Jolted by the presence of another, I turn around suddenly to see the stranger from the bookshop standing in the path where I had just come. “You have a habit of popping in and out unexpectedly,” I say. “Maybe next time you can give me some warning.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I do not mean to make things difficult for you.”
“You don’t want to make things difficult? Maybe you should not have told me that I was going to die.” I begin to start back down the path toward Liv.
“Wait,” he says. “I must talk to you. It is very important.”
“Is this about my death?” I ask, but I don’t wait for a response. “Who are you anyway? You pop up out of nowhere and disappear again. The only words you have said to me are that I am going to die. Who are you to tell me that?”
“I’m your guardian,” he says.
“My guardian?”
“You would call me a guardian angel.”
“If you’re an angel, then where are your wings and your halo,” I say. I am quite certain that this guy is crazy and my best course of action is to get Liv and leave this place.
“I took this form, so that you would not be scared,” he says.
“The only thing I am afraid of is you,” I say. “You have stalked me ever since I came to this town, and made death threats.”
“It was not a death threat. It was a warning of what is to come.”
“Because you are an angel and know the future. Nice try. I am leaving now, and if you try to stop me, I will scream for my friend.” I walk around him and continue toward Liv.
“She won’t see me, even if she does come.”
“Why, because you’re invisible?” I say as I glance back. But he is gone. Turning back to the path, he is standing ahead of me next to a grave marker. I pause, not knowing what to think. “Okay, so you have some ninja skills. I’ll give you that. But I still don’t believe that you are some kind of angel.”
“That’s right. You have always struggled with the things of God,” he says.
“I just don’t trust your word on it,” I say sternly, although he is right in what he says. It still does not change the fact that I don’t believe this guy.
The stranger looks at me with mournful eyes. He walks behind one of the gravestones, until his legs are blocked from view. Then, holding his hands out, he begins to walk forward. He gets to the stone, but instead of stopping, he continues walking completely through it as if it was not there. He steps aside with a wry smile. “Can a ninja do that?”
I walk over to the grave stone and rest my hand on it. It is solid and completely impenetrable. I hit my hand against it to be sure. I then reach out to the stranger, this time he does not stop me. My hand brushes through him. I begin to panic. This can’t be happening, none of this is real. I must be going crazy. My mother saw things, that’s why they locked her up, and now I am seeing things and I’ll be locked up too.
“You’re a delusion,” I say. “Something made up in my mind.”
“I am not a delusion,” he insists. “I am your guardian angel. Why can’t you accept that?”
“Because people in their right mind do not accept things like that.”
He looks at me curiously. “But people who are in their right mind accept the fact that they are crazy.”
“Yes,” I say. “It’s very sensible for a person to think they are insane.” Even as I say it, I realize how crazy it sounds. But right now, my sanity is not the highest it’s been in my life.
“I don’t have time for this, Kyra,” he says. His voice is growing impatient. “You are just going to have to trust me. Otherwise, I cannot help you.”
“Alright. If you are an angel, and not a figment of my mind, then why don’t you make yourself solid? Then I can feel you and know you are real.”
“Do you think that touch is any more reliable then sight,” he says. “You see me here, but you do not believe I am here. If you could touch me, you would doubt just as much. You are just going to have to trust what your heart says.”
I don’t trust my heart. My heart is what gets me into trouble. But I can’t tell him this. My heart tells me to love and trust, when I will only get hurt and abused. I can only trust what my mind says. But my mind cannot make sense of any of this. “Why can’t you just make yourself solid or something, just so I can feel better about this whole thing?”
“I cannot become material in this world without consequences,” he says.
“What sort of consequences?”
“I become subject to death. Besides, it’s forbidden by the council of angels. And no angel of my generation has ever disobeyed the council.”
I am still not sure what to think. If this is merely a delusion, then it certainly is an elaborate one. If I accept that this guy is an angel, then I have to accept that God exists, which digs up a whole new level of abandonment issues. All those days as a child, pleading with God to bring my mother back, only to be returned with silence. Not only did my father and mother abandon me to the foster system, but so did God. I don’t know if I am ready to enter into that level of angst.
It was just so much easier to accept that God did not exist, then there was no one to blame but my mother. And I could blame her actions on her mental illness. But if God exists and is what they say he is, then he could have done something, but instead He did nothing. Now I am about to die and the best he can give me is an angel that can only talk. A lot of good that is going do me.
“Why come now?” I ask. My question is not one I care to have answered; I only want to make a point. “You know you could have come when I needed you. When I was abandoned by my mother and still believed there was hope. No, you decided to come when that hope is gone. When you’re not wanted.”
He backs away from me as if my words hurt him. “You don’t understand,” he mutters.
“I understand,” I say. “I understand that you didn’t care about me then and you don’t care about me now. So why don’t you just leave me alone and let me live my life without your constant interruptions.”
“Until now, your life wasn’t in danger.”
“So tell me how I am supposed to change the fact that I am going to die.”
“That’s just it,” he says. “I don’t know how to save your life. I don’t even know how you are going to die.”
I throw my hands in the air in frustration. “Some kind of guardian angel you are. I thought you could see the future or something. But instead, you’re here telling me I am going to die based on what, a guess.”
He reaches out to me, and again, realizes that he cannot touch me. It is evident from his expression that he is frustrated. “I may not know how you are going to die, but I am sure you will if…”
“How?”
“We do see the future in a sense,” he says. “We can feel how a life is affected as it leads down a certain path. We can feel how a certain action will bring joy or pain or some other emotion. Mortal emotions are very strong and we are very sensitive to them.”
“And what do you feel when a person dies?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he replies. “We feel nothing. Usually, we can see what action leads to that and help a person avoid it, if it is appropriate.”
“Appropriate? When is saving a person’s life ever not appropriate.”
“Sometimes it’s just their time to go,” he says. He seems almost indifferent to the idea of letting someone die.
“So you’re saying that it’s my time to go?”
“I don’t know if it’s your time,” he says. “Usually it’s clear, but with you, everything is shrouded in darkness. I can’t see anything clearly. That’s why I have come to warn you. Even as we speak, the darkness draws closer. The darkness is nearly here, from this point on, I can see nothing. And after tonight, I feel only nothing.”
This discussion of my death has made me uneasy. I almost wish he had not come. It would have been easier if he had just let me die without my knowing it. It would be better than this u
ncertainty. “So what do I do?”
“I wish I knew,” he says. “I have tried every option and in all of them, you die.”
“There’s nothing I can do,” I say. Fear begins to grip me. I can’t say that I particularly enjoyed my life, but at least there was hope that somehow I could change things. Now, that hope is gone, and I am afraid. I don’t want to die. My breaths become shallow and I have to sit down on a grave stone.
“I will be here with you,” the stranger says. “I won’t leave you.”
Somehow his assurance that he will be here rings hollow. There have been many who have said the same thing and lied. Even I have been guilty of the same. As I am sitting there contemplating the possibility of my own death, I hear a scream. It’s Liv. I left her back at her mother’s grave. What if what is going to kill me gets to her too. I spring to my feet, a new sense of urgency overcoming me. The fear is dispelled with concern for her and my only thought now is to get to her.
“Don’t go,” he says. “I can’t protect you.”
“You can’t protect me anyway and I can’t leave her,” I say. I run up the path toward her, not knowing what I would see. I pause slightly to glance back. The stranger is gone.
Chapter 8
I top the crest of the hill and see Liv lying on her back, inching away from something. As I follow the trail down the hill, a figure emerges from the darkness, walking toward Liv along the ground, belly dragging in the dirt. Its movements are rhythmic, back and forth, like a snake’s slither—only this is not a snake. As it comes closer, it breaks from the shadows, or at least I think it does. In some ways, it seems to be taking shape as it enters the veiled light of dusk. It has a long snout followed by scruffy hair with ears flexed back along its head, which is drooped along the floor. It stops half in shadow, half out. I can see now that it is a large black dog, though what breed, I can’t tell.
It slowly lifts its head, revealing its eyes. They are not the eyes of a dog. They’re red, glowing like hot embers in a bath of ash. Its teeth stand erect, bare and white. A low rumbling growl comes from deep within its throat, a sign of its intentions. I push Liv behind me and together we inch back along the path, our feet uncertain in the dark terrain where roots slither about us. The hound follows in a slow methodical walk, its haunches quiver and tail flicks back and forth, eager to lunge at any moment.
I rush down to Liv’s side. Taking her by the arm, I try to heave her from the ground, but her attention is too involved with the hound. Our breaths are shallow and erratic and roll out in fine mists against the frigid coldness that embraces us. I place myself between Liv and the dog. “I should have listened,” Liv says, her voice quivering. “I should have listened to my mother.”
I pull Liv back away from the creature. “It’s just a dog. Probably just the caretaker’s dog or something,” I say, unable to remove my eyes from the creature. This is of course a lie to give Liv some comfort, as a caretaker’s dog does not have flaming red eyes.
“It’s the shadow people that live in the forest,” Liv says.
“What?” I don’t know what she means by the shadow people, but I do not have time for her to explain. The dog makes a short sudden jerk in the direction of my leg with its snout, and lets out a low yelp. I jump back, nearly knocking Liv on the ground.
As I look over my shoulder to see if she is okay, the hound finds its opportunity. It lunges and pushes me over, bringing its full weight on me. Dazed, I press my hands against its neck and jowls. The hound barks and growls ferociously at me, slapping streams of saliva down my arms. I’m terrified. My arms can barely push it back and are quickly losing their strength.
Just as I think I’m about to give in to its furry, a thud across the dogs body knocks it over onto the ground. Liv stands above me, holding out a hand, a rusted bar in her other hand (the remnants of what was a small gate). I scramble to my feet, but even as I do, I notice the hound is already back up, ready to lunge again.
It’s then that I notice along the ridge above, more eyes peering from the darkness. At least five more dogs appear as if to emerge from the ground itself. Liv and I back away slowly as the dogs make quick darts back and forth along the ridge, their eyes watching us constantly. A voice screams in my head, but not my own. It is the stranger’s voice and says only one thing: RUN.
Taking the bar form Liv’s hand, I throw it in the hopes of wounding the hound in the front, but it darts back, allowing the bar to hit the ground in front of it, kicking dirt up. Still this is enough of a distraction and we use it to escape. Scurrying up the bank of the hill, I pull Liv along behind me. Deeper into the forest we head, running, stumbling, but still running—never stopping.
My hope is that the beast will eventually give up the chase or we will find something to climb where it can’t get at us. In either case, my only real instinct is to run and not stop. In the moment a thought comes, the farther we get into the forest, the less likely we are to find our way back. But this is only a momentary thought as my only real motivation is to escape.
I can hear the pounding of the hounds’ paws and the panting of their breath behind us. The sound of a howl echoes between the trees around us, making it seem that the dogs are everywhere. Soon it is not possible to know where we are running or whether the hounds are closing in or not. There is only the sound of the snarling and growls of the dogs. As we press further into the darkness the sounds become more distant. After we have run in silence for several minutes, Liv pulls back, dropping to the ground onto her knees, her head low. “I can’t go any farther,” she says in short wispy bursts of air between strained inhalations. “I can’t breathe.”
Turning back, I take her by the arm and try to drag her to her feet, but she refuses to budge. I struggle against her dead weight nonetheless. “Come on,” I say as I heave her off the ground only to have her fall back. “We can’t stop.”
“It’s no use,” she says, weakly. She has given up. “Go. Leave me.”
Her words only make me angry and I struggle harder against her resistance. “I’m not leaving you. I won’t leave you to die. Not again.” The realization of what I just said causes me to stop. Not again.
I drop down beside her, angry, but too exhausted to do anything. It’s happening again, I say to myself. Though in a way, it’s an angry plea to God. Don’t do this. Not again. I am crying hysterically by this time, as I think back to my foster sister. “Why?” I cry out loud, then start again into sobs.
Liv pulls herself up to me. Sitting beside me, she puts her arms around me. “It’s going to be okay,” she says, quietly. “Listen.”
I settle my crying long enough to listen. The forest is quiet. “It’s gone,” she says. “We’re going to be alright.” The calmness in her face is reassuring.
She hugs me, burying her head in my neck and we sit for a long time like that in the darkness of the forest. I can feel her tears against me. When her breathing becomes regular, I decide it’s time to get up and find our way back to the road. But before we can stand, I notice movement among the shadows. Only this time it isn’t something in the shadows moving. It’s the shadows themselves—morphing into figures, standing upright. Figures without faces, without eyes, yet you know they are watching you as they sway their ethereal bodies back and forth.
They surround us. Their bodies slink from side to side as they glide across the ground, coming closer and closer. I squeeze more tightly to Liv. I don’t want her to see what’s coming, but I think she can sense there is something wrong.
She lifts her head and looks up at me as if to question. I say nothing, but press my hands against her face, trying to keep her eyes focused on me, but it’s no use. She looks to the corner of her eye and by her reaction I know she sees them. Her body is shaking and her eyes have that empty look of terror. “I’m sorry,” I say, pulling her back and pressing her head against my shoulder. I lay my head on hers and whisper, “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” Then I close my eyes.
In the darkness of my min
d, I can only hear the heaviness of my breath. One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths…nothing. I begin to think they are gone. Is it possible to cast out the boogie man by simply closing your eyes? That is not the way of life…my last breath falls and I dare not look.
With an inhuman force, Liv and I are ripped apart, thrown in separate directions across the clearing. “Liv,” I begin to scream out, but my breath is knocked from me as I slam against the ground. A darkness hovers over me, pressing me downward. I can’t speak or even breathe. I try to lift my head to see if Liv is okay, that uncertainty kills me more than anything. I look around the clearing, fighting against the force. There are trees and something like a rock face in the distance, but in the moment I can’t make out what it is. Looking toward my feet I can barely see Liv, but an unseen hand bashes my head back down hard against a tree branch.
Angel Realms 01 The Dawn of Angels Page 8
