The Return (Haunted Series Book 21)

by Alexie Aaron

  “He wasn’t happy. I could see that. I’ve lost an angel. Do you want to patrol the Italian Alps? No? Too close to Angelo?”

  Mia laughed.

  “First tears and now laughter. It’s why I can’t stand humans. Go home. But be available. We may need a healer soon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mia, did you just blindly agree with me?”

  “It felt strange coming out of my mouth, but yes.”

  “Good,” he said. “Go home. There is a cranky old bastard waiting to teach you to fight.”

  “I forgot. I really ought to write these things down,” Mia said, leaving the office.

  Michael turned around and searched the heavens. Altair’s defection was only a problem because he no longer had any hold on Mia. She obviously didn’t know that. Was it a sin not to tell her? “Sins are for humans. Equivocation is an angel’s ally.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Susan could not believe the situation she had gotten herself into. She remembered sneaking out of the house to watch Don snake the culvert. He was using some gadget Mia dropped off. He pushed the long-handled device in and worked the claw at the end by pulling a trigger attached to the side of the long aluminum pole. He pulled out leaves, a few cans, and fast food bags.

  “How can all that fit under our drive?” Susan said, fascinated by the garbage Don was hauling out.

  “It normally works its way down the street, I suppose,” Don said. “I’ve got the claw around something heavy. I’m hoping it’s a brick and not part of our culvert. These things are supposed to be rustproof, but old steel does have a lot of iron in it.”

  “We’re probably the last street to still have ditches,” Susan commented. “The sewers have gone in just about everywhere else.”

  “It’s that complex at the west end. They won’t agree to sewers because of the cost of tying in. Cheap bastards.”

  “Don!”

  Don smiled. He rarely expressed himself this way in front of his wife. “We’re not in church, and there are no children about,” he said in his own defense.

  Susan saw him slowly pull the tool out of the culvert. The water that had built up started flowing. She saw that it pushed the remaining garbage out of the culvert. Susan grabbed the rack and raked it upwards, ready for the trash bin.

  “You shouldn’t be doing all that work,” Don said, examining something at the end of the claw.

  “I know, but I can’t seem to stop myself,” she said, putting down the rake and walking towards her husband. “What do you have there?”

  “It’s the damnedest thing. It’s a trophy.”

  “Let me see that. I don’t believe it. It’s the little trophy I found at the junior college when I took Cid and Ted to scavenge for sports equipment. It was just sitting lost and forlorn behind a state trophy that was almost as tall as Mia. I thought I’d clean it up. Come to think of it, I was working on it when the kitchen exploded on me. How did it get out here?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe Chambers tossed it out, and the trash men tossed it back. Anyways, it was in my culvert causing me to miss half the ballgame.”

  “Oh, you and your baseball,” Susan said. “Hand it over. I’ll put it where it can’t do any more harm.”

  Don handed it over.

  If Susan was sensitive or just paying attention, she would have felt that the trophy was warm, which didn’t exactly make sense as it had been lodged underground, surrounded by cold garbage water, when it was rescued. If Susan took the Mia approach to antiques, “Buyer beware: something may be attached to that old crap you’re buying,” she would have tossed it in with the refuse Don was hauling away to the bin. But Susan was Susan and thought that the little thing deserved to be admired, or used as a joke. Either way, Susan would upcycle the trophy, and she would do it today.

  Susan had gone into the house, found what was left of her Brasso under the sink, and sat down at the kitchen table to clean the brass.

  “Are you trying to humiliate me?” a female voice asked behind her.

  Susan turned around but saw no one. Maybe the downstairs television was left on. Don was recording the ballgame. Perhaps he had left the cable box on pause instead.

  “You’re such a pretty little thing,” Susan said to the object as she buffed off the dried Brasso. She could now see the details of the tiny trophy. The name plaque was readable. “Cindy Kruger,” Susan said. “Well, Cindy Kruger, it’s not as impressive as the tiered trophy, but the brass is good, and it’s going to last forever, my dear.”

  “I HATE IT!”

  Susan stood up. The heat was gone from the kitchen. The light disappeared too. She backed away from the refrigerator which shook as the room was now devoid of all light. No blue, microwave clock blinking a continual twelve AM or any other light coming in from the windows. It was as if Susan had been pulled into a dark void.

  “HOW COULD YOU RIDICULE ME THIS WAY! WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU?” a woman screamed.

  “I don’t understand. All I’ve done is rescue this little…”

  “IT’S HORRIBLE! HOW COULD THEY DO THIS TO ME!”

  Susan turned around and saw an outline in the void. It was of a woman holding something at her hips, something that shivered.

  “Stop screaming!” Susan ordered. “I won’t listen to screaming.”

  “Oh, you’ll listen if I have to put a megaphone through your head,” the woman threatened.

  Susan took a step backward but instinctively felt she didn’t move at all. The screaming thing moved closer. “Stay away from me. I have done you no harm.”

  “You took me from where I was the happiest. I had the gym to myself. I was developing an award-winning cheer.”

  “Cheer as in cheerleading?” Susan questioned. “I thought for sure that trophy was for sports.”

  “CHEERLEADING IS A SPORT, YOU STUPID WOMAN!”

  The entity calling her stupid, that didn’t sit well with Susan. “I’m not stupid. Surely not stupid enough to waste my life with pom-poms.”

  “You’ll pay for that remark,” the woman growled. “I’m Cindy Kruger, and no one insults me.”

  “Oh, you’re the poor little loser who someone gave that trophy to. Participation award?” Susan laughed.

  In retrospect, that wasn’t Susan’s finest moment. She was going to apologize, but she was distracted by the way her body felt. She felt hollow, empty, and rooted to the floor. A forty-quart cooler being slowly filled up with Gatorade. The higher the Gatorade rose, the smaller was the space in which her soul resided. Susan was pushed into the smallest, darkest locker in her mind’s sports complex.

  “I’m putting you on the bench,” Cindy said. “Time I lived again!”

  Susan tried to exit the locker, but Cindy was too fast and too strong. The locker door slammed shut, and Susan had no choice but to view her life through the vents. She was a passenger on the Cindy Kruger horror train. The first horrific moment happened when the ghost walked into Susan’s room and opened the closet.

  “What the hell is all this crap?” Cindy exclaimed. “Chicago Bears? I think not. They don’t have cheerleaders. Out with the Bears, in with…”

  Susan put her hands over her ears, but that didn’t block the sound at all. The hated sports team rang out and reduced Susan to a huddled mass as she sank to her knees in despair.

  She watched Cindy take over her life. Accessing some of her recent memories in order to deal with Don and then with Tom. Susan twisted her hands when Cindy tossed Tom out of the house. Why couldn’t he see that it wasn’t her? Where was Mia? Someone get Mia! She’ll know what to do!”

  ~

  Mia landed and apologized to the large older man who stood leaning against the tree. “I had to deliver some bad news.”

  “Are you ready now?” he asked.

  “I don’t have my shield, but I have my sword,” Mia said. “What should I call you?”

  “Nicholai. Let me see your sword?”

  Mia reached into her wing and pulled it ou
t. Nicholai was impressed. He kept turning it over. How can you lift this?” he said, calculating her weight against the swords.

  “I bonded with it. We’re supposed to fight in concert with the other.”

  He handed it back to her. “It’s very similar to ours. Think of the sword as an extension of your arm. When you’re faced with a foe who’s carrying more height and weight than you, you can grow. You have to practice that. I like to arrive in a fight smaller than my attacker. I whirl around, and as I come up, I grow and clobber the overconfident opponent, sometimes taking the bastard’s head off with the undercut. Excuse my language, my lady.”

  “Please, Nicholai, don’t withhold your natural language. I don’t when I’m in a fight. I have to here at the farm because of the boys and in society so I don’t embarrass those with me. But sometimes a good cuss word says so much. And call me Mia.”

  Nicholai laughed. “Victor said you were different. He said to be careful and not become Hero and Anat.”

  “I’m not familiar with that reference.”

  “Tell you what. You go through my training without a complaint, and I’ll tell you the saddest Brotherhood of the Wing story you’ll ever hear.”

  “Deal,” Mia said.

  “We’re going to go just beyond the hillside. There is a glen where I doubt we will be spied upon. Follow me,” Nicholai said and took off flying.

  It took Mia everything she had to catch up to the old bird.

  Tom, with the help of his father, Cid, and Ethan, quickly moved his things into the large suite of rooms.

  “This isn’t exactly slumming it, son,” Don remarked. “I think Ethan lives better than we do.”

  “But for how long?” Ethan said. “I’ve got to point myself in a direction soon. It’s not that I haven’t had plenty of time to think about it. I just don’t seem to have a route to explore.”

  “You’ve got plenty of time,” Cid said. “Internships and apprenticeships are excellent ways to get a taste of many careers. That’s how I started in construction.”

  “What did you want to become before Sentinel Woods happened?” Tom asked Ethan.

  “I just assumed I’d inherit my father’s corporation. I saw him buying me into Harvard and an eventual MBA.”

  “Well, I guess it’s time for a plan B,” Cid said. “GED, and then I’d be happy to take you around to different colleges in the area. If you’re looking for prestige, the University of Chicago and Northwestern rank pretty high. Although, if you’re trying to find yourself on a budget, the community college route is probably the best way.”

  “Why was I such a little shit? I’m part of what will torment Rory Kline the rest of his life.”

  “You made a mistake,” Don said. “We all make them. The trick is to acknowledge the impetus behind your action and deal with it so it doesn’t happen again.”

  “That’s easy, his name is Blair Summerfield, alpha dog of my school days.”

  “I’m confused,” Tom said. “You’re an alpha. What was it about Blair that drew you in?”

  “I think he’s extremely smart and knows what makes me in particular tick. He borrowed a lot of money from me and knew I’d stick around until he paid me. I was like a lot of the one percent kids, bored and ignored. I know that’s not an excuse. I didn’t have anyone in my corner to help me fight for a better Ethan. Someone to say no.”

  “I’d like to point out the obvious,” Tom started. “Your true colors showed in that woods. It took some time, but the real Ethan emerged, and I owe my life to you and Stephen Murphy.”

  Ethan realized his eyes were watering. He could have pulled the macho card and shrugged it off, but that wasn’t his to play. “I’m sorry I got you in that jam in the first place, but it did free part of me that has been lying dormant for some time.”

  Tom nodded.

  “I’ve got to get the truck back to the farm,” Cid said. “Mia has invited a few characters over for dinner. I fear what she can do to supper when she puts her mind to it.”

  Tom laughed. “Mia may be able to do some fantastic things, but she can’t cook meat. We used to call her lunches ‘murky jerky’. She does, however, redeem herself with her baking. If she hasn’t made them yet, Cid, insist she bakes you some wild blueberry scones.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks for the info.”

  ~

  “So Tom told you about my murky jerky,” Mia said as she worked as Cid’s sous-chef.

  “Not in detail.”

  “Well, it was hard to figure out what kind of meat I cooked. They all turned out tough as jerky, hence the name murky jerky.”

  “He did compliment your baking.”

  “That was nice of him. I’ll not have to kill him then.”

  “Did you and he ever connect?”

  “No,” Mia said. “No one was brave enough…”

  CRACK!

  Mia coughed and corrected, “No one but Murph was brave enough to be my beau. That he was invisible and wouldn’t have to be seen with me was an attribute to our relationship. The girl who screamed in graveyards was deadly to one’s popularity.”

  “Losers,” Cid said. “Their loss is Ted’s gain.”

  “I’m not with Ted because he’s the only one to appreciate all of this with a side of wings,” Mia said. “I’m so lucky to have turned his head, knocked him unconscious, and dragged him into my cave.”

  “Whoa, no dirty talk,” Ted cautioned from the doorway. “Cid’s still a virgin.”

  “Am not,” Cid said. “Has Victor arrived yet?”

  “Yes. I put him at the head of the table and Nicholai on the other end. They won’t fit anywhere else. Varden’s head is going to fall off if he continues to rotate between them.”

  “Okay, let’s bring in the three prime rib roasts. One for us and one each for Victor and Nicolai.

  The three walked into the dining room and set the food down on the table. Varden was situated on one side with Lazar sitting next to him. Brian was at Victor’s left. He coolly surveyed the warriors, determined to join them one day.

  Dieter walked into the room. “Sorry to be late, but I’m having a problem with my meter.”

  “Meter?” asked Nicholai.

  “It’s the rhythm in poetry. I have to get a good grade or no sports,” Dieter explained. “The ability to tell a story isn’t in my gene pool.”

  “I’m sure you have other talents,” Nicholai said. “You have time to find them. I know how to vanquish an enemy and tell a good story.”

  “You promised me one after supper,” Mia said.

  Victor looked down the table at his mentor. “What story?”

  “Hero and Anat.”

  “I don’t believe I’m familiar with that one,” Victor said. “I shall stay to hear it.”

  The stress drained from Mia. She was hoping Victor would be there. It was imperative that he heard this tale before she broke other news to him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nicholai sat in the middle of the couch. Brian sat at his feet. Victor took the big chair. Mia sat on the floor, leaning up against Ted’s legs while she held Varden. Dieter, Lazar, and Cid brought in the dining chairs to use. Murphy took up his leaning post against the door.

  When everyone had settled, Nicholai cleared his voice and began, “Hero and Anat were the strongest of the strong. The Brotherhood of the Wing sought them out when they were children. Both showed so much promise. Their families were proud to hand the children over to the Brotherhood. Anat thought that she would be spending time as a Gray Lady, but Liam the recruiter saw that she was a born fighter. Much like Mia is.”

  Brian looked at his mother in awe. Varden burbled in agreement. Mia kept silent.

  “They worked side by side learning how to defeat enemies and how to protect the children with whom the birdmen have been entrusted by God. Each challenged the other to be better. It was a good pairing. That was until they fell in love.”

  “Ew,” Brian said, wrinkling his nose. This brought a chuckle fr
om Victor and a smile from the storyteller.

  “If birdmen didn’t fall in love, there would not be any more birdmen,” Nicholai pointed out to the tot. “But when you’re a warrior of the Brotherhood, you take a vow for life. A vow that you will not engage with another warrior in the ways of marriage. You can imagine the difficulties of keeping their love secret. There would be no knowing looks exchanged if others were around. Hero began stepping in front of Anat in battle to protect her. Not that she couldn’t protect herself. She took great issue with this and demanded to speak to him privately.

  “They met high up in the between. Anat drew her sword and brought it to her chest, which surprised Hero. She declared, ‘You may as well let me kill myself now, or you’ll do it by protecting me in battle. I have wings, a sword, and the knowledge of how to use them. Let me take care of my own problems.’ Hero listened and apologized. He said, ‘Anat, you are my life. I could not breathe if you were not with me.’”

  Dieter cleared his voice and recited the remembered poem:

  Kiss me long

  And slow

  As if it were

  the last kiss

  before I go.

  “It sounds like him,” Nicholai admitted. “Anat’s heart swelled. The two pulled their heart feathers and entwined their arms and fell to earth in a death plunge.”

  Mia was careful not to look at Victor. She concentrated on Varden’s face instead.

  “All may have been fine, but they were observed and reported to the Brotherhood. Each was brought to the council and questioned.”

  “Who ratted them out?” Victor asked.

  “A friend of theirs. She claimed she was stopping something disastrous from happening. I think she desired Anat and followed them when they left the flock.”

  “What happened?” Dieter asked, worried.

  “They weren’t put to death. This was not a killing offense. But they would no longer be welcomed as birdmen, let alone warriors. They were given a choice: become human and live out a normal human’s existence or become a bird but have the lifespan of a birdman.”