Whistling Past the Graveyard (Nicki Styx)

by Terri Garey

Seth staggered, just a little, as all sound ceased. The sudden quiet seemed deafening, and we both took a few moments to breathe.

  “Did it work?” I gasped, wishing I could sit down. I bent over, resting my hands on my knees.

  “We’ll have to wait and see,” he returned, his chest heaving.

  Luckily for us, we didn’t have long to wait.

  Another loud pop and Nyx was back. With him, bent protectively over the small bundle in her arms, was a dark-haired woman with eyes as blue as the sky.

  “Mara.”

  There was so much emotion in that one word that it made my heart ache.

  “Seth?” Blue eyes filled with disbelieving tears.

  He took a step forward, holding out his hand. “It is I, beloved.”

  She hesitated, just for a moment, before rushing into his arms.

  I wasn’t sure how a spirit and an angel could actually touch, but the laws of the physical world apparently didn’t apply to them. Seth’s wings closed around Mara as tightly as his arms did, enclosing both mother and child in feathery soft whiteness.

  I turned away to give them some privacy, and met the baleful, red glare of one plainly unhappy demon. My middle finger itched to be raised, but I controlled the impulse: no point in kicking a dog that was already down, especially if the dog was eight foot tall, ugly as sin, and mad as hell.

  Quiet murmurings came from the reunited couple, words of love and regret, expressions of tenderness and longing. Even the baby joined in, making little mewling noises.

  “I’m so sorry,” Seth murmured, over and over. “I’m so sorry I left you alone.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, husband. You had no way of knowing what would happen.”

  “I should’ve stayed with you. I should’ve been there to protect you.”

  “There was a storm coming, remember? You couldn’t leave the sheep untended; we would’ve starved without them. It wasn’t your fault.” She buried her cheek against his chest, squeezing him as tightly as she could with her free arm. “It was never your fault.”

  Seth bowed his head over hers, kissing every part of it he could reach.

  “I knew you would eventually come for us.” Mara looked up, her face alight with joy. “I would’ve waited forever and day for you, my love.”

  He stroked a finger down her cheek, then did the same to the baby. “As I will wait for you, beloved.”

  Her smile faltered. “But we are together now!”

  “Only for a short time,” Seth said gently, “for you must take Gili and go.”

  “No! I will not leave you!” Mara shook her head wildly, her long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders.

  Seth smoothed it, tucking a strand behind her ear. “You must,” he murmured. “We always knew you must.”

  “It was too soon,” she cried. “We should have had more time! More children! We should have watched them grow, seen our children’s children…” Her voice broke, falling away on the last words.

  “We should have,” Seth agreed, soothing her with his voice as well as his hands, so gentle on her hair, her cheek. “But I’m forever grateful for the time we had, and for this time, this moment, to say goodbye.”

  “No, she argued weakly. “Tell the demon to take me back! We’ll wait for you there, Gili and me¬, until your mortal life is over.”

  Seth frowned and pulled away slightly, letting his wings rise to their full height. “I forbid it,” he said, in a stern voice. “Our child does not belong in the Abyss. I may have fallen from grace, but she was not meant to live in darkness. Take her into the Light, and let her precious spark add to its glory.”

  There was a lump in my throat the size of Mt. Olympus. I didn’t dare glance at Nyx again, because his bad-tempered glower would’ve ruined the moment.

  “The Light turned its back on you,” Mara said. “I want no part of anything that hurt you.”

  Seth shook his head. “No. It was I who turned away. My earthbound punishment is my own, and not meant for you and Gili. Go there, my love, and learn the truth of all that is, and ever will be. Go there, and make me happy, for I will never find peace of my own unless I know that you and our child have found yours.”

  “How?” Mara whispered, a hopeless look in her eyes. “I’ve spent so long hiding from it that I no longer know the way.”

  Seth turned his head, looking at me. “Nicki will show you. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it, Nicki?”

  I nodded, having accepted long ago that the reason I’d been sent back from the Light was so that I could guide others to it. “I think it might be easier if you got rid of Nyx first,” I told Seth. “I don’t need his bad mojo interfering with anything.”

  Nyx made a noise of disgust, deep in his throat. “I begin to understand what the High Lord Prince of Darkness sees in you, Nicki Styx,” he said to me. “You are almost as stubborn and arrogant as he is.”

  Before I had time to be insulted, Seth said, “Begone, demon,” and then used his angel-speak again.

  In a rush of wind and fury, Nyx disappeared, and I devoutly hoped that I’d never see his ugly, red-eyed gargoyle face again, even in my nightmares.

  Then it was just me and Seth and his dearly departed little family, who really needed to depart this time.

  “Time to say goodbye,” I told him softly. “You already know where they’re going, so you know they’re in good hands.”

  He nodded, peace and acceptance in his gaze, then turned back to Mara. Kisses were exchanged, a long, lingering one for his wife, a gentle, tender one for his daughter. Then he stepped back, leaving them to me.

  “Open your heart as well as your eyes,” I said to Mara. “Think of happy things, like the day you married Seth, or the first time you held Gili in your arms.”

  She stared at me mutely, holding the baby close.

  “You’re going to be happy there, I promise. It’s so beautiful in the Light—there’s music and color and so much joy…you’ll never be separated from your baby, never, and you’ll understand so much.”

  She looked again toward Seth, an agony of indecision in her gaze.

  “Go,” he told gently, in a deep-voiced timbre. “Go with my blessings.”

  Mara glanced back at me, and I gave her an encouraging nod. Then, finally, she looked up.

  “I see it,” she gasped, open-mouthed. “It’s so beauti—”

  Her sentence was never finished, as a blinding flash of brilliance lit the room, and when it was gone, both she and Gili were gone, too.

  Seth turned, and went to the window. He stood there silently, staring up at the night sky, and I honestly didn’t know what to say.

  After a few moments, I just went and stood beside him. The moon was full but the stars were fading, as a faint touch of dawn was on the horizon.

  “I can’t thank you enough for what you did this night,” he said. “I’ve carried the guilt over their deaths with me for a very long time. I couldn’t forgive myself, much less hope for forgiveness from Mara. I feared that she died hating me, cursing the day we met. For the first time in thousands of years, I feel a sense of peace.”

  Thousands? The mind boggled. When I thought about how I’d feel about losing Joe, and added on the idea of existing for thousands of lonely years afterward, my mind simply balked and wouldn’t go there.

  Seth turned from window. “Is there anything I can do for you in return?”

  “A plane ticket to Atlanta would be nice.” I couldn’t wait to get home and hold my man again.

  He smiled, the very first time I’d seen him do so.

  “I can do better than that, little human.” Reaching out, he touched my cheek the way I’d seen him touch his infant daughter’s. “Sleep now,” he whispered, and apparently I did, because that was the last I remembered before waking up in my own bed the next morning, sunlight streaming through the blinds, a single white feather on the pillow beside me.

  Epilogue

  “It wasn’t a dream,” I insisted. “I really did go to
Hell and back, and reunited a fallen angel with the spirits of his wife and child. Once they had a chance to say goodbye, they were able to find peace.”

  “That’s quite a story, babe.” Joe yawned, looking tousled and exhausted. He’d been up all night, saving lives in the ER, which is why I’d brought him a thermos full of freshly made coffee along with his favorite blueberry muffins. “If anyone but you tried to make me believe it, I’d be running tox screens for hallucinogens and hoping we had an empty bed available in the psych ward.” He took a big bite of muffin, leaning an elbow on the table. We were in the hospital cafeteria, and he was on a short break.

  “You believe me, right?” I was fully prepared to show him the bandage on my forehead as evidence, but preferred not to, as I didn’t particularly want to stick around for the skull x-ray he’d probably insist upon arranging. (To be completely honest, I’d purposely left that part of the story out, at least until his shift was over. I was fine, and the poor guy had a lot of actual patients to worry about.)

  “Of course I believe you, Nicki.” He took a sip of coffee to wash down the bite of muffin. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  I got up from the table, and heedless of a hospital cafeteria full of people, threw my arms around my tired, wonderful, life-saving, life-changing man. “I love you so much,” I murmured in his ear. “I can’t wait for us to be man and wife.”

  He squeezed me back, one-handed, as best he could from his seated position. “Um… about that,” he said. “Any wiggle room on the actual wedding date?”

  I drew back, surprised. “What? Why?”

  He took my hand and urged me back into my seat, looking rueful. “I’ve been asked to speak at the American Academy of Emergency Medicine’s annual assembly. It’s the first weekend in April.”

  “Wow.” I knew enough about Joe’s job to know that being tapped as a speaker for a national organization like the AAEM was a pretty big deal. “Where is it being held?”

  “Houston.” Joe’s blue eyes were locked on mine. “I know it’s an inconvenience, but we haven’t sent the invitations out yet, have we?”

  “No, not yet.” So what if they’d already been printed? I’d have to check with the church and see if we could reserve a different date, but it was a small church, so it would probably be okay. Then there was the florist, and the caterer, and a million other tiny details, none of which I was going to bring up to Joe right this very moment.

  “So what do you think?” He grinned hopefully at me over his coffee, eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that melted my heart, every single time. “Am I worth waiting a week for?”

  “Forever and a day,” I answered, squeezing his hand. “I’d wait forever and a day.”

  Want to read more about the strange

  and spooky world of Nicki Styx?

  DEAD GIRLS ARE EASY

  GHOULS NIGHT OUT

  A MATCH MADE IN HELL

  YOU’RE THE ONE THAT I HAUNT

  SILENT NIGHT, HAUNTED NIGHT

  “Nicki Styx is a heroine to die for! This wonderful series will both thrill you and chill you!”

  – TERESA MEDEIROS, NYT bestselling author

  “I never thought I’d have so much fun with the dead!”

  – LYNSAY SANDS, NYT bestselling author

  ~~~~~~~~~

  Want to read more about the deep, dark underworld

  of Samael the Fallen, High Lord Prince of Darkness?

  DEVIL WITHOUT A CAUSE

  A DEVIL NAMED DESIRE

  "Readers will enjoy the Devil's manipulations and the sweet yet smoldering chemistry..." –Publishers Weekly

  "Garey's ability to create characters with layers of depth is on full display here." –Romantic Times Magazine

  "Ms. Garey has delivered a compelling story. An interesting take on a well-known literary figure, she strives to humanize a very inhuman being. I would recommend this to anyone that enjoys stories about angels and their ilk." –Dark Faerie Tales Reviews

  MRS. BEAUMONT'S ROOM

  We got the house at auction, my husband and I, having fallen in love with its high gables and gingerbread trim. An old Victorian, falling down in some places, in need of care and time and attention. The kitchen would need a complete remodel, the wraparound porch rebuilt, but we didn’t care, because it was going to be a labor of love, and we had years in which to do it.

  Signs of neglect were everywhere, of course. Dust on every surface, spider webs in the corners. Most of the furniture was gone, but there were still a few pieces left, an old bureau in one of the bedrooms, a couple of ladder back chairs and a battered buffet in the dining room. Nothing worth keeping, and probably too much trouble for the previous owner to have removed.

  John and I spent the first day cleaning, he with a broom and a dust mop, me with rubber gloves and scouring pads. He concentrated on floors and surfaces, while I tackled the kitchen and main floor bathroom. I brought my iPad, so we could listen to music while we worked, and opened the windows so that fresh air could blow through, clearing away the mustiness brought on by years of silence and inattention.

  By the end of the second day, the downstairs was almost habitable, the hardwood floors clean and ready for rugs, the windows and windowsills gleaming and free of grime. John was in the kitchen, replacing the corroded pipes beneath the sink with shiny new PVC ones, when I decided to venture upstairs and lay out my cleaning plan of attack for the next day.

  I loved the master bedroom, with its big windows that overlooked the back yard, overgrown with forsythia bushes in need of taming. The adjoining bath was bigger than most, with a claw foot tub that I hoped we’d be able to re-glaze and keep, and a fairly modern shower that would probably need to be re-tiled.

  There were two other bedrooms, as well, both empty, and a third door at the end of the hallway that I didn’t recall noticing before. Expecting a closet, I opened it to find a third bedroom, fully furnished and smelling faintly of perfume. Lavender, maybe, or roses, the scent gone old and musty.

  The shades were drawn, sheer lace curtains, too, both yellowed with age. Outside, the sun was shining, filtering through the shades to fill the room with pale, lemony light. Surprised, I saw that the bed was neatly made, and the dresser was covered with someone’s belongings: framed photos, a woman’s hairbrush, bottles and lotions, all powdered with dust.

  No one had been in this room for a long time, but whoever had been here last had left it neat. Beneath the window was a bench seat, and below that a row of built-in shelves, containing books and knick-knacks. Another dresser, behind the door, held more photographs, and much to my surprise, a woman’s jewelry box, which was closed. It was a soothing room, a quiet room, which invited further exploration, but I was suddenly hit with a wave of tiredness. It seemed that nothing in the world was more inviting than that neatly made bed. If I could fold down the coverlet without raising too much dust, I could lay down in those sheets, which surely smelled of lavender, and take a brief nap. I was so tired, my eyes so heavy, that I could barely do it, but I managed. I crawled in and lay down, sinking almost at once into the strangest dream I’d ever had.

  In the dream, I was young, and beautiful. I laughed and flirted behind a fan of silk and lace, smiling at the young men who brought me lemonade and vied for my attention. Music played, beautiful music, the room beyond my fan a whirl of sound and color, couples dancing by candlelight while others watched from the sidelines, drinks in hand.

  Then I was standing, gazing into the adoring eyes of just one man, a man who had both my hands clasped in his. I was wearing white, seeing everything through a gauzy veil of lace, until the man lifted it and kissed me. I was happy, so happy, and that happiness continued as the scene changed to one of a picnic, where I was sitting on a blanket beneath a tall tree, laughing as the man tossed a small boy up into the air and caught him again, causing the child to squeal with glee. There was a girl child there as well, with ribbons in her hair and ruffles on her skirt, who brought me a wilted handful of wildflowers
with a look of joy and pride upon her sweet little face.

  The man was in uniform now, tall and straight and strong as he walked away from me, down the steps of the front porch toward his horse, which would take him away. My children clutched at my skirt, trying not to cry, as I memorized the look of him, the turn of his head, the dark hair I’d run my fingers through so many times. I feared I’d never see him again, and somehow, in my dream, I knew that my fears would be proven right.

  There were others in my dream, faceless and nameless, moving from scene to scene as my life moved forward and onward, like a river rushing toward the sea. There was laughter, and there were tears, there was joy, and there was sorrow. Time had no meaning, each day like a bead on a rosary, touched and counted before moving onto the next.

  Then I was back in the bed, with a woman sitting in the chair beside me, reading aloud. Somehow, in my dream, I knew the woman for the child she’d once been, who’d brought me wildflowers and cried when her father had marched off to war, never to come home again. She had dark hair, touched with gray, and soft voice that soothed my nerves, removing me from the pain I now felt in my chest. And then the pain lifted, and my soul with it, hovering above my body as it lay on the bed.

  I saw myself, an old woman who’d once been young and beautiful, laughing and flirting behind a fan of silk and lace. The eyes that used to dance were now closed, the hands that once clasped her beloved husband, held her children close, now motionless and still upon the blanket.

  It frightened me, to see myself like that. I was weightless, adrift, being pulled away from the life I’d once known, from the house where I’d been so happy, and I didn’t want to go. I needed to anchor myself, to stay here in my cozy little room at the end of the hallway, where I—and all my memories—could be safe.

  That’s when I opened my eyes, and found myself in an empty room filled with yellow light, to the sound of my husband John’s voice calling to me from downstairs.