His Angelic Keeper

by Melinda Kucsera

  Bracing for impact, she tucked in as tight as she could, figuring her bottom could take the impact a lot better than her fragile head. Then the soft pad of the little girl’s finger touched her, and they merged. Her time as a spectral amnesiac was up.

  Accidental Possession

  Feet thudded. She hunkered down in the dark with her face buried in a bony shoulder. Thin arms wrapped around her while a heartbeat like a trapped bird under her ear. He smelled like sweat and leather, and grass.

  Mine, something inside her said, all mine.

  His heart beat too loud and not loud enough to drown out the splashing sounds. Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the scent of urine.

  This isn’t your personal latrine, Rake. But she bit her lip, keeping her scathing retort to herself. Her snarky attitude had more than once earned her a slap or three.

  Things rustled in the next room. The Rake was searching for freebies or something to sell. Good luck with that.

  Finally, he realized there was nothing to steal and his footsteps moved off. Floorboards creaked then a door slammed, and the stranger was gone. They were safe, and she hugged the boy in her arms until his ribs creaked and light shafted into their safe place. The setting sun ran golden fingers over his sharp features, caressing the mirror image of her face.

  “Heh, wait till you're both teenagers. You too won't look so identical then,” the neighborhood Witch was fond of saying.

  But we weren't identical, not then when we were kids. And something inside her had always railed at that. Because we should have been.

  The memory changed, reacting to her correction. The golden-brown faded from his eyes as they brightened and turned green, like the sun shining through a pane of emerald glass.

  Is this really my memory? How can it be if it changes depending on my will?

  She scooted back out of the protective circle of his arms.

  “Run,” he said, his green eyes suddenly desperate.

  A child’s worst fear pushed at her and her small hands shook. Because that's what they were—children of no more than six or seven. And she felt that gray place coming for her. It wanted to dine on her regained memories.

  “I can't hold them off anymore. Don't let them find you. Go now while you can.”

  “What are you talking about? Don't let who find me? What's going on?”

  She gasped as the sunlight stopped sliding down the whitewashed wall and the whole scene wobbled and blurred. A proboscis ripped through the stone wall, shredding it like paper. She glanced at her brother, but he was turning his transparent hands over and over in a panic as he faded.

  Then she doubled over, retching up everything she’d ever eaten as every cell in her body vibrated. She broke apart, splitting into two then she lay coughing on the ground. The little girl she’d accidentally possessed wiped her mouth and vanished after shooting her a hateful look.

  I deserve that. Still nameless, she pushed to her feet and staggered.

  “I'm sorry. I’ll keep trying to help you,” he said.

  Then her brother was gone in a puff of green smoke. Everything was fading to that gray memory-stealing fog generated by those wrinkly quadrupeds. It spewed from their probing trunks as she turned and ran.

  She slipped and slid on the dust shifting under her and likely kicked up plumes of it to mark her lack of progress. There was nowhere to run to. A vast desolate plane extended in all directions. Behind her, a horde of smoking beasts charged, their proboscises probing as they ran, tasting the air for her.

  Oh, come on. All this because I remembered I have a brother?

  There was nothing for it except to run, so she did. But they were gaining on her and she was tiring. Each step took more out of her as the dust rose and the wind pelted it at her.

  “Stop.”

  “Why?”

  She rubbed dust from her tearing eyes but not fast enough. Strong arms caged her, slamming her against a hard body then she was flying and squinting into the wind tearing at her clothes.

  Correction, he was flying and his huge wings, which were each as long as he was tall, were kicking up the mother of all dust storms. She spat to clear her mouth. Her throat was so dry, swallowing was difficult, so was talking, but she needed answers.

  “Who are you?”

  “Not important.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Also, not important.”

  “Okay, Mr. Unhelpful, who am I?”

  He finally looked at her. His violet eyes blazed so brightly she had to look away or risk going blind.

  “You’re a ghost.”

  “Oh.”

  “’Oh,' is all you have to say?”

  “After what I’ve been through, it’s not that shocking.” She shrugged. “Part of me must have known about the whole ghost thing.”

  Because hearing it said aloud didn’t spark anything except a mild irritation. That explanation still left a lot of unanswered questions.

  Like why he won’t tell me my name or what manner of creature has super-sized dove wings and a golden halo? Can I trust him?

  The horde of memory-eating beasts milled around the dusty plane now since their favorite snack was out of reach. But that didn’t stop a dozen of them from patting the air over their heads with their gray trunks in search of her. She shuddered.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, leaning away to put some space between them.

  It's not like I can die a second time if he drops me, right?

  Mr. Bad Attitude ran roughshod over her question by shouting a barrage of his own, but he did loosen his grip a little giving her a fuller range of motion.

  “Why didn’t you come when I called? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been searching for you?”

  Quite a while judging by his frustrated tone. Though it was hard to tell with his gold halo shining so brightly, she couldn’t see his face. Was that by design?

  It must be. I know he’s hiding something. Otherwise, he’d answer my questions.

  “I’m not your pet. I don’t have to come when called. I don’t even know you.”

  Nor do I want to.

  He hadn’t pinned her arms. Maybe he thought his white and purple robes protected a certain sensitive part of his anatomy. Or maybe he didn’t think a child-sized ghost would go after that part.

  But I’ve been here a long time. I don’t remember any of it, but my muscles do.

  And they were tensing, readying for an attack, so she went with it. While he rattled off complaints, she slammed her fist into his gut and her knee between his legs. His wings burst into flames as he screamed and clawed at his reddening skin. She fell, and a winged horror dove after her.

  I think I made things worse.

  Wings and Flaming Things

  Ouch.

  She landed in the dust and the memory-eating beasts raised their trunks. They sniffed the air, discovered she was no longer airborne and trumpeted a rallying call.

  Uh-oh, my memories are back on the menu. Just great, now what do I do?

  Running was all that came to mind, so she fled. A shadow passed over her and she choked on the sulfurous stink of brimstone. What the hell is going on?

  She wafted the smoke away from her. If she keeled over in this place, who knew where she’d end up. Probably not somewhere nice.

  The smoke increased, and she hit the ground just in time. Claws grazed her back as the winged terror tried to nab her again, but she was sinking into the shaking ground as those Memory-Eaters stampeded toward her. Each thunderous step they took encouraged the dust shimmying down the hole to suck her down with it.

  Darkness took her and that was a relief from the gray and the too-bright flying man. Someone must explain what he is and why he’s after me. What the hell did I do to him?

  And that was the problem. She just didn’t know.

  I hope you enjoyed your free preview of His Angelic Keeper.

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continue this tale. Find out what one demon, two dragons, five angels and a pack of memory-eating pachyderms don’t want me to know. You’ll be glad you did. I’ll meet you there.

  —the Unnamed Ghost Girl