by Ching, G. P.
Lillian gasped. “I’ve heard of him. He’s an oil tycoon.”
Cord nodded. “Asmodeus is now Asher James.”
“The rock star?” Ghost asked. Every face turned toward him in surprise. “He was a popular name in Europe during the seventies. I came across some albums during a Sex Pistols phase I was going through.”
“Yes. And Leviathan is now Levi Kostopoulus. You won’t have heard of him. He is a European crime boss.”
Jacob shook his head. “This is a fascinating story, but why are we talking about the Wicked Brethren now?”
With a deep sigh, Cord flopped backward on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Because, the Watcher I fought today outside Quik N Smart was Leviathan, otherwise known as Levi Kostopoulus. I cannot stress enough that Levi would not be here if Damien and Asher were not also here. My guess is that Lucifer has chosen my replacement. The Wicked Brethren have joined the war.
“If I’m right, things are going to get worse for you fast. A lot worse.”
Chapter 9
Visitation
Malini tossed and turned under the covers, sleep seeming as elusive as the mythical unicorn illustrated in the scrolling Celtic pattern on the ceiling. It wasn’t just her growling stomach that kept her awake or worry for the team of Soulkeepers out killing their quota of Watchers. What Cord had told her of the three Wicked Brethren truly disturbed her. Three ruthless demons, each with their own favorite vice, and barely contained by Lucifer himself.
How could the Soulkeepers help God win the challenge when they couldn’t even feed themselves? There was nothing left in the kitchen. Ghost and Father Raymond had come through with diapers and a can of powdered formula for Hope, but they’d never survive on what Ghost and even Cord, when he was healed, could carry.
The problem was the humans. Those who had sold their souls were guarding the infrastructure for everything from food to medicine. Malini was sure there were still good people in the world, but like her and the rest of the Soulkeepers, those good people were in hiding, struggling not to give in to Harrington’s tactics.
It was time for her to go to the In Between, to read Lucifer’s tapestry, and make a plan to combat this latest curse, but she hesitated. Her vision had limitations. The future was only predictable in terms of the past and constantly changing. Worse, Lucifer and the Watchers didn’t have their own life threads. In their case, her immeasurable powers were reduced to following the space they left behind in the human world, a decidedly fuzzier discipline.
Resolved to try her best, she repositioned her head on the pillow and emptied her mind. Before she could cross over, the bed bounced, jerking her back into the present. An arm flopped across her stomach.
“Everything’ll be okay,” Jacob mumbled without opening his eyes. A moment later, heavy snoring rose from under the curtain of his hair. Gently, she nudged him onto his side, and the noise quieted.
Malini smiled. “Thanks,” she whispered. Her soul connected with the rhythm of his breath, grounding and sweet, a forever reminder of why she did this every day. Love. Life was nothing without love, and love didn’t exist in Lucifer’s world.
Clearing her mind again, she passed into the In Between on an exhale, her breath carrying her over, her body a fallen leaf on a gentle breeze. But when she landed, she paused. She was not in her usual place of arrival, Fatima’s villa, but in a forest, thick with massive pines and sycamores.
“What the hell?” She turned a circle. Where was her fabric? Where was Fate?
Her eyes locked on a young girl, willowy and wide-eyed, standing among the branches. Poised in a simple navy dress, her long, golden-brown waves glinted auburn in the ambient light. She looked familiar, but Malini couldn’t place her.
“Who are you?” Malini asked. “Why am I here?”
“Hope,” the girl said. Her piercing blue eyes blinked innocently.
“Hope?” Malini asked.
The girl stared at her expectantly but said nothing.
“Can you speak?”
More staring. “Hope,” the girl said again.
Malini narrowed her eyes, taking the wisp of a girl in from head to toe. The In Between was constructed of consciousness, every pine needle or blade of grass created by someone’s thoughts and feelings. Only three people lived here permanently: Fate, Time, and Death. So who was responsible for Hope?
Hope. Only one other Hope existed in the Soulkeepers’ world, and she was sleeping in a makeshift cradle in Sanctuary. Hands on her hips, Malini met the girl’s gaze and tried to riddle her out. Her eyes were an exceptional color, like thin ice over ocean. They reminded her very much of Abigail’s. The shape of her face, the line of her nose, the undertone of her hair, undeniably Gideon’s.
The Healer gaped at the girl. How was this possible? Hope was a baby; this girl was at least fifteen, but there was no denying the resemblance. Her eyes were Abigail’s. “You can’t be…” she whispered.
The girl wrung her hands, looking as if she might cry.
Malini approached cautiously and reached out to touch the girl’s shoulder. She was solid, real, and a complete mystery. “Hope’s mother, Abigail, visited the In Between when she was rescued from Lucifer’s prison. She was pregnant,” Malini said.
Hope looked away and brushed her fingers through the needles of a pine tree. A wave of innocent loneliness passed behind her eyes. Her lips parted on a sigh.
“Are you saying you are her?” Malini watched the girl pick a pinecone from the tree. Her mannerisms were so like Abigail’s. “I don’t understand this. On Earth, Hope is a baby. She’s only a few weeks old. Who are you?”
The girl crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. Malini had never seen someone look so … lost. Her gaze floated toward her feet, eyebrows knit, shoulders hunched over her crossed arms. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, she confidently squared her shoulders and looked directly into Malini’s eyes. “I. Am. Hope.”
A laugh erupted from Malini’s throat but dissipated when it hit the air between them. She stepped back, scanning Hope from her ballet flats to her long loose waves. The cut and stitching of the navy dress she wore looked handmade and ancient.
“Impossible.”
Folding her hands, Hope’s face twisted into a grimace as if Malini had insulted her existence.
“I’m sorry, Hope. I don’t mean you are impossible. I mean…” Malini hesitated, afraid to say it out loud. “Would you mind coming with me to visit a friend?”
Hope shrugged. Malini took the girl’s hand gently and led her through the forest. She didn’t know the way. She trusted her Healer instincts, setting one foot in front of the other by faith.
Soon, the trees grew farther apart, and a great marble statue of an angel marked the rolling hillside. Even from a distance Malini could clearly see the scales now tilted in Lucifer’s favor. Great. The Wicked Brethren and Lucifer’s mark had shifted the course of the challenge faster than Malini expected. All of these weeks of Watcher quotas and she had barely made a dent.
She forced herself not to dwell on the scales, and instead completed her journey to Fatima’s villa. As expected, Fate waited for her at the table on the veranda, sipping tea with Henry and Mara. All three stood as she approached, and stared apprehensively at the girl by her side.
“Welcome, Malini. Who have you brought with you today?” Fatima asked.
“I’ve brought no one.” She widened her eyes and dropped her chin. “This is Hope. I found her in the woods behind your house.”
With a laugh, Fatima shook her head. “No. She is not my construct. Where did she come from? Mara? Henry? Is she yours?” Fatima glanced inquisitively across the table.
Mara shook her head and turned toward Henry in silent questioning.
He stood, folding one arm across his waist and the other behind his back. His unnaturally straight posture made it impossible to forget he was the immortal Death. “She is not ours. Where did she say she was from?” Henry asked.
“She d
idn’t,” Malini said. “She is simply here. Don’t you think she resembles two people we knew well?”
Fate snorted in rejection of the thought that Hope could be “simply here,” but when she squinted in the girl’s direction, her skepticism faded. “Impossible. Henry?”
When it came to souls, no one was more expert than Death. Henry stepped around the table, removing his gray riding gloves along the way. Toe to toe, he placed one palm against the skin of Hope’s neck, just above the V-neck of her dress.
“You’re scaring her,” Malini said, noticing Hope shiver.
“Only a moment longer,” he said.
Squeezing the girl’s hand, Malini attempted to send her comfort through the connection, but her Healing powers didn’t work the same way here as on Earth. Still, it seemed to help. Hope’s breathing slowed and her shoulders relaxed.
“It is her,” Henry said slowly. “She is Hope.”
“What?” Fatima said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“The fingerprint of her soul is unmistakable. She is here, and she is also there. I can see her in Sanctuary. Her soul is split.” Henry shoved his hands inside his gloves and took a step back to get a better view of her. “I have never seen anything like this before.”
“She is a Soulkeeper,” Mara said. “Perhaps this is related to her power.”
“But she’s a baby,” Fatima whispered.
“Only, this part of her isn’t,” Malini stated firmly.
Henry’s mouth dropped open. “I am mistaken. I have seen something like this before.”
With a sharp exhale, Fatima gestured with one of her eight hands, continuing to weave with her other seven. “Please, enlighten us.”
“Malini.” His black eyes fell heavy on her face. “When she is on Earth, a portion of her soul remains here, acting as a guide to those who use the stone to seek her counsel.”
Mouth gaping, Malini looked at Hope with new eyes. It was true; a portion of her soul, the ancient part associated with her power, was available here to anyone who sought her wisdom using the enchanted stone. She’d been told that part of her had appeared as both man and woman, young or old, depending on the needs of the visitor, and she had no knowledge or memory of what her guide said or did.
“Hope is a Healer,” Mara said.
Fatima cleared her throat. “Highly unusual if true. All Healers I have ever known have had to pass my trial, just as you did, Malini. She has not been through the trial.”
Pondering the possibilities, Malini’s gaze fell on the teapot between them. It was bone china with a floral pattern Malini thought must be from the Victorian era. Things in the In Between were all mixed up; time and space, past and present, all blended together. Maybe this Hope was not the same Hope as the baby on Earth, but a future version, a timeless echo of who she would become.
“Perhaps she’s a Soulkeeper with the potential to be a Healer,” Malini said. “But why is she here? Did I have a guide here before I passed the trials?”
“Not that I know of,” Fatima said. “The Healer’s power is eternal, but your power connected to you after you agreed to the test and accepted your role. Before that, it belonged to the existing Healer, Panctu. Every Healer’s experience is different.”
“But there is always an immortal who issues the challenge,” Henry said, spreading a hand toward Fate. “And always one who gives the new Healer a gift.” He looked pointedly at Malini’s right hand, the skeletal hand he’d given her during her test.
“What does it mean?” Malini asked, staring at the girl. Hope frowned under her inspection, bowing her head.
“She is a gift,” Mara said. “The only Soulkeeper not on the list Lucifer obtained from Abigail. God has sent us a secret weapon.”
“One who can’t speak or explain who she is,” Malini stated. “A complete mystery.”
At the last words, Hope began to shake and cry. Confused, Malini pulled her into a tight hug. “We will figure this out, Hope.” She glanced at Fatima, who did not look convinced. “We all will.”
* * * * *
There were no answers in the In Between that night, and Malini fell back into her body even more frustrated than when she left. Jacob rolled over next to her and resumed his rhythmic breathing. Silently, she crawled out of bed and tiptoed to the kitchen for a glass of water. She was surprised to find someone else on the other side of the door.
“Dane? What are you doing up?” Malini whispered.
“I could ask you the same.” Dane leaned against the stainless steel counter, holding up his glass.
Out of habit, Malini glanced at the pantry, but Cord had taken to sleeping upstairs next to the holy water font. She couldn’t blame him for not wanting to spend another minute behind those steel bars. She shuffled to the sink and selected a glass from the cupboard.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Malini said.
“Me neither. I’m starving. I was hoping the water would trick my stomach into feeling full.”
“I’m hungry too.” Malini lifted the glass to her lips and pivoted to face him.
“But that’s not why you are up, is it?” A wrinkle formed between Dane’s eyebrows.
“You know me too well.”
“We’ve been to Hell and back.” The corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Come on, Mal. Tell brother Dane what’s going on.”
Malini swallowed another gulp while she considered the ramifications of sharing what was troubling her. As the Healer, she knew better than anyone how misleading the In Between could be, but maybe, just maybe, Dane could help.
“I met Hope in the In Between tonight.”
Dane blinked at her. “I don’t understand. Do you mean you took her with you to the In Between?”
“No. I met a piece of her soul in the In Between. The immortals and I believe Hope is a Healer, and as such, an ancient part of her soul resides in the In Between.”
The wrinkle was back on Dane’s forehead. He shifted from foot to foot. His full lips parted slightly. “Abigail’s baby, Hope, is a Healer.”
“Yes.”
“But I thought there had to be a test? Didn’t you have to wrestle a snake and battle a cemetery of Watchers?”
Malini nodded. “Every Healer’s experience is different, but yes, that was mine. Usually one of the immortals gives the Healer a gift, too.” She flexed the fingers of her right hand, the hand of Death. “Hope’s situation is highly unusual. Even Fate can’t remember a time a Healer’s guide formed before the person became a Healer.”
Dane scratched the scruff on his cheek, the result of living without a razor for several days. “I borrow powers. I could see if I could borrow Hope’s. Maybe she is a Healer, but we just don’t know it yet. It’s not as if she can tell us.”
“You’ve never borrowed my power, Dane. We’ve always assumed it would be too dangerous. Everyone on the council agreed. We don’t know what it will do to you.”
“I won’t take it. I’ll just try to sense if it’s there.”
Malini nodded. “Deal. Thank you.”
“Hey, Mal.”
“Yeah?”
“I thought a second Healer only came when the first had reached the end of her life. You told me Panctu was ready to die when you were put to the test.”
“True. Two Healers are rarely on Earth at the same time. One allows the other one to die.”
“So the fact that she exists could mean…”
“That my expiration date is up? Yeah. That’s occurred to me.”
“Oh my God, Mal—”
“Don’t be overly dramatic. We don’t know anything yet. In fact, can we keep this between us? I don’t want the other Soulkeepers to worry, especially Jacob.”
At first Dane shook his head, but the longer Malini pleaded with him, her eyes misting in desperation, the more he seemed resolved to keep her secret. The last thing a starving group of Soulkeepers needed was to think their Healer was dying.
Dane reached over and pulled her into a quick hug. “Don’t worry. I
t’s in the vault. Plus, it’s probably not true. We don’t know anything for sure yet. As soon as I’m alone with Hope, I’ll check her out. Until then, no need to worry.”
Malini shuddered in relief, exhausted tears welling in her eyes. “Thanks.” She nodded and pushed him away, wiping her cheeks. “Now, try to get some sleep. Healer’s orders.”
He released her and returned to bed.
She crawled in next to Jacob, but sleep did not come easily, and when it did, her dreams were filled with navy blue puzzle pieces that refused to fit together.
Chapter 10
The Fourth Gift
On the corner of Michigan and Wacker, two men huddled in the cold behind a cardboard sign that read Please Help. An empty pie tin, pinned to the sidewalk with a chunk of concrete, rattled and scraped in the blustery weather. Both men wore dark glasses and heavy coats that offered little protection against the intense late winter chill. They’d waited a long time for help, but the sun had started to set on another day, and there was nothing in the tin.
“Lord, what if there is not a generous heart left in this city?” Gabriel asked.
God adjusted his dark glasses. “There is always one.”
“Couldn’t we simply give the gift?”
“Not this time.”
A man in a camel-hair coat kicked the tin as he passed. He did not apologize, or turn his head to acknowledge the misstep to the two men. The behavior was unexceptional; most people passing didn’t make eye contact. Gabriel scowled at their shuffling shoes. It was one thing not to help, but another to dehumanize.
