by G. A. Rael
After all, going out to eat every night wasn't practical and it was nice to have something else to focus on besides her constant struggle to reign in the power that threatened to surge with each passing full moon.
As Jordan counted out the bills and passed them to the girl behind the counter, something moved in her peripheral vision again and she turned sharply. When she realized that no one was there and that the cashier was giving her a strange look, she slipped her crumpled change back into her pocket and uttered a distracted apology before leaving.
Rather than pass by Darren’s building again, Jordan chose to take the alleyway. It was a much shorter route, but she had avoided it ever since Hank's attack. Still, it was better than running the risk of seeing the woman again.
"Excuse me?"
Jordan spun around and dropped most of the bags she was holding at the sound of the woman's voice. “Shit, you scared me,” she said, scrambling to collect the groceries. Fortunately, the only thing that seemed to be broken was one of her jars of curry paste rather than any of Mrs. Herrin's items.
The woman reached out to offer her an unbroken jar. "I think this one's okay."
Jordan reached out to take the fallen item. "Thanks. Sorry, I'm just a little --" She froze as her hand brushed against skin as cold as stone and she caught a flash of yellow before looking up. The woman might have been a stranger, but there was something undeniably familiar about those light blue eyes and she would have recognized that yellow dress anywhere.
Thirty-Six
"Hello, Jordan," the woman said in a warm voice that belied her frigid touch. "I didn't mean to frighten you, but I thought it was about time we met face to face."
Jordan tried to swallow but her mouth was so dry it might as well have been filled with sand. The alley that had been so muggy moments before was suddenly so chilly that it made bumps rise up all over her arms. Slowly but surely, fog was creeping across the stones that paved the alley.
"Who are you?" Jordan demanded, trying to look the part of the fierce witch Hermes was determined to mold her into. "Why have you been watching Darren, and how do you know my name?"
"I know who you are because I've been watching Darren," the Watcher replied, standing. Jordan left the upright grocery bags on the ground and followed suit. "You mean a lot to him."
"You haven't been watching him that closely if you think that."
The woman smiled knowingly. "Most people can't see me, you know. I didn't think you could either at first. Every now and then, a child will catch a glimpse of me in the corner of his eye. I guess they're more perceptive than adults."
"So you are a ghost," Jordan said warily.
"I guess that's as good a term for it as any," she said with a carefree little shrug. "You can just call me Natalie."
Well, that was a relief. Jordan was still more than a little unnerved that she was seeing a ghost, especially since she hadn't experienced any paranormal activity since Susan's last messenger run, but a ghost was better than some of the other creatures Hermes had warned her about--including demons.
"I still don't understand why I can see you," said Jordan.
"Aren't you a witch?” There was something vaguely familiar in the way her eyebrows knit in confusion.
"Yes, but you're only the second ghost I've seen. I thought my antennae were broken."
Natalie scanned the alleyway and Jordan noticed that, much like Susan, she seemed just as solid as her surroundings. Unlike Susan, this ghost existed in reality rather than a transient dream world, which was somehow even more unnerving. If she had been transparent or seemed even the slightest bit off, it would have been easier to accept her for what she was.
"You can't see them?" she asked, turning back to Jordan.
Jordan glanced around nervously. "Who?"
The ghost hesitated, resting her hand over mouth. "This is very strange."
“No offense, but I think that's my line."
"Like I said, ghosts aren't used to being seen," Natalie said, smoothing down her skirt before she leaned against the brick wall around the same spot Hank had thrown Jordan into. "What's even stranger is that you can see me but you can't see them."
"Them?" The question sounded more like it came from a scared little girl rather than a grown woman, much to Jordan's chagrin. She straightened her spine and reminded herself she was the harbinger of the apocalypse. Surely she could handle one little specter.
"Well, yes," Natalie said, as if it should be obvious. "Cold Creek has its fair share of restless souls. They're all around us. I'm sure you know about what happened at the factory by now."
"I do," Jordan said carefully. "Darren told me, but are you saying that souls who don't find rest just wander around wherever they died?"
"More or less."
"Why?"
"Spirits tend to hover by anything with a strong emotional connection to their death," Natalie said patiently. "Most often it's a place, but it could also be an object or even the person responsible for their death." Jordan didn't like the way her voice changed as she spoke those last words.
"Are you implying that Darren was responsible for your death?"
"No, of course not," she said softly. "I'm here because I believe Darren is in danger."
"Danger?" Jordan frowned. "From who?"
Natalie stared intently at her for a moment. Her silence lasted so long it made Jordan uneasy all over again. "From you, Jordan."
"Excuse me?"
"At first I thought it was intentional, but after observing you and now talking to you, I don't think that's the case," she said with a sigh. "Nonetheless, you're the reason he's in so much trouble."
"Trouble? What trouble?" Jordan asked in disbelief.
"I know what you did at the hospital. I know about the deal you made with that demon to bring Darren back from the dead."
"Then you know I did it to save him," Jordan said earnestly. "I would never hurt Darren. I even made sure he wouldn't remember what happened so I could keep him away from all of this," she said, gesturing to the invisible spirits around them.
"You can erase a memory from the mind, Jordan, but you can't erase the imprint it leaves on the heart," Natalie said gently. "I'm afraid that all you've done is make Darren more a part of our strange world than ever."
"How?"
"He's still connected to you," said Natalie. "He's bound to you, actually, as surely as you are bound to that demon. Didn't anyone ever warn you to always read the fine print before you sign a contract?"
Jordan looked away, embarrassed. "It was kind of an emergency. Darren was dead. I had to do something and there wasn't any time to waste."
Natalie laughed. "Dying is a funny thing like that. It happens in an instant and an eternity all at once. I know he was dead. I was there to greet him. I held him safely in my arms and soothed his pain until he was ripped away from me--at least, most of him. A piece of his soul got left behind between worlds and I believe it made its way into your hands," she said with a pointed glance.
Jordan frowned, looking down at her empty hands. Save for some spilled flour, there was nothing notable on them.
"The living always take things so literally," Natalie said ruefully. "I see your demon master keeps you on a need-to-know basis, so I'll just say this. You didn't really bring Darren back, not all the way. The thing you brought back may look like Darren and act like him so much that he can fool even himself for a time, but that's about to change."
"What are you talking about?" Jordan asked, instantly on guard after the change in the woman's tone. She was still hurt by Darren's betrayal, but she didn't appreciate anyone referring to him as a thing.
"All monsters are forced to take their true form on one full moon each year, even demons," Natalie said, holding Jordan's gaze. Those blue eyes were even more familiar with the new intensity that shone through them. "'For everything that is hidden will eventually be brought into the open, and every secret will be brought to light,' to put it into terms you'll understa
nd," she murmured, quoting what had been Marla’s favorite Bible verse. Hearing it out loud both filled Jordan with nostalgia and made her shudder. "The moon that governs the infernal dead is close. When the worm moon rises, Darren's transformation will be complete unless you stop it."
Jordan struggled to process everything she was saying. Was Natalie really trying to convince her that Darren was becoming some kind of monster? "Stop it?" she finally asked. "How?"
"You have to release his soul. If it isn't released before the worm moon, he'll be damned just like you are."
Jordan winced. She had already figured as much, but having it confirmed by a third party was hard to hear. "Uh, I know this probably makes me a shitty witch, but when is the worm moon?"
"That depends on what month it is now," said Natalie. "Time is a bit fuzzy on my side of reality."
"It's February," said Jordan.
The ghost's eyes widened.
"What is it?"
"It's next month," Natalie said in an urgent whisper.
“Why did you wait until now to tell me?” Jordan cried.
"I couldn’t. You have quite the vigilant entourage."
Jordan frowned. "You mean Hermes?”
"You can't tell him we spoke."
"Why not?"
"Do you really think he's just going to hand over Darren's soul because you asked nicely?"
Jordan hesitated. "He might."
Natalie shook her head. "Your parents sheltered you from everything, and yet here you are cozying up to a demon. The demon Hermes will let Darren's soul come to ruin without a second thought and he'll do the same with yours when your contract runs out. Has he told you what demons do to souls once they're done using the vessels, didn’t he?”
Jordan grimaced. "He said they're eaten."
Natalie gave a dry laugh. "Yes, you witches get the VIP treatment. What they do to the others isn't fit for speaking out loud."
"How do you know that?"
"Let's just say the dead gossip more than the living do.”
"I'll do whatever I can to free Darren's soul," Jordan promised, "but what if I can't release it before the full moon?"
"It's likely you won't have to," said Natalie. "They've caught wind of what you did on the other side and they're not happy. Raising the dead isn't a crime that gets a slap on the wrist, Jordan."
"The other side? You mean --"
"Heaven," Natalie said, folding her arms. "In not even a year's time you've gone from a runaway preacher's daughter to Heaven's most wanted. Everyone knows who you are by now. There’s a damn good chance I’m the only spirit you’ve seen because no one else wants to be caught talking to you. No one wants to cross paths with an angel."
The word sent a cold chill right down Jordan's spine. "Angel?"
"Yes, I assume you're familiar with them?"
“Unfortunately. You mean Michael, don’t you?”
“He’s among them, yes. Darren will just be collateral damage when they come to punish you for what you've done and it’s only a matter of time. Hermes can’t protect you forever.”
"How do I stop it?" Jordan asked, her heart pounding. “How do I release his soul?”
“You can’t. Turn yourself in, Jordan. Tell them you'll release Darren from your bond and maybe they'll have mercy on you both."
"But I don't even know where his soul is."
"That's probably for the best. They can't torture it out of you that way."
Jordan's eyes widened. "They're angels." Her own experience had left her with no illusion that they were the cute fluff-winged creatures that were found in children's Bibles, but torture seemed a bit too far in the outfield, even for an angel.
"Yes," she said matter-of-factly, "and you ceased to be human in their eyes the moment you broke the code of nature and raised Darren from the dead. Witches are the pawns of demons and Heaven has no mercy for your kind."
The ghost's words sank in and Jordan felt a tightness creeping up her throat like hands choking her from the inside. "I'm not like the other witches. I've kept my hands clean."
“You’re still the Whore of Babylon. You think they care what you have or haven’t done when they know what you’re capable of?” she challenged. “I'm only warning you about the inevitable, what you do with the information is your choice. The angels are coming and you can't stop it, but you can control how many people go down with you.”
Jordan only realized she was cracking her fingers when the hard edge of one of the diamonds on her ring dug into her thumb. It was a bad habit she’d never kicked.
If what Natalie was saying was even half true, it confirmed the bits and pieces Hermes had told her. One month. One month and it wasn’t just his life on the line. He might not have believed he had a soul, but Jordan knew enough about Heaven’s ways to know that they wouldn’t be merciful. Not to anyone who was remotely connected to her. "And if I can convince them to put his soul back, Darren will be okay?"
Natalie reached out to place a hand on Jordan's shoulder and, for a moment, it was warm. "Yes. I'll make sure of that myself."
"How will the angels even know where to find his soul? What if Hermes won’t give it up?” She knew he wouldn’t. He was willing to kill Chase if she bucked his authority, let alone a man who had zero worth in his “plan.” If she breathed a word of this to her familiar, they were both as good as dead and damned.
"I'll take care of that, too, when the time is right. Until then, it's better if you don't mention my involvement to anyone, especially not to Hermes.
“Why should I believe you?”
Natalie laughed. “You and I might not share a history, but we have something even more important in common."
"And that is?"
"We both love Darren deeply," she said in a sad whisper. "We both want what's best for him."
Jordan considered her words and struggled to form the question she'd been afraid to ask from the beginning. "You're her, aren't you? You're his mother."
Natalie smiled serenely. "Is it that obvious?
“I figured you were either her or Jessica.”
“Ah, yes. That poor girl.”
Another question Jordan knew she should ask hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to. It felt like betrayal. She didn’t want to believe it was fear that held her back.
"For what it's worth, I was rooting for you two. I'm sorry it didn't work out."
"Me, too," Jordan said, biting her lip. "I don't suppose you have any idea of how to summon an angel? That hasn't exactly been on the lesson plan."
"Have you tried saying a prayer?"
Jordan frowned. “My childhood was mostly praying and asking for forgiveness for sins I didn’t commit. Never got an answer then, so I don't see why they'd start listening now."
Natalie bent down to pick up the grocery bags. "I think you'll find Heaven a bit more responsive now that you're calling from a different area code."
"What are you doing with Mrs. Herrin's groceries?" Jordan asked.
"Let's just say I owe her a favor. It's my little way of saying goodbye."
Before Jordan could ask what the favor was, Natalie walked clear through a solid brick wall and disappeared.
Jordan trudged down the path in a daze. Before she knew it, she was back at the little white house she had called home for nearly a year.
The front door flew open and Mrs. Herrin appeared, dragging Jordan inside her apartment. “Come quick! You're the only one who'll believe this."
When Jordan made it into the apartment, she half-expected to see Natalie standing in the living room. Much to her relief, nothing seemed amiss other than the grocery bags that had mysteriously made their way onto the counter. "What is it?" Jordan asked innocently.
Mrs. Herrin planted her hands on her hips. "You didn't bring these groceries in here, did you?"
"No," Jordan said carefully. Of all the times to lie, this would have been one of them, but she knew that Mrs. Herrin would see right through it anywa
y.
"I didn't think so. I was cleaning and bent over here behind the couch to pick up the remote and when I turned around, they were just there," she said, more animated than Jordan had ever seen her, hands flailing. "At first I thought, 'This is it. The old noodle is on its way out,' but then I saw her."
"The woman in the yellow dress?"
"Yes, she --" Mrs. Herrin spun around, frowning. "How did you know that? Did you see her, too?"
"I did," said Jordan. "She took the bags while I was bringing them home."
Mrs. Herrin shook her head, laughing. "That Natalie was always a trickster. I don't know how such a sullen boy came out of her."
Jordan couldn't help but smile. "I don't know, I could see the resemblance."
"Did she say anything to you?"
"Not much," Jordan lied.
"I should ring Darren..."
"No," Jordan said quickly. "Don't do that. I mean, you know how he is. He wouldn't believe you anyway."
"That's true," Mrs. Herrin said with a heavy sigh. "It's just a shame. I wish he could see her."
"Maybe he will," Jordan said softly. "She certainly seems to be making the rounds."
Thirty-Seven
Another Friday night came and went and Jordan found herself back at Chase’s apartment, as usual. He was in the kitchen making coffee, and she had made a game out of estimating exactly how long it would take him. She glanced up at the clock as it struck nine-fifteen and smiled when he came out carrying two mugs. The man was clockwork: precise and reliable.
“Thanks,” she said, taking her mug.
“Non-dairy cream and sugar, just the way you like it,” he said pleasantly, sitting down next to her.
