Grave Things

by Lindsay Mead

  Aaron grabbed the wires beneath the dash and touched them together. This time, there were no sparks. Everything was silent. Fresh wind rolled through Viola's open window, tossing her locks of black and blonde. Otherwise, the desert beyond was still—too still.

  A sinking feeling weighed on Vi's stomach. "What if it's demons?"

  Aaron glanced at her, his mouth forced into a worried, thin line.

  A startling blast roared from overhead. The windows exploded into a thousand tiny pieces that glittered around them. Crouching away, the trio covered their ears. The deep, echoic sound was never-ending. It reverberated off every surface, shook their very bones. Viola wanted to scream, though no one would hear.

  Silence. The noise had been so loud, so pervasive, that it took her several seconds to realize that it'd stopped. Panting, Vi slowly raised her head. Her heart, suddenly too loud, thundered erratically. There was nothing outside, nothing that would explain the sound—but that didn't mean a damn thing when she wasn't an exorcist anymore.

  "What the actual fuck?!" Lana's voice came out screechy.

  Aaron looked at Vi. "I think that's your answer."

  Viola chewed her lip, feeling panic rise in her chest. This not-feeling-demons thing was not cool. How could people stand it? Probably for the best that most didn't believe because not knowing if something terrible was right next to her was going to drive Viola insane. Unable to stop herself, she kept searching for them.

  "You can't feel them?" Lana squeaked, staring at Vi like she'd learned that Santa Clause wasn't real.

  "I can't feel anything." That wasn't a lie either, the adrenaline shooting through her veins washed the pain from her hands. "Lana. Hand me my shovel."

  Lana picked it up but hesitated. "Your hands?"

  "I know." Vi would suffer for it later, but she had to fight somehow. "I've gotta do something."

  "Viola. Look." Aaron grabbed her arm, stopping her from taking the shovel.

  She followed his line of sight to the rearview mirror. The medallion that hung there was no longer swinging, nor was it hanging. It was pulled to the side, seemingly floating. As if it had frozen in mid-swing—or that it now existed outside of time. She glanced at the tattoo on her chest. It was glowing like it always did in their presence.

  Viola exhaled. "It's an angel."

  "Angels," Lana whispered, making the word plural.

  Both Vi and Aaron met her wide eyes. "What?"

  "There are angels." Dumbfounded, she pointed ahead. "Right there."

  The step-siblings turned together. Viola's mouth dropped. Aaron made the sign of cross, gawking like a kid on Christmas morning. Apparently, it was a holiday metaphor kind of day.

  On the road ahead stood three angels. Archangels, to be exact. Viola immediately recognized the Angel of Death, Azriel, with his long dark hair and eyes that could pierce her soul. She didn't know the other two angels. The three of them remained still, watching her. Waiting.

  "I'd imagine they're here for you, Vi." Aaron swallowed hard.

  Viola found it hard to breathe, fear making her limbs feel heavy. "Do you think they're here to finish what the priests started?"

  "No—they couldn't be." Judging by his suddenly clenched fists, he wasn't so sure. "What do we do?"

  "Face the music," Vi mumbled, knowing it was true. She met his eyes, then leaned over and pulled him into a hug. He smelled like soap. Viola inhaled and squeezed him harder, despite the pain in her hands. He hugged her tight in return. Angels, after all, did an awful lot of smiting. When Aaron didn't let Vi go for some time, she knew what he was thinking and whispered, "We can't outrun angels."

  He pulled back and squeezed her shoulders. "I'm gonna need you to not die."

  "I'll try not to." The exchange might have sounded playful, but there was no mistaking the real fear radiating between them. "I love you."

  "I love you to." Finally, he let her go.

  Viola turned to Lana. The poor girl had tears in her eyes. Vi wanted to tell her that it would be fine but, instead, she gave her a wink and reached for the door. She stopped just before she unwittingly grabbed the handle and tore her tender skin to shreds.

  The joints on the side of the door groaned. They creaked, then snapped. Viola leaned away, not sure what was happening. The door suddenly ripped from its hinges. Like it was nothing more than a pebble to be thrown, it sailed several feet and slammed into the desert floor.

  "Fuck," the three said in unison.

  Her seatbelt unhooked itself. Just like that, there were no more obstacles in her way. Viola took a deep breath. Maybe these new angels were here to kill her and Azriel was to lead her soul to Hell. If that was the case, Vi decided then and there that she wasn't going to show weakness. She was in excruciating pain, dehydrated, sleep deprived, starving, and scared—but they didn't need to know that. The only thing in the world she had control over was her dignity and she sure-as-shit was gonna hold on to that.

  With a fortifying inhale, Viola climbed out of the car.

  33

  The perpetual sunrise sent beams of yellow light around the angels, making their bits of armor shine gloriously. They didn't move, didn't react, and showed no emotion on their perfect faces. Head held high, Viola walked up to Azriel. Standing tall before them felt strange. It would have been more natural to kneel, but they weren't royalty—okay, maybe Heavenly royalty, but that was not the point—and they weren't gods. They didn't exist to be worshiped. Feared, yes, but she refused to bow to them. Certainly not if they were going to kill her.

  A smirk tugged at Azriel's mouth and it wiped all thought from Viola's mind. His inhuman beauty was definitely next level. But when the angel beside him stepped forward, it stole her unabashed attention. The third angel stood apart, hidden in silhouette by the sunrise. Not that Vi cared once she got a good glimpse of the second angel.

  While Azriel was hauntingly beautiful, this angel was breathtaking. He had strong masculine features but the slant of his eyes and petite mouth gave him an effeminate appeal. With white wings that eclipsed a wide, toned chest and long, thick hair colored like coffee and cream, this angel belonged on the cover of romance novels.

  Gleaming in the early sunlight, the steel spear he carried stretched from the ground to a foot above him. It had nearly a dozen spikes that curved away from the head, resembling a dragon with its face toward the sky. Something about it plucked at Viola's memory. Her eyes trailed to his gold chestplate. Inscribed with Angelic script, it read, The Shining One Who Heals.

  Viola gaped. He was the Angel of Healing, Raphael. The angel credited with delivering the Key of Solomon to mankind, and that's why his spear seemed familiar. Also—fun fact—Raphael could morph into a dragon and bring down a whole world of smiting. God willing, he was here for the healing and not the smiting.

  His eyes twinkling in a way that was too Ian-like, Raphael gestured for her to raise her hands. But before she could do so, her hands swung forward of their own volition and her palms flipped upward. Seeing the blistered and bloodied skin, the light faded from his beautiful face. For some reason, his sadness made her want to cry.

  With a sigh, Raphael waved his hand above hers. Power shimmered like gold along his feathers and bright yellow light enveloped her palms. Viola had to avert her eyes, but she could feel the divine magick working. Her skin grew hot as the pained burned away. She inhaled sharply, grateful for the sudden relief. Strange tingles rippled along her palms and, somehow, Vi knew she was being healed.

  Overcome with emotion, Viola shifted her blurry gaze to the angel. He gawked at her hands, his eyes unbothered by the bright light. Cast in the heavenly glow, Raphael was even more stunning than before. His amber pupils were practically luminescent. He was enchanting.

  "I'm sorry," Raphael said, meeting her stare as the light faded. Vi would pay good money to hear him sing with that sweet tenor voice. "I was instructed not to remove your scars."

  Viola inspected her hands. Her melted skin had been replaced by smooth sc
ars. They appeared naturally healed, as if over months and not seconds. She stretched the tight and achy disfigurements, wondering why they had to stay—not that she was complaining.

  "Your body is a map of who you are." Raphael gestured to her vibrant tattoos. Stepping away, he extended his wings. "You may need the map whole to find yourself again."

  Well, that was cryptic and unhelpful. But the Angel of Healing didn't stick around to hear her sarcastic thoughts. Flapping his wings, he sent warm air and dust swirling around them. Viola watched Raphael lift from the ground, expecting him to shoot into the sky. But then he was gone. Vanished into thin air.

  "You were strong today. You made me proud," Azriel said, taking Raphael's place in front of her.

  The angelic scrawling on his face somehow shined in the sunlight, despite the sun at his back. It reminded Viola of the gold paint around Anubis' eyes. Viola wanted to thank him, but there was something about angels that left people stupefied. She was no exception.

  Gently taking her hand, Azriel dragged a finger over her scarred palm. Black soot appeared in its wake until his tracing left behind a cross. Viola's heart pounded as warmth expanded in her chest. He was accepting her again, giving back her life's purpose.

  Azriel repeated the gesture on her other palm. He then folded both of her hands within his, looking upon her with his silver stare. Her palms heated to a burn. Viola held his gaze, grinding her teeth against the raw pain. It was nothing compared to losing the crosses. She could take this, especially with Azriel there to lend her strength.

  All at once, the pain subsided, and her senses came alive. Sin surrounded Viola, heavy within her. The tug at her soul already calling her to task, she grinned as elation zipped through her heart. Azriel unfolded his hands and Vi peered at her palms. The crosses were the same as before, always upright and stained into her skin—well, stained into her scars now.

  My exorcist again, the Angel of Death said in her mind, the corners of his mouth upturning slightly.

  Honored, Viola met his eyes. "Thank you."

  He gave her a nod and put some space between them. Instead of leaving, he lowered his head in deference to the third angel. The new Archangel finally approached, and she stood out in stark contrast to the other two. That's right—she.

  Her hair was black, endless silken waves. She wasn't as tall as the others, but her magnitude was in her bearing, not her height. Her grace was unparalleled, and words couldn't describe the perfection that was her face. She carried no weapons and wore a loose flowing tunic tied at her waist by a silver band, but Vi's instinct told her that this angel was far from defenseless. In fact, she was terrifying.

  Viola struggled to face the woman's intense eyes. So, instead, Vi's gaze fell to the large tattoo on the Archangel's bare arm. Sharp angelic script stretched from her shoulder to her elbow, reading, One Who Stands At The Left Hand Of God.

  Holy shit. Viola forced her stare to the ground, seriously thinking about dropping to her knees. It was Gabriel, lesser only to Michael. No wonder Azriel gave her such respect. She could destroy him with ease.

  The explosive sound that'd shattered their car windows suddenly made sense. It was said that the appearance of Gabriel was preceded by the blasting of a heavenly horn. Demons hated the sound, and they'd be sent running for miles around.

  "There are many trials ahead of you, Viola Grave. Your burdens will only grow." Gabriel's voice was stern, but not unfriendly. She had the tone of a general, one who was used to giving orders. Gabriel flicked her wrist upward and Viola felt her chin forcibly lifted so that she met the angel's eyes. "I'm here to offer you the means to walk away."

  Viola blinked. "What?"

  "You do not have to continue on this path. You may go to Azriel and follow him to Heaven where there is no suffering." Gabriel gestured to the Angel of Death. Azriel studied the shadowed horizon, not responding to the growing panic in Viola's chest. Gabriel then nodded to the car where Lana and Aaron waited. "Or you may stay and endure."

  "You're offering me a choice between life and death?" Viola moved away, nervously rubbing the new scars on her palms.

  "Death is not the end as you will well learn if you stay." Gabriel tilted her head, her brows curving in confusion. "You are afraid, but this is a kind offer."

  "It doesn't sound very kind." Viola chuckled, almost manically. Of course, she was afraid. She didn't want to die, and hadn't been prepared for the idea of it. "Why did you heal my hands, if you were going to give me the option of death?"

  "Pain can be a strong motivator and we did not want you to be influenced by anything other than your own will." Gabriel walked to Viola's side and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Calm yourself and consider my words."

  The Archangel's voice was like a blanket for the soul and somehow resonated within Viola. Her nerves relaxed, the fear stolen right from her chest. Vi breathed deep and dropped her hands, also finding herself less intimidated by Gabriel's presence. It allowed her to think, to contemplate what this woman was offering. "You're saying that if I'm going to stay, then I'm going to suffer."

  "Considerably."

  Her matter-of-fact tone made Vi shutter. "How?"

  "In many ways that will lead to dark ends." She looked at Viola then, an encouraging softness in her gaze. "The world and lives of many will be bettered for your suffering."

  "Well, that's nice." Viola sneered. Knowing that she could save lives didn't bring the kind of comfort that one might expect. "Or, I can pass go, not collect two-hundred dollars, and go directly to paradise. No penalty for sin?"

  "Yes, but should you remain, your sin will be weighed the same as any other soul."

  So, die now and get a free pass to Heaven or die later, go to Hell, but save others in doing so? Since one of Heaven's greatest was making this offer, then whatever was in Viola's future must be truly awful. Ya know, because it'd been a cakewalk so far… Viola walked away from the angel, giving herself some space to think. "My stepbrother and Lana will live?"

  "Your stepbrother will cease to hear God, but he will remain in the clergy and take a small parish near your hometown." Gabriel paused, considering her next words carefully. "The girl has her own path to walk."

  Viola fought the urge to ask about Lana's future. That wasn't why Gabriel was here and Vi had a feeling that the angel wouldn't tolerate being questioned incessantly. Besides, Vi really had to worry about herself here. This was literally a life or death conversation.

  She inhaled slowly and turned her eyes to the shining sunrise. This should have been her second day as a married woman. She should be enjoying this sunrise with Ian's arms around her. Viola touched her lips, visualizing Ian right next to her. "If I choose to go with you, I'll get to be with Ian again, won't I?"

  "Yes." Gabriel's voice remained gentle as she added, "and you will be with others who you love when they too join you in Heaven."

  With that, Ian whooshed from her mind. The faces of her family—Aaron, Lana, Grams, Gramps, and her parents—filled the space that he left. Their eyes beamed at the sight of Vi, but they wouldn't shine for long if Viola left. They'd have to go on without her while she took the easy way out. Did that matter in the grand scheme of eternity?

  The click of an opening car door drew Viola's attention. Aaron stood in the doorway, watching her with unspoken questions and worry written across his face. Had God told him about Gabriel's offer? Viola wanted to walk over to him, ask him how he would feel if she chose to go…

  What the hell was she thinking?! Something angry reared up in Viola's chest. Of course, Aaron would be upset if she left. It's death! It's final. In fact, it's more than that—It's a cop-out. She could be happy in Heaven, but she had to die first and hurt those she loved? What kind of crap was that? The fact that God would make this offer infuriated her.

  "That's… a seriously shitty offer." Viola faced the Archangel. "I mean, wow, that sucks."

  It was Gabriel's turn to blink. "I don't understand."

  "Didn't God choose me?
" Viola put a hand on her hip, her other hand touching her brow as she tried to wrap her brain around it. "He took one look at me and said, 'Hey, this girl can handle some serious shit. I think she should spend her life chasing and hunting demons.' Am I wrong?"

  "You are not," Gabriel said plainly, giving no indication that she was offended by Vi's anger.

  "So, why the hell is he second-guessing me now? He puts me through all that shit growing up and then changes his mind?" Viola threw out her arms. "What a crock!"

  "Then I presume that you are choosing to stay the course?" Gabriel rested her hand on the hilt of a large silver sword, hanging at her hip…Did she have a sword before?

  Viola realized then that she had, in fact, made her decision. Maybe she should see the offer as a blessing, as a gift, but it didn't feel that way. Nodding and smirking ironically, she ran a hand through her hair.

  "Yeah, you'll have to tell Ian that I'll find another way to get to Heaven, 'cause this girl owns her shit—you hear me?" Viola leveled her stare at Gabriel, then at Azriel's back. "I'm not bowing out early. I'm seeing this through. You hear me?!"

  He stepped sideways and peered at her with his charcoal eyes. "We hear you, Viola."

  His words smacked against her soul, seeming to reverberate within her. She swallowed hard, suddenly reminded that she was dealing with the most dangerous beings in all of creation. Viola lifted her chin defiantly, refusing to cower. She wasn't going to bail on her family, bail on life. Vi wasn't helpless, she was strong, and she sure-as-shit wasn't a quitter.

  Viola couldn't be sure, but Azriel looked pleased as he gave her a slight nod and extended his glorious wings. Her chest tattoo flared in response to the Angel of Death. He slammed his wings down, rocketing him into the air. This time, she caught a flash of light before the angel disappeared.

  Now totally alone with one of God's baddest angels, Viola returned her scowl to Gabriel. They watched each other as a gust of wind swept through Gabriel's long locks and her wispy tunic. Once more the sun began to creep into the sky. Time ticked forward.