The Children of Wisdom Trilogy

by Stephanie Erickson

  16.

  I look up to get a clearer look at her, needing to know if she’s serious. But she just looks at me, almost pleading. She’s serious.

  “Michaela, I was banished. I can’t go home. Finding a Reaper or another fallen angel was my best option for getting answers, but it seems like you have just as many questions as I do. I don’t see how I can help.”

  “I do. And I think we can get answers together.” She’s resolved. Like she hasn’t even considered I might push back, that I won’t want to help.

  “How exactly? I don’t think you’re listening to me. I can’t go home.”

  “I think I can bring you back with me.”

  My mouth hangs open as she sucks the rebuttal from me with that one simple phrase. I can travel back with her? “How?” I ask incredulously.

  “It would be just like taking a soul as far as I can tell.”

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “As far as you can tell?”

  She shrugs and smiles weakly at me. “I mean, I’ve never tried to bring a banished Fate back into heaven before. I’m kind of a rule follower, if you know what I mean.”

  I laugh out loud for the first time in over a week. “Yes, Michaela, I know what you mean.” I think about all the times she left our games to get back to work. She’s a good girl to the extreme. Her willingness to break the rules this way means that whatever’s happening is even worse than I initially thought.

  “How bad is it? How many souls?”

  “I don’t know exactly when it started, so it’s hard to know for sure. We know of at least a half a dozen. Kismet is the latest.”

  “Who are they? Are they all related like Andrew and Kismet were?”

  “Not that I can tell,” she says.

  I think for a moment. Even though his motivation still doesn’t make sense, all signs point to Webber. Michaela is just hoping for the best. Who else could be doing it? He is one of the only ones with access to everything he needs to cut lives short.

  “What about the tapestry? What is this doing to it?”

  “I haven’t seen it,” she says, a hint of regret in her voice.

  “Webber has access to the tapestry, the threads, everything he would need to do this. I’m sorry, I know you think he’s innocent, but he has the means.”

  “But not the motivation,” Michaela adds.

  I can’t argue that. “Do you have any other suggestions?”

  “Yes. I suggest we stop guessing so we can get back home and find out what exactly is going on.” She stands up, ready to go.

  “What about my sisters? Why can’t they help you?”

  “They are helping me, as much as they can. But they have work to do, just like I do. We need you. Now.” She looks down at me, waiting for me to join her.

  I think of Fia, Cedric, Aida, and Cody. They will wonder what happened to me. And Cedric. He will not only miss me as a friend; my absence will affect him financially. The shop depends on my skills.

  “Michaela, I can’t just go. I have ties here.”

  “When we get back, you can write them a note. I will make sure it gets delivered.”

  “But Cedric. I’m working in his shop. Things are going really well…”

  “He will cope. I’m sure he had the shop long before you started working there, and he’ll have it long after. This is bigger than all of them, Penn.”

  She is giving me a purpose, something I desperately need, so I rise and brush the grass from my suit. As I do so, I remember why I was in this cemetery in the first place. I look back at my beloved’s grave, sick with the knowledge that this is the last moment we will share, ever. I won’t be reunited with her in the heavens. I will never see her again. I turn back to Michaela, and the pain I feel is mirrored on her face.

  “Go say goodbye, Penn,” she urges.

  I walk slowly over to Kismet, recently covered over with dirt, not knowing what to say. I always knew this day would come, but I thought there would have been more time to prepare, more time for us to make memories together.

  Looking down at her, I’m not sure of anything anymore. The workers have placed one of the floral arrangements on top of her grave, and it stands out against the dirt, sparkling with dew, just like she did in her life. I know she’ll be just as much of a star in heaven. And she’ll be with Andrew. I try to take comfort in that.

  “Kismet, I have work to do now. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, but I hope with all my heart that you are happy now.” As I turn and walk away, I feel sluggish. Like the act of saying goodbye has added more weight to my burdens instead of lessening them.

  “I shouldn’t have to say goodbye. Not yet,” I say to Michaela.

  She takes my hand, touching me for the first time that night “I know. That’s why we have to go home.”

  As soon as she takes my hand, I feel myself fading. Without really intending to, I struggle to stay, to hold on to the Earth, to be with Kismet. But Michaela won’t let me.

  “I’m used to dealing with people who want to stay, but I didn’t expect to have to encourage you.”

  “I know.” I look over my shoulder at Kismet one last time. “I don’t want to leave her.”

  “If it helps, she isn’t there anymore. Right now, she’s probably getting pampered as the newest surprise arrival in heaven. She knows no sorrow anymore, Penn. That’s what you always wanted for her.”

  I nod and put one foot in front of the other as we walk. She’s right. Trying to gain some strength from that single truth, I turn forward and head back home.

  The journey is odd for me. My fall was an assault on the senses, all rushing wind leading to a jarring fall. However, the walk home is so much more peaceful.

  The Earth fades away, replaced by billowing white clouds, although it doesn’t feel like we’re climbing. Rather, it seems like a thick fog has simply descended upon us. If it weren’t so quiet, I would’ve thought we were still walking around the city.

  “Normally, this is where the soul I’m guiding watches their favorite memories—birthdays, graduations, weddings, babies, all the wonderful things about life—at least for the happy souls. And all the things that made them, them. But you’re not a human, so apparently, we don’t get to watch anything.”

  I chuckle, but the sound quickly fades in the cloudy space. “So, what’s your favorite memory that you’ve ever seen?”

  “Oh gosh. There are so many. Grandparents holding their grandbabies for the first time. Little kids getting puppies. But I think my favorite was one of an old man. I’d taken his wife years before, but I didn’t remember the two were connected until I saw her in his memories. They weren’t without their flaws. Once or twice, they’d almost broken up. Which is why I was surprised when we came to his last memory, the one we experienced before we arrive at the gates. It’s usually the most defining moment of the soul’s life. His wasn’t their wedding day, the day she died, or any of those important days in between. It was nothing. A day after one of their worst arguments. Someone said the word divorce in that fight; it was their lowest moment.

  “But just a day later, they were sitting on a bench together looking out at the lake. Neither of them spoke. They just stared out at the water. Each was wondering what they’d done, if their choices had been wrong, if they’d made too many mistakes to ever make it right again. And then something magical happened.

  “While they both looked out over the water, the man reached out his hand and put it on the bench, in the middle of the space between them. For a moment, the wife acted like she didn’t notice, but I saw the slight change in her posture, the way she sat up a little straighter at his movement. But she didn’t let him sit there with his hand out for long. Without looking at him, she put her hand on his, and they sat there, holding hands, watching the ducks swim past. And it was in that moment he knew they were going to make it, and that no choices that led him to her could ever be wrong.”

  I smile as we walk through the fog, thinking how sometimes life’s greatest moments can
be the small ones.

  “What was your favorite memory so far?” Michaela asks me.

  “On Earth?”

  “Any time, I suppose.”

  “You know, I’d have to say, more than creating Kismet and Andrew, it was getting to see them meet. It was such a magical moment to see two souls that were perfectly suited for each other find their other halves. In that moment, I felt like my banishment had been worth it.” Perhaps it’s odd that this moment is more special to me than the time she and I spent together on Earth. But the more I think about it, the more I realize she was never really mine. The moment I made Andrew, I set her free. And together, they were beautiful.

  “You introduced them, right?”

  “I did. Yes.”

  “When were they supposed to meet before you fell?”

  I shudder at this reminder of one of my greatest fears. The ripples caused by my presence. Did I intervene too much? “Do you think that’s what set this in motion for Kismet and Andrew? Do you think I tampered too much with their fates?” A part of me realizes it doesn’t make much sense. If nothing else, it doesn’t explain the others who were taken before their time, but horror builds in my stomach anyway. My breath comes in short gasps.

  Michaela squeezes my hand as we walk. “No. I don’t think you tampered too much. They would’ve met without you. They were meant to be together. I just wondered how soon, that’s all. I didn’t mean to cause you pain.” She hangs her head as she walks, as if she’s failed me in some way.

  I look over at her and nod. “You’re right. They would’ve met anyway. And it would’ve been soon. It’s just hard not to have answers. I am a Fate. I’m supposed to know everything.”

  She smiles as the fog starts to clear. “We’re almost there,” she says, and I stop walking.

  “What are we going to do when we get there? I can’t be seen. And you can’t be seen with me, or you’ll end up banished right along with me for harboring a fugitive.”

  “I know. I’m just trusting this will be okay.”

  “I’m thinking that’s not the best plan.”

  “Listen, not a lot of people wander around the gates. There’s a good chance we can get to my quarters without being seen.”

  “Your quarters?”

  “Well, you can’t go to yours.” She says it so matter-of-factly. Like I should know why I can’t go there. But I don’t. She has to elaborate. “Webber is staying in them. They’re his quarters now.”

  That statement hits me like a freight train. Of course Webber is staying in my quarters. He’s the Spinner now.

  “I’m sorry,” she says quietly as we stand there in the dwindling fog.

  I nod. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Anyway, you can’t be seen wandering around. If you’re caught, you’ll find yourself wishing for your banishment. They will eliminate you. Completely.”

  We’ve all heard the horror stories, but it ratchets my blood pressure up a few levels to hear it out loud.

  “You’ll have to be careful about where you go and who you ask for information.”

  “Who I ask?”

  She nods. “Yes, well, my workload has gotten a bit intense lately, with all the unexpected deaths. I’ll help you in any way I can, but I can’t make any promises.”

  “How am I supposed to ask people what’s going on without being seen?”

  She shakes her head, knowing she’s asking the impossible. “I didn’t say it would be easy.”

  I nod and look down at our clasped hands as we stand in the mist facing each other. She came and rescued me, putting her whole existence on the line to bring me home. Occasionally a slight breeze that comes from nowhere ruffles her hair or the bottom of her dress.

  “Thank you, Michaela. You have saved me, in every possible way.”

  Without letting go of my hand, she throws herself at me and pulls me into a tight hug. I try to let go of her hand, to embrace her with both hands, but she holds fast. “Don’t let go,” she commands. Instinctually, I listen.

  “We’re so close. If you let go of me, you’ll be lost. The humans who let go of their Reapers become ghosts, wandering the Earth forever.”

  I pull back a little to look at her. “How many have you lost?”

  “Three.” She’s quiet for a moment as I hold her. “One was a child who didn’t understand. That was the worst one. She wanted to go back to her mommy. And she did. She haunted that poor woman for the rest of her life. It was horrible when I had to come back and take her, leaving her child alone on Earth.”

  She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “But we shouldn’t talk about such dark things as we approach the gates, or we’ll end up at the wrong one.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “That’s how I know where to bring the soul. If their final memory is something… unsavory, I know they’re destined for hell, and that’s the gate that will appear at the end of the road. Then I know to prepare myself for a fight. But there are guards at that gate that usually help. They’re trained for that kind of thing. All I have to do is get them there. I rarely go through them.”

  I nod, shuddering at the thought of the guardians of hell. I hope I never have to see them myself.

  “Which gate do you anticipate for me?” I ask, not sure what to expect.

  “Neither, really, since you’re not human. I’m hoping the gate home will appear, and we can just go on through.”

  “What if the gate of hell appears?” I ask nervously as I hold fast to my friend.

  She pushes back a little and looks up. “If that happens, I will let you go. I don’t know what will happen to you, but I won’t let you spend eternity in hell.”

  I nod, trying to take assurance in that thought.

  Finally, she backs away from me, still holding fast to my hand, and we stand next to each other for a few moments. “Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  She smiles at me in what I interpret as an attempt at reassurance, so I squeeze her hand as we walk together through the mists.

  When the mist finally disappears, we stand in front of three gates. The one on the left is white, the one on the right is black, and the one in the middle is gold.

  “Huh. It’s weird to stand in front of all three at the same time. Normally, the only one that appears is the one intended for the soul, and then ours will appear once I’ve delivered them.” She stands in awe of them for a few minutes, and they truly are beautiful to behold.

  They aren’t simply white, gold, and black. They are intricately carved with detailed representations of what is held within. I look down at Michaela’s hand, and she nods, indicating it’s okay to venture forth on my own now that we’re free of the mist. I let her go and wander to the white gate first.

  It tells a story, I realize. Adam and Eve are at the bottom. Working my way up, I see Cain and Abel, and eventually Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, and Jesus. But Jesus is only at the halfway point. There are many others above Him whom I don’t recognize.

  “Who are all these people?” There are men, women, and children climbing toward the top of the gate, all of them reaching outstretched arms to the heavens.

  “Most of them haven’t been born yet. But they will all play some vital role in the history of humanity.”

  I move toward the gold door, carved with angels, Reapers, and human-like figures clasping hands. There are Keepers standing in front of stacks and stacks of books, Weavers working on the great tapestry of life, and finally the Fates, standing around the cauldron. All three of them are women.

  “This was made some years ago. Long before you became a Fate,” Michaela says, as if apologizing for the oversight.

  But I don’t see it that way. My heritage is carved into that gate. I come from a long line of women, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s something I embrace.

  I reach out for the gate, wanting to touch the sisters of my heritage, but Michaela stays my arm. “Don’t touch it until you’
re ready to go in.”

  The only gate left is the great black gate. Part of me doesn’t even want to go over to it, and I let my hand hover over the three sisters as I give it a closer look. Although it’s the same size as the other two, it seems bigger, more imposing, and a thousand times less inviting.

  Still, my curiosity gets the best of me, and I cautiously approach the gate, taking care to keep my hands clasped behind my back, lest I touch the gate by mistake.

  But I don’t find what I expect. I think demons and other creatures of nightmares will be carved there. But instead, the gate tells a sad tale of humans who have gone astray, and been forever parted from their loved ones. Every single human carved on it is crying. It overwhelms me. I take a step back, but the further I back up, the bigger the gate seems to get as it looms over me.

  Eventually, I bump into Michaela. “It’s okay,” she says. “I know it can be a bit… overwhelming.” She puts her hands on my shoulders, trying to steady me, but my heart is racing, and I have a hard time tearing my eyes away from the depictions on the gate.

  “Isn’t there any chance for redemption for those trapped behind those gates?”

  “They had many chances for redemption before they landed here.” She says it without emotion, as if that’s the way it is. I suppose for her, it is. Her tone reminds me of the ICU nurse I met—guarded, not jaded. If she didn’t take a very unemotional approach to the gates, being a Reaper would be a very difficult job indeed.

  Without anything left to explore, we both turn to face the gold gate.

  “I guess there’s nothing left to do but go inside,” I say.

  “One last thing.”

  She lingers in the cloudy area next to the base of the gate. Reaching a hand into the clouds, she pulls out a pile of hidden clothing.

  It’s robes and sandals in heavenly style. “If you go in wearing that, they’ll mistake you for a human and flip out.”

  But they aren’t Spinner’s robes. I hold them up for a better look. Spinner’s colors are a shimmering light gold color. But these are tan, with a brown belt at the center. “A Keeper?”