnell’s waist and thumped him on the back. “There, there,” he consoled. “I…love…love you, but not those…hot dogs.”

  Darnell planted a kiss on top of his forehead. “I know ya do, bud. I love you, too. We’ll do this again real soon, yeah? Next time? No hot dogs, bro.”

  Carl laughed and nodded, smiling up at Darnell.

  Arch patted Carl on the shoulder and headed toward the kitchen. “All is well, Master Carl. I’ve been to the farmers’ market and we have plenty of fresh broccoli on hand. I shall make some for you posthaste to make up for the burned weenies.”

  Arch scurried off to do just that and for the first time, Carl finally looked at George with curious eyes, giving her a clear glance at his sweet face.

  He wore a hoodie like Nina’s, only in red with the sleeves rolled up, comfortable-looking jeans, and some Chucks. “What’s…name?” he asked, his words broken and soft as he held out his hand to her.

  “George,” she whispered. “I’m George, Carl.”

  Then she took his hand. His gentle, pale green hand.

  And the world came to a screeching halt.

  For a moment, there was no sound in the kitchen. There was no movement. There was only Carl’s hand in hers, a pinpoint of pure innocence and kindness that curled around her heart, pumping life into it, seconds before chaos erupted in her brain.

  George’s head exploded with sound, with screams so agonizing, she wanted to crawl out of her skin. Piercing, terrified wails she somehow instantly knew were internal and silent to everyone but the person screaming.

  It was as though someone were trapped in their own body with no way out. Without realizing, George found hersel
f clinging to Carl’s hand, her heart thrashing inside her chest, her ear cocked to locate the wails of the cries she heard.

  And then she realized, the screams were…

  The screams were Carl’s.

  She looked into his eyes, so bright and alert, and reached up to cup his cheek and choked out, “Carl…?”

  He instantly looked down at his sneakers, a hot tear slipping from his eye, landing on her hand with a splash before she pulled him to her and held him close.

  She didn’t fully understand what had happened to him, but every fear, all his sadness, every ounce of terror he’d experienced some time in his life landed squarely in her soul, leaving her heart heavy, her body depleted.

  The only thing she did understand was his pain. She knew that pain, that soul-scorching, bone-deep pain.

  “Oh, Carl. I’m so sorry,” George whispered in his ear. “I’m so sorry. So-so sorry.”

  The moment she spoke was the moment Carl leaned against her and sighed, as though someone acknowledging his agony was a relief.

  The room stayed quiet, but George almost didn’t notice. Rather, she was too caught up in letting Carl’s feelings course through her.

  All of them. The good, the bad, the almost too horrible to voice.

  Chapter 7

  “Bud?” Nina asked, placing her hand on Carl’s back and rubbing her palm in circles, her lean face hard with worry. “What’s happening? Tell me, so I can help.”

  But Carl shook his head against George’s shoulder, reaching a hand behind him to grab onto Nina’s. “I’m…s’okay.”

  Nina’s face went soft, an expression George hadn’t expected or witnessed since she’d met the hardened vampire except for when she’d met Gladys.

  She didn’t understand the relationship between them, but his feelings for the vampire ran deep and grateful, but most of all, Carl had a maternal attachment to Nina. George had felt the emotions, experienced them as if they were her own.

  “What’s happening, Wings?” Nina asked with a terse tone, clearly making an attempt to keep her temper in check. “He’s my kid. Tell me what’s going on.”

  She didn’t make any threats, but George sensed her anguish and her ire. “Something bad happened. I think…” She tried to articulate into words the agony she’d felt pulsing through Carl. “Not recently. But maybe a long time ago?”

  Marty, her eyes wet and glistening, looked at Carl in sympathy before smoothing her hand over his shiny hair. “I don’t know what’s happening right now, but Carl, the sweetest boy who ever lived, has a past we don’t know a lot about. He came to us when he was… older. We’ve always known his past was troubled, but he’s never been able to tell us because he’s only in the last couple of years just learning to speak. Am I right, sweet boy?” she asked, pressing her cheek to Carl’s shoulder.

  Dex put his hand on George’s arm and gave it a squeeze, drawing her attention to his face. He smiled at her, warm and understanding. “You felt what he once experienced, I think. It appears that’s the kind of angel you are, George. Empathic.”

  An empath? That meant she would feel everyone else’s feelings, right? She’d read that somewhere, or heard it on a TV show. But what did that mean for her? Would she always feel everyone’s sorrow? Rejection?

  She hadn’t realized what was happening while she was in the height of Carl’s emotional thoughts, but now she was left depleted. Overwhelmed, but also a little exhilarated when Carl thanked her.

  Suddenly, George needed a moment to gather her thoughts. She was raw, as though someone had rubbed sandpaper over her nerve endings. As Carl pulled away and went to Nina’s embrace, George softly excused herself and headed for the front door with Gladys right behind her.

  Outside, she took deep gulps of freezing-cold air, unmindful of the snow falling or the fact that it was plastering her long hair to her head and she didn’t even have a coat. The long stretch of front yard, a blanket of white, was serene out here in the suburbs of Buffalo.

  Quiet with no one for miles around, the peaceful setting soothed her bruised heart. She took deep breaths, inhaling the sharp air into her lungs and letting it go with a whoosh.

  The Christmas lights around the gardens bordering the front of Marty’s beautiful farmhouse twinkled and danced in the dusk, the mechanical reindeer on the massive front lawn dipping their heads toward the ground.

  Standing on the big front porch surrounded by beautiful rocking chairs and a porch swing, Christmas pillows casually thrown on its surface, George absorbed and digested those last moments with Carl as she stroked her faithful companions back.

  “Hey, Wings. You okay?” Nina asked, as she poked her head out the door.

  Her head moved up and down slowly. Was she okay? Of course she was physically okay. Mentally? Mentally, she was a jumble. “I’m fine, Nina. I just…it…whatever happened to Carl, it…well, it caught me off guard.”

  How could she explain to someone what had just happened? God, it felt awful, and she’d only held the fear for a few moments. For Carl, she sensed it had haunted him for a very long time. How did such a sweet kid live with that kind of terror while never able to express the fear he’d felt?

  Nina stepped outside to stand near her, draping a coat around her shoulders and handing her a knit cap she pulled over her damp hair. “Carl’s a zombie,” she said, as George put on the jacket even though she discovered she couldn’t really feel the cold. “We found him in a witch doctor’s fucking house when we were on a case for Marty’s sister-in-law, Mara.”

  A witch doctor and a zombie. She wanted to be surprised, but George guessed this was going to be her norm from here on out. Instead, she listened intently, needing to understand what this all meant.

  Nina drove her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels as the blowing wind deposited flakes of snow in her shiny dark hair and Gladys pressed herself against the vampire’s legs. “He was a shitshow, always screaming and breaking pieces of his limbs off.”

  George held up a hand and swallowed hard. She had a bit of a weak stomach and she didn’t want to yak in front of the vampire for fear she might show that weakness.

  Inhaling, she took a long gulp and asked, “His limbs broke off, you say?”

  “Yeah. That’s why he’s got all that duct tape on his elbow. But that’s not the fucking point. The point is, he was an accident like us. A dumbass spell to try and save him gone really wrong, which left him pretty fucked. He’s never been able to tell us who he was before he was accidentally zombified or what that time was like in his life. We don’t know if he had family, or someone who would miss him. I mean, he was tied up, for fuck’s sake—because he was reckless and a danger to not just everybody else, but to himself.”

  “Tied up?” George whispered in horror. Who would do that to such a sweet boy?

  “But we took his ass out of there as fast we could, and we sorta did a rehab on him. He’s a good fucking kid, George. He’s smart. He’s funny. He’s sweeter than anyone I damn well know, and I want to kill the motherfucker who left him in such fucking shitty shape on the doorstep of a witch doctor.”

  Reaching out, her fingers chilled from the cold, George put a hand on Nina’s arm. “The things I felt weren’t specific to people, Nina. I mean, I didn’t see faces attached to the emotions or anything like that. He’s been trapped inside his body, I take it? Unable to communicate?”

  Nina made a face as she looked out at the long expanse of lawn in front of them. “Yeah. For a long time, he thumped on shit to get our attention and he’d howl. He was always running the fuck off. We could never keep track of him. I was always asking, ‘Where the fuck is Carl?’ But he’s come a long damn way. He can read now. He babysits his little sister Charlie. He’s talking, even though it’s hard for him. He’s gentle as a damn lamb, but mostly, he’s mine. He’s ours. We love him. Fuck all, I hate that he was hurting and couldn’t tell us.”

  “Do you want to know what he was feeling?”

  Nina looked
down at her work boots, her eyes soft, her body language far less tense than what George had experienced so far. “I do,” she whispered in her husky voice.

  Tucking her hands inside the jacket, George’s eyes filled with tears. “He was scared. Really scared, and without the ability to talk, or to tell anyone how he felt, he suffered in ways I don’t know how to put into words. Not physically, but mentally. I think he had a bunch of questions he was unable to ask, but the words were all jumbled up in his head for some reason. I felt the emotions and they were…hard. That’s the best word I have for it. They were just so damn hard.”

  Nina nodded as if she had come to accept this about Carl. “We think it’s because he doesn’t have a fully functioning brain. He’s only half zombie, and we figure the half human side of him is at war with the zombie half.” She shrugged and rocked back on her feet. “I dunno. It’s all just a bunch of sad-ass theories. I was just hoping he’d told you something we couldn’t understand.”

  “But Nina,” George said, gripping the vampire’s arm and squeezing. “He also feels love now. So much love, comfort, and acceptance from all of you, and joy. There’s joy, and most of all, his feelings about you. You’re foremost in his thoughts. He feels like you’re a mother to him.”

  The vampire rolled her tongue along the inside of her cheek and looked away from George’s gaze. “Does he? I’m glad. Really fucking glad.”

  And George was, too. As they stood there, watching the snow fall and the wind blow all the fancy trees Marty’s yard featured, she absorbed, maybe for the first time, what Titus meant about her experience helping other people.

  And she was glad, too.

  The door creaked open, making them both turn around to find Wanda, her beautiful face smiling at them. “Dinner’s on, girls. Get it while it’s hot.”

  “Be right there,” Nina said, clearing her throat.

  Wanda closed the door with a soft hush, leaving them alone again.

  George with her thoughts and Nina with hers.

  “Hey,” the vampire said suddenly. “You okay? Must have been a lot of shit to deal with all at once.”