Soul Weaver

by Hailey Edwards

  “Still here?” Her words slurred from sleep. Their bond hummed between them, unbroken by her death.

  “For a few more minutes.” He reached for her again, caught himself, and dropped his hand. He remembered her skin as soft and cold, but now it glowed warm from sleep.

  Before he gave in to temptation, to touch, he donned his pendant and left her to the peaceful dreams he owed her.

  His life, and her death, had just gotten more complicated.

  Chapter Six

  The vague recollection of something peculiar about last night drifted along the edge of Chloe’s thoughts. Her dream had been different somehow, but the one time she wanted to recall the details, they were hazy.

  She’d fallen asleep with her book in hand, and the same awareness of being in a dream had blanketed her. A small taste remained of the usual death and violence, but she’d also dreamed about sorrow. She’d woken lonely, aching from the loss of something she couldn’t put a name to.

  As if she had found something she’d been searching for, and the rush of relief, belonging, was heady. Then she awakened to the same empty bed, in the same room from her childhood, and whatever she imagined she had found proved as insubstantial, as elusive, as always.

  She gave in with a sigh. She lacked the time to overanalyze this morning. Besides, this dream would give her something new to tell her therapist. She could imagine how that session would go.

  She could imagine Dr. Carmichael smiling at her coolly. “Has anything changed since your last appointment, Chloe?”

  “It’s odd you should ask. That nightmare man I’ve been dreaming about? You know, the one who tortures me the second my eyes close? Well, it’s like this… I don’t think he’s all bad. I think what he’s doing makes him sad, and he takes that out on me. What do you think about that?”

  Yeah. Dr. Carmichael would have a field day with her diagnosis—a patient who experienced Stockholm syndrome with the voice inside her head.

  But the man of her nightmares seemed so real, so terrifyingly there. Shoving a hand in her pocket, she took comfort from the sliver of pill wedged in the bottom seam. The grainy remains of the other half still soured her tongue, but it was progress. Half was better than whole.

  Her dreams might spin out of her control, but she would master her waking hours. The accident had made her aware of how fleeting life was, and she wanted to live hers to the fullest. She wanted to be a glass-half-full kind of person. An optimistic, embrace-the-moment kind of woman her father would be proud of, instead of one who wore her smile like a shield and hid behind it. It would take time for her to work her glass up to full from, well, empty, but she would get there.

  Dressed and ready to start her day, Chloe took the stairs down to her store. She spotted Neve on the porch, holding something and waiting to be let inside. “Hey, come on in.”

  “You sound chipper this morning.” She reached inside a paper bag and shoved something warm into Chloe’s hand. The smell of fresh baked blueberry muffins drifted up to tickle her nose.

  “I slept last night.” She scooted aside while eyeing the bluish and splotchy muffin.

  “You rebel, you.” Neve bit into her own muffin as she headed toward the register.

  After peeling down the paper cup, Chloe nibbled tentatively until she got a mouthful of the kind of pure bliss that screamed homemade. “You made these?”

  A frown tugged at Neve’s mouth. “What gave me away?”

  “The taste did.” Chloe took another bite. “This is delicious.”

  “Thanks. I bake when I get nervous.” She offered a weak smile. “I don’t have much in the way of a kitchen at the moment, but one day I’ll show you what a good case of nerves can do to me.”

  Chloe could sympathize. The soothing weight of a hardback calmed her almost as much as the mental escape hidden between the pages. Some sources of comfort were irreplaceable.

  “Shoot.” Neve fumbled her muffin, and it crumbled on impact with the hardwood floor.

  Something in her expression made Chloe think she didn’t believe in the five-second rule. “Is there anything—” A shrill ring interrupted her. “Let me grab that right quick.” Leaning over the counter, she answered the phone. “McCrea—”

  The same breathy voice from the day before cut her off. “You won’t believe it.”

  “Mrs. Marshall?”

  “They’re married.” Her wail of despair rattled Chloe’s eardrums.

  “I’m… sorry?” She gave a concerned Neve an apologetic smile.

  “You would think even if she had no respect for her father, or me, she would have at least considered you.”

  “I…” Chloe didn’t know what to say to that.

  “It’s all right to be upset, really. Beth knows you can’t even feed yourself. She left you high and dry, and her father and I are appalled by her behavior.”

  Chloe’s cheeks burned. Even if it was easier to heap blame than acceptance at this point, she wished her name hadn’t cropped up. She had a good idea of how her patrons viewed her, and she didn’t need the reminder they saw her as the shopkeeper who was nice, but…

  “It’s fine, really.” She made all the proper placations. “I’ll take an ad out in the paper. There are plenty of high school students looking to earn a little extra cash.” That much she could count on. “I’ll find a replacement. Tell her I wish her all the best.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Mrs. Marshall said. A heavy sigh huffed in Chloe’s ear. “I suppose this was inevitable, what with graduation and all. I just wish she had given us a bit more notice.”

  The line crackled into silence as their conversation faltered.

  “Do you have an address for her?” Chloe grabbed a pen and a stack of sticky notes. “I’d like to send her a little something to celebrate her marriage.” The quiet grew tense. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

  Appeased, Mrs. Marshall rattled off an address similar to the one where she’d mailed Beth’s paychecks. She must be living on the Jenkins farm, at least for the time being. With that out of the way, talk dried up again, and this time, she had nothing left to say.

  “Well,” Chloe said at length. “I appreciate the call. I’m sure everything will work out given time.”

  “You’re kind to think so. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, the next time I need a book or something.” She paused. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do.” In other words, Beth had been the only thing they had in common. With her gone, there was nothing left for them to talk about. Their short-lived, quasi-friendship ended with a sharp click and the steady hum of disconnection.

  Feeling depressed despite herself, she turned her attention back to Neve, who was scraping a fuzzy adhesive smear from the countertop with her thumbnail.

  When she glanced up, her eyes held a question for Chloe. She ought to have known she could play normal for only so long.

  She’d lasted twenty-four hours longer than expected.

  “Go ahead,” she said. “Ask me.”

  Her new employee gave her a look that said she was weighing what she wanted to know against what she thought Chloe’s reaction to being asked might be. She licked her lips and must have decided it was a safe enough topic to broach.

  “I heard what you said about placing an ad.” She went back to picking at the old tape line. “I thought yesterday went well. I mean, if there’s something you’d like me to improve on, I will.”

  “No, it has nothing to do with you.” Chloe rushed to assure her. “Yesterday was great—you’re great. This is something else entirely.”

  Neve exhaled and lifted a hand over her heart. “Is it anything I can help with?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “I paid a local high school student to help me out two days a week. She did my grocery shopping and ran errands for me. Paid bills and shipped orders, that kind of thing.” She pointed toward the phone. “That was her mom calling. Yesterday Beth ran off and married
her boyfriend.”

  “Been there, done that.” Neve brushed her fingernails against her pants. Shaking her head, she didn’t expand on her thoughts. “If it’s just two days a week, I can help out. I mean, if you don’t mind.” Her voice lowered. “I could use the money.”

  Relief made Chloe light-headed. “If you want it, the job’s yours.” She felt a happy dance coming on. She wouldn’t have to live on takeout after all.

  “I have, um, a couple of obligations at home.” Neve fidgeted. “What will the hours be like?”

  “I can let you work half shifts on those days.” Having the store to herself for a couple hours every week was no hardship for Chloe. “That way, you’d still get off around the same time.”

  Her hand, and all pretense of cleaning, dropped. “That would be great.”

  After checking her watch, Chloe asked, “I know this is short notice, but Beth left me hanging yesterday. Do you think you could swing shopping today if I let you go after lunch?”

  “No problem.” A red tinge spread across Neve’s cheeks. “I can probably cover the bill, but I’d need to be paid back today.” She cleared her throat. “Or maybe tomorrow.”

  “I wouldn’t ask you to do that. I have a rechargeable gift card tied to Donor’s Grocery. You can use it.”

  “Great.” Neve’s relief was palpable. “That would work much better for me.”

  “Let me grab my purse, and I’ll give you my list and the card.” She dashed to the office and back, then dug out her notepad. When she pulled out the list, a crisp prescription sheet stuck to its back. A refill Dr. Carmichael had left with her last week. One Beth wasn’t around to fill.

  “I forgot to mention one more thing. Beth also handled my prescription refills.” She tapped the paper across her palm. “Do you think you could drop this off at the pharmacy?”

  “Sure.” Neve shrugged. “Just tell me where it is.”

  “It’s in the front of Donor’s Grocery, so you won’t have to make two stops. Ask for Miss Pat and tell her you’re my new aide.” She glanced away. “Because the pills are narcotic, she’ll have to fax me some paperwork to have you added to the authorized list of people able to make the pickup for me.” Her hand shook when she held out the paper. “Is that okay?”

  “I don’t mind.” Neve must have seen her nervous trembles. “Are you feeling okay?”

  Chloe squeezed her eyes closed. “I’m fine.” I’m not crazy, she almost added, though she wasn’t sure which of them she meant to convince. “I have an anxiety disorder.”

  Her shoulders hunched as she prepared a defense against more questions, or worse, the sympathetic tone people used that all but screamed there, there with false compassion.

  “Is that all?” Neve laughed as she took the prescription and added it to the pile. “These days, I can’t say I blame you.” She checked the wall clock. “I think I’ll grab something from the deli for lunch while I’m there. Would you like me to bring you back a plate so you don’t have to cook once I get back?”

  “Yeah.” Chloe braved a smile. “I’d like that. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  “Good deal.” Neve tucked the card and papers in her purse, then headed back to work.

  And that was it. No sidelong glances. No uncomfortable silence.

  Almost as if she were normal.

  Nathaniel growled low in his throat as the overhead lights flipped on and seared his eyes.

  He’d been sitting in the dark for a reason. Not that Saul had asked before blinding him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Saul sniffed the air as he rounded the arm of the couch. “Holy hell, what have you done?”

  He’d tried to numb his conscience with alcohol and failed. “I haven’t done anything.”

  “So I heard.” Saul grimaced. “At length, from Delphi.” He waited for a response, but the best Nathaniel could give him was a bleary stare. “He’s got a quill up his ass because someone came in short last night.” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Only two collections were issued. Word to the wise, it won’t take him long to connect the dots.”

  Guilt churned Nathaniel’s stomach. Never had he failed in his duty to Delphi, and this first exception had potentially catastrophic consequences. One thing was for certain. No one could say he ever did a half-assed job. He raised a glass to his lips and swallowed. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

  “You won’t have time.” Saul perched on the arm of the couch and flexed his left wing. The dark fabric framed Nathaniel’s television almost perfectly, and the local forecast was visible through a gaping hole in the lowermost portion. “It’s the first of the month, and you, Weaver, have a job to do.”

  He couldn’t argue. Last month’s work was already deteriorating, obviously.

  Even fresh souls had a limited shelf life, and decaying wings posed a flight risk to the others. Soul cloth was thin and fragile; harvesters were not. There was nothing for it. Weaving couldn’t be postponed. Harvesters needed fresh wings, which meant Nathaniel needed to weave fresh cloth for those wings. That also meant sharing space with Delphi when that was the last thing he wanted to do. Thank Heaven, there could be no harvests made while he wove, which meant his greatest mistake would remain secret for a while longer.

  “Then I’ll take care of it the day after.” Once he had formed a plan.

  “Delphi would skin you alive if he caught you like this.” Saul’s voice took on a thoughtful tone. “We’ve all heard rumors you’re having some sort of breakdown.”

  Saul’s face wavered in Nathaniel’s vision. “What rumors?”

  “That you’re fraying around the edges.” Saul’s gaze raked over him. “You’re short-tempered and defensive when you’re usually a paragon of fallen virtue. Should I go on?” He stared at the sheath strapped to Nathaniel’s thigh. “If you were anyone else, I’d say you’d done something wrong and were afraid of getting caught.”

  Nathaniel choked on his drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. This was no time for confessions. Not here, not now, and not with Saul. His brother had enough trouble staying on the right side of Delphi as it was. And, as much as it pained him to admit it, he didn’t trust his brother with his secrets. That realization shook him to his core, and he was grateful the alcohol numbed the worst of his shock.

  After a moment’s careful pause, where he seemed to gauge Nathaniel’s reaction, Saul said, “I also heard you were taking some time off.”

  “That much is true.” He cleared his stinging throat. “I’m burned out. I spoke with Bran about arranging a few weeks for recovery. He’s gone to Delphi for his approval. I’m waiting for Bran to return with an answer.”

  “I doubt you’ll have to wait long for your answer.” He snorted. “You never do.”

  “Look, I had a long night.” To occupy his hands, Nathaniel poured himself another round. “I’ll be better company after I’ve had a few hours’ sleep.” He swirled his glass and listened to the ice cubes clink.

  “I know a brush-off when I hear one.” Saul ruffled his wings. “Whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, there are ways around it.” A small smile teased his lips. “Delphi’s power is not absolute.”

  Nathaniel’s glass slipped in his hand. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means we were cast out of Heaven. Did you never wonder if he hadn’t been as well? I mean, who volunteers to leave paradise for purgatory? No one, that’s who.” His smugness irritated Nathaniel. “He fought in both the holy wars, and it’s been said his loyalty to Aeristitia might have finally cost him the ultimate price—his very existence. It’s said a holy sword impaled him, which would have fatally wounded his immortal soul.”

  “You must be joking. You can’t believe Reuel’s tall tales.” Nathaniel gave his brother an incredulous glance. “His version of the battle for Hell is as reliable as a compass without a needle. He’d lost so much blood by the time he was found in the borderlands, he was delirious.”

  Saul remai
ned emphatic. “Seraphs are twins, always. It’s said one can’t survive without the other. If one brother fell, then Heaven would lose her greatest champion and her greatest politician in one fell swoop.” He wet his lips. “Reuel saw Delphi mortally wounded and he saw Gavriel claim the body, but they didn’t return to Heaven. Ask yourself why that is.”

  “No.” Nathaniel fixed him with a measured stare. “He saw Delphi injured and his brother carry him to one of the nearby triage camps, where he was healed.” He sighed. “Gavriel was always the studious one and Delphi the more proactive twin. It made sense to give control of Dis to someone with the drive to hold it.”

  “Think about it.” Saul warmed to his topic. “Delphi couldn’t retain rank if he were fallen. Yet he can’t enter Aeristitia. If he could, he wouldn’t need Bran to deliver those idiotic journals to Gavriel. He would meet and discuss things with his brother himself. For that matter, he can leave Dis for only short periods of time.” He paused. “I think Reuel’s memory is better than you give him credit for. I think Delphi was killed and Gavriel brought him back somehow.”

  An inkling of foreboding wormed its way through Nathaniel. “Resurrection is forbidden.”

  “But it is possible,” he countered. “Someone in Gavriel’s position would have access to the very spark of creation. Even Delphi retains his divine talents. You’re wearing the proof of that now.” His attention returned to Nathaniel’s shears. “Delphi gave you an extraordinary gift. Those shears mean you’re the only fallen who can slice a rift and stroll down the streets of Aeristitia. You could go home.” His eyes lifted. They were dark with deep thoughts and hungry with a pain Nathaniel almost tasted. “Think of what you could do.”

  “No,” Nathaniel snapped. “We’re not having this discussion. I don’t want to hear any more speculation about Delphi. The shears are a tool, not a gift, and it’s my life if they’re misused.” He tried to soften his tone, but still his voice rang sharp in his ears. “I know you’re not homesick for the landscape. You have something in mind. Something I won’t even say aloud for fear someone would hear it and think for a second I was fool enough to help you.”