A Hollow Cry (After Life Book 1)

by Bee Douglas

  Kane throws the remaining butt of his cigarette on the ground. “Neither do I.”

  I follow closely as he heads toward the building. The rusty hinges of the door require a hard tug before budging. Kane holds it open as I walk through. There’s nothing left of this place. It’s a barren skeleton of an assembly room that now acts as a wind tunnel. Goosebumps run up and down the length of my arms. The door slams shut loudly behind Kane, making me jump.

  An echoing groan bounces through the dark abyss. The sound of feet shuffling around follows. A moment later, light dances through the room. I’m not able to make out a body, but I can see candles being lit one by one. Kane adds a bit more pressure in his touch. Placing one foot in front of another, I move closer.

  We find Yvette darting around. In the center of the ring of candles sits a woman. Her body is slumped in the chair, a clothes draped over her head.

  “What is this?” My voice is barely audible.

  Yvette doesn’t look at us. She keeps placing down different gemstones and herbs. “A necessity.”

  A look up at Kane. His face is pulled taunt. I’ve come to realize that any situation that he doesn’t have full control over, he comes very tense and self-aware. I want to reach out and smooth the line his lips forms into.

  “Who is this?” I ask, pointing to the girl in the chair. The sound of muffled words comes from under the hood. Her body trashes around, pulling at the restraints around her ankles and wrists.

  Yvette looks at me with pensive eyes. “It doesn’t matter who she is.” Her harsh tone takes me aback. She lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes as she stands with a singed bundle of herbs in her hand. She reaches into a pocket of the shawl she wears and hands me a black envelope.

  Penelope Joan Grander

  Born on January 27, 1982 at 12:44 pm

  To die on October 14, 2018 at 6:39 pm

  Location of death: Cornersburg Mcdonald’s parking lot

  Convictions: theft, drug addiction, prostitution

  I hand Kane the envelope after reading the scrawled writing. The blood slowly drains away from my body. My fingers acquire a tremble. This is not what I was expecting to walk into today. With how pleased Yvette was about me seeing souls, I thought we were making progress. This is a large steps from the haziness of souls. “I don’t understand.”

  “That girl,” the witch says, pulling a water bottle out of the bag. Liquid as green as seagrass sloshes around inside, “she’s one of the Accursed, isn’t she?”

  “Willow?” I ask. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

  “Everything.”

  Kane steps closer, throwing the envelope on the concrete. “She’s a friend. I trust her. If you’re about to try what I think you are, Nora isn’t ready.”

  Nora isn’t ready. Kane’s protective demeanor is ever present. Even though it feels overbearing at times, the moments I need it, he’s always there. But actually hearing him say that he doesn’t think I’m ready stings in a way that I’ve never felt before.

  Yvette spits at Kane’s shoes and mutters something in French. “Let her slip one time and all of Heaven will be raining down on us. There isn’t going to be much more time till the Changelings start snooping. They might even be doing so as we speak.”

  “But it doesn’t have to be today.”

  “Kane,” I whisper, running my fingers along his arm. Even though the sweater I can feel the lean muscles, “it’s fine.” He glares in my direction. Hell is blazing in his eyes. But before he can say anything else, I give his arm a squeeze. “I can do this. Yvette’s right. It’s only going to be a matter of time until more people get suspicious.”

  His eyes seem to soften as he looks at me. Being this close to Kane always makes it harder for me to breathe. His body overpowering my own is a rush. My heart beats faster until my blood is buzzing, my skin begging to be touched.

  But it’s because of fleeting moments like this that I have to constantly remind myself that there’s not any underlying connection. I’m his ward - a job. And no matter how much I want to reach in and pull the gentle man out from his stone cold façade. I will never have that power over him. There’s never going to be more between us. No. There’s no comparison between me and the vixen that hangs on his arm at the Devil’s Playground. She’s perfect. The way sex oozes out of her pores never leaves me questioning that she’s what he wants - what he needs. She is. She probably knows tricks in bed that I would never dream of trying.

  Taking a step out of his reach, I swallow hard. “I’ll be fine.”

  Clearing her throat, Yvette stands with her hands on her hips. “Kane, you need to leave.” His knuckles pop as he snaps his hands into fists. “You can wait right outside, but the Banshee needs to focus on this one task. She cannot hesitate. The way her energy twists when you’re around is the last thing she needs.”

  My cheeks burn. There’s no denying the pull I feel toward him. If anyone’s able to sense my treacherous emotions, it’d be the witch. Kane catches my gaze, his brow creasing. A spark of confusion shines through his eyes. It’s hard to look away. He doesn't argue with her though. He gives us both a simple nod and retreats back through the warehouse. The sound of the door shutting reverberates through the darkness and I let out the breath that balled itself in my lungs.

  “How did you know?”

  Yvette shrugs her shoulders. “It’s not that hard to tell. The two of you have a lot of built up sexual tension that I’m surprised you haven’t ripped each other’s clothes off by now.”

  “Let’s just get this over with,” I snap.

  Yvette’s smug smirk fades quickly as she hands it over. Snatching the bottle out of her hand, I twist the cap open and down it. I’ve learned that smelling and sipping at any drink a witch gives you is a terrible mistake. A bout of coughs follow as the dry liquid slides down my throat.

  Stepping out of the circle of candles, Yvette tells me to do two things: sing and focus. Stage fright’s a monster I’ve conquered a while ago. But under these circumstances, shy jitters creep through my stomach. I shut my eyes to block out the tied up woman sitting in front of me. Then, taking a deep breath, I begin to sing. I choose the song I first sang at the Playground - one that’s become very personal to me through all this. And why shouldn’t it? My world is now consumed by all types of demons and devils.

  The further into the song I reach, the warning signs of a headache tickle the base of my neck. It flourishes through my skull, leaving mind numbing pain as it twists on. My knees shake. The searing pain makes it impossible to keep a steady voice.

  “Keep going.” Yvette’s urge breaks through like a small hiccup in the static raging on in my head.

  I dig my nails into my palms, using the feeling of them cutting through flesh as a distraction. I can’t hear my own voice. My mouth moving is the only sign that I haven’t stopped singing. The pressure of a hand gripping my arm makes my eyes snap open. Yvette also holds the cloaked woman’s hand, forcing the connection.

  Images. So many images rush through my mind.

  A young girl in threadbare clothes and heavy makeup strolling down a store aisle, slipping small boxes and bags of food into her purse.

  The shadow of a hand reaching into a wallet, pulling out a few crumpled bills.

  Greasy brown hair wrapping around a fist as a man thrusts inside her. The constant motion rocking the table she’s bent over.

  Tears running down a woman’s cheeks, leaving trails of makeup as she wraps a thin strip of rubber around her arm.

  Her pain mimics my own.

  A scream rips through my throat. The ground begins to quake under my feet. And yet, in a second’s time, all the candles extinguish as the scream dies out. My chest moves heavily in time with my breaths. My eyes are wide open, but I am blinded by the black abyss of the building. The sound of a satisfied laugh echoes around me as Yvette lights the candles again. The room is illuminated by dancing flames once more.

  The woman, who had been fighting aga
inst her restraints just minutes before, sits with her head leaning forward. Reaching out, I grab the black cloth covering her face. I see her matted brown hair first. Crouching down, wide green eyes coated in messy black makeup stare back at me as I reach her level. They aren’t staring though. Her body doesn't move. Her mouth hangs open. This woman, the same woman that I had pictured in different moments of her life, sits dead in a chair. The restraints are the only things keeping her from collapsing to the ground. A petrified screech pushes past my lips. Losing my balance, I fall backwards. I scramble as fast as my legs and arms will allow.

  “Oh, stop,” Yvette says, casting an annoyed look in my direction. She walks around, collecting all the bits and pieces she laid out before. “I know damn well you’ve seen a dead body before.”

  My lips gape apart, the words I want to say fight to come out, but they don’t.

  The door slamming again startles me. Kane appears once more, kneeling down beside me. “What the fuck did you do to her?” he spits. His copper eyes roam all around, checking for any sign of injury.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Yvette says, “but I can’t say the same about our Banshee.”

  Kane mutters something under his breath. I can barely make out the comments they throw at one another. I don’t hear it. I’ve lost all sense of feeling in my body. My eyes stay trained on the old pair of sneakers on other woman’s feet. Numb takes over. Even when Kane slips his arms around me, picking me off the ground, I have no strength to fight him. It’s not until he places me into the backseat of the car that any feeling comes back.

  “I killed someone,” I croak. Tears stream down my face. A sob escapes as I bury my face into Kane’s chest as he pulls me into his lap. He doesn’t say anything. He grips me tightly and lets me cry. And I do. A desolate, hollow sound rips through me as I grip his shirt in my hands.

  And I continue to cry. Even as the car begins moving, I cry. I cry until I can’t anymore and I slip into darkness.

  22

  Kane

  The ash of the cigarette dangling from my hand keeps rising and rising. One of the only things that can calm me doesn’t work. All I keep thinking about is Nora.

  I heard two screams from inside that abandoned warehouse. The first, similar to the one unleashed at Royce’s apartment, was eerie. The other one was the sound of pure terror. Her body sat collapsed on the ground, her haunting stare focused on the shoes of the body strapped to the chair. The soul had already been pulled away, joining the other countless lost ones. In that moment, I wanted to reach over and find out if witches have souls, and if so, watch as this one lost hers. But I couldn’t. My first instinct was to get Nora out of there.

  She felt light in my arms. Sobs were wracking through her body. Singh locked eyes with me in the rearview mirror. For the first time, I could see the blatant hesitation in his eyes. Once she finally exhausted herself to sleep, I said to him, “She’ll be okay.” Part of me was reassuring him of Nora’s safety. The other half of me needed those words to reaffirm the fact that she’s in fact safe.

  I take a long pull of my cigarette. I flick the ashes down to the city below, blowing the smoke out around me.

  I hate that her safety and sanity had been jeopardized while in my care. Her making it out of this alive is my only goal. Fuck it if it means I’ll be spending the next hundred years snatching soul after soul. If Nora gets hurt, I will probably go mad with guilt. She needs to live. She needs to thrive and get everything she deserves out of this forsaken world. That’s all that matters to me now. Not me. Not Royce. Not the millions of souls waiting to be reaped. Nora and Nora alone.

  The sound of her hollering my name instantly pulls me out of my thoughts. I toss the remainder of the cigarette over the edge and run inside.

  Nora is sitting up straight in bed. Tears stream down her face, making it puffier and blotched. I go over and sit on the bed. Holding out my arms, Nora crawls into my lap and wraps herself around me. More sobs cause her tiny frame to shudder.

  “Shh,” I whisper, running my fingers through her hair. After a few moments, her body stills. Those gorgeous eyes are filled with sadness and despair as she looks up at me.

  “Please don’t leave me alone,” she begs as a few more tears slide down her cheeks. My heart aches for how lost this woman looks. For someone as brave as she is, it’s a damn shame for how frail she appears.

  I use my thumbs to wipe away the wetness, pulling her closer. “I won’t.”

  “I killed someone.” Her body shakes.

  “Nora,” I say quietly as I wipe away more tears, “you don’t have to talk about it.”

  She sucks in her bottom lip. “I need to. I keep seeing it over and over in my head. I need it to go away.”

  “Okay. Take your time.”

  She lets out a shaky breath, calming her nerves. “I saw her. I felt her. All of those images ran through my head.” She gives her head a gentle nod. “Everything that had damned her soul... I felt it all.”

  “Like a dream?” I ask. Nora has been seeing the overlay of souls, but not once has she mentioned taking in another human’s feelings.

  Her eyes squeeze tight, fighting whatever runs through her mind. “It was like I was in her body - seeing what she saw, feeling what she felt. And then, it all just stopped.”

  I pull her closer to me. I want to reach in and pull all of this out of her. I want to make her forget it all. But I can’t. That’s impossible. My hand combs through her hair; strands of red slip through my fingers with each pass.

  “I knew the moment she died,” she admits. Her voice is heavy with emotion. “It was like a rush of ice cold water being dumped on my body, but from the inside out. I never felt anything like that. It burned. Then... nothing.”

  “It’s over now,” I reassure her. “Why don’t you try lying down again?”

  Her head shakes back and forth violently. “I-I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Alright.” Slipping my one arm under her legs, just as I had hours before, I stand up and carry her out of the room.

  My bedroom isn’t something I share with others. It’s my space, completely untouched by anyone else. No one has stepped foot in it before. At least, not until now. I sit Nora down on the bed, her ruby red hair and ivory skin standing out against the white blanket and sheets.

  “I’m going to change.” She nods, pulling her knees up close to her chest.

  Grabbing sweats, I step in the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I grip the edge of the sink as hot water pours from the spicket, locking eyes with my reflection. What am I doing? The epitome of innocence is mere feet away. I’m the exact opposite of her in every sense. She’s light and I’m dark. She’s selfless and I only think of myself. She’s terrified of what she is and I revel in the fact I am feared. As much as I want to protect her and shy her away from all of this, I honestly have no idea how. I am the last person she should be turning to for comfort. Nevertheless, here we are.

  A quiet knock comes from the door. “Kane, is everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” I holler out. I change and turn the water off, wiping of the condensation that’s clouded the mirror.

  Nora stands in front of the wall of windows. The view from my bedroom overlooks the city. All the lights shine brightly in the darkening sky. Her arms are wrapped around herself as she stares off into the distance. She must have done some snooping, because she’s changed into one of my shirts.

  “What do you think you did in your past life?” Nora asks, keeping her gaze on the city.

  “I told you, I don’t remember anything.”

  “I know,” she says quietly, “but don’t you ever wonder about it? What you did for a living? Did you have a family?”

  “I used to.” My first instinct is to shut down. I never go into any detail about my feelings. “Then I realized there’s no point. I’m never going back.”

  Nora whips around. Pink spreads across her cheeks as she takes me in. She has been in several different clothes, but n
ever in the bare minimum like I am now. Apparently I’m giving up a lot of firsts tonight. Her eyes rake up my bare chest, as if putting every dip and scar to memory. Nora takes the few steps that separate us. The soft pads of her fingers trace my arms, crossing over my collar bone. Her touch ignites my blood, forcing a stifled groan from deep in my throat. Her perusal is torture. I ball my fists in order to keep from grabbing hold of her and reenacting every sinful thought I’ve ever had about her.

  “You shouldn’t want me, Nora,” I mutter, thinking back to what that damn witch.

  “I know.”

  “Then why do you?”

  She looks up at me. Her eyes are the lightest that I’ve seen them all day. “Why are you so insistent to protect me?”

  I reach out, cupping her cheek and resting my forehead against hers. Being this close, I’m able to feel the way her breath catches in her throat.

  “You’re this shade of light - of goodness – that’s become a constant in my life,” I tell her. The words soft, yet gravely. “I’ll be damned if I let that shine get put out.”

  Nora turns her cheek, nesting against my palm. “What about the other girl?” I pull away to look her in the eyes. Confusion knits my brow together. “I know you stayed the night with the girl from the Playground.”

  “Vivian?”

  She nods her head. “You aren’t exactly subtle.” Taking a step back, bitterness cakes her voice. “I’ve seen you kissing her in a crowded room. She’s all over you. I’m not going to lie, it bothers me. It shouldn’t though. You aren’t mine. I have no claim to you.”

  I close the space she’s created. “Nora, you have such a hold on me that it scares me.” She looks up. Those green eyes stare at me as if I just offered her all the secrets of the world. “Nothing happened between Vivian and me. At least, not last night. And anything that has happened, it’s nothing for you to worry about. She’s a means to an end - a way to keep tabs on others.”