by C. L. Coffey
I bit back the nasty retort. I was trying to look after Eugene. He was beside me, in the recovery position: his side was the only place I could lay him without his wounds pressing into the dirty ground. I’d torn the bottom part of my vest top – denim was a damn sight harder to rip when you only had human strength and nothing sharp to tear the thick seams – so I could catch the water dripping from above and try to clean Eugene’s wounds as best I could.
“Anyone would think you wanted to be here. Were you in on what that nephilim was doing the whole time?” Garret jeered.
My nails bit into my palms as my hands curled into fists. “No,” I ground out through gritted teeth.
“You’re the one who led him to us,” he continued. He kicked at the chain again sending water cascading everywhere.
I leaped to my feet, hurling the scraps of fabric to the ground beside Eugene, barely registering the wet slap as I marched towards Garret. The water had become more toxic since I had last been in it, the irritation verging on painful, but I ignored it as I stormed towards Garret, getting up in his personal space. “I would never have done this intentionally! I thought Ty was my friend.”
“You have appalling judgement!” Garret snapped back at me; spit building up in the corner of his mouth. Then he shoved me.
I didn’t go flying like I once would have, but I did stumble backwards. I had to grab hold of my chains, fisting my hands around them, making myself feel the burn. Rage was building up in me, and I was using everything within me to control myself and not attack Garret. We were supposed to be on the same side.
“You’re the reason they’re all dead!” he yelled. He closed the distance to shove me once more.
“ENOUGH!” Veronica bellowed. Her voice, far too loud for our enclosed surroundings, was enough for Garret to hesitate. I sucked in a harsh breath, the effort sounding like a snarl, but paused myself. “That is enough!” she repeated, slumping back. “Everyone is dead: the cherubim, gone. I don’t want to see us fighting, please!” Her hands reached up, clutching at the damp hair at her temples as she shook her head. “Fighting is not going to get us out of here.”
She was echoing my thoughts. Warily, I observed Garret, waiting to see if he would listen or continue in his attack. He stood, frozen, rigid, the muscles in his chest strained, then he seemed to deflate. He didn’t acknowledge me, instead shaking his head as he turned and went to sit as far away from me as possible.
I blew out my own breath and returned to Eugene, wincing as walking was becoming painful. I sat and picked up the cloth, ready to resume seeing to his wounds as best I could, when I realized that Eugene was awake. His brown eyes were barely visible beneath his furrowed brow. “Eugene!” I exclaimed in relief. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve felt better,” he muttered, his voice weak.
There was a commotion behind me as both Veronica and Garret joined my side. “It’s good to see you awake,” Veronica informed him.
“It’s good to see you,” Eugene muttered in return. “You’ve been missed in the convent.” He tensed, trying to sit up, but crumbled in a cry of pain at the effort.
“I think you should stay where you are for a while,” I suggested, using the cloth to wipe the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead. He nodded, closing his eyes.
“I hear you’ve been doing a grand job in the convent kitchens without us,” Garret informed him, making Eugene open his eyes again, but his focus was on me.
“I’m sorry,” he said, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “I should have listened and waited for you. I just wanted to make the best enchiladas I could.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” I tried to assure him, but he shook his head.
“They grabbed me and put these things on me. I blacked out.”
He looked so ashamed of himself, that I had to swallow several times to make sure my words came out strong and clear. “That happened to all of us.”
Veronica nodded vigorously as she reached out for Eugene’s hand. “Out like a light. I’ve not known pain like it.”
“It dulled after a while,” Eugene continued. So had mine. I suspected it was because the metal was burning through nerve endings, rather than me simply becoming accustomed to it. The red skin around the metal was turning black in places. “I woke up in a place like this. Beelzebub – he said I was responsible for the nephilim being killed. I wasn’t, I swear,” he added, the tears back.
“I know,” I said, trying to ignore the guilty look Veronica and Garret were sharing. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? We’re going to need you in top form when we get out of here.” I waited until his eyes had closed and his breathing, though shallow, had become steady. I ushered Veronica and Garret away from him.
I sat down and crossed my legs, resting the metal cuffs on top of the Kevlar plates in the jeans as I attempted to keep my arms steady in the middle to give my skin some reprieve. It didn’t work – the skin was so inflamed the cuffs fit snugly – but in my head it was helping. “We need to get out of here,” I said in a low voice. “Eugene is not looking good.”
“It may have escaped your notice, but that is what I’ve been trying to do,” Garret snapped.
“Not now, Garret,” Veronica hushed him. “What do you have in mi-”
She stopped mid-sentence as a grumbling started, the ground vibrating as the noise got louder. Before I could work out what it was, the far corner of the room collapsed with an almighty roar, sending dirt and rocks showering everywhere in a massive cloud. Veronica leaped up, her chain narrowly missing me as she flew over me to use her body to shield Eugene. It was the last thing I saw as the room disappeared around me. It was all I could do to cover my head and pray that I would survive this – even if that prayer couldn’t be heard from wherever we were.
The dirt and wet dust slowly settled and the lightbulbs began to win the battle with the darkness. Taking care, I sat up, coughing and spluttering the grime from my mouth, trying to find the others. “Is everyone okay?” I asked.
“Fine,” Veronica replied amongst her own coughs. “I think Eugene is, but he’s out cold. Garret?”
“I’m all right.” I sensed his movements beside me, and turned, relieved to find, other than being filthy, that he seemed okay. “The ground is becoming more unstable the wetter it gets.” In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but suspect that that had been Beelzebub’s plan all along.
We sat in silence, waiting for the dust to clear properly. We’d just lost about a third of the room, and the ceiling was not looking as secure as it had previously. Even the few parts of the wall that had been reinforced looked like they needed more support or they would be following suit.
“Is that a casket?”
I looked to where Garret was pointing. Sure enough, almost buried in the dirt, short of a corner, was an old casket. Ever since I could remember, I’d had this lingering fear of being buried alive, to the point that I had made my aunt promise she would bury me with a cell phone ‘just in case’. The idea that it could happen now… I felt claustrophobic: I was sure my heart was about to burst from my chest. I brought my knees up, clutching my arms around myself, trying to fight the rising panic.
“Angel? You okay there?” I could hear Garret, but he sounded distant, drowned out by the sound of my pulse in my ears.
All I could think about was dying down here – would it even kill me? Would I just be buried alive for the rest of eternity? No one would know where I was, and I had no way of getting help.
The darkness took over.
* * *
It was warm – not uncomfortable and humid like it had been lately, but pleasant. Just warm enough for the sundress I was wearing. I was gardening. On my knees, a fork in my hand, weeding a flowerbed I didn’t recognize. I’d either just started, or I wasn’t very good at it. (I tended to shy away from that chore when I lived with Sarah. Of course, that was because she loved gardening and I didn’t want to take that away from her, so I suspected it
was the latter).
“You’re not very good at this, are you,” a voice said, confirming my suspicions. I turned, finding Maggie bringing me a can of Diet Coke, a glass of iced tea of her own in her other hand. Like me, she was dressed for the summer with a long teal skirt and a floaty shirt. She’d hidden her hair today. Normally her hair, gray like clouds after a storm, was left short and free. Instead, it was hidden beneath a large-brimmed sunhat.
Somewhat confused, I took the offered drink. I had been doing something… “No, not really. My aunt is usually the one who takes care of the gardening.” I popped the tab, distracted by the hiss, and took a swig. What had I been doing?
Maggie joined my side, kneeling down on a brightly colored mat, placing her glass to one side. “I like to get the borders weeded in the winter. Usually the temperature is just right and the ground is damp enough that it’s easier on my poor joints. You still need to put your back into it though,” she added, pointing at my discarded fork. “How can I trust you to look after my Joshua when I’m not sure if you can take care of a garden. Life is like a garden and you need to keep it free from weeds.”
“Weeds can be helpful though,” I said, pointing to a dandelion with a bee buzzing around it. “They attract insects like bees. If we didn’t have bees, the earth would implode.”
Maggie laughed. “I don’t think missing bees would cause that.”
“No, but it won’t be good for the planet.” I’d read something about that once, but now, I couldn’t remember what the argument was. It wasn’t important. Something else was.
“Joshua needs looking after. I don’t think I will be here for too much longer: I’m an old lady. I want to make sure he’s happy before I go,” Maggie continued, already forgetting about the bees.
I shot her a look. “Maggie, you’re not going anywhere, are you?”
Maggie laughed, her blue eyes sparkling. “Oh, lord no. Not if I can help it. I plan on sticking around as long as I can: I want to see Joshua married. He’s never expressed any interest in children, but I want to see him happy. You’re the first one I’ve met in a long time who seems to make him happy, but I need to make sure you’re going to look after him. He’s a good man – a protector – like his daddy, and I need to know that the person he chooses to look after and protect will do the same for him. I don’t believe that’s a man’s job – that’s an equal job that both parties need to uphold.”
“I’d die protecting him,” I told her. “There’s nothing else I would take more seriously.”
She tilted her head, then nodded appreciatively. “Yes, I believe you would. But you have a lot to learn about gardening. Especially when it comes to dandelions. They have really long roots, buried deep underground.”
Buried…? “I’m dreaming!” I blurted out, finally realizing why everything seemed out of sorts. “But am I dreaming, or Dream Walking?”
Maggie rubbed at her forehead, leaving a smear of dirt. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, dear.”
There was probably a way to work out which one it was, like asking her a question that only she would know the answer to, but not, because how would I know if the answer was correct. I pursed my lips, trying to find the solution, but failing. I was just going to have to hope for the best. “Maggie, I need you to do something for me.”
Maggie nodded, her brows furrowed. “Angel, dear, do we need to move inside to the shade for a while?”
“I need you to call Joshua and tell him that I think he’s working too hard and he needs to take a nap.”
“Joshua is working too hard?” she repeated.
I nodded. “Far too hard. He needs to rest and have a nap.”
“Does he?”
“Yes,” I snapped in frustration. I closed my eyes, pinching my lips together and silently counted to ten. Michael had once said that messages in dreams were difficult, that they often needed to be repeated over time as some people were more receptive than others. Joshua and I could have a conversation, fall asleep and then continue it. With Sarah, I’d only been able to tell her what had happened to me and have her believe it, because she’d believed. Right now, if this was me invading Maggie’s dream, I was certain she was not a particularly amenable person – at least not to be able to pass on a message. I opened my eyes and fixed her a stare, softening my gaze. “Maggie, this is really, really important. I need you to call Joshua and tell him that Angel needs him to have a nap. Do you understand?”
She nodded slowly, although she was still frowning. “I need to call Joshua and tell him to take a nap.”
“That Angel needs him to take a nap,” I corrected her.
“That you need him to take a nap. Call Joshua and tell him Angel needs him to take a nap.”
I nodded. “Now keep repeating that to me.” I sat there, making her repeat that over and over, praying that was enough.
* * *
When I woke up four hundred and sixteen repetitions later, all I could do was hope it had worked.
“She’s waking up,” I heard Garret call. He suddenly appeared above me, staring down at me. For the first time ever, he looked concerned. “You passed out.”
I sat up, rubbing my hands over my face. I had been moved so I was now closer to the door. It didn’t look like any more of the room had caved in, but the water had definitely risen. “I think I can get us out of here,” I announced.
“By being unconscious?” Garret sighed and looked to Veronica. “She’s got a concussion.”
“I haven’t got a concussion,” I said, rolling my eyes. In fairness, there was that much pain radiating from various parts of my body, that it was entirely possible that I did have a concussion, but I was certain I hadn’t imagined being with Maggie. I wasn’t quite as certain it hadn’t been one of my own dreams though. “I just Dream Walked into Maggie’s dream.”
Veronica and Garret shared a look. “Who is Maggie?”
“She is the woman who helped look after Joshua when his mother left. More so after his father died… the point is she’s his family. She will get a message to Joshua.”
Veronica and Garret shared another look. “Angel, Dream Walking is vague at best. Angels haven’t actively done that for years because it’s easier to get a message across with a literal message. That’s why the angels are out there delivering them all the time.”
“I know,” I said, sounding much more confident than I felt. “That’s why I only told her that she needed to tell Joshua to sleep. If I can Dream Walk into one of his dreams, then I can have a conversation with him.”
“You’d be better going to Joshua directly,” Garret pointed out. “Even your family would have a better chance of understanding your message, and acting on it, than someone who is barely connected to you.”
“There isn’t anyone else,” I told them. “Michael, Joshua, Sarah – even Cupid – by now, they’ll all know I’m missing. Joshua was there: he will know that the cherubim have died. Do you really think any of them are going to be sleeping?”
“Which is precisely the point,” Garret argued. “What makes you think a random phone call is going to make Joshua go to sleep?”
Meeting his gaze with my own, I answered confidently. “Faith.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Last Kiss
Garret looked a little skeptical, but Veronica looked worried. “I’m not doubting your trust in Joshua, but I’m not sure how long we can stay in here. The…” she trailed off as we heard something approaching the door. Without prompting, Garret, Veronica and I were on our feet, circling around Eugene.
The door opened and Beelzebub and Ty joined us. Beelzebub’s eyes went straight to the collapsed corner, whereas Ty’s were fixed on me. “It’s happening faster than I expected,” Beelzebub declared, rubbing his hands together. “It’s a good job our special guest turned up.”
I knew it was going to be Lucifer before he entered the room. The vessel he was using was that of a guy not much younger than me. I’d done my reading – he – Luk
e – would be twenty in a few months. He had the swagger of a guy who was good looking and knew it, acting like he was a god. I almost choked on the laugh at the irony of that. He was wearing jeans, hung low around his waist, and a form hugging wife beater that showed off his muscles. He had bed-head hair, but enough gel on it to look like he had spent a while in front of the mirror to get that effect. “So, you’re Angel,” he said, giving me a wide grin that would have had his fans dropping to their knees for him. “I owe you a thank you, babes.”
“How about showing that gratitude by letting us go?” I suggested.
Luke laughed. “I like you. Under different circumstances, I would have spent more time trying to convert you.”
I snorted. “You’d be wasting your time.”
Luke let out a melodramatic sigh. “If Michael were still here, it might have been worth it: seeing another of his prodigies joining me? That would kill him…” he trailed off in laughter.
I inhaled sharply – a motion he seemed to read as pain and he laughed harder. Instead, I was biting my tongue. If they thought Michael was still dead, that would at least allow him to have the element of surprise. Instead I forced the focus elsewhere in case Veronica or Garret decided to share that information. “Where have you been?” I asked Luke.
“US tour. I’ve just got back from the west coast.”
“No, I mean before that. I thought Michael had killed you?”
“Obviously not,” he said, pointing to himself. “Trapped in Hell,” Luke shrugged. “For the record, not even fallen angels like being in Hell, so let’s just say I’m going to do everything to make sure I don’t go back there. Though I will accept Michael’s postcard.”
