Who knew ghosts could scowl? I did now, and all of those scowls were focused on Corson. If they had been flesh and bone, I had no doubt they’d be trying to kick his ass right now.
“Corson, be nice to them,” I whispered.
“Why? Most of them weren’t good people. It’s why they’re here. They’re paying their penance until their time has been served.”
“Wait.” Vargas rested his fingers against his temple. “Are you telling me Earth is Purgatory?”
“Are you really surprised?” Corson inquired.
I frowned over his question, unsure how to respond. We were sitting in a diner full of ghosts, could anything surprise any of us anymore?
“If you really think about it, it makes perfect sense. They’re trapped here, watching the world continue on, watching their loved ones die and travel on to a place where they can’t go. They have to watch all of you live your lives, while constantly wondering when their time will finally come so they can pass on too,” Corson continued.
“Sounds awful,” I said and glanced at the figures pressing closer to us. “So why are you all gathering here?”
“One of the gates is here,” Pompadour said.
“Gates to what?”
“To Heaven,” he replied as if I were about as bright as tar, which right now, I felt like my mind was as covered in goo as the rest of me.
“It’s not a gateway,” Corson said with a roll of his eyes. “Ghosts are always exaggerating.”
“Then what is it?” I asked.
“When a person dies, there is a portal for the soul to pass through that some consider a gateway. Whether it is or not, I don’t really know. The area we’re in now experienced a high concentration of death in the past. In areas where there is a lot of death, the passing of the many souls who deserved to pass on to Heaven or Hell, and did so, leaves an imprint on the land.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing when Pompadour gave Corson the finger.
Corson smiled back at him sweetly before continuing. “Areas with large imprints on them tend to be a draw for ghosts looking to escape Purgatory. They hang around in the hopes that one of the many portals that have already opened here, will open again.”
He threw his arm out to indicate all the occupants of the diner. “You can’t skip the line,” he told them. “You have to serve your time. Hanging around here is getting you nowhere. Nothing is going to open for you until you’ve been deemed worthy of passing on.”
The pretty ghost wearing a poodle skirt put her fingers under her chin before flicking them at Corson. Her skirt didn’t move when she spun away from him. A man wearing what I thought had once been a uniform shirt and no pants turned and floated through the wall. I swallowed heavily at the disconcerting sight of something so human looking passing through something solid.
“Sometimes the portals open,” Ethel protested.
“Because the spirit passing through has served its time, not because they’ve found the key to skipping ahead,” Corson retorted. “Fools.”
“Holy shit!” Hawk blurted, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “It really is a truck stop instead of Saint Peter’s!”
Vargas, Erin, and I looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, and right now, I wouldn’t blame him if he did. “What?” I asked.
The color had drained from his face; he looked nearly as ashen as the specters floating around us. “It’s a song called, “Man on the Moon,” he murmured. “I used to love it as a kid, but I never would have dreamed it was based in reality.”
The title of the song seemed oddly fitting considering I felt like I was on another planet as another ghost floated by me.
“Humans glimpse more than they know between the dimensions sometimes,” Corson said. “The writer of your song may have seen something at some point.”
“So was this place built for the ghosts to come here?” I inquired.
“No, humans built this place because it was good business. The ghosts came here because of its location and because they could,” Corson replied.
Was this why I had seen Angela on the side of the road? Was she a ghost? Then again, Corson and the others hadn’t seen her, and they could clearly see the ghosts in here. She’d also appeared in vivid color while these ghosts were all gray and faded.
I turned to Corson. “So the ghosts interacted with the people who used to come here?”
“No, humans can’t see ghosts, or at least they couldn’t,” Corson replied. “Of course, some spirits are stronger than others. If one of those stronger spirits had an ability while human, they were able to retain that power, and those rare spirits were able to make their presence known to a human. You mostly called them ghosts, though some were known as poltergeists. There were also a few humans who would catch glimpses of ghosts beyond the veil keeping them blocked, but for the most part, ghosts hover in the background, watching and waiting for their turn to pass on.”
“I… uh… I beg to differ. I can see him perfectly fine,” Erin stammered. She leaned away from a man in his twenties with round glasses and hair down to his shoulders. His tie-dyed shirt had a grayish hue to it like the rest of him. He was trying to peer down Erin’s shirt as he rose higher into the air above her. “Pervert,” she accused.
The man grinned at her, flashed the peace sign, and floated away. “Totally worth it,” he said to another one.
“Jesus,” I muttered and pressed my shirt closer to my chest when a few of the other male ghosts clustered closer to us.
“Can Jesus help us?” Pompadour asked excitedly.
I gaped at him before shaking my head. “I… I don’t know.”
“No. He cannot help you. Fucking ghosts. Serve. Your. Time,” Corson enunciated, earning him more fingers and rude gestures from the dead and see-through crowd.
I leaned away from one rising over the top of me and angling his head to try to see around my hand at my throat. “Back off, buddy. You may not be corporeal, but I’ll figure out a way to kick your ass.”
“She might be able to do it,” another one said and nudged him with an elbow.
They both drifted away before turning their attention to Erin. “And I’ll kick your asses for her too!” I snapped at them.
I was beginning to understand Corson’s obvious dislike of ghosts.
“Thank you,” Erin said to me. She kept the top of her shirt pinned against her chest.
I wasn’t ready to release mine yet either. Some of the women ghosts moved around Hawk and Vargas with an admiring gleam in their eyes; the soldiers paid them no attention. “How come we can see them now?” I asked Corson.
“Because when Hell was ripped open, all the intricately woven tapestries keeping the worlds separate and hidden from each other were torn apart. Ghosts are no longer hidden behind their veil and are now visible to humans.”
“Why haven’t we seen them until now then?” I asked. “It’s been thirteen years.”
“Because we much prefer not to watch life continuing on,” Gray Uniform replied. “It has become much more peaceful and pleasant for us out here.”
“Plus, all that screaming.” Pompadour shook his head. “It gets tiring after a while, so most of us stay where the humans aren’t.”
“Are these some of the souls the demons feed from?” I asked Corson.
The ghosts closest to us swiftly moved back, a few of them went straight through the wall and vanished. “No. They may be annoying little pissants, but they’re serving their punishment. We have nothing to do with them.”
“Oh,” I said as I watched some of the ghosts move closer again. They smiled as they bobbed in the air. “Where exactly are we?”
“Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.”
That much of my history lessons I did remember. A chill ran up my spine as I stared at the man in the gray uniform before looking at where the other man in a uniform had departed out the side of the building.
“Oh,” Erin breathed.
“Makes sense,” Hawk murmured.
“Because, with so many ghosts gathered in one place, there’s a good chance there will be an opening for one of them at some point and they will be accepted into Heaven. The opening isn’t going to take a demon, or anyone else who doesn’t belong in it, with them, and no angel is going to come out, but being so close to something leading into Heaven isn’t our idea of a fun time. Plus, ghosts are annoying.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“So are demons,” Pompadour said and floated closer. “And ugly.”
“I do better with the ladies than you do, spectral boy,” Corson replied.
“Don’t taunt the ghosts,” was never a sentence I’d ever imagined saying, but I did.
I rubbed at my temples as the ghosts huddled closer to us once more.
“Can you help us?” a young woman asked me. Her hair was tucked beneath a bonnet and an apron covered her dress. “I gave up my chance to pass on because I wanted to see that my child and husband were well after my death, but they left the earth years ago and so did their offspring, yet I’ve remained.”
The beseeching look in what I thought were eyes that had once been brown tugged at my heart. “I can’t help you,” I whispered around the lump in my throat.
The woman crowded closer to me until her icy form brushed against my arm. “But you could speak with the angels for us.”
“My God,” Vargas muttered.
I scowled at him when he gawked at me and crossed himself. “I can’t speak to angels,” I told him. Spinning on the stool, I faced her again. “I can’t. It’s not something I’m capable of. I’m sorry.”
She went to grasp my hands, but her fog-like flesh passed directly through mine. The cool breeze and chill permeating my skin were the only indication she’d managed to touch me in some small way. Yet, I felt her anguish as if it were my own. My head bowed as I inhaled a jerky breath. I hadn’t had this type of response to the other ghost who had brushed against me. I didn’t know why I reacted so strongly to her, but I had to help her, although I had absolutely no idea how to do that.
“Ignore them,” Corson said. “They’ll follow us to the gateway of Hell if they think you can do anything for them.”
“She needs help,” I whispered.
“Too bad,” he replied and rose from the stool.
The ghosts fluttered away from him as he strode forward. They filled in behind him after he walked by. They were all see-through, but looking at Corson through the thick crowd of ghosts gave him a wavy, slightly distorted appearance. Corson made his way around the back of the counter to explore the contents there. More ghosts glided closer to me, floating around to twist their heads in order to peer up at me.
“Have you ever tried talking to the angels?” Ethel inquired.
“No,” I replied, wishing they would leave me alone. “I shouldn’t be here.”
Maybe most of them were being punished, and probably deserved it, but I couldn’t help pitying them. It must have been unbearable to be trapped in the middle like they were, unable to communicate with the ones they loved. All the while knowing that if they were able to communicate with them, their loved ones would run screaming. Even more horrible would be staying behind for loved ones who ultimately passed onto another place while they remained stuck in the in-between.
“It’s the best place for us right now.” Corson never looked up at me from his search of the other side of the counter.
“No, you shouldn’t be here,” Ethel agreed. “You might bring one of those who search for you here, but maybe you could help us before they come for you.”
I blinked at her and Corson snorted, “See, this is why I hate ghosts. You’re all always looking to escape your punishment and serve yourselves. Did you ever stop to think that maybe the reason you’re still here is because of your selfishness?”
“You try floating around being nothing of substance for years on end!” Ethel retorted. “Then tell me if you can think about anything other than freedom!”
“At least you have an afterlife,” Corson replied. “I bite it and that’s it, no more. Poof, dust in the wind.”
“Really?” Erin asked.
“Yes,” he replied and shoved a box of dust-covered silverware he’d pulled out from behind the counter back under it. “Immortality comes with a price, nothing afterwards. It’s the same for the angels if they perish. However, Heaven is a lot more stable for them since they threw their garbage out and we got stuck with it.”
I didn’t miss the bitterness in his voice; I’d heard it often enough when Kobal spoke of the angels too. The demons may not have been the mortal enemies humanity had always believed them to be, but when the angels had thrown Lucifer out of Heaven and he’d figured out a way to enter Hell, the angels had earned the wrath of many demons.
“Interesting,” Hawk murmured.
“Boo hoo,” Ethel replied and planted her hands on her hips again. “You get to live forever, but if, by chance, you do die, you’re done. Poor you. Just don’t die.”
Corson looked up from the dusty stack of faded menus in his hand. He placed them on the counter and leaned toward her. Judging by the look on his face, if she’d been real, her guts would be spilling across the counter right then.
“Poor you, Eth,” he said. “You’re getting exactly what you deserve. Try being a decent human next time around, or even an honorable ghost for once.” He turned his back on her and walked away.
“Get out!” Ethel commanded in a thunderous tone that made the hair on my arms stand up.
“Corson!” I grated through my teeth.
He kept walking toward the swinging silver kitchen doors as if he didn’t have a ghost staring daggers into his back.
“I think he pissed her off,” Hawk muttered when the light over Corson’s head flickered before blazing to life once more.
CHAPTER 18
Kobal
I moved noiselessly through the forest as I scented the air and searched for the humans. In the distance, an owl screeched, but I couldn’t see it through the canopy of branches stretching over my head. The moonlight filtering through the trees caused shadows to dance across the pine needles and leaves lining the forest floor.
Following the potent aroma of body odor, I came up behind a human lying on his stomach on the ground. Branches stuck out from his hat, and dirt streaked his face and clothes as he stared at the road with a rifle against his shoulder. Halting, I gestured for Morax to go around to the man’s right while I went to his left.
Gliding through the trees across from me, I spotted Morax moving with his tail curled over his head and a lethal expression on his face. He broke away from the trees and slipped up behind the human as I emerged from the other side. When the man’s eyes shot to me, he gasped and spun to aim his rifle at my chest.
Morax swung his fist down, driving it into the human’s temple before the man ever knew he was there. The man’s eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the ground. Morax ripped the rifle from his limp hands. He glanced between the man and the rifle, his muscles flexing as he looked about to bash it into the man’s temple. My command from earlier held though. He lowered the rifle and rested the end of it on the ground at his side.
“Leave his weapon,” I ordered. Morax tossed the gun a few feet away at the base of a small oak tree. “Let’s go.”
I slipped deeper into the woods, moving through the forest with ease. After centuries of maneuvering the treacherous pathways of Hell, Earth and any of her many obstacles were easy to get through.
The coolness of the shade within the woods brushed over my skin. The decaying odor of the leaves and pine needles littering the forest floor filled my nose, but I could still pick out the aroma of human sweat. It drew me onward to where the other humans were hiding.
Behind me, the demons moved soundlessly through the brush. This dimension was not our home, but over the last thirteen years, we’d become accustomed to it. We’d adapted in ways I’d never believed possible when we first arrived here, and now Earth had become as much a part of us as Hell was.
Climbing onto a small boulder, I perched at the top and knelt to survey the forest. All I’d ever wanted since arriving on this plane was to destroy Lucifer, return home, and claim my throne. After meeting River, I still wanted all of that plus her by my side. The more I contemplated our future though, the more I realized I’d prefer to keep her out of Hell as much as possible and away from everything that went on there.
I had never envisioned staying on Earth, but as I looked over the surrounding wilderness, I realized I wouldn’t be leaving it behind after Lucifer was defeated. Not for good anyway. This was River’s world, and I would make my home here with her.
The humans had unintentionally set us free, but I realized now there would be no more locking ourselves away in the bowels of Hell again. Maybe it hadn’t been meant for demons to walk freely in the human realm, but many things had happened in the six thousand years since the angels threw Lucifer out that were never meant to be.
The angels had started the chaos, the humans had accelerated it when they’d torn open the gateway, and we were the ones cleaning up both of their messes. We would reap the benefits of staying on this plane if we so chose, and we didn’t have to live among the humans. There was plenty of land for us to occupy in the areas that had been ravished during the war.
Glancing back, I looked at the others perched on the boulder behind me. How many of them would choose to stay here if we succeeded in closing the unnatural gateway? We would have to return to Hell occasionally in order to maintain our immortality and to feed, but would these demons choose to live their life here instead of there?
All those who decided to remain here would have to stay close to me in order to cross back and forth. I would still be able to maintain control of my kingdom by controlling the only gateway again, as I always should have. Life here might be unsettled in the beginning if the humans were against it, but they would have no choice in the matter. They would have to accept it as we would not be giving this world up.
Carved (The Road to Hell Series, Book 2) Page 13
