by Nikki Morgan
But I didn't have time to answer before she was ranting again.
'Trust you to get up to no good as soon as Cassie’s back is turned. As if she hasn’t got enough on her plate already, without this. Care to explain?’ she said, turning to look at me, one pencilled eyebrow cocked high, her arms folded across her chest.
I looked around at the rubbish. I didn't remember any of it. I didn't even know how I'd got home. I scrambled around for words, for something, anything to tell her. But words failed me. I stared at her eyebrows instead; the raised one was wonky and thicker that the other eye, like she'd been drawn by a child. Why do people do that? Pencil in their eyebrows?
‘Have a party did we? Of all the stupid things to do!’
‘Sorry,’ I mumbled. A party? I bit the inside of my lip so hard that I could taste blood in my mouth.
'Sorry?' screeched Celia, dropping the bin liner and swooping over to me like a red bird of prey. She stopped a centimetre from my face, so close that I felt her toothpaste breath on my skin. ‘How much did you have to drink?’ she said, grabbing my chin and forcing it upwards.
‘Only a little bit-’
‘It looks like you had a lot more than just a little bit.’
If only you knew the truth. ‘Okay,’ I sighed, wrestling my chin from her hand, ‘I had quite a bit. It was New Year's Eve.’
Celia's green eyes narrowed. She let out a whistle of disapproval. ‘Go and make me a coffee, two sugars.’
I was frozen to the spot, mesmerised by her terrible eyebrows. Well, not her eyebrows exactly, but I knew if I stopped concentrating on them I might have to start thinking about what exactly had happened. Stuff that I couldn't remember. Or didn't want to remember. Either way, it wasn't looking good.
‘Coffee. Now, not tomorrow!’
‘Okay!’ I hissed back, forcing myself to move, feeling the nasty, stinking thoughts begin to circle in my mind, waiting to pick the bones of my anxieties clean. I dragged my sorry ass into the kitchen and switched the kettle on, grabbing a mug from the holder.
The last thing I could remember was jumping from the Old Bridge.
How did I get home?
Who was in my house last night?
Who put me to bed?
I picked up the sugar canister and noticed that my hand was trembling.
Sugar. How many did Celia take?
Who got me undressed?
No. I wasn't going to think about that.
My stomach rolled over. Did they only get me undressed?
I couldn't think properly, the curtain of fog that had fallen over my mind was now falling clumsily over over my whole body, covering everything, making things too hazy, too jumbled to see clearly.
The kettle bubbled rapidly, clicking off, dragging me back into the present. I picked the kettle up with a shaky hand and began to pour boiling water into the mug.
‘For God's sake!' screeched Celia, as she swept into the kitchen, 'I asked for coffee. Jesus Evelyn, you can't even get that right!'
I flinched and boiling water sloshed over the side of the mug, onto the worktop and my hand. I dropped the kettle on to the counter, shocked, not by the pain, but by the urge to cry. I thought my tears had dried up long ago. I bit them back. I would not cry in front of Celia. I'd promised myself I would not cry in front of anyone.
'Forget it,' she shrieked, 'Carl's just texted me. I've got to go. Do yourself a favour, sober up and then clean this place up. I'll be back in a couple of days and it better be clean by then, ok? I don't want Cassie coming back to this, she's been through enough crap without dealing with this.'
I nodded, my back still turned towards her. I clung to the worktop, my knuckles white as I held myself up, just waiting for that precious moment when I would be alone.
The throbbing in my hand bit deeper.
The front door slammed shut.
I raised my hand to my eyes, studying it like it was some alien specimen in a jar. My hand was on fire and yet, although I was in pain, it didn't feel like it belonged to me. I wasn't used to feeling, I wasn't used to pain.
It was an almost beautiful feeling.
A battle was raging inside me; a fight between wanting the pain and feeling alive or succumbing to the numbness, the lack of feeling, that usually lived inside me.
I plunged my hand under the cold water tap and the pain swirled down the plughole.
Numb was winning after all.
I went back to playing dead.
There was nothing inside me. Nothing at all. Just an empty hole.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. A torrent of liquid pain.
I was crying for the pain in my hand, the pain that refused to be felt in my head, that my heart was yearning to feel.
I fell head first into the great swirling abyss, and into the demonic beast's lair. He had me in his claws, forcing me down onto the cold stone tiles. I lay there sobbing, unable to feel the cold seeping into my skin.
I was stone.
Josh
The darkness was never ending, a heavy funeral shroud pulling me down into its depths of despair, but I wouldn't let it take my mind, I couldn't let it claim me.
I kept my mind alive with thoughts of Evie, re-imagining our first kiss. Our only kiss.
I didn't know how long I'd been falling through that unforgiving darkness, with those thoughts and images orbiting around my mind like the planets, when the first glimmers of another existence, another place, appeared in the depths of the chaos like a new born star. At first it was a flicker, like the flame of a church candle in the wilderness and then it burned so brightly that it blinded me.
A beautiful voice called to me through the darkness, but although I recognised it, it didn't bring me comfort at all.
For this was the voice of Death.
And Death has three faces; which one would She reveal to me this time?
Slowly the veil of darkness lifted. I was lying naked on a grey flagstone floor, my wings, now unfurled, twisted awkwardly behind me.
Crumbling limestone columns ran either side of me, struggling to bear the weight of the vaulted roof above. The stars of Heaven sparkled through the fragmented ceiling, illuminating the statues of hooded angels, shimmering like ghosts, at the base of each column, their hands clasped in silent prayer.
This was the entrance to Death's domain, The Portico of a Thousand Angels, which crossed the murky waters of the Styx. The foul stench of the river - rotting flesh and stagnant water - clawed its way into my nostrils, a painful reminder that I was now half human, and weak.
'Rise!' Death ordered. Her voice cut through me like Heaven's Will, the angelic dagger that I always kept by my side to sever the souls of the dead.
Unseen hands pulled me up, forcing me to stand. I felt Her eyes watching me, felt them burning my skin although I could not see Her.
'Josh Winters.'
'My Lady,' I replied, bowing low, as is custom when addressing those angels of the First Sphere.
‘You have been very, very busy.’
The gentleness of her tone hid the threat lurking behind Her words. The air was tight and heavy; a storm was building, a tornado twisting furiously on the horizon, and I knew it was going to tear straight through me.
'You have interfered in things which do not concern you.'
The fine fingers of a breeze stirred my hair, making me shudder, but I knew this was no breeze, but Death Herself.
'I hope,' She said, in little more than a whisper, 'she was worth it.’
Unseen lips brushed against my cheek and my body automatically reacted; my breathing became shallow, my pulse quickened as a strange heat coursed through me. My head fell forwards in shame.
'Mmmm, she smells divine; like amaranth, cherry blossom and white roses drowning in a sea of angel's tears.' She bit out the last few words like they were poison. ‘She has affected you deeply; she has been under your skin for a very long time.'
I stood still and silent, like the statues lining the portico.
&nbs
p; She continued. 'Will you not speak to your Mistress Josh, will you not dispute this or even plead for your life?’
'Why? My fate's already been decided.'
‘Even now you think about her.’
‘She's always in my mind.’
'I find it curious that, one that should not feel at all, loves so deeply.'
Death let her cloak of invisibility fall to the ground and stepped into the light. She was breathtakingly beautiful, glowing like the stars in the night's sky, her porcelain skin flawless.
‘But what happens when I take your life Josh? Who will be there to save her then?'
Her noxious words hit their target, falling hard into the pit of my stomach, a lead coffin dropped into its burial pit. She knew every part of me, every weakness. There was no place to hide.
'You have upset the balance of things and now your life is forfeit. You have sacrificed your life for hers, and yet, she still might try and take her own life again. Such a waste, don't you think?'
Death swept in front of me, taking my chin in her delicate hand, forcing me to look into her eyes. A smirk played across her lips. 'Tears Josh?' she mocked, 'for a mortal soul?'
I wrestled my face from her hand.
'Does it hurt Josh? Does it feel as though your heart has been torn in two?' She ran Her hand over my cheek, its iciness biting deep into my skin. 'This is what happens when you meddle in matters that do not concern you.'
I couldn't reply; there were no more words left.
'Is it too much? Shall I end it now?'
She moved behind me and wrapped her frigid arms around my body, sheathing me in Her darkness. I felt the touch of Her wintry lips on the back of my head.
This was it. I was ready to die.
'No?' She whispered, 'Do you still cling on to the thought of her?' She let her arms fall from me. 'Would you like to see her again?'
'What do you want from me? Just kill me.'
Death now stood before me, her white gown swelling around her like waves in a storm. 'Do not be so bold as to question my authority!' She shrieked, although Her lips didn't move.
I was close to my end. For a few moments Her destructive face was clearly visible beneath Her porcelain skin, its surface now lined with fine but jagged cracks.
'If you like mortals so much,' She hissed, pointing Her finger at me, 'you can become one!'
Pain ripped through me as I was forced forwards onto my knees and onto the cold ground. Like a butterfly in a cruel boy's hands, my wings were forced open. The grey floor turned red as She plucked out my feathers. They fell, one by bloody one, like black tears.
The pain consumed me, making me beg, with words unspoken, for it to end.
Death finished stripping my wings bare, then stood up, towering over me with Her bloodied hands. 'Do not defy me again Josh,' she said, softly. She held up Her hands to show me the blood, 'Now look what you've made me do!' She sighed, wiping Her bloodied hands on her gown.
I couldn't move, fixed to the floor with fear and pain, a bloody, trembling mess.
'There is a way,' She said, stooping down to me, 'you can see her again, make sure she's alright.' She took my hand in Hers and gently raised me up.
I could barely stand, my legs were shaky, my skin clammy with blood and sweat.
'What? What sick game are you playing?' I asked, barely able to form the words.
'This is no game Josh, of that, I can assure you. You can go back and spend some more time with her.'
'Why? Why would you let me do that?' She saw the spark of hope dance across my eyes, heard the breath catch in my throat and She knew She had me in the palms of her hands.
'Of course, in return, you must do something for me...'
My fate was sealed. She had me caught in Her trap.
'What...what do I have to do?'
'Nothing too complicated. I only need you to find Hyperion, he seems to have disappeared.'
'Hyperion?'
Death nodded. 'Find him and remind him of his obligations here.' She turned and glided over to the edge of the Portico. 'Do you think you can manage that?' She said, looking out over the stinking waters of the Styx.
'But surely The Virtues know where he is?' I asked after Her.
'No, they are having trouble tuning in to his celestial music, something seems to be interfering with their instruments, and as you owe me...'
'But if the Virtues can't find him?' I asked, hobbling over to Her, my body still shaking with the memory of pain. I looked at the Styx as it boiled and whirled underneath the Portico, dragging with it the broken carcasses of ancient oaks and yews. In the distance, the twisted ruins of ancient temples lamented under the black sky, the roiling mist disfiguring their broken beauty.
'You'll find a way, I'm sure.' She held up a square of folded card, but did not look at me. 'This might be a good place to start. Hyperion was seen there, only a few days ago.'
I took the cream card in my hand but didn't open it.
'There are certain conditions, of course.'
'Conditions?' I looked up but She had already gone, absorbed back into the Never-ending darkness.
'Yes,' She said, from deep within it, 'your reprieve has certain caveats attached to it. You must never tell your mortal that you saved her the night she tried to take her own life-'
'But-'
'SILENCE!' screeched Death, as the stars seemed to snuff out, taking with them whatever light was left in the portico, 'You do not get to negotiate with me Josh! You can choose how you spend your time with her, but be warned, every second you spend in her presence will be filled with pain. You will feel like you are being pierced with a thousand swords every time you touch her. This is the punishment you must endure for your betrayal.'
'But-' I couldn't finish, the words stuck in my mouth as pain crippled me once more. My shoulder blades felt like they were being torn out as wings burst from my back, heavy and sticky and new-born. These new cumbersome wings, as black as Her darkness, pulled me backwards as they unfurled. They weren't mine, and felt strange, as though they belonged to another and I was just borrowing them.
'What...is...happening...to...me?'
'Oh,' mocked Death, 'did I forget to tell you that bit?' She cackled from somewhere deep inside the eternal darkness.
I shuddered as Her coldness attacked my burning body.
'From now on your wings will be hidden. If you need them, they will come, but not without causing you pain like you have never felt before.'
My vision blurred as the pain intensified, Her darkness closing around me. Defeated, I let it take me, let it soothe my pain.
Josh
I'd lain in the comforting arms of the dark for what seemed like an eternity before light imposed herself upon me, her long golden fingers caressing me like a long lost lover. My trembling body ached in a way that only a body that had been truly crippled with pain could ache, the memory of it held deep within my muscles.
I opened my eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the light. I was lying on frozen dirt, the roots of a gnarled oak tree meandering around me like snakes, rough and hard and smothered in moss. I dragged myself off the floor, feeling grateful that Death hadn't left me completely naked, but had clothed me in black again, my dagger, Heaven's Will, still safely at my side. Not that anyone would see me - I was sure of that - even as a freak, Death would make sure I was concealed by the elements when I needed it.
Across from me, about thirty metres to the right, I could make out Evie's house, its white hoar-capped roof illuminated by the low morning sunshine. It almost felt like I hadn't been away at all, and yet, I knew time had passed; I felt it in the throbbing of my bones and the aching of my limbs.
I looked down at the folded card in my hand and then back to Evie's house. I knew why Death had left me here, but it didn't matter, I would not use my charms on Evie, even if it meant never being with her. Instead, I would wait it out - however long it took - just to see her one last time.
Then, and only then,
I would face whatever torture awaited me.
The sun had fallen deep into the western horizon before I caught a glimpse of her. She emerged from the house under a pile of bags, and although my desire burned within me, I silently said goodbye to the girl I loved, the girl who would never know I existed. I would never come back, whatever Death thought.
Tendrils of physical pain uncoiled inside me, clawing their way into my heart.
I would never be close to her, would never touch her again.
Ever.
I turned away from her for the last time and unfolded the card in my hand. The spidery words on the card directed me to an address in Harlem, New York.
And without looking back, I took flight into the evening sky.
Evie
I woke the next day in my own bed, although I couldn't remember dragging myself off the kitchen floor, nor staggering up the stairs. There seemed to be great chunks of my life recently that I couldn't remember, that were a complete mystery to me.
But the demonic beast, that sapped my strength and devoured my feelings, was always present, but on some days I found the courage to fight back, to push those dark thoughts and feelings back deep within me. These days were a safe harbour in miles and miles of stormy ocean, a gift that had no rhyme or reason.
Today was such a gift, although it shouldn't have been - not after my "accident" - but I didn't question it, just clung onto it with trembling hands.
I showered, pulled on fresh underwear, a pair of jeans and a pink Hello Kitty tee-shirt. My hand was a little sore and red where I'd spilt the water on it but nothing too serious. I grabbed the first aid box from the bathroom, emptied the dregs of the antiseptic cream over it and bandaged it up before I made my way downstairs. I went straight into the kitchen - avoiding the chaos in the living room - and popped a pod in the coffee machine. The delicious smell of coffee infused the air as I rifled through the cupboards trying to find something not passed its sell-by-date for breakfast.
Cassie hadn't bothered to shop before she went on holiday on New Year's Eve and I hadn't because there wasn't much point, not when I didn't plan on being around.
