“No, Tommy. I can’t…” She trailed off when he pushed the gun into her hand.
“Shhh, it’s all right, baby girl. I need you to help me. Can you do that?” He leaned down to look into her eyes.
When their gazes connected, she nodded her head. Decision made. He’d saved her, so she’d do whatever he needed.
“Good girl. Now, climb down and wait at the bottom. I’m going to send this piece of shit down, and I want that gun aimed at him the whole time. If he so much as sneezes, you shoot his fucking head off, you got that?”
Unwilling to believe she’d actually have to pull the trigger, she nodded her head again.
“That’s my girl.” He praised her, and she turned to do as he’d instructed.
Before she could take a step, he leaned down and brushed his lips across her mouth. It was quick and soft, nothing most would even take note of, but for her it was everything. Her heart thundered, and she prayed they’d make it out alive so she could show him how she felt.
“Go on, I’ll be right behind you,” he told her softly to get her moving.
She nodded, a bit dazed, but she quickly reined in her feelings.
Shorty was still standing there, gun to his head, snarling at her.
Taking a deep breath, she descended the ladder as carefully but quickly as she could while holding a gun and feeling awfully bruised and battered.
“Okay, Tommy,” she called up when both feet were firmly on the ground and the gun was steady in her hands. “I’m ready.”
She heard movement from above, feet stomping on metal, shuffling and grunting, and fear gripped her once again. What if Shorty‘s fighting Tommy? Unable to see them, she certainly couldn’t help from down there. Just as she took a step back toward the ladder, a leg swung over the side of the fire escape, followed by another, and Shorty started to come down. Tia took a few more steps back, trying to put as much distance between them as possible while still staying close enough to hit her target if she needed to.
She’d never even held a weapon, much less used one, and she hoped the son of a bitch coming down couldn’t tell. Her body shook with fear, sweat trickling down her spine, and her instinct to run and get help was almost too much. The only thing that kept her rooted in place, gun firmly in hand, was what Shorty could do to Tommy if she left.
As soon as Shorty’s feet hit the hard concrete, he took a menacing step toward her.
She trembled, but her hand was steady as she gripped the gun tighter and placed her finger on the trigger. “I will fuckin’ shoot you if you take one more step toward me!” she shouted, her voice firm and angry.
Shorty raised his hands in surrender, but a sly smile formed on his face.
“I sure do love a bitch with a gun,” he practically purred, and Tia had to fight the keep from throwing up.
This guy is fucking sick!
Thankfully, Tommy was already making his way down. Although she knew he was still up there, waiting for Shorty to descend first, the sight of Tommy still took her breath away. His presence not only gave her a sense of calm, it also kept Shorty from saying anything further, although it didn’t stop the heated looks and lip licking.
She shivered.
Tommy walked up behind Shorty and shoved the gun in his back, pushing him forward a step. “Don’t look at her, don’t speak to her, don't even fucking think about her! You feel me?” Tommy asked in a menacing voice Tia had never heard from him before.
Her Tommy was gone, and before her stood T-Dogg. The drug dealing, crew running, girl chasing thug who ran the neighborhood and did what was necessary to secure his position and keep those he loved safe. She may not have liked it, but it was keeping them both alive.
“Yeah,” Shorty drawled as his eyes narrowed, and his attention turned toward Tommy. “I feel ya, homey.”
Tia didn’t like the sound of Shorty’s voice, or the way he looked at Tommy. It immediately made her suspicious. On instinct, her gaze roamed the dark alley, trying to look into the nooks and crannies that were completely hidden by darkness. She got an uneasy feeling as she did, her mind running with the possibility of someone else lurking in those shadows. If Shorty had brought people with him, she and Tommy were in serious trouble.
As if Shorty knew exactly what she was thinking, he chuckled. “Smart bitch you got there, T-Dogg. At least one of you realized I wouldn't be stupid enough to come to your hood alone.”
Then, as if on cue, two guys emerged from the shadows. They were both huge, much bigger than both Shorty and Tommy, and each man had a gun in his hand. One was pointed at Tia and the other at Tommy.
She gasped in horror.
“Now, why don’t the two of you lower your guns, I’ll finish what I came here for, and we can all walk away alive?”
“You think I’m going to stand here and let you hurt my girl? I’d rather die!” Tommy shouted, shoving the gun into the side of Shorty’s head.
Tia’s heart broke for the second time that night. Tommy was finally admitting he cared for her, calling her his girl and saying he was willing to die for her, but it was bittersweet. Either Tommy died, or she let Shorty have his way. The idea of him touching her again, hurting her the way he had earlier, made her sick, but it didn't destroy her the way the thought of Tommy dying did.
Taking a brave step forward, she lowered her gun and spoke to Tommy. “It’s okay. I’ll do what… I’ll do whatever he wants, Tommy.”
“Like fuckin’ hell you will!” he shouted at her, his eyes bulging, and his body visibly shaking.
The other two guys took threatening steps forward, raising their guns just a bit higher, the warning clear.
“Why don't you listen to your bitch, Tommy? She’s seems to know what she wants.” Shorty snickered.
“Don’t. You. Fucking. Call. Her. That!” Tommy bellowed and then pulled the trigger.
Shorty’s body fell to the ground with a thud, and then it was silent. Everyone stared in utter disbelief. But the silence and shock only lasted a moment. Then, more shots rang out, bullets were flying, and everyone was ducking for cover.
“Tia!” Tommy shouted, running toward her while his gun was aimed at Shorty’s boys, firing randomly to keep them at bay.
Just as Tommy reached her, a sharp pain pierced her stomach. Her hands flew up to help soothe the sting, but she felt a hot stickiness that wasn’t there before. Looking down, she watched as the blood blossomed on her dress, quickly covering the whole top. Tommy reached her side, and she looked up to see his face etched with concern.
“Baby girl,” he whispered, followed by a choked sob. His arms went around her just as her legs failed. He helped her to the ground even as shots still sounded through the night.
“Tommy, go!” she told him desperately. He was paying too much attention to her and not the other two guys that were still a threat. “Get out of here!”
“No, baby girl, I’m not leaving you!”
“Tommy.” She pleaded, her body turning cold.
“Never,” he whispered as he leaned down and touched his forehead to hers. “I love you, Tia,” he said fiercely, and then his body jerked.
She couldn’t think straight for some reason but she knew something was off. “Tommy?” she asked, confused and tired.
“Shhh, baby girl,” he whispered as he lay down beside her. He pulled her close, his bloody hand moving up to run over her face and through her hair. His voice was choked, his words seeming difficult to form as he continued to soothe her. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ll always have you.”
As they lay there in each other’s arms, the night became silent around them, their attackers having fled. It began to rain. The light mist usually wouldn't have been enough to bother either of them, but the cool water soaked into Tia’s clothes, making her even colder. Her teeth chattered and her body shook.
“It...it’s s...s...so c...cold,” she whispered between shivers.
Tommy pulled her more tightly against his body, his arms wrapped snugly around her. �
��I know, baby girl, I know. I lied to you before, you know, when I said I didn’t have dreams. I did. I do. The water, the rain, it’s usually so soothing. Calms me down and makes me dream of things I don’t deserve. But now, it’s not working. It’s only reminding me that those dreams’ll never come true.”
“I… I… love you, T… Tommy,” she whispered, relishing the feel of his body wrapped around hers, his lips brushing against hers, and the sound of his voice telling her how much he loved her. If only we’d come to this place sooner, she thought. She’d never get to show him all the things she felt. Even worse, she’d never have the chance to truly share love with him the way they deserved. It was over as quickly as it began.
Everything began to fade. Tommy’s voice grew faint and fainter still, the heat of his body turned cold beside her, and the grip he had on her slipped away. As light turned to darkness, she held on to the fact that he loved her, and she loved him.
“We are given the gift of choice during creation, but it is not a present if we are not allowed to make mistakes—to be human.”
The White Place
He pried his eyes open and instantly shut them again. It was so bright, so white, it hurt. Like he had been sleeping for months, his muscles screamed at him to stop moving when he stretched out a leg. Pins and needles ricocheted through his limbs, making him groan and grab at them.
Voices floated to his ears, the sweet melodies sounding as though they were being filtered through something, softening the impact on his sore eardrums. Definitely women.
One of them said, “There he is.”
“He looks like he is in pain,” another, deeper voice, said.
A laugh from the first. “He will be fine. Many years have passed. His body is acclimating.”
It took effort, but he peeled back his lids. First one, and then the other. Five blurry figures stood before him. From his position on the floor, they seemed impossibly tall. His sight sharpened, and he took in the beautiful females. Each looked distinctly different, but all had pale silver irises, wore similar expressions, and were garbed in flowing white robes.
As his eyes met theirs, visions flashed in his mind: a senator, a knight, a soldier, a boxer, and a gangster. What does that mean? For that matter, who am I? Where am I? His memory was blank, but he clung to the faded images like chalk marks hold onto a blackboard recently wiped clean. He voiced the latter question once the tingling of his body receded and his tongue recalled how to function.
One woman stepped forward. She was lithe and blonde, her light hair giving her a more angelic appearance than the rest. She tilted her head and studied him with open curiosity. “Do you not recognize us, dear husband?”
Husband? Confusion tied his lips together as he strained to remember. I am married to this ethereal creature? Wary, his eyes darted from one woman to the other. Given the matching eyes, he assumed the ladies were sisters. And yet, they were so different in every other way. He did not recognize the one speaking. Not surprising, since he did not even know his own name. But her question gave him hope that she might.
Frowning slightly, he rasped. “I do not. I am not even sure who I am.” He tried to push up with shaking arms. His body was so weak. “You know me?”
All the women laughed, the sound light and musical. The one before him hushed the others before bending forward and offering her hand. A necklace hung around her slender neck. From it dangled a silver bar etched with one word: Wrath.
An unusual choice of jewelry, he thought.
“We know you quite well, Thomas,” the woman said with a sweet smile. “I go by many names, but you may call me Nichole, as that is the name you knew me by.”
Thomas. So that is my name.
When he swayed on his feet, she braced his arm, providing subtle support. She was surprisingly strong given her slender form. He met her eyes with what he knew was a wavering smile of nerves and fear. Her returning grin was steady. “Be brave,” she whispered before stepping back into line with the others.
He looked down at the dark leather binding his feet, shifted to one side, and twitched. Wiggling his toes still hurt. A long, scratchy, light brown tunic with sleeves that reached his wrists covered him, and he turned his hands this way and that, examining the fingers and short, clean nails.
The women stood back, smiling, their eyes following his every movement. It was that way for a long while as Thomas surveyed his surroundings. Not one of the ladies spoke.
Nichole. The name seemed so familiar. If he could only remember. Each time he thought he grasped how he knew her, it flitted away like a fly avoiding being smashed. He grew increasingly annoyed at the buzzing.
Here it is!
No! Wait! Try over there.
Sorry, still not the answer!
Frustrated, he sat down and stared at her. Neither spoke; all she did was smile.
Another woman came forward, same silver eyes, but with long, brown hair so dark it was almost black. She extended her hand and waited with a welcoming smile. “It is okay. You knew me well at one time. I am Josephine. Sometimes, you called me Jo.”
Standing, he placed his hand in hers and gripped her fingers, afraid he might fall back to the floor if he did not hold on tightly. Josephine. Jo. A flash of a memory entered his mind. A dark-haired beauty writhing in ecstasy beneath his strong, young body. He jerked his hand away. It was as if he had been burned with the touch, the recollection.
Josephine smiled. “You remember me.”
Finding his voice again, he answered, “I remember something. Yes.”
As she clapped her hands in front of her, the memories came. All of them at once. Josephine in the gardens, head tilted back, laughing at something he said to her. His hand in hers. The scent of her hair, and the silken feel of it. Her stolas. A golden laurel leaf comb. A battlefield. The stench of death and coppery blood around him. The weight of a sword in his hand, and a shield tethered to his arm. The hard planes of the helmet on his head.
Smoke.
Pain.
Screams.
He shook his head to chase away the visions of bloodied women and children, but more rushed in as replacements: A toga, a small house filled with sunlight and laughter, a rich palace, an evil man who was as disgusting on the outside as he was within.
Emperor Nero.
“No!” Thomas screamed, grabbing his temples, willing it to stop.
The painful recollections tore at him, the threats against his wife, his love for her that filled him so much it hurt, and the men who said they would find her.
“Ahhh!” He sank to his knees, still clutching his head as if to squeeze the memories from it. “Stop. Please, stop.” If those men had located Thomas’s wife, it would not have ended well. Never had they respected a woman, and she was beautiful beyond compare. Sorrow rose in him so profoundly, he lost his breath. With blurry vision, he gazed at her.
Josephine’s smile had faded. She turned to the others. “Now, he remembers everything of our life together. Let us begin.”
A long, marble table with four chairs behind it appeared before the women, and they took seats. All but Jo. She stood before him like a statue of Justice, beautiful but cold, her expression as set as stone. The other women kept their gazes trained on Jo.
“Sit down.” She gestured to a chair on a raised platform that had materialized in front of the table.
They seemed to be waiting for something… What can it be? He wondered, although he complied with the request.
As soon as he was seated, shackles bound him hand and foot, light filled the room, and a memory flooded into him. Just one. Something from before. Winding roads that stretched for miles, and a man with long, brown, wavy hair. He had eyes the color of a clear sky, and they were filled with tears. Fear lit in Thomas’s belly as the sorrowful expression struck him. “Why is this happening to me?”
Jo laughed and threw her head back. “I can see by your face that you remember the mortal sin you committed, your betrayal of a friend. Because o
f that error, you have been tested.”
“Tested? Mortal sin?”
“Yes.” She nodded, and her expression fell. “There are seven deadly sins, Thomas: sloth, gluttony, pride, greed, envy, wrath, and lust. We have accompanied you through five lives, each testing your character on one or more.”
A chill passed through him, and he shivered.
“It is time for your judgment,” Nichole said.
“How do you five have this power?” he asked.
One of the women rose. Her short, reddish brown hair billowing in a phantom wind. “I am Kelly. You and I strode through one of your lives as partners. You will remember me in time. We five have the power of judgment as passed to us by our mothers: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. You may know them as the three fates.”
All four of the others nodded and whispered, “Bless our mothers.”
So they are sisters. Terror rode through him like a kicking mule, tearing down all resolve. He felt the urge to run, but his bindings held him tightly. All he could do was clench his fists.
“While the ultimate decision as to whether you passed or failed lies in their hands, placed there by another whose reasons are not to be questioned and whose identity shall be revealed in due time, we are the ones who will hear your pleas, consider what we witnessed while watching you, and take our final word to them for your sentencing. That is all you need to know.”
“But—"
She held up her hand. “You will have a time to speak, but that time is not now. Jo has bestowed upon you your memories from your time with her. It shall begin with her retelling of the moments where she found you lackadaisical in your test. We shall ask her questions. You shall remain silent until your chance to defend yourself is presented. Do you understand?”
He shrank back from her blazing eyes and nodded, pressing his lips together for fear she may lash out at him physically.
Another one of the women stood. She was smaller and had hair similar in color to Kelly’s. “It is time to begin. We cannot wait any longer.”
7: The Seven Deadly Sins Page 18
