Chaos (The Realmwalker Chronicles Book 1)

by C. M. Fenn

  “Pleasure,” she mumbles absently. “Please, sit.”

  We sit next to Faye on an adjacent sofa.

  “I’ve already spoken with Mrs. Tanner—”

  “Cadence, please,” Angel’s mother interjects numbly.

  “Yes, of course,” Faye continues. “I’ve informed her of why we’re here and how the Walker Foundation intends to help.”

  “Wonderful,” Sam replies. He’s hiding his confusion and surprise better than I am. “Looks like you’ve done our work for us,” he says amiably.

  “I’ve spent some time visiting with Mrs.—excuse me—with Cadence and her daughter, Harmony, and I’m confident they’re the perfect candidates for our charity.”

  “That’s happy news,” Sam answers. “Congratulations, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Tanner’s trembling hand floats to her face, touching her mouth, then her cheek.

  “Oh, goodness. This can’t be real.” She looks from face to face, as if waiting for one of us to crack and tell her it’s all a cruel joke. When our eyes meet, I smile encouragingly at her.

  “It IS real, ma’am,” I assure her. “From what we hear, you and your daughter are two very special people, and you deserve whatever help we can give you.”

  This seems to be too much for her. She buries her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Faye reaches across the table and rubs her shoulder comfortingly.

  “There, there now. It’s all right. Take as long as you need, love.” Faye turns toward Sam and me and says quietly, “Perhaps you two would like to spend some time visiting with Harmony. I’ve got a few more details to hammer out with her mum and it may be a while.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Sam says softly. “Where can we find her?”

  “Down at the end of the hall there, on the right. It’s the door with ‘princess’ on it.”

  As Sam and I walk down the hall, I whisper to him, “Did you know Faye would be here?”

  “I had no idea.” He looks as puzzled as I feel. “Angel must have asked her to come a few days ago before she ever mentioned it to us.” We stop outside the door with big pink letters spelling out the word “princess.”

  “A few days ago?”

  “It had to have been. Faye would’ve needed more time to get here from London.”

  “That’s so strange.” My hand’s resting on the door knob. “Why Faye?”

  Sam shrugs his shoulders.

  “And why not mention it to us?”

  “I don’t know, Addy. Let’s go find out.” I push open the door.

  What I find waiting for us on the other side is the last thing in the world I would have ever expected to see.

  Chapter 51

  The walls of the bedroom are a light pink. A white dresser is in one corner of the room and a purple, oversized bean bag is in another. Against the back wall is a bed. It’s much like one you would see in a hospital, the head slightly raised to a comfortable angle. Chairs sit on either side for visiting. Light from a nearby window falls directly onto the bed, illuminating the small form lying on top of the white sheets.

  Automatically, I start to back away to leave, embarrassed that I’ve stumbled into the wrong room.

  Please stay.

  I freeze where I am, unable to look back at the still figure lying on the bed. Sam peers around me in confusion.

  Please.

  Though I recognize Angel’s voice in my head, the child I glimpsed on the bed couldn’t possibly be her. It just couldn’t be.

  “Oh, no. Angel.” Sam’s hand falls heavily on my shoulder.

  He must have seen what I saw.

  With great reluctance I turn back toward the room.

  Come sit with me.

  I’m shaking now, tears already blurring my vision. I blink them away as I walk toward an empty chair next to the body on the bed. We sit, one of us on each side, in the silent room.

  The child in front of me is severely disabled. Her arms and legs are pulled in close to her body. Her knees are bent and her legs are crossed. They are so tightly pressed together that they appear welded to one another. Her toes are pointed up toward her shins at an uncomfortable-looking angle. Her arms are in the same state, held stiffly against herself, hands curled inward.

  The strain of this rigid position is evident all over her body. Her skin’s pulled firmly across flexed muscles and bulging tendons. An expression of agony looks to be permanently engraved on her face. Though the features there are slightly skewed, the eyes that stare back out at me are undoubtedly Angel’s.

  My composure breaks. I drop my head next to her and weep. “I didn’t know. Angel, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Don’t be sad, Addy. I’m not sad. There’s no need for that.

  Sam reaches out and softly places a hand on Angel’s shoulder. “What is this Angel? Are you sick?”

  Suddenly hope soars through me. I sit up straight and lay my hands over Angel’s twisted frame. I close my eyes and prepare to heal her.

  STOP.

  The command echoes through my mind like a gunshot. I have no choice but to obey.

  “What? Angel! Let me fix you.”

  I don’t need to be fixed. This is who I am. This is the way I was made.

  “The way you were made? You mean you’ve always been like this? I don’t understand. I’m sure you can be healed.” I shake my head in disbelief. “Haven’t you tried?”

  I can feel her hesitation.

  Once. A long time ago, when I first came to Chaos and discovered my abilities.

  “And what? You couldn’t do it? Maybe if we work together—”

  No Addy. I could have healed myself then. In fact, I was going to. But when I began, it felt so wrong I had to stop. To heal my body, to change what was given to me, felt like a mistake, like sacrilege. I couldn’t do it.

  I look at her, confused.

  “How could it be wrong?”

  I know in my heart this is how I’m supposed to be. This trial is mine to live. I don’t know why it’s this way, but I’ve accepted it.

  “But you must be in pain. At least let me make you comfortable.”

  No. The pain is mine to bear.

  My frustration turns to bitterness. “Then why am I here? Why is Faye here, if not to heal you?”

  I needed you to see this. I needed you to be able to hold this image of me in your mind so you can explain it to the other Walkers. I’m sorry, Addy. I’d do it myself and spare you this burden, but I can’t bear all the questions. I can’t bear to live through their good-byes.

  My heart is a stone in my chest—hard and cold and heavy. I stare unbelieving into Angel’s eyes.

  “No,” I whisper.

  “What do you mean ‘good-byes’?” Sam asks, grief making his voice thick.

  I’m tired.

  “No,” I repeat.

  I’ve been tired. For many years. I’ve held on desperately, terrified of leaving Chaos without someone like me, to do what only I can do. And then you came, Addy.

  “Don’t. Don’t make this my fault.” I’m angry now.

  I’m trying to thank you. I’m hurting, Adelaide. I’ve been in constant pain my whole life … and I’m so tired.

  “So you’re going to die because of me?” I’m sobbing uncontrollably. “You can’t! Please Angel! I can’t do this without you. I’m … I’m not ready. I’m not strong enough.” I look to Sam desperately. “Tell her, Sam. Tell her she can’t leave.”

  There are tears standing in his eyes as he looks back at me. “That’s beyond me, Addy. I’m so sorry.” He reaches out to grab my hand, but I pull away from him, feeling betrayed. “I can’t make that decision for her, for anybody.”

  “You’re not thinking clearly,” I tell Angel. “I’ll heal you and you’ll see. You’ll understand then.” But I know as I say the words how wrong they are. A sick feeling comes over me as I picture myself healing Angel’s body against her will.

  “You’ll do no such thing.” A stern voice comes from
the doorway. I turn to see Faye step into the room and close the door behind her. “Harmony has the right to choose her own path. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but if you try to heal her body, I’ll block you in every way I can.”

  “So that’s why you’re here,” I say accusingly. “To keep me from preventing the death of a child.”

  Faye’s eyes narrow. She is livid. “And you would hold her here? Unnaturally? You would prolong her suffering? Adelaide Shepherd, shame on you.” The indignation in her voice and expression weakens me. I’m crushed by the weight of her words. When she sees how she’s wounded me, her demeanor softens.

  “Can’t you feel it, dove? Can’t you feel her pain?”

  I close my eyes and mentally reach for Angel. It takes me only a moment of searching before I once again come up against the wall in her mind. Only this time she allows me through. Like a flood, the pain rushes in. I can feel it in every inch of her body. It’s crippling. Muscles burn with a dull ache. Bones scream out in protest against the constant rigor of the body. This is what she feels all the time? How is she able to withstand it?

  Not only has Angel hidden her pain from all of us, but tucked behind her wall I find more sources of misery. I see through her eyes. I witness what she has endured every single day. Her mother’s weary, tired eyes as she cares for her. The strain on her face as she lifts Angel in and out of bed, in and out of her wheelchair. How the constant, around-the-clock attention drains her, physically and emotionally. The overheard conversations on the phone with debt collectors inquiring after overdue medical bills. The crying she hears through the walls at night. And on top of it all, the immense effort of hanging on, of willing her body to live one more day. And then one more.

  It’s too much.

  Dismayed I realize I have to let her go.

  Do you see now?

  “Yes. I’m sorry. It was selfish to ask you to stay.” I know to let her die would be a mercy, but it doesn’t make the pain of losing her any less intense. Sam reaches for my hand again and this time I hold on tightly.

  You must help the others. They won’t understand. Show them what you’ve seen.

  “Wait. Now? Are you leaving right now?” I ask, startled, as the reality of it sinks in.

  Soon. I’d like a few more hours with my mother. The money she’s getting will relieve most of her stress. I’d like to see the joy it gives her before I go.

  Sam wipes tears on his sleeve and tries to smile through his grief. “I’ll miss you, sweetheart.” His voice trips over the last words. He leans forward and kisses Angel on the cheek.

  Sam. You can hear the smile in her voice. I love you, brother.

  Sam only nods, unable to speak.

  Faye steps closer and leans down to kiss Angel’s hair. “Sleep in peace, my dear.”

  It’s been so long since I slept, I’m looking forward to it. Thank you, Faye.

  Sam stands and walks to the door. I can’t believe this is good-bye. I can’t believe I’ll never see this perfect, beautiful, smiling child again. Angel responds to my desperate thoughts.

  I won’t be far, Addy. I’m only going to another realm. A fourth realm. And somehow … I have a feeling it will be the best one yet.

  I force my legs to stand and lean down and kiss her porcelain cheek.

  “I’ll see you there someday,” I whisper into her ear.

  Though I weigh a thousand pounds, I somehow make it to the door. Sam wipes my tears away as best he can. I turn from the doorway and look upon my precious friend one last time. I don’t know for certain, maybe it’s only the light from the window playing across her face, but for a moment I imagine I see her pained expression relax and a peaceful smile rest on her lips.

  Later that night, I lay in my hotel room in downtown Boise, wrapped tightly in Sam’s arms. When the time comes, it’s marked by an absence of warmth, a sudden emptiness. I can feel the exact moment when a piece of my heart leaves this world forever. To realms unknown.

  Chapter 52

  The next few days are dark and difficult. We gathered the Walkers together and Sam told them of our trip to Idaho and what transpired there. The news was met with stunned silence. It was Simone who finally broke the quiet with a sound of pure heartache. Her grief made it real for the others.

  Amidst the pain were questions. Why? How? Couldn’t she have been helped? The only way to answer was to show them what I saw. To make them feel as though they were there with me, standing witness. I replayed the scene in the Walkers’ minds, and I left out nothing. The knowledge that Angel was no longer suffering seemed to be the only comfort any of us could cling to.

  The Walker Foundation paid for Harmony Tanner’s funeral. It was a small event. Very few people attended, only Cadence Tanner and her brother, who had flown in from Washington, and a local pastor who read a few verses from the Bible and said some kind words. There was, however, a small group of strangers there as well, a dozen or so, more representatives from the charitable foundation who came to pay their respects.

  All of the bills had been paid, all of the debt cleared. Cadence Tanner would receive a monthly stipend for as long as she lived. She would always be cared for and unknowingly looked after by those who had been touched by her daughter. A large sum of money was donated in Harmony’s name to fund research into further understanding and treating her disorder.

  After the graveyard service, Sam and I approach Mrs. Tanner to offer our condolences. She’s standing in front of an easel where an oil painting rests, a wreath of fresh daisies encircling it. She addresses us without looking away.

  “It’s funny. I have no idea where this came from but I’m convinced it’s from an angel.” She’s smiling wistfully as a tear slides down her cheek. “You know, I used to dream sometimes … when things got really difficult.” She turns to smile at us.

  “In my dreams, Harmony was a healthy little girl. She would run and play and laugh. Oh, her laugh was like wind chimes!” She pauses a moment, overcome with emotion. Sam and I stand at her side, viewing the painting I made for Cadence. It’s of Angel, the way she always appeared in Chaos. She’s on a swing that hangs from a tree in a field of flowers. She’s leaning back, bare feet rising up to meet the sky as her white sundress trails behind her. Her hair dances around her face and her sweet smile is infectious. Her eyes are both wise and innocent, the way they were in life.

  Angel’s mom clears her throat. “The painting was left here for me. No note or anything. I don’t know how anyone could have known this, but this is exactly how she looked to me in those dreams. This is how I imagine her now, in heaven.”

  “Sam, someone needs to tell Mikhail. He should know.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about that.” Sam pushes back from his desk in Logistics and motions to an empty chair next to him. I sit down and cross my arms, ready for an argument. He must see the determination on my face because he speaks mildly, to defuse the tension.

  “Are you meeting with Simone soon?”

  “Are you changing the subject?” I challenge him.

  He sighs. “No Addy. I’m just curious how things are going, what your plans are for the night, if you’re still having a hard time with Angel’s passing. That’s what boyfriends do. We worry.”

  I can tell he’s trying to soften me up by using the word “boyfriend.” I’d be ashamed to say it worked if it weren’t for the sincerity in his expression. He’s genuinely concerned for me and I can’t blame him after the week we’ve had.

  Things have been beyond stressful without Angel. I’d already been performing all her duties when she was here, but knowing that she isn’t around anymore to catch me if I slip up is terrifying. I guess I always thought she would be here for me to fall back on if I needed her. Now I’m completely on my own.

  It’s up to me to constantly monitor all of Chaos for weak spots, new tears, new Walkers approaching, current Walkers in distress, injuries that may need to be healed, and maintain the wardings and seals around the entrances of the C
alms. And all of these things must be done simultaneously. Not to mention I’m the only one who can assess new Walkers for potential abilities.

  And that hasn’t been going very well for me. My time with Simone has been anything but productive. Angel’s death has hit her even harder than the rest of us, plunging her into a deep depression. When we’re together, she’s moody and distracted, often dissolving into tears, putting an early end to our sessions.

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I don’t mean to be confrontational.”

  “I get it.” He nods in understanding. “You’re stressed. Unload on me. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “I’m supposed to meet Simone in—” I check my watch, “twenty minutes. I think things are getting better. She hasn’t had a crying fit in a few days. That’s promising at least.”

  “Well, keep it up. She’s been devastated. I think the way she’s treated right now, when she’s most vulnerable, can have a huge impact on how she acts toward us in the future.”

  I nod gravely, thinking of the old snarky Simone compared with her newly humbled self. “She does seem to have lost a bit of her sting, hasn’t she?”

  “It’s strange how losing a loved one can change you. It completely flips your view of the world and your outlook on life.”

  “Let’s hope for the better then.”

  “So,” Sam grins, lightening the mood, “I spoke with Crank earlier.”

  “Oh man!” I groan. “Don’t get me started!”

  “You’re on your fourth Big Bike?” he smirks.

  My cheeks burn hot with embarrassment. Crank’s been working in his shop night and day for the past week, trying to build me my very own Big Bike. The only trouble is I can’t seem to stay on it.

  I totaled the first model within seconds, mistaking the gas for the brake. I wrecked the second and third because of a few miscalculations in judgment on my part. Ember teases that it looks like Jana’s bad-driving gene runs in the family. But in my own defense, driving a massive, awkward motorcycle is NOTHING like driving a car.

  “Yeah, he swears this new one will be completely crash-proof. He’s probably putting giant training wheels on it as we speak,” I grumble.