Death Lies Between Us (An Angel Falls Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One: Getting Unsettled

  Chapter Two: Witches

  Chapter Three: Inexplicable

  Chapter Four: The Lure

  Chapter Five: Stumbling Through a Private Tour

  Chapter Six: Losing Control

  Chapter Seven: No Trace

  Chapter Eight: Detour

  Chapter Nine: Signs

  Chapter Ten: Who’s Strange?

  Chapter Eleven: Village Captive

  Chapter Twelve: Escape

  Chapter Thirteen: Open Doors

  Chapter Fourteen: Service

  Chapter Fifteen: Spring Of Souls

  Chapter Sixteen: The Underworld

  Chapter Seventeen: Little Orange Cap

  Chapter Eighteen: Home

  Chapter Nineteen: Survivors

  Chapter Twenty: Haunting

  Chapter Twenty-one: Synchronicity

  Chapter Twenty-two: Motor’s Running

  Chapter Twenty-three: Search and Destroy

  Chapter Twenty-four: Rescue

  Chapter Twenty-five: Mistaken

  Chapter Twenty-six: Diagnosis Unknown

  Chapter Twenty-seven: Unexpected

  Chapter Twenty-eight: Veils

  Chapter Twenty-nine: Upside Down

  Chapter Thirty: Beyond

  Other Works Available

  Read a preview of Angel Dreams

  About the Author

  On the Back Cover

  Death Lies Between Us

  An Angel Falls - Book 1

  Jody A. Kessler

  Copyright

  ©2015 by Jody A. Kessler

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator.”

  Please visit:

  www.JodyAKessler.com

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  The Call – An Angel Falls Novella.

  ISBN: 978-0986240607

  E book ISBN: 978-0-9862406-1-4

  Editor

  Melissa A. Robitille

  Cover Art & Design

  Laura Gordon

  www.thebookcovermachine.com

  Ebooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Second Edition

  Dedication

  To Nancy and John.

  I could not have written this without either of you.

  I am forever grateful.

  Chapter One: Getting Unsettled

  Nathaniel

  Maybe if I had been raised by people who cared, no, that really wasn’t fair. Maybe if they had been capable of caring, then perhaps, I would have become someone. Someone successful, someone who excelled and had a purpose in life. Instead… I became someone who died.

  Thoughts of my childhood rarely come to the surface. They’re like those fish, you know, the ones everyone thinks have been extinct for a million years and then one floats to the surface to be rediscovered. I would rather those memories never rise up for examination. I close my eyes, making a vain attempt to shut the door on the past, and the world in front of me. It’s pathetic and unsuccessful. Opening them, I find loneliness has moved in to stand beside me. He becomes my new best friend, reminding me of who I am while I wait for the inevitable to happen.

  In front of me is my new client.

  She scratches her pen with fury across the paper. Her face is intent and her eyes are hidden under black lashes, but there’s something about the way she holds her head, the way her lips are pressed together as if sadness has sealed them. It tugs at a memory, the memory of being left in the car while my parents drank at their favorite bar, sealing my lips, setting my jaw in stubbornness while casting my eyes down to hide my feelings from my mother as she says, “stay in the car Nathaniel, your father and I will be right back,” then waking up hours later stuck to the vinyl seat and wondering if we’re going home now. I shake it off; that fish needs to stay buried beneath the sea.

  Who is she? Why her? How long do we have? I ask myself these questions again and again, but this time I have a sense that I don’t want to know the answers, and I have no choice but to find them out.

  Her focus on the notebook in her lap is complete. I can all but see the iron walls that surround her, but it doesn’t intimidate me. Intrigue has already washed through me for this girl, but for right now, I don’t cross her line.

  Give her some time. She has so little of it left.

  I wish she would look up and give me a small taste of what’s behind her curtain of black hair and under those lashes. If I could get a glimpse of her eyes, then I’d know if the intensity I feel is radiating from somewhere within her as I suspect it is. Their eyes always give me a hint of what to expect, after it happens. Will she struggle with her fate, or will she walk away with ease?

  “Jules? Hey, Jules. What do you think of this?”

  “Hmmm?” she asks, not looking up.

  Surprised, I turn to see who’s speaking. He sits on the edge of a worn green velvet chair with a guitar in his hands. One long leg stretches out across the floor in front on him. He’s young, maybe eighteen or nineteen. I hadn’t noticed him. The ivory skinned girl in front of me, Jules, had been holding my attention to the exception of everything else.

  “Listen,” he says. He strums out a melody and then follows it with an intricate solo on a midnight blue Gibson. “What do ya’ think?”

  “Yeah, great, Jared. Just write that?” she mumbles. Her pen taps the paper. Her eyes flash his way but are gone again before I can see them with any real clarity.

  He shakes his head at her and rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Jules. Sorry to interrupt your musings.”

  “Shut up,” she says without any threat.

  “You writing for the band?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad. We could use some new lyrics.”

  She hunches back over her notebook. I look the guitar player over and then at her again, finding similarities. They have the same shiny black hair, high cheek bones, wide mouths, and straight noses. Jared is darker skinned and taller, and she is more delicate overall, but they are the male and female version of each other. Siblings, I would bet money on it.

  Besides the obvious, the guitar, Jared is the picture of a rock star. His hair is tied back in a short tail; he’s wearing dark grungy jeans with the right shoes and there is the name of some obscure band on his concert T-shirt. The piercings in his ears and eyebrow are noticeable, but not obnoxious. He is the type of guy who will never have difficulty getting a date. He continues to thrum and pick at the strings. I would rate his intensity coming in just under hers.

  The scratch of Jules’ pen continues.

  I watch a while longer, trying to adjust to my new surroundings. This homey room is a far stretch from the stress-filled hospital scene I’ve just
left behind. Jules sits on a double bed next to an old trunk. Potted plants cover the surface of a white dresser next to the velvet chair where Jared practices. The mirrored closet doors reflect the view of tall pines touching a perfect blue sky outside the only window in the room.

  I don’t see myself in the mirror. I have no reflection. It’s something I may never get used to. My attention is brought back to the black trunk with its brass trim. A stereo with stacks of CDs cover most of its surface, but there are also a few books, a lamp, and a candle. The room is simple and uncluttered, reminding me of my own room, before… when I lived.

  The bed creaks as Jules’ unfolds her jean clad legs. She straightens her rounded spine and sets her shoulders back. I step forward out of curiosity and lean down to read the paper. Spidery black scrawl covers everything but near the center of the page is a grouping of short lines, it resembles poetry. I can just make out the words, ‘he left us behind, when will it be my time,’ when Jules clears her throat. I lift my eyes to her face. She looks right at me. I take a half step back. Somber green eyes flecked with gold and rust stare into mine. Her irises bring to mind a red fox running through tall green grass, camouflaged, sleek, wild, and graceful. Her arched brows rise in unspoken question. I hear the sound of the notebook closing on her lap. Her eyes shift to the door and she frowns, making her look even more solemn.

  Why the sadness? I wish I’d gotten a better look in her book.

  “Go.”

  I hear it as clear as if someone had spoken inside my head. Not my own voice, but female, her voice. Unsure, I take another step back, keeping my eyes on her, and not leaving. She stares out the door into a hallway, cool distance on her face. Anxious agitation crawls through me as I wonder what the implications are of being seen ahead of time. I’ve been seen before, not by one of my cases, and not often, but it has happened. I’ve found some people are more sensitive than others to my presence. Most of the people who do ‘see’ me are frightened, letting fear of the unknown control their emotions, but if I’m not mistaken, she had just nonverbally, and calmly, told me to get out. That has never happened before. Instead of leaving, I move closer, unable to resist the urge to see what she’ll do.

  She turns away from me as if repelled by an unseen odor then shoves the notebook and pen into a black backpack. Sliding to the edge of the bed, she stands and moves toward the door.

  “Jared, I’m going downstairs to eat. Do you want anything?”

  She looks and sounds calm, but it did not escape my notice how swiftly she moved away from me. Loneliness starts to slide off my back. Maybe this time will be different.

  “Nope,” he says, with his head bent over the strings.

  She brushes a long fingered hand over her scalp, pushing her waist length hair away from her face then tucks loose strands behind her ear.

  She unsettles me with a direct green gaze, shakes her head once and walks out of the room, muttering, “You barely eat anymore, Jared. Are you feeling all right?”

  Jared doesn’t answer, or acknowledge that he even heard.

  I stand motionless. Her reaction was bewildering. Did she see me or not? Most of my assignments ignore me until they absolutely can’t get away with it any longer. The exception are the older ones, sometimes they’re ready for me, sometimes not.

  I’d been frustrated beyond belief with my last case. The multi-car pileup was complete chaos. Broken cars and broken bodies, emergency personnel and bystanders cluttered the scene, but it was my client making me grit my teeth. I secretly called him Mr. Curmudgeon. He kept insisting he didn’t need a doctor and telling me to go away. He refused to believe he’d died and was inconsolable about his wife’s condition. She was injured and dying, and he wouldn’t leave her side. She was not in my charge and I thought she had a ways to go before crossing over. I made every attempt to persuade him to move on, or to take a step back, but his resistance only grew. I ended up letting Marcus, my mentor and friend, take over.

  I don’t know what I would have done without Marcus there. He always knows what to do; in this case it was all about waiting. Mr. Curmudgeon wasn’t going anywhere without his wife, including to the afterlife. I was starting to believe I’d failed at my job; I’d actually lost a client. That’s the worst thing that can happen to one of us. Marcus thought Mrs. Curmudgeon — she wasn’t anything like the husband, her name was Mrs. Miller — would talk some sense into him. Marcus’s non-plan of waiting for the wife was a success. She died sooner than I expected and the husband passed into the next world without even one last snide or gritty remark flung my way. Everyone is unique, I remind myself, including this gorgeous girl.

  I take one last look at Jared. His fingers continue to move with practiced precision over the steel strings. Like most people, he’s unaware of my presence. Turning away from the young guitarist, I feel the pull to stay close to Jules.

  Who is this girl? She looks so young. Close to my own age when I… forget that. What is it about dying young that seems so unjust? The old curmudgeon, Mr. Miller, he had a full life and a wife who loved him. They looked like they were in their late seventies at least, plenty of time to experience some life. How much time does Jules have? It isn’t enough. She doesn’t even look twenty years old. I groan and shake my head to clear it. These assignments can be awful, and depressing. Suck it up, damn it! This is who you are now. You have one thing to do here, put your feelings in a deep dark hole where they belong and get on with it. Do your job Nathaniel. Don’t get over involved.

  I find Jules in the kitchen, the top half of her is missing inside the refrigerator. I lean against the wall. Her spine stiffens for a moment, and then relaxes. Is it a coincidence or does she know I’m near? She backs away from the fridge with a large bowl in one hand and a bottle of salad dressing in the other. She sets them down on the countertop and grabs a bowl and fork from the dish rack by the sink.

  While filling her bowl with some of the salad, the phone on the end of the counter rings.

  “Hello?” She pauses, listening.

  “We’re fine, Mom. Just hanging out. Jared’s upstairs playing his guitar and I’m going for a hike.”

  As she listens with the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder, her hands are busy with the bottle of dressing followed by a pepper grinder.

  “We’re okay, really. Work as long as you need to. I’ll see you tomorrow or sometime. Yes, I promise I’ll be careful.”

  There’s another short silence followed by Jules saying, “I won’t forget to tell him. Bye, Mom, love you too.” She hangs up and reaches for the salt shaker, but doesn’t shake it over her food; she shakes it over her left shoulder then puts it back next to the pepper.

  I keep my distance, standing near the dining table, and let Jules crunch on her salad in peace. Minutes later a loud thump from the direction of the stairs precedes Jared’s entrance to the kitchen. He waggles his eyebrows at Jules, and smiles, looking like he’s just eaten the canary.

  “Jumping off the stairs again?” Jules asks.

  “Pulled a 540,” he answers proudly.

  “Mom’s gonna kill you if you break the floor, or your neck,” Jules says.

  “I didn’t flip,” Jared defends. “Hey, was that Mom on the phone?” he asks. His tone resonates, making him sound even more like a rock star.

  “Yeah, she’s staying at work again. She says, ‘no parties in the house or else risk deportation or disembowelment, your choice.’”

  “Harsh,” he says as one side of his mouth quirks into a grin. “That’s all right. I already have other plans tonight and… you’re coming with me.”

  “Do I have to?” Jules asks with a dubious tone.

  “If you want your little brother to stay sane and alive, you will.”

  She sighs, mulling it over. After chewing a bite of food she says, “If those are my only choices then, where’re you going and who’s driving?”

  It makes her sound like his mother. I also notice her grave attitude seems to be lessening by th
e minute. She appears more relaxed in the comfy kitchen than she was upstairs. Was it what she’d been writing about, or something else? Me? Hunger? I’ve seen people change from acting like an angry troll to purring like a contented kitty after filling an empty stomach, and she is scarfing down the greens, so maybe she was just hungry. She also hadn’t looked at me a single time in this kitchen.

  “I’m waiting for Caleb to find out the details. But whatever happens tonight, you should hang out with us.”

  She gives him a skeptical look then takes her empty dish to the sink.

  “Don’t worry Jules, it’ll be cool.”

  “Your version of cool isn’t always the same as mine. Hey?” she says to Jared’s back as he opens the sliding glass door.

  “What?”

  “I’m going hiking. Do you want to come with me?”

  “Nah, hiking is for the birds.”

  “I’m going over to Forge Rocks. It won’t take long,” she says trying to tempt him.

  Jared stands in the sunlight on a wood deck behind the house looking back at Jules. “I’m waiting for Caleb and the guys. We want to get some practice time in.”

  Jules grabs a purple bag and slings it over her shoulder then steps outside sliding the door shut behind her. She moves off the deck and then turns to her brother.

  “If you’re still here when I get back I’ll consider going with you, okay? We wouldn’t want you to lose what little sanity you have left by doing something stupid.”

  “Ah, it warms the heart to know you have so much confidence in me,” he teases.

  “We both know it’s true.” She smiles, flashing straight white teeth.

  Her mouth is captivating. Inside the house I’d been struck by her green and gold eyes but outside in the brightness of the day, her soft pink lips are incredible. It’s not just her mouth. She’s striking from head to toe. Mother Nature always finds a way to create perfection, and with Jules, she has done it again.