Hidden Worlds

by Kristie Cook

“I must be more disciplined in the future. There can be no more mistakes,” Reed continues. “I have to find Alfred soon. I’ve let him go, and he could be anywhere by now, but … I don’t think he will stray too far from you. He will be desperate, if what he said is true about not being able to go back to Sheol a failure. He needs your soul now, more than ever.”

  I twist my hands together as I think of him. “Alfred said that he had a legitimate reason for being here. What do you think he meant by that?” I ask him, because I don’t quite understand everything that transpired. My head is beginning to ache, and I want to close my eyes, but I fight the urge.

  Reed covers my hands in reassurance, saying, “He is a Reaper, just like your friends. They usher the soul to Paradise, or if it is damned, then they take it away to the abyss. The angels of death go where they are called. We as Powers don’t pay particular attention to them because, even if they are evil, they are here to do a job that is not disputed.”

  My eyebrows rise, “You’re saying that, if a human is bad, then someone like Freddie will come to get his soul when he dies?” I ask, and Reed nods.

  “You are not safe until we find Alfred and destroy him,” he says darkly.

  In a small, panicky voice, I whisper, “That means Russell isn’t safe either. We have to protect him, Reed. Alfred knows all about Russell. That’s why he used him to get me to go with him to the Seven-Eleven.”

  “And, you were willing to give away your soul in order to protect Russell,” Reed says in a hush tone of pain. “Evie, why? You promised me that you would do everything to survive. I thought I was watching you die.”

  Seeing the raw, aching hurt on Reed’s face, I realize something. “You think I chose Russell over you?” I ask him, seeing how it must look to him, after all the promises I had made.

  “Didn’t you?” he replies with a quiet kind of bitterness that runs deep.

  I shake my head. “No. Never. I will never want anything as much as I want you. I will never love anything as much as I love you,” I say passionately.

  “Then, why did you do it?” he asks in bewilderment.

  “Because I had to, and I hoped that one day you would forgive me for it,” I whisper, and I begin to cry again because I know that I’ve hurt him badly.

  “Then … you are still mine?” he asks me searchingly.

  “That is never in dispute. I will always be yours,” I wipe at the tears on my face. “I’m so sorry,” I cry harder.

  “Shhh … my brave girl … my love. You have to rest now, or you will make yourself sicker,” Reed whispers comfortingly. He pulls me closer, drying my tears with the corner of my sheet.

  “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make you so happy that you’ll have to forgive me eventually,” I whisper hoarsely, trying to ease the ache in my chest.

  “You don’t need to be forgiven for anything … and I am happy. You are alive, and you love me.”

  “Reed,” I say.

  “Evie,” he says back, the way I used to do to him when we argued, before I knew he was an angel. He smiles at me.

  My eyes droop, and I know that I am falling asleep. “Don’t leave. You look very tired. You need to rest. Sleep here with me, okay?”

  “Sleep, love,” Reed says, and because I can’t fight it anymore, I obey.

  ***

  “Why didn’t anybody tell me I missed finals? I’m going to lose my scholarship!” I say, panicking and attempting to get out of bed. I feel a restraining hand on my shoulder, holding me down. Reed, sitting next to me, is apparently ready for me to freak out over the news that I’ve been in bed for, not days, but weeks. I have missed my finals and we are well into the winter break, fast approaching Christmas.

  From the armchair next to my bed, Buns says, “Sweetie, we took care of it for you. I wrote a letter to the administration stating that you’d been very sick. When you’re better, they’ll let you take your exams.”

  Brownie, standing by the window, chimes in, “I’ll help you study for your art history exam, since I’ve met several of the artists you’re studying.” My eyes must be really wide because she laughs at my expression.

  “And I will help you with your History of Western Civilization exam,” Zephyr says firmly.

  Buns gives him a skeptical smile. “Do you really think that’s a good idea, Zee?” Buns asks.

  “Of course.” Zephyr says, frowning. “Why would I be a bad choice to help her?”

  “Sweetie, you have a slightly different perspective on history than the humans do,” Buns tries to say gently. I see she is trying very hard not to smirk so Zephyr will not be offended.

  Zephyr growls from the corner of the room, before he crosses his arms over his chest and leans up against the wall, looking sullen. “I will be correct with my facts. It’s not my fault if the humans get it wrong in their history recordings. I should know because I was there.”

  I sigh tiredly, rubbing my forehead. “Ugh, there is so much to do. I don’t even know where my books are,” I say unhappily. “I have to do well or I’ll lose my scholarship.”

  “Sweetie, you have an angel’s brain. This won’t be that hard,” Buns remarks. “But even if you didn’t do well, you wouldn’t lose your scholarship. Reed is the benefactor of your scholarship fund, and I doubt he’d let them take it from you.”

  Dropping my hand from my forehead, my eyebrows rise. “What?” I ask her, and then glare at Reed accusingly. “You mean you could’ve yanked my scholarship at any time and sent me packing?” I ask him incredulously.

  “Yes. But that would have been rude,” he smiles at me sweetly.

  “How close did you come to doing it?” I ask, not fooled for a minute.

  “I filled out the paperwork, but then I talked to you at registration, and I couldn’t go through with it,” he replies, grasping my hand and kissing the back of it.

  Abruptly, several thoughts occur to me. “Oh my gosh, Uncle Jim! What in the world am I going to tell him? Has he called? Does he know that I was sick? What happened to the people at the Seven-Eleven? Are the police involved? Where’s Russell? Did he miss finals, too? You didn’t let him go home, did you? He can’t go home, Freddie … Alfred is still out there! I have to get dressed. I have to call my uncle!” I say in rapid succession as questions whirl around in my brain.

  “Brownie and I took care of the souls; they’re safe now. You don’t have to worry about them, sweetie,” Buns says simply, watching me close. I don’t know how I know that something is really wrong, but I do.

  “You’re not telling me something,” I say, beginning to feel paranoid as I look at their faces, which are suddenly turning grave. “Where’s Russell?” I ask them.

  “He’s downstairs in the library, I think, sweetie,” Buns says in a gentle tone. “We wanted to talk to you first, before you talk to Russell.”

  A disquieting chill trickles over my skin, raising goose bumps on my arms. Slipping to the edge of the bed, I put my feet on the floor. I feel so weak, I think. I no longer have an IV. Reed had persuaded a cardiac specialist and several members of his staff to come and take care of me when I was first injured. Then he erased every memory of them ever being here from their minds. They are gone now because I am getting better.

  Glancing at Buns again, her expression has changed from forced cheerfulness to an ancient, stoic mien. With graceful simplicity, she begins, “Your Uncle Jim, his soul, I am told, is the purest, most gentle and kind that the Reaper who had the honor of transitioning him had ever beheld …”

  My heart contorts and my throat constricts tight, “No. Don’t tell me, Buns. I don’t want to know. Please don’t tell me,” I whisper, standing up and trying to take a step toward the bathroom door. I have to get away from them. I can’t hear whatever they are all here to tell me.

  A gentle breeze touches my legs, and then Reed lifts me in his arms. “Evie, you have to forgive me. I was so focused on you—on keeping you alive, that nothing else seemed important.”

  Tears blind me.
“Don’t tell me, Reed,” I say in a tight voice, putting my finger to his mouth to hush him.

  “Evie,” Buns says with a note of guilt, “we thought that Alfred would run and hide from us in the deepest hole he could find. We didn’t suspect—we went there, to your uncle’s house, but it was too late. Alfred must’ve gone straight there, so we probably couldn’t have stopped him, even if we knew …” Buns trails off.

  “No, Buns!” I scream at her angrily, wiggling and fighting for Reed to put me down. He does, but only because he probably thinks I would hurt myself, not because it has any effect on him whatsoever.

  Limping to the bathroom, I close the door. Looking around for somewhere to hide, I choose the shower, shuffling feebly across the floor to it. I turn it on, stepping in with Reed’s white, button-down shirt still on me. I let the water wash away the tears that I feel will never end. I lean up against the wall of the shower, but I can’t hold myself up anymore, so I slide down the wall to the floor. My poor Uncle Jim, what did he do to you? My mind cries in anguish so overwhelming and intense, it makes the pain I had endured to this point seem like nothing.

  Alfred had promised to bring me so much pain that I would beg him to take my soul. He is delivering on that promise. I would’ve given my soul to save Uncle Jim, but he hadn’t given me the option.

  The door of the shower opens. Reed turns off the water before picking me up off the wet floor. He cradles me in his arms. “He’s dead?” I ask in an anguished whisper, but I already know the answer.

  “Yes.” Reed answers, not giving me any details. Walking to the vanity, he sits me down on the counter. He wraps a thick, warm robe around me.

  “Funeral?” I ask in a hush tone, because this had happened almost three weeks ago. I sag against Reed limply.

  “There was one. The Reapers made the arrangements. You were too sick to go. It wouldn’t have been a good idea for you to be there anyway because of Alfred. We can go there, to the cemetery, when it’s safe,” he says quietly, smoothing my wet hair away from my face.

  “Did the police investigate?” I ask him numbly. It is strange how my brain still works, even when I feel dead inside. Reed finishes tying the belt on the robe before lifting me off the counter. He carries me back into the bedroom to my bed. Everyone had gone back downstairs, so we are alone.

  “Yes. They came here to speak to you, but they believe that you had been in a car accident. Zee and I destroyed your car. I will buy you another one. We needed to make it look like that is how you got hurt,” he says. “The police, investigating your uncle’s murder, believe that he was probably killed by one of the angry spouses that your uncle investigated.”

  “Why do they think that?” I ask him quietly.

  Reed’s brows draw together in concern as he reluctantly says, “They think that because of the violence employed in the crime.”

  “How did he die?” I ask as I hold my breath, waiting for Reed’s response.

  Reed doesn’t say anything at first, until I turn and look at his eyes. “Badly,” Reed replies, not saying any more. I nod my head, acknowledging what he is telling me. He is saying that I don’t want to know, and I believe him. He nudges me to lie in the bed, covering me with the blankets.

  “I should’ve given him what he wanted. I shouldn’t have resisted … why did I resist?” I whisper wretchedly.

  “No, Evie, don’t say that. I will take care of it. Alfred doesn’t understand what pain is … not yet, but he will, I promise you,” Reed says. “I will define the word ‘suffering’ for him.”

  Reed’s words are meant to comfort me, but avenging my uncle hardly matters to me at this moment. Uncle Jim is dead and nothing will change that fact, not even Alfred’s pain. I close my eyes. I want nothing more than to go to sleep and never wake up. Tears run down my cheeks again, but I am too tired to wipe them away.

  ***

  I awake to find someone holding my hand, and I look over to see Russell staring at me sadly from a chair he had pulled up to my bed. “Hey, there ya are, Red,” he says with a softening of his eyes as he bends over my hand, placing a kiss upon it.

  “Russell, are you … okay?” I ask him groggily, trying to sit up in bed. I still feel weak, but I don’t want him to see that. He notices anyway, and he gently helps me to sit up. Looking him over to see if he has any outward injuries, he looks to be in perfect health.

  “I’m sorry, Red,” Russell says bluntly, peering down at my small hand in his enormous one. “I tried to make ya go away. I’d been havin’ these nightmares for days, ‘bout the Seven-Eleven. I knew somethin’ bad was gonna happen, and I didn’t want ya involved, so I tried to make ya go away. But yer stubborn, and I should’ve known you would never give up on me,” he says, looking up at my eyes again and grimacing. “I didn’t understand what was happenin’.”

  “You were having dreams, just like I was?” I ask him, stunned.

  “I wouldn’t say just like ya ‘cuz I was never hit by a light, or given a necklace in my nightmares,” he states emphatically, and I realize that Reed, or someone, had filled Russell in on some of the details that he was kept in the dark about before now. “Ya should never have gone with Freddie. Ya should’ve gone for help … found Zephyr,” he says, scolding me while he shakes his head.

  “Russell, I had to go, you’re my soul mate,” I say plainly, and I know that he understands what I am saying because I’m his soul mate, too.

  “Yeah, I am, so ya know how I feel ‘bout ya tryin’ to give up yer soul for me. Don’t ya ever do anythin’ like that again, do ya understand?” he says with heat in his tone.

  I can feel my face paling. “Russell, Alfred is still out there. He still wants my soul, so you aren’t safe until we get him,” I say with urgency.

  Russell’s shoulders hunch a little as his eyebrows draw together. “Yeah, I know, Red. My family isn’t safe while he’s out there either. Reed is takin’ precautions to have my family protected.” Russell replies. “Buns and Brownie are gonna go with me to my house for Christmas. I can’t go home alone. I need them to be my bodyguards,” Russell says. There is something different about him and I am trying really hard to figure out what it is. His frown lifts a little. “I can’t wait to see my family. I miss them so much,” he says, and then he looks at me quickly as if he had said something totally inappropriate. I know that he is thinking about my uncle, and I try really hard not to let any tears form in my eyes.

  “I’ll bet they miss you, too,” I murmur, proud of myself for not choking on the words.

  Russell, trying hard to be cheerful, says, “I don’t know how I’m gonna explain to my family ‘bout my nose,” Russell says, smiling at me. He turns his head slightly to the side, so that I can see his straight nose more clearly from another angle. It looks perfect; in fact, Russell looks more handsome than even a straight nose can account for. There are other, subtler changes in him that I am beginning to distinguish, too.

  “Ya know, I never did figure it out what ya are, until I saw that angel with the white wings in the Seven-Eleven. I didn’t know that there are bad angels. Bad angels … isn’t that what they call an oxymoron?” he asks me sadly, and I nod at him, understanding fully what he is saying. “What they did in there, to those people …” Seeing him shudder, I squeeze his hand tight because I can’t speak. “Well, I’m relieved to know that not all of ‘em are like that … just the fallen ones.”

  He knows, I think. They must’ve told him everything. I am surprised they told him because of the rules. “I’m sorry, Russell. Alfred only had to observe us together to know that you are my soul mate, and he hurt you because of it. I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t stop him. I’m so sorry …” I say, putting my forehead on top of our clasped hands as they rest on the bed next to me.

  “Red, didn’t ya hear anything I’ve been sayin’? I’m sorry, ‘cuz maybe if I had figured all this out sooner, then that devil wouldn’t have gotten ya and nearly killed ya,” he replies, sounding sick with remorse and grief. “
I’m gonna take care of it, though. I’m gonna find that little evil insect, and I’m gonna exterminate him.”

  Looking up at him, I am surprised by how adamant he sounds. “Russell, what are you talking about? He’s an angel, and you are human. You’re no match for him,” I say as a warning.

  “Zee said he’ll train me when I’m ready, and then we’ll hunt the little maggot down and send him into the dark like he’d have sent ya,” Russell says, gritting his teeth in anticipation of that day.

  Confusion wrinkles my brow. “What?” I ask him as fear courses through me. “Zee can’t train you. He has to be really careful not to hurt you because he could crush a human like a stick of butter,” I explain, trying to reason with him.

  “He can’t train me, yet. Yer right, I’m too soft right now, but that won’t always be the case. Ya see, Evie, ya changed me when ya healed me,” Russell says in a quiet voice. He is trying to be gentle in his explanation. “Buns thinks that when ya took my wounds from me, ya gave me back pieces of yer own self to, sort of, fill in the blanks. It did somethin’ to me. I’m evolvin’ now, just like you are,” he says sadly as he watches my face for my reaction to what he just said.

  “What did you say?” I ask. I still as I stare at him, waiting for him to answer me.

  “I’m tellin’ ya that I’m no longer just human,” he says plainly.

  “Are you telling me that you’re turning into an angel?” I ask him in alarm.

  “It looks as if ya aren’t the only angel with a soul ‘round here anymore,” he says stoically. “I’m a freak, too,” he jokes, trying to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes because it is purely done for my benefit.

  “How do you know?” I ask him in desperation, trying to deny what he is saying. I need to find the loophole that will let him out of this down side of my ability. I need to find a way for Russell to be a normal person, so that he can have a normal life. Looking at me for a moment, he pulls a pocketknife from his jeans. He releases the blade, and then makes a small cut in his thumb. I watch as his blood wells up and drips from his hand. In minutes it has stopped bleeding, and in ten minutes it is almost as if it had never existed.