Whisper To A Scream

by Trina M. Lee

  “Human casualties.” Serene gave a nod of his blond head and let his wings expand in full. They fringed his tall frame in a burst of iridescent white feathers. “A small price to the demon.” Shya was acting recklessly.

  The heavy negative energy of a violent and bloody death clung to the air. It was almost tangible.

  “He’s a fool. It will end badly.” It would; I knew that undoubtedly.

  It would end terribly for all of them if Shya saw this ridiculous farce through to the end. Shya wouldn’t be the first demon to believe it was possible to control humanity by manipulating supernatural forces. However, Shya was particularly dangerous since he was among the few demons who might succeed.

  Things were changing. They were always changing, but in this century, things had taken a turn. Humanity was advancing in leaps and bounds. People saw their technological breakthroughs as a success, but they couldn’t see it from the outside. The more they advanced, the more they lost themselves. With the people so distracted, demons were already taking advantage of every temptation. Every day, the humans edged faster toward their downfall.

  As life got easier due to the invention of various convenient gadgets, the plight of their souls grew. Detached from one another and even from themselves, humans were coming apart at the seams, though they were none the wiser.

  Serene reached to touch the scorched pages of a hymnbook that lay open on a nearby pew. The blackened pages crumbled, staining his fingers with soot. “I don’t like this, Willow. I can feel the power of the underworld shifting.”

  “He’ll be expecting us.”

  I wasn’t sure what to anticipate from Shya. It had been a long time since we had been brothers. Shya’s fall had been a time of great sadness. He’d embraced the darkness wholeheartedly and never looked back.

  “That’s alright,” Serene assured me. “We’re not here for him. We’re looking for the scroll, just as he is.”

  I refocused on Shya again, but every few moments, my thoughts strayed to Christine. I replayed our brief time together, wishing I had said something after her date’s rude revelation. It was not my place to judge, nor did I, though I was sure she now assumed otherwise.

  Had she been trying to distract me from protecting Alexa or to sell herself to me for a price? Or, was she honestly a lonely woman seeking love?

  “Is something wrong?” Serene’s question pulled me from my reverie. “You seem preoccupied. Is everything ok with your charge?”

  “Yes,” I breathed a sigh of relief that his question had been one I could answer honestly. “Yes, she’s fine. It’s just this woman I met tonight. She seemed so lonely and in need of comfort. I regret that I was not able to help her.”

  Serene clapped me on the back. “Maybe you did, and you just don’t know it.”

  “Perhaps.” I nodded, following him out of the church. He was wrong. Of that, I was sure.

  Still, I felt I owed Christina an apology, otherwise, I would regret forever my silence. Finding her might be a challenge, but it was far from impossible. That wasn’t the real question though.

  Would it be a mistake? I refused to ask myself that question; I’d already made up my mind.

  Chapter Two

  The night drew to a close. After departing from Serene, I set off back the way I’d come. Surely the charity dance had ended by now, yet I found myself heading back there anyway.

  With just a thought I could be anywhere on earth, yet I chose to walk. I liked to be among people in all their forms. Walking alongside them, I liked to just observe their interactions, whether they knew my true nature or not.

  I passed by the coffee shop and resisted the urge to go inside for another sweet drink. A lone figure in the corner made me do a double take. She stared at the wall, her back to the window. It wasn’t her oddly out of place, white faux fur coat that caught my eye nor was it the dangerously high heels adorning her feet. It was the flowing long black hair and the silver skirt cascading over her legs. Christina.

  With a shaky hand, she swirled the contents of her cup and set it back down. She clutched a cell phone in her other hand, quickly tapping out a message, then shoved it into her purse and reached for a napkin.

  Christina was not my charge. It wasn’t my place to step in to her life. Yet, here she was, all but dropped in my path, even as she haunted my thoughts.

  I shoved the door open and found myself ordering another caramel macchiato, but my gaze was on her. I approached her before sense could strike me.

  “Funny seeing you here,” I said, kicking myself mentally for such a stupid line. “May I join you?”

  Her dark eyes were rimmed red, pupils huge despite the bright lighting. She fidgeted with a sugar packet, her hands moving constantly, unable to be still. The smile that lit up her face entranced me even as I recognized the signs of someone under the influence of heavy narcotics.

  “Yes, of course. I never thought I would see you again. You left pretty quickly.” Her intense gaze pinned me, waiting for my judgment of her occupation or her intoxicated state.

  “I’m sorry he did that to you,” I said, meaning it. I had no judgment for anyone. She’d made choices that I had no right to condemn, nor did I want to. “It was very unprofessional and cruel.”

  “It was expected.” She shrugged it off, absently stirring her coffee. “Let’s just say, I’m glad the night is over. He was a prick right from the start. Most of the men I escort have a little more class, but you know, shit happens.”

  Once she was assured of my opinion, Christina had a hard time holding my gaze. Her eyes darted about from the barista to the door to her phone, anywhere but my eyes.

  Instead of pretending to understand, I asked, “What led you into such an industry?”

  “The same thing that leads any woman in, money. I wish I had some great, heart wrenching sob story for you. I don’t. I needed cash and being an escort was a good way to get it. I told myself I would only do it for a year, but it’s been four now.” Finally she met my eyes again, albeit briefly. “What can I say? The money is good.”

  “I think I understand.” I nodded, feeling the gap between us grow. She was human; I was not. What was I doing here?

  “No, you don’t,” she quipped. “But, that’s ok. I wouldn’t expect you to.”

  The saccharine coffee hit my tongue, too strong to have again so soon. I frowned down into my cup. Too much of a good thing quickly became unbearable. Disgusting even.

  “Did you win anything?” She asked, fumbling her spoon onto the floor with a loud clatter.

  It took me a moment to realize she was talking about the auction. “Oh, right. No, I didn’t. I didn’t see anything I liked much there anyway.”

  She leaned over to retrieve the spoon, and her hair flipped, exposing a small star tattoo on her neck beneath her ear. With a twitch of her full lips, she purred, “Nothing at all?”

  Sudden warmth struck me. My heart pounded when she followed the question by trailing her fingers along the back of my hand. I was unable to speak as my mouth went dry.

  “You wanted me though, didn’t you? Before you found out what I do for a living. Trust me, I know when a man is attracted to me.” Christina pulled her hand away and smoothed back her hair. She watched me like a cat watching a clueless mouse.

  I grew uneasy. I missed her touch already and wished she would reach across the small table once more. My cheeks burned with the answer to her question.

  “I enjoyed our dance very much,” I managed to say. “I’m sorry it was interrupted.”

  Her peal of infectious laughter filled the coffee shop. Again, it coaxed me to laugh with her as if we shared some private joke.

  “We could start again. There’s a cute little jazz club downtown. Maybe we can go sometime.”

  “I would love to.” The words spilled out before I could rethink them.

  “Really?” Christina’s eyes widened with surprise. “My occupation doesn’t turn you off? Oh, please tell me it doesn’t turn you on.” S
he made a gagging sound before dissolving into more laughter.

  With a shake of my head, I pushed my macchiato aside. I considered taking her hand but decided against it. “I’ve enjoyed the brief time I have spent in your presence tonight. It would be an honor to get to know you better.”

  “You just have all the right words, don’t you?” She drank the last of her coffee and grimaced. “I wish this was tequila. Too bad it’s past last call.”

  A yellow taxi pulled up to the curb and honked. Christina jumped out of her seat as if on fire. She spilled her purse in the process and, cursing, bent to gather up the contents.

  “That’s my cab. I’m sorry; I’ve got to go. Here.” Before I could help or so much as move, she shoved a card into my hand and turned to go. “Give me a call if you’re serious about the jazz club. Goodnight, Willow.”

  I watched her click-clack out the door in those frightfully high shoes. After she got into the cab, she caught me staring and waved.

  I was such a fool. How did I possibly think I could go out with this woman as if it were perfectly fine?

  Christina tried to erect a facade of normalcy, though she was no closer to normal than anyone else. Maybe I could help her see that she was no more broken than the next person.

  Or, maybe that was just the first lie I told myself.

  * * * *

  The music was loud, drowning out the sound of Christina’s musical laugh. It did nothing to lessen the effect of her energetic actions as she pulled me from my seat.

  “I love this song,” she cried. “Dance with me?”

  I’d wrestled with guilt and uncertainty after watching her drive off in that taxi. A little voice in my head screamed for me to throw her number away and forget that I’d met her. I knew that I had no business in her life, but after several days of struggling, I ignored the voice of reason and picked up the phone.

  So, here we were.

  For two hours, we made small talk and danced. Christina was lively with a genuine love of music. She talked a mile a minute about everything from her favorite organic yogurt to the dogs she volunteered to walk at a local animal shelter. This enigmatic woman was so much more than her dates would ever realize.

  She asked difficult questions about my life, and I did my best to be honest without oversharing. Telling her I worked in protective services was as close as I dared to get.

  “Oh, Willow, isn’t this place the best? It feels like stepping into the past.” Christina twirled amid the other dancers, a vision in a pale blue dress.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her. While she spun in my arms, I tried to memorize every detail about her. Her exuberance freed me from my nerves. She brought me such joy. It felt so good to be part of the human world, even in such a small way. So often, I was only allowed to observe.

  “You’re beautiful,” I said, my words stolen by the music.

  She spun into my arms, pressing close. Her soft tresses tickled my chin as the sweetness of her perfume teased me. My senses were overwhelmed.

  I wanted so badly to kiss her. It would have been so easy; she was so painfully close. Guilt stopped me.

  “I don’t think I can dance in these heels much longer. My feet are killing me. Let’s get out of here. There’s a cute little pub I want to show you.”

  Christina’s breath was warm against my ear. A shiver tickled its way through me, along with an inward groan.

  In the warm night air outside, we walked hand in hand. There was a skip to Christina’s step, as if she possessed an inner joy that could not be contained. She fed my curiosity; I needed to know more about this woman. Many questions lurked on the tip of my tongue, but with great restraint, I somehow held back.

  As we passed a small space between two buildings, Christina slowed. “Hang on a sec, I just have to check on a friend.”

  I watched from a respectful distance as she crouched down to speak with a homeless woman hidden in the darkened space. They exchanged words in low murmurs. Christina pulled out her wallet and produced a small handful of bills.

  “I wish I had more,” she whispered. “I have a big date next weekend. Good money. I’ll be back. I promise.”

  She rejoined me, captured my hand in hers and tugged me along as I glanced back at the hidden woman.

  “Friend of mine,” she said by way of explanation. “We used to work for the same agency, but she had a pretty bad experience, so I try to help her out when I can.”

  “That’s very gracious of you.”

  “She was good to me so I do what I can. I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t have a friend in the world. It fucking sucks.”

  We reached a darkened building that was weathered and poorly maintained. A faded sign said Woody’s Pub.

  “This dig is full of old men watching sports and smoking cigars. You’ll love it.” Jerking the door open before I could get it for her, Christina ushered me inside.

  Several patrons greeted her by name as we entered. The bartender asked if she wanted the usual. Christina seemed right at home in the dank little pub. The football game played on a TV mounted in one corner. Half a dozen old men gathered around the table closest to it, shouting and then jeering.

  Christina led the way to a small table, which I suspected was her favorite. I pulled her chair out, but she just rolled her eyes at me. The bartender brought us a tray of small glasses filled with something that smelled vile.

  “Alright, so, this is how we do things here,” she said, taking a glass from the tray and shoving it in front of me. “We drink and we talk. Nothing leaves this room.”

  I wrinkled my nose in distaste. The liquor smelled toxic. Absolute poison.

  “Ladies first,” I offered.

  I had no idea what to do with the lime wedges and saltshaker on the table. Enjoying a cup of coffee was one thing, but partaking in the excessive consumption of spirits was another. I kept expecting logic to force me out the door.

  “You’re not a big tequila drinker are you?” She was entrancing when she turned on that million-watt smile. “That’s ok. I’m good with virgins.”

  She winked, never knowing the truth to her comment. Then, she shook some salt onto her wrist, licked it and swallowed the tequila in one fast, fluid motion. She slammed the glass down and reached for a lime wedge.

  “So, start talking,” she said, pointing at my drink. “Tell me what kind of man wants to date a hooker.”

  I shook some salt onto my wrist, unsure of what I was about to do. “Is that how you define yourself? I’ve seen so much more of you than that.”

  When the tequila burned its way through me, I was filled with surprise. It hurt. I nearly choked. How did she make this look so smooth? It was anything but.

  “Nobody that knows how I make my money gives a damn about how I define myself. Honestly, I don’t even know how to answer that.” She blinked at me from beneath lowered lashes.

  “I give a damn. Go ahead. Tell me who you are.”

  “Just like that, huh?” Her laughter was bitter. “Alright, um, I suppose I’d define myself as just another lost soul who doesn’t always do what’s best but always finds a way to look at tomorrow with hope.” She swallowed down another shot of tequila and swore. “At least, I like to think so.”

  I struggled to drink another drop of the horrid swill. I understood her urge to curse. “Hope is the most powerful weapon you can possess in the face of trial and despair. It will move mountains.”

  “How very poetic.” Christina’s smile grew wider. Her eyes turned glassy as the liquor’s effects took hold.

  After a few more shots, numbness set in, spreading through my extremities. It filled my belly with a soothing warmth. A fog descended over my thoughts, a haze that dulled the guilt lurking in the recesses of my mind. The escape so many sought within a bottle of booze made much more sense to me now.

  “So, how do you define yourself, Willow?” She asked, raising a glass in the air before downing its contents. “You have this weird secretive vibe going o
n.”

  I stared into the “shooter” in my hand. My head swam, and the room tilted in my vision. I put the glass back down, shaking my head. Alcohol would have no lasting physical effect on an immortal, but the temporary sensations were growing uncomfortable.

  “It shouldn’t come as a surprise then that I can’t tell you,” I teased. I studied her closely, noting the way she played with her hair and her tendency to chew her fingernails. So many little traits that I wanted to memorize in case I never saw her again.

  “I’m not sure if I should be creeped out by you or intrigued. There’s something different about you. That’s for sure.” She helped herself to the drink I’d abandoned. “You seem almost normal but not. You’re not a serial killer, are you? That would really end the night on a bad note.”

  I spewed tequila as I laughed. Embarrassed, I looked around for napkins. “I can promise you that of all the things I may be, a serial killer is not one of them.”

  “Well, I think you’ve just guaranteed this night won’t turn into a total disaster.”

  “You’re expecting it to be a disaster?” I countered. “Don’t be too quick to make assumptions, it’s not over yet.”

  “That’s true.” She nodded and licked her lips, pausing in thought. “Do you look for the silver lining in everything? You seem like one of those types.”

  The way she said “those types,” as if it were a bad thing, bothered me. I saw the darkness that filled the world, yet I also saw the light that constantly drove the darkness back, keeping it from swallowing the earth whole. I longed to share that beauty with her, pained by my inability to do so.

  “I believe there is more than enough darkness in the world today. I’d rather spread a little light.” Instead of words, I wanted to drop my illusion of humanity, to flare my great white wings wide and allow her a glimpse of serenity.

  “You must not spend a lot of time with us night owls. We don’t see a lot of light; even the morning sun is blinding.” Christina sighed and reached for the last shot of tequila.