If I have to dust another damn piece of furniture, I’m going to lose my shit. Dusting has never been in my job description. I am ‘Assistant to the Queen.’ This sort of menial labor is beneath me. Or at least it was until all hell broke loose.
One second, we’re all going about our daily duties, and then wham! The queen goes AWOL, ghosts start to panic and flood the chambers, and then...double wham! Her crew appears - laid out on the floor - unconscious. Before I can so much as blink, a highly unexpected shockwave blasts through the room. The riff raff disappears in wisps of smoke, and I’m left standing in the center of it all, staring in stunned disbelief.
I’m a little embarrassed to say that it took me a few moments to get my shit together. I’ve always been unshakeable; that’s why the queen chose me. Well, that and she needed some estrogen and serious sarcasm appreciation around here - kindred spirits, she and I - but this was something I’d never experienced in all my years on this plane.
So, I did the only thing I could do. I made sure my friends were kept as comfortable as possible. She would’ve expected nothing less. For years, I watched over their prone forms, making sure no one and nothing got to them. Not that there was a lot of activity here. For the first time in centuries, the place was as silent as a tomb. Which is pretty ironic considering we deal with death on the daily around here. Or at least we did.
It’s simple, really. This is the Gateway. The plane the deceased must pass through before judgment. Think of it like a very busy processing center. Hundreds of thousands of spirits walk through here, all awaiting their turn to be sent off to their final destination. That’s our queen’s job, to oversee it all with her handpicked crew by her side.
Except now, they’re all gone, and I’m left here to wonder what that means for the surface world. Without this place in operation, those spirits we saw day in and day out are trapped. Stuck somewhere between planes, unable to cross over. That means the surface world is probably all sorts of crazy right now. Like a clogged drain, the backup has to go somewhere.
Just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, one day, many decades ago now, the crew simply disappeared. And when I say disappeared, I mean vanished. Poof. Gone. Right in front of my very eyes.
My link went silent and has stayed that way, and that is highly disconcerting.
I know they’ll all be back one day. She wouldn’t let anything keep her away from this place or from them. Which leaves me here, cleaning, to make sure that when they show up, it’s as immaculate as the day they all left. I’m such a good little assistant. See, that’s some high-quality sarcasm right there.
The rag floats through the air, clearing the dust that has gathered on the queen’s chair. She hates the word throne, and to be honest, she hates the fact that I call her queen. In her eyes, she is merely a woman with an extraordinary and highly satisfying day job.
Highly satisfying - hell, I’d be satisfied too with all that eye candy surrounding me. I think they like to see who can get the biggest shock out of me with their damn near pornographic public displays of affection. Horny bastards. And though my preferences don’t run along the same lines, a girl can still appreciate an attractive man when she sees one. Of course, I can’t enjoy that particular pleasure either way. Assistant to the queen I might be, that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still as dead as a doorknob.
With another swipe of the rag and a very dramatic sigh, I move around the chamber. It’s a large room; the raised dais sits at the back with a deep red runner that flows from her throne - I mean, her chair - down the steps, across the sparkly white-tiled floor, all the way to the doorway. All of the doors throughout the entire compound have remained closed and locked down tight since the shockwave slammed them shut. Doesn’t stop me, of course, but any unspelled spirits out there can’t get in.
The once stylish, white and black damask walls have taken on a gray hue - actually, the whole damn place has. It’s like the Gateway senses its queen’s absence and demonstrates its grief by bathing the entire plane in tones of gray. It would be utterly depressing if not for the hundreds of portraits that cover nearly every available inch of wall space. Some in black and white. Some in muted color. All memories from centuries gone by. I make sure each is gleaming, just like the day they were hung with love and care. They are the only reminder that this place was once lively and bright, or at least as lively as a place that temporarily houses death’s occupants can be. The colors here were once more vibrant and richer than the surface world.
I pass by the door off to the left of the dais that leads to her office. I cleaned in there yesterday. Or maybe it was last week? Time works differently here. Her desk is exactly as she left it, papers and writing utensils neatly placed on the dark wood’s surface. The comfy, burgundy sofa and chairs that sit in the center provide a cozy seating area; they’re ready for more of the conversations and laughter that used to fill this room. The fireplace is cold but stocked with everything needed to fill this place with warmth once again.
For now, I continue to clean and straighten things that aren’t really untidy in the main room, but it keeps my mind from going completely batshit crazy. A hundred years will do that to even the strongest of spirits.
Suddenly, a zap of current sparks through the room, lighting the sconces along the wall and sending fresh air throughout the chamber. Didn’t realize how musty the place had gotten. Not that I can smell it or anything. It’s more the feel of the air as it moves through me. It isn’t as dense. If that makes any sense. Which it probably doesn’t, but such is life. Or death. Whatever.
My link that has been dormant for longer than I care to contemplate unexpectedly goes live again, and I’m flooded with an overflow of information coming so fast that I can’t keep up with it all. My head spins, figuratively, of course, because hello, I’ve seen the Exorcist, and I’d never do something so uncouth as to let my head rotate 360 degrees. Off-balance, I fall right through the wall and into the hallway outside the main chamber, stumbling a bit before dropping to my knees.
Reeling from the re-established link, I grab my head in my hands and try to work out what it’s trying to tell me.
It’s hard to explain this link, this tether between us, when I don’t fully understand it myself. It’s more than a simple means of communicating. Not alive, per se, but somewhat sentient. It’s like the telephone, GPS, and an alarm system had a magical baby, and each one of the queen’s crew cares for and responds to the baby in our own ways.
What? Weird explanation? Sometimes my mind works in mysterious ways. Another reason the queen chose me. Kindred spirits, remember?
Right now, the link is flooded with stuttered voices and garbled shouts. It sounds like one hell of a bad cell phone connection, and that’s never a good sign. When it’s overwhelmed, the link can be a bastard to understand. I wait it out, knowing that once it calms down, I should be able to get a location on the queen or at least one of the others. That’s all I should need to find them and figure out what the hell is going on.
I’ve got a century worth of bitching and moaning just bottled up and waiting to rant on about. And they have some explaining to do.
My head is pounding like I’ve had one too many whiskeys, except I’m pretty damn sure I haven’t had so much as a sip in years. I slowly open my eyes and take stock of my surroundings.
The moon is still high in the sky, the yard shrouded in darkness, but I can make out the house, which is somehow tilted on its side, up ahead. The grass beneath my face starts to tickle my nose, and I realize I’m actually the one who’s sideways, sprawled out on the back lawn, just shy of the patio.
Taking a quick inventory of the rest of my body - fingers and toes, hands and feet all move with no pain - I tentatively push myself up off the ground, getting to my feet. I’m covered in dirt and grass but otherwise seem unharmed, all things considered.
Running my hands over my face, the fingers on my right hand sink into something wet and sticky. Gently, I pro
d around above my cheekbone and, with an embarrassing wince, discover a ragged cut at my temple. It’s small but bleeding like a son of a bitch.
Guess this could’ve been a helluva lot worse if I had made it a few more steps onto the stone patio. At least the grass acted as a cushion. I have it to thank for keeping my skull mostly intact.
Bright light is suddenly flooding the area from the numerous backyard lights, and I shield my eyes from the glare. The back door flies open, and I look over to see all four of my brothers rush out. When they get a good look at me, they come to such an abrupt stop I imagine their feet squealing and smoking like tires, all four of them doing a pretty awesome impression of that cliched cartoon moment. It would be comical if it weren’t for the bass drum thumping out a rhythm inside my skull. Maybe I hit my head a little harder than I thought.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Levi asks. His total lack of concern has me rolling my eyes, which my head does not appreciate.
Macklin is the first to recover from his shock and makes his way over to inspect me. “Looks like it’s just a scratch. I don’t think you need stitches.”
Knox interrupts Macklin’s check up. “What in the hell happened out here? The whole house started shaking.” His voice is full of impatience and something else I can’t quite name as he scans the yard and beyond. “Then we heard a loud blast, almost like a grenade or bomb had gone off. Woke us all up.”
“I just woke up face first in the dirt. Haven’t had time to figure out exactly what happened yet.”
“Tell us what you remember,” Macklin says gently.
“I woke up after another nightmare, and I came out here to calm down. I was standing at the willow tree, looking for anything unusual, and berating headstrong, beautiful ghosts when Fate…” I trail off as the last few moments hit me with all the force of a mack truck.
Us arguing. The tree. The light. The look in her eyes. Her apology. Her saving my life.
Without saying a word, I turn and sprint in the direction of the willow, the last place I saw Fate. As I approach the spot, it takes a moment for the sight in front of me to register.
I can hear my brothers close on my heels, someone shouting my name, and I stop just shy of where the tree once stood, my brothers' voices cutting off as soon as they've reached me. All of us are in a line, staring at what was once a large, ancient willow tree. Now, it’s nothing more than scrap wood spread out in all directions. Leaves and some larger tree limbs that somehow managed to avoid being decimated are scattered about. Clumps of dirt and grass are tossed amongst it all, leaving divots in the ground from where they were violently ripped up. The swing is upside down, its ropes mangled and twisted.
It does, indeed, look like a bomb has gone off with the tree at the epicenter. But it wasn’t a bomb or a grenade. It was the ghost girl. Our ghost girl.
“Seriously, what the fuck happened?” Levi snaps again.
I can’t answer him. My heart, which could rival the Grinch’s in size, is now shriveling to nothing more than a minute speck. I had been a total dick, and what did she do? She saved me. She held on and ensured I walked away from this with my life intact. That woman made sure I could spend another day with my brothers. Doesn’t it figure that I’d stop thinking of her as a ghost now that she’s gone, but even I have to admit that what she made me feel was as real as anything I’ve ever known. How will I ever forgive myself after this? It’s my nightmare all over again, except this time it’s much, much worse.
“Cole, man, were you out here when that thing exploded?” Macklin asks quietly.
It doesn’t escape my attention that Knox has gone eerily still and silent. No doubt, he’s feeling something, but I’m too afraid to ask what.
“She told me to run,” I whisper.
“Who told you to run?” Thad demands, a warning in his tone.
“Fate.”
He’s on me in a second, his hands wrapping themselves in my shirt. He lifts me off the ground, my toes just barely touching. Rage is simmering in his eyes, and I’ve known him long enough to recognize the danger there.
“What did you do to her?” he asks menacingly.
“Bro, calm down. We don’t…” Levi begins.
“No! He just said he was out here with her. Look at that tree! Look at him,” Thad shouts at his twin, then to me asks, “Where is she, Cole?”
The look on my perpetually playful brother’s face is a new one. It registers that he’s deadly serious, possibly for the first time in his life. I didn’t even think the word was in his vocabulary.
I knew Knox had grown fond of Fate, obsessed really, but it wasn’t until this moment and the look in Thad’s eyes, that I realize he wasn’t alone in his feelings.
Thad doesn’t take his eyes off of mine when he asks, “Knox, do you feel her?”
No response. Knox has yet to utter a single word, and his silence is telling. His eyes are locked onto the debris like it can tell him what happened.
“Dammit! Someone tell me where the fuck Fate is, or I swear to God you won’t like what happens next,” Thad growls, his fury close to boiling over.
“Thad, let go of Cole. He’ll talk. Just give him a minute,” Mack soothes.
Thad’s still staring me down, and I give him a small nod. As much an acknowledgement of the terms as a promise to abide by them. I could simply command him to release me, but I understand his worry. I also know things are about to get worse before they get better, and I don’t need my powers to compound the problem.
Slowly, he lowers me to my feet and yanks his hands free. “Start talking,” he demands.
I run those last few moments around in my mind.
She fucking saved me, and I didn’t deserve it.
“Last warning,” Thad growls impatiently.
His twin comes up to his side and places a hand on his shoulder. Recognizing how short Thad’s fuse currently is, I know I need to start explaining myself.
“We were talking, and things got pretty heated,” I begin.
“She came to you?” Macklin asks.
“Yes. She wanted answers, but I wouldn’t give them to her.”
Dammit, why didn’t I just give her something? Anything. What harm could it have done? Why did I let my damn pride get in the way? Fuck!
“And then what?” Thad barks.
Shifting my gaze to the ground, unable to meet their eyes, my shoulders slump from the intense weight of my regret. “I said…some things I shouldn’t have said.”
“Some things like what?” Levi jumps in, placing a hand on his twin’s chest to stop him from coming at me again. They share a heated look, doing their damn twin speak, and I watch as Levi’s jaw clenches and he shakes his head, giving his brother a warning. Fuck, hope he’s got a good leash on Thad because he’s really not going to like this. None of them are.
“I told her you guys should give her a personal demonstration of your powers. That I’d rather see her gone than for you guys to be hurt.”
“You said what?” Thad explodes.
With great power, comes great responsibility. I fully understand the wisdom behind those words. My brothers don’t realize the burden I bear. They don’t understand it’s my duty to keep each and every one of them safe - or the effect the potential consequences have on my decision-making.
“Look, I can’t let anything happen to you guys. You’re my priority. You were all so wrapped up in her and her ass that you were blind to the very real danger she represented.”
“How could we have possibly realized there was danger if you didn’t fill us in?” Levi mutters, clearly exasperated.
His twin barks out, “News flash, dickweed. None of us are mind readers.”
“I realize I was wrong to keep the details of my nightmares from you, especially after Fate came into our world. I’m sorry,” I murmur, my hand snaking up to run through my hair, messing it up even more than it already was. I’m frustrated and pissed. Not at them, at myself.
“Sorry isn’t worth j
ack shit. Not when one of our lives could have been in danger. Not that I think they ever were. And if I find out you harmed one hair on her ghostly head because of some perceived risk, I’m gonna…”
I shake my head, annoyed despite myself.
“Are you even listening to the words coming out of your mouth? She’s a goddamn ghost. How could I harm a hair on her head when my hand would just pass right through it?”
“Oh, so you’ve got jokes now, do you? Let’s see how funny it is when my fist rearranges your teeth!”
And with that, Thad’s big ass fist comes flying at my face. Anyone else would’ve been knocked out, or possibly worse. Lucky for me, I’ve lived with these fuckers much too long, and they’re predictable. Even so, I barely manage to duck and dive, narrowly missing a punch that would’ve hurt like hell.
By the time I’ve righted myself, his twin has him in a headlock.
“She better be okay, bro, or you and I are going to have problems,” he mutters, half out of breath.
“She didn’t…” I pause, knowing there are no words that will make this any easier on them.
“She didn’t, what?” Macklin asks, an urgency in his tone that tells me things are about to go from bad to worse.
I hesitate, growing just as frustrated as they are at my inability to find the right way to say this. I know they need to hear it, but I’m unable to form the words. Knox is the empath of the group, able to discern and deal with high emotion. Macklin is the resident peacekeeper, knowing how to handle tricky situations in the most calm yet effective way possible. Either one of them would be more capable of handling this than me. Chalk it up to one more thing that falls on my heavy list of thankless duties.
“She said to tell you guys thank you for making sure she didn’t spend these last few days alone.”
The blood drains from Mack’s face. It’s at that moment, I know I’ve made a huge miscalculation. This thing between them all goes a lot deeper than a simple fondness. Even for Macklin. It’s also in this moment that I know this could very well break them. It’s already broken me, and I didn’t think I could be broken any more than I already am.
A Fate Unknown: A PNR, Why Choose Novel (The Ghost Girl Series Book 1) Page 11
