by Bee Douglas
My pace slows as I try and keep hold of my vision. Everything blurs as more and more images bombard into my mind.
A man cracking a beer bottle over a pool table and jamming it into the side of a biker.
The face of a young girl being shoved into a mattress as an older man forces himself into her from behind. Tears soaking the sheets as he holds her head down.
How many blocks have I stumbled down?
A child peering through the crack of a bedroom door. A man beats his wife as she falls to the ground.
The aged hands of a woman as she places a pillow over her husband’s face. His last breaths smothered in the cotton fabric.
I step into a small alley, needing a moment. My legs shake and my head’s pounding. Stars blur my vision. My chest moves at such a rapid pace that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to catch my breath. But I ground myself.
The rain hits my skin.
People splash in puddles as they walk.
The low hum of vehicles as they pass by.
When I open my eyes, it takes a moment for my eyes to sharpen - stars pop from how tightly I had them squeezed shut. I’m alone in the foothold of the alley. But then again, I thought I had been alone when I left the apartment too. I peek around the corner, taking notice of the surrounding buildings and signs. I’ve only been to this part of town once before. It was a time that seems so long ago now. If I travel two more blocks, I’ll be standing at Royce’s door. If I can make it there, and if he hasn’t already left for the Playground, I’ll be okay. I’ll be safe.
The first step is the hardest. I stay as close to the buildings as possible. Avoiding people is my main goal. It’s very unlikely that I’ll make it to Royce’s brownstone if I have to endure another steady stream of those flashing images.
A group of drunken kids driving around in an old school convertible. Their mob of black leather jackets jumping out at a boy walking alone. Punches thrown. Kicks sent into his ribs. He is left lying in the street.
I grit my teeth, grabbing hold to the building. I use it for support as I keep walking. By the time I make it to the steps outside of his apartment, I feel like years have passed. I’m worn and weary. I practically crawl up the steps. Mustering up whatever energy I have left in me, I raise my fist and knock. As the door opens, everything begins to spin. I can’t see who answers or hear what they say. My body collapses before my mind does, shrouding me in darkness.
27
Kane
Nora’s chest moves up and down gently. I’ve lost track of how many days have passed. Two? Four? It all feels like forever.
I had no clue she was in danger. Hearing the way she cried out felt as if I was eavesdropping on my own death. The way the building shook was my last concern. Getting to her was my only focus. The moment Singh’s voicemail came through the phone, I immediately hung up. I redialed over and over again until he finally answered. He was frantic. By the time I gimped downstairs, Nora was gone. The Changelings and Willow had disappeared too.
I wanted to ring Singh’s neck for not trying to help her. I wanted to personally cause his soul to leave his body, only to have it revived moments later. An endless cycle until he was begging to meet Death. I wanted to break every fucking bone in Willow’s body to show her how it felt for me to be helpless while the woman I lov-
No. None of that will help Nora now. She’d only be pissed off with me for reacting that way. She needs time to heal; her body and mind were damaged to the point that they both had shut down.
Royce welcomed his home to the both of us. I’m thankful for how detail oriented Nora is. If she weren’t, she wouldn’t have made it to his house. He called me the moment he carried her inside. I didn’t dare let another moment pass before I ordered Singh to drive me to her. The clothes she wore were soaked when I barged in the front door.
“I didn’t want to cross any line,” he says, explaining why she’s in the cold clothes.
That’s another thing I’m grateful for. I would’ve had to carve out the eyes of the closest person I have to a friend for seeing her naked body.
Yvette offered a handful of her clothes. They didn’t fit right. Nora’s all woman and they looked like children’s clothes on her. But it was something. At least until she went out the next day and bought a few things that fit better. And still, they were all wrong. They didn’t have her sense of style.
The witch now walks on the thinnest of eggshells. When I had taken off the wet clothes, I reeled at the sight of her body. Cuts and bruises were everywhere. Royce had stepped in between us. My hands were itching to feel her neck crack as I twisted it a bit too hard, a bit too fast.
“What the fuck is this?” I bellow. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing she couldn’t handle,” she bites back.
I keep advancing despite Royce’s attempt to restrain me. Her eyes widens as they frantically look around. Her bravado is blown wide open.
As I reach for her, Royce pushes me back. “I’ll fucking kill you! What the fuck did you do to her?!”
It had been going on for days. While I was held up in the apartment, Nora was out pushing herself too hard. And now, her body ranges in every shade of blacks, blues, green, and yellows. Why didn’t she want me to see this? Why didn’t she tell me what she was doing?
A knock comes to the door, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Kane?” Yet another person I don’t want to see. Willow steps in wearing a blanket-like shawl. She timidly glances from me to Nora who lays just inches away. “How is she doing?”
“What do you want?” I growl.
“I-I just want to see how Nora is holding up.”
“Don’t say her name,” I spit. “You haven’t checked in on her once since she’s been here. You stood by while they tried killing her.”
Willow takes a hesitant step forward. “That’s not fair. The moment I realized she was in danger, I rushed in to help.”
I stand up, nearly knocking over the stool I was sitting on. “You did nothing!”
“There were six of them and one of me.” Her voice wavers with every word she says. “What would you have had me do?”
“I DON’T KNOW!” The guilt and denial that’s been hovering overhead crashes down on me, wave after wave. I grip the door jam, trying to force air into my lungs. “I don’t know,” I whisper.
Willow reaches out, causing me to flinch. “None of this is your fault. Nora’s power is growing. There’s nothing you could’ve said or done that would’ve stopped her. She’s become such a force.” I nod, hearing her words, but not wanting to fully accept them. Nora has always had her own kind of power. “Why don’t you come down to the living room? Yvette thinks she found something that can help.”
“I don’t want that wit-”
“Kane,” her voice hardens, “all she wants to do is help. She feels responsible for Nora’s state. I think you can understand that.” Fuck. Having the ability to remain as level-headed as possible is one of Willow’s most honorable traits. It’s such a contradiction to Royce’s quick acting instincts. “All you have to do is listen.”
I pull the door shut behind me, glancing at Nora’s sleeping body once more. The sound of the rain pouring outside can be heard through the deafening silence that’s plagued the brownstone for days. It’s odd. I’m used to hearing Spanish soaps or some Frank Sinatra no matter what room you walk into. Royce’s home is always filled with noise.
The witch sits cross legged on the floor with several tattered books sprawled out in front of her. Candles are lit around the room, creating an eerie atmosphere. Willow sits on the couch next to Royce. He nods to an empty chair, but I don’t sit. If Nora wakes, I want to be able to run to her. Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against the door jam.
Yvette clears her throat. “I think I found a spell that will allow me to step into Nora’s mind and bring her back to us.” She speaks in the carefully worded tone that she’s settled into ever since I confronted her.
“N
o,” I snap. “Not happening.”
“Kane, just listen to her.” Royce sighs, drawing his leg up and crossing it over his knee.
Flipping through a few pages, the witch holds up the book. “Using a combination of a soul gathering potion and a memory travelling spell, I should be able to bring our Banshee back to us.”
“And?”
She lets out a shaky breath. “It’s going to take some time. On top of being weak, her mind is scattered in a million different places right now. I’m going to have to piece it together. But in that time, I will be able to walk in her personal memory lane to try and grab any information that can help us.”
“Is this guaranteed?” She shakes her head, eyes falling to the floor. “Then no.”
“We need to do something, Kane,” Royce cuts in.
I shoot him a look. “No.”
“She’s a sitting duck. We all are.” Willow rises up as irritation takes over her face. “The Changelings saw what she can do. She nearly sent one through a wall!”
Royce stands up, taking a step in front of her. “Time is running out and she’s going to need to have access to her full abilities. They went to your apartment in numbers. We don’t know what they’re planning, but I can ensure you that it won’t be something the two of us can handle.”
“Three of us,” Willow interjects.
“Regardless, something needs to be done. Granted, she’s not getting worse, but she’s not getting any better either.”
Each of them stares at me. Three sets of eyes to my one. My temper threatens to burst. I can’t tell if it’s from my nerves or the fact that they’re backing me into a corner.
Sighing, I let my head hang. “Fine. Do it.”
...
The witch moves all the furniture to the side, creating a large, empty area like she had before. Except this time, Royce isn’t bitching about his potatoes. He actually helps her move everything around.
After she has everything set up the way she needs, I carry Nora down. She’s always been light, but she feels weightless now. I can’t help but remind myself of how frail she really is. I lay her down on the floor, red hair splaying out around her.
“Once I’m out,” Yvette instructs, lighting several more candles, “neither of us are to be touched. This process cannot be interrupted.”
“What will happen if you are?” Willow asks. She stands in the hallway, brow cinched in scrutiny.
Yvette carries a goblet over to where Nora lays. She uses her thumb to open her mouth, pouring liquid slowly past her lips. “Then I will be trapped inside her mind.”
“Trapped? Like she will have a literal voice in the back of her mind?”
She shakes her head. “The stronger mind will win over. And I can guarantee you that it won’t be her.”
Bringing the goblet to her own mouth, Yvette swallows the rest of the contents. She mutters some type of chant in a language I’ve never heard before. She reaches for an ancient looking dagger. The blade curves the closer it gets to the tip.
“What in Hell are you doing?” I snarl as she takes Nora’s hand in hers.
She looks at me, her expression set in stone. “It’s the only way this can be done. Our bodies and mind need to meld together. Blood sharing is the only way.”
“Just let her do what she needs to,” Royce says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. I shrug it off.
The witch uses the edge of the blade to cut Nora’s hand. As the blood pools in her palm, she takes the blade to her own hand. She begins chanting once more as she lays down next to her. After she takes Nora’s hand in hers, their cut palms flush together, an odd breeze flows from them. A moment later, their bodies rise up in the air, just as Nora’s had last time. Yvette’s mouth keeps moving, muttering her little incantation, but her voice turns silent.
“Come on,” Royce says, “let’s leave them in peace.”
As reluctant as I am, I follow the two of them across the hall to the kitchen. A teapot steams on the stove. Willow grabs down a few mugs and places them on the island. I watch as she prepares tea. While my mind is wracked with what-if’s and worry, they seem perfectly calm in all this mess.
“Do you know what I find strange?”
“No, Royce,” I entertain his question, “what do you find strange?”
“Griffin.”
Willow lets out a type of snort. “He is strange,”
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean. For someone that up everyone’s ass, I haven’t seen him weaseling around.”
“That’s probably because he’s loving having Death’s attention all to himself.” I run a hand over my face.
Royce shrugs.
With everything that’s been going on between Nora and the Changelings, I honestly haven’t given a second thought about Griffin. But then again, I don’t give a damn about him anyways.
“I’m going to ask Briggs to see about getting some information from the Changelings. Hopefully he’ll be able to give us something useful,” Willow says, sipping her tea.
I roll my eyes, leaning against the granite counter. “Do you honestly think he’ll help? He hates Reapers, especially us.”
“But he doesn’t hate me.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Royce mutters under his breath.
She slams the coffee cup on the table. “Damn it, Royce. Just because he doesn’t care for you, doesn’t mean anything. He’s my partner, my friend.”
“Whatever.”
Willow lets out a defeated sigh. “We have to keep her safe. Any ally we can get, I’m going to take.” She pushes her mug to the center of the island, walking out of the kitchen. She calls over her shoulder, “If you have an issue with that, then you can go to Hell.”
28
Nora
Seconds change into minutes. Minutes draw into hours. The anticipation kills me. Every little creak sparks my adrenaline. I rush to walk past the livingroom just to see that nothing has changed, and then I pace in front of the doorway until I’m satisfied that they haven’t woken up.
“Do you think other people have weird shit like this happen?” Royce asks about two hours into the process. I look at him, completely confused by his question. “Come on, you know what I mean. ‘Don’t mind the floating people in the living room. Beers are in the cooler outback. Food should be off the grill any minute now.’”
“Is that really what you’ve been thinking about?” He shrugs. “I don’t even want to know half the stuff that runs through your head on a daily basis.”
He shrugs his shoulder once more. “You’re loss.”
“Oh, how will I ever live?”
An odd silence fills the space between us as we watch Nora and Yvette. Their hair and clothes move around them as if they were floating in a mass of water, not suspended in the air. A small puddle of blood has formed directly under their clasped hands. Royce wanted to go in and clean it up, but we weren’t sure if it would affect them in any way. Every now and then, a droplet would fall, adding to the pool. I hate that Nora had to be hurt more for this to happen, especially with her being unconscious.
“What do you think is going on between them?”
I glare over at him. “Do you honestly think I have the slightest idea. If I did, I wouldn’t be wearing a hole in your floor.”
He nods his head. More silence. “But you’ve spent a lot of time with Nora. She hasn’t said anything?”
“Fuck, Royce! You know as much as I do.”
“You and I both damn well know that’s not true.” He gives me a sly smile.
I shake my head and walk away. I’ve been sleeping in the small recliner in the corner of the room Royce gave us. Every muscle in my body has gained a permanent ache. At least my wounds have healed. I lay down on the bed and I instantly regret it. The sheets and pillow smell like her. A combination of citrus, soap, and rain. My chest pulls.
I doubt I will ever forgive myself for this. Even more guilt weighs me down. I’m the reason Nora’s in this Hell. When she was
being the biggest pain in my ass, I was there. But when she was in sincere danger - her life on the line - I was nowhere to be found. And now, she’s stuck in her own sort of limbo. For days I’ve been wondering if it’s similar to where lost souls get stuck. Not that I would know, but it’s a simple thought that keeps crossing my mind.
Right now, Nora could be working a shift at the nursing home. She could be caring for a bag of wrinkles, giving them that warm smile of hers. Or she could be out singing karaoke with her off-key friend. Hell, she could be spending time with her sister. It still shocks me that they’re siblings. One with freckles and fiery hair; the other with bouncy blonde curls. And yet, from all the weekly reports from the nanny, the youngest McKinley shares her sister’s spirit. Smart as a whip and loves to tease. Nora could be doing a million different things, but instead, she’s floating in a Reaper’s living room, stuck in her own mind.
A knock comes to the door. I don’t bother getting up, but a moment later, Royce walks in. I can’t exactly kick him out. It’s his house after all. He walks over and sits in the recliner chair, clasping his hands together behind his head.
“What are you going to do if she can’t bring her back?”
“Can you stop with all the fucking questions?”
“I’m serious, Kane. What are you going to do?”
Sighing, I close my eyes. “I’ll take her somewhere that she’ll be safe until she wakes up.”
The chair squeaks as he starts rocking in it. “There are no safe places for her,” he says. “Death will send as many demons and Reapers out to find her. And that’s not to mention what the Changelings will do.”
My jaw clamps down. “I’ll find a place. Even if it means moving her each day.”
He doesn’t say anything, but the chair does stop squeaking. Well, at least for a few minutes until he picks up again.
“She’s not just your assignment anymore, is she?” I don’t answer, but that doesn’t stop him. It never does. “You weren’t there after you were stabbed. Well... you were, but not there.” Does he not realize how big of a dumbass he sounds sometimes? “She was a mess. She tried stitching you up, but she couldn’t make it past that wound on your shoulder. She kept blaming herself for you getting hurt.”
