On our way into our office, she scooted piles of archived records to the side and made a walkway for us to enter. Her desk sat in the far corner, and even though the rest of the office was in disarray, it was meticulously clean and orderly. My desk, on the other hand, was in the front as you walked in and looked as if a grenade had exploded on it—papers and sticky notes everywhere. I was pretty sure there was also a half a bag of Doritos somewhere.
Wordlessly, she handed me a pile of new inventory reports to enter into Past Perfect, our cataloging system, while she balanced our donations for the past few weeks. She was right, we were really behind. Exhibit room C was closed and filled with Abraham Lincoln memorabilia and artifacts, none of which had been entered into our system or properly documented as of yet. I internally cringed at what would happen if this place caught on fire and we had to make an insurance claim for a shit ton of priceless, unaccounted for artifacts. We sat in silence, each dedicated to our assigned task. I knew it was weird, but work was more calming than just relaxing was for me. I couldn’t sit still. I needed to do something, anything. My mind didn’t compute with idle hands.
I had all but lost track of time when I reached the bottom of my stack. Standing up, I stretched, my back popping. Seline was still diligently plugging away numbers into her computer. Checking the clock, I saw that it was a quarter to midnight. Son of a bitch, I had to get home. Gavin would be getting off work soon, and I needed to make myself appear good and relaxed before he got there.
"Hey, Seline, I'm gonna head out, okay?" I asked, tying the belt on my coat and slipping my gloves on.
"Okay, Lina. See you Monday?" she asked, taking a moment to look up at me.
"Of course. Goodnight," I said, heading out the door.
Telor 3
I started feeling the pull about an hour ago. Her face flashed through my mind, showing me who I was there to take. I waited outside the old courthouse for her to leave. She was going to make it home first. I supposed I could’ve waited at her house, but it was not like I had anything else going on at the moment.
Life as a Guide had taught me to take advantage of things wherever I could. Escorting people from this world to the next was a relatively boring job.
My target exited the door and powerwalked down the stairs. She was in quite a rush. That was the problem with the living; they were always in a hurry. They got reckless. And right now, she was being fatally reckless. I followed her, trailing a good bit behind, all the way to her house. She couldn’t see me, but I was always more comfortable keeping my distance from them until it was time.
She stood on her tiptoes as she rounded the final corner to her house and seemed to sigh in relief. She picked up the pace and made it through her front gate. I waited on the corner until I heard the scream.
I didn’t need to walk places, though I usually did. The act of using my legs was a rare comfort I allowed myself. Once I reached the front gate, I saw her lying there in the snow. She had lost a substantial amount of blood already from a large gash on her head. It wouldn’t be long now. As I got closer, an uncomfortable feeling formed in my stomach. Odd. I didn’t usually feel anything. Not because all of the dead were like that, but Death liked me as devoid of emotion as possible. That suited me just fine, I had nothing to hold on to anyway.
She shivered violently, her breaths rasping through her lips in shuddering gasps. The feeling in my stomach grew stronger. Against my better judgment, I approached her. She was so young, and God, was she beautiful. Her face was an unnatural shade of white, and her long brown hair flared out around her heart-shaped face. Were it not for the growing red puddle around her, you might have thought she was sleeping. I found myself struggling to catch my breath—I didn’t breathe, but my lungs were fighting for air. The closer I got to her, the more the pain faded.
Catalina. I thought that was her name. It sounded right, though I didn’t usually bother with their names. She was getting close, but she was fighting. My God, was she fighting. I sat down next to her, pulling her head into my lap. I was driven with a need to comfort her, to let her know it was okay. It was frowned upon but not forbidden. The moment I touched her, her soul pulled a little further away, back toward her world and away from mine. Away from me, and the small distance sent an ache through my very bones.
Despite the wetness from the blood and snow, her hair was soft. I smoothed it back from her face, running my hand through it, watching it slip from my fingers like sand. Almost purple lips stood out against her pale face. Every second I spent with her in my arms, the unwelcomed feeling in my stomach grew, slowly spreading through me.
Ignoring the nagging sensation, I started singing. It was a song that my mom used to sing to me when I was younger. Why it popped into my head, I had no idea, but I went with it. The song was about failing and trying again. She was so young and strong. My chest grew tighter and tighter by the second. Every time I thought about leaving with her soul and delivering her to Tori, a twisting pain flashed in my chest.
I looked down at her face, and the eyes that had been closed just moments ago stared directly up at me, their vivid blue practically glowing under the darkened sky.
And they were locked directly on mine.
“Can you see me?” I asked, alarmed. They weren’t supposed to see us until they were entirely gone. Catalina was not gone yet. She didn’t respond. “Catalina, can you see me?” Still nothing. “What is going on?” I asked myself. “Catalina, if you can hear me, please, say something, anything,” I practically begged.
She still said nothing, but her eyes followed my face. I was sure she could see me, at least. “Cariad, hold on, don’t leave me.”
The foreign feeling finally started to take a familiar form. Being able to put a name to my grief was not at all comforting. I didn’t want to feel anything, let alone mourn this random girl.
Maybe the wound wasn’t that bad, I thought, trying to convince myself that I somehow happened upon the wrong girl. Maybe she was supposed to die of something other than blood loss. That thought made me sick, as another slipped into my mind:
Just don’t take her.
If I didn’t take her, she would become an unclaimed, a ghost, or worse. But if I healed her…
No, I couldn’t do that. While I’d heard rumors that it was possible, I wasn’t sure at what cost, though I’d gladly pay it for her. Right then, watching her fade away in front of me, I didn’t give a damn.
Carefully, I moved her hair away from the wound, to gauge how bad it was. I must have touched it a little too hard, because she released a blood-curdling scream, and it left me raw. I had to do something and fast. Then a flash of silver caught my eye.
Around her neck hung a delicate chain, a small silver ring resting against her chest. Recognition hit me immediately. I gave a quick tug, snapping the chain, and pulled it from around her neck. It had been years since I’d seen it. I’d assumed it was gone forever. What the fuck were the odds that she would end up with it?
I was drowning in a sea of emotions, whether from not feeling them for nearly twenty-two years or from the sudden onslaught, I wasn’t sure. Probably both.
My emotions didn’t last long; a moment later calm enveloped me, the tension fading from my body. Catalina’s face seemed to grow relaxed, too. I swore the corner of her mouth tilted upward in a poor attempt at a smile. Then she closed her eyes and opened them again. The simple act seemed to take so much of her remaining energy, and a jagged edge of pain sliced through me watching her like this.
Contemplating my next move, I looked toward the heavens. If there was a God, I was going to need all the help I could get. I gently lay her head against the ground. Someone was coming. I took a step toward the gate before I changed my mind. Any indecision from before had left me—she was not dying here. I hurriedly knelt by her side again and reached for her wound. I didn’t need to heal it; I just needed to stop the bleeding. It was going to hurt her. Trying to make it quick, I brushed my thumb over it, and she screamed agai
n, driving bullets of pain through my heart.
“You’re gonna be just fine, you hear me?” I whispered in her ear, knowing it would be one of the very last things I said to her. “You are so young, and you have a long life ahead of you. There is nothing in this world you can’t do. Never forget that. And never forget that I will be right here, cheering you on.”
I left her with the last words my mother ever said to me, hoping they brought her the peace they’d brought me—a different kind of peace. They had just been false hope for me, but they were a fact for her, especially if I had any say in it.
Lina 4
I was alone. In a black room. No, not a room. It was just a nothing, a voided forgotten space. Did I have a body? Did I exist? I was weightless and heavy all at once. And alone. So alone. I wanted to cry, but alas I could not. I couldn’t do anything. I was suspended in this emptiness, helplessly. Who was I? The sound of static shocked my senses back into action.
Wake…please…eyes…come…me…listen
I could only hear a handful of words through the static. My brain frantically grasped at those few words, triggering a tightness in my chest. Like I was starving for air.
Beep-Beep-Beep
Awareness cut through the confusion that dominated only seconds before. The disconnect that had previously consumed me was replaced by real, harsh sensations. The pain that had been absent appeared in full force. I doubted I could move any part of my body if I tried.
As I became more lucid, confusion at my surroundings bombarded me. Sneakers on tiles. A loud beeping and the rhythmic sound of breaths humming near me. Cold air trickled into my nose around something stiff. I longed to open my eyes, to make some sense of where I was.
A disembodied voice was still talking through the fuzziness surrounding it; I didn’t know to whom, I only heard the one. I tried to tune out everything else, to focus entirely on that voice. I knew that voice. I didn’t know from where, but I knew it. Even though it wasn’t clear, it was still beautiful. A set of green-gray eyes flashed in my mind, beneath dark wavy hair. I couldn’t remember the face, just the eyes.
My chest was getting tighter by the minute, while my brain struggled to make sense of the images invading it. I couldn’t do it. There were so many things happening at once that it was hard to distinguish one from another.
Abruptly, everything grew quiet, his voice was gone, the beeping and breaths ceased. Even the pain disappeared. The loss of stimulation was worse than the abrupt onset. I was once again in my abyss. The darkness pulling me in, inch by inch. Any second now, it would swallow me completely. In the blackness, there was a tiny speck of light. Calling to me. It beckoned like a siren from the dark waters surrounding me, drawing me back. Latching on, I let my soul follow that light, allowing it to be my lifeboat amongst the gloom around me. With every word I heard, I was pulled back a little.
Can’t…thought…you…Catalina…please…open…Cariad…do…come…to…me
Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-SLAM!
My eyes snapped open, blinking against the dim light in the room. My heart dropped into my stomach at the absence of that voice. If death was what it would take to bring it back to me, I would gladly welcome the reaper with open arms. But even that thought felt wrong. Not innately wrong, as to be expected, but more so the way one felt when they disappointed others. Shameful, it was shameful.
The moonlight cast a thick slice of silver onto the floor through a gap in the multicolored drapes. A matching curtain was drawn around the bed, blocking the door from my view.
A guy lay hunched in a recliner next to my bed. He had slightly grown-out blond hair and wore dark clothes. It was his steady breathing that I’d heard. Even in sleep, his expression was painfully sad.
Opening my mouth, I willed my voice to work. "G-G-G-Gavin?" I was able to squeak out. My throat was raw and a trace of blood lingered in my mouth as I swallowed.
Bolting upright, Gavin turned on the bedside table light. My eyes rebelled against the brightness and I had to blink several times until they adjusted. Gavin didn’t speak at first, he just looked at me like I was the answer to every prayer he’d ever whispered. Judging by the stubble on his face, he’d been here for a while.
"You're awake," he said, more to himself than to me. He brushed a lock of hair away from my face. Keeping one hand on my head, he linked his other through with mine. "I thought I’d lost you," he whispered, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing each finger repeatedly. "I'm gonna go tell Jilsey that you're awake. I will be right back...please, stay with us while I'm gone." He leaned down and briefly rested his lips on mine. They were warm, comforting, and reminded me of home. I wanted to cry, but for what, I couldn’t tell you. Finally, he reluctantly let go of my hand and hurried out of the room.
Why was I here? Okay...chill out, Lina. Think. I had been at work. Then I walked home. I slipped and fell. And I hit my head. Raising my hand to my head, careful not to disrupt my IV, I gingerly touched my forehead. My fingers gently skimmed over a slanted row of what I assumed were stitches. What happened next? I think I passed out. Then there was that voice. That beautiful, wonderful voice. The thought of it sent a wave of despair through my body. The tears that I held back just a moment ago rapidly fell down my cheeks as I started to sob uncontrollably.
“—normal?” Gavin’s hushed whisper cut into my thoughts.
“It can be,” Jilsey said, squeezing my hand. “Lina?”
“Umm, what?”
I hadn't even realized that Gavin had returned with Jilsey and a doctor. They appeared to have been trying to get my attention for a minute or so. Gavin and Jilsey stood at my side. The doctor perched on the edge of my bed. She had short salt-and-pepper hair with a kind, round face, and tortoise shell glasses framing her brown eyes. She exuded a calming presence. I instantly liked her and imagined anyone who met her would, also.
"Hello, Catalina, do you know where you are?" she asked, soothingly.
"The hospital?" I answered, barely able to talk due to the dryness in my throat. "Can I have some water?"
Gavin hurriedly poured some water from the pitcher on my bedside table into a cup then helped me tilt my head up to take a sip. The cold liquid burned my raw throat, and I choked on it slightly, coughing and sputtering the water, making it dribble down my chin like a toddler using an open cup for the first time. Without pause, Gavin wiped it from my mouth with his hand and dried it on his pants.
"Yes, very good, you are at University hospital." She nodded and smiled. "Do you know what day it is?"
"Uh, January second?" I guessed, knowing it wasn't right.
"Close, it’s January sixth," she said, that smile never wavering, not even given the fact that I had five days of my life unaccounted for. “How old are you?"
“Twenty-one.”
“Last one: do you know how you got here?”
"I slipped on ice and hit my head," I said, replaying the jumbled bits of beautiful speech in my head. The secondhand version my mind could give me wasn’t as good as the original, but it helped ease the ache in my chest.
"Yes. You were brought here five days ago with blunt force trauma to the head. You lost a substantial amount of blood. We placed sutures in your head. You were unconscious when EMS arrived on the scene," she stated, using a very clear voice, like she was afraid that I didn’t understand her.
I just nodded once. She examined my head and took my vitals. Once she deemed me suitable enough to be left alone, she promised that she would have some soup sent up in a little while. After she was gone, Gavin and Jilsey gathered me in a gentle hug.
"I'm so glad you’re awake," Jilsey whispered, her voice tight because she was crying. I wiggled free from them and wiped her tears on the corner of my blanket. "You weren't doing too well when you came in. They had to physically remove me from the ER. Believe it or not, Gavin was the levelheaded one this time."
"Who called nine-one-one?" I asked, hoping they would be able to shed some light on the source of the voice domin
ating my thoughts.
"I did. I came home from work and found you lying at the bottom of the stairs," Gavin breathed. "You were supposed to stay home. You were supposed to be relaxing, and you went to work anyway," he accused.
I looked at him questioningly. “How did you know I was at work?” Really, I could have been walking home from anywhere, and he’d just assumed I was at work?
“Seline told me,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Do you realize what could have happened had I gone in through the back door? If the back porch light hadn’t been out, I would have. You would have died from exposure if the four pints of blood you lost hadn’t finished you off first.”
"I'm sorry, Gav. I went grocery shopping, and then I saw Seline's car on my way home. I meant to just go in for a little while,” I explained, knowing it probably wasn’t making matters any better. “I promise something like this will never happen again.”
"To be honest, I’m a little tired of your promises at the moment.” He squeezed my hand before pulling away and heading to the door. He paused but didn’t turn to face us. “I need some air, I’ll be back.”
Jilsey read the shock in my expression and took pity on me. "He hasn't left your side since you got here. He found you and about went crazy. He barely eats, barely sleeps, he hasn't shaved or taken a shower—hell, he hasn't even been home," she explained, willing me to understand. "Give him a little break, he loves you, and we were both worried."
I nodded, the lump in my throat growing bigger by the minute. I wanted to call Gavin back and apologize for—well, everything. But I knew Gavin, and I knew that his temper just needed to play out. Talking to him right then wouldn’t help anything.
"I’ve been keeping Seline updated and in the know. She has forbidden you from working until the doctor says it’s okay. She came to see you Monday and got quite an earful from Gavin, of course."
Flicker (Defying Death Book 1) Page 3
