Haunting Me (An Angel Falls Book 3) Page 4

  “Even so,” she says as she makes her way toward the front door of her huge house. “I’m alone often and protection is always a good idea.”

  “Are you telling me the bridge is a guard of some kind, even against angels?”

  “Don’t be an idiot. It’s not just the bridge, but the whole of the creek surrounding my place. I’m a water witch, Nathaniel. The water and I are in harmony. I’m protected from angels, demons, wayward spirits and evil folk. Unwelcome visitors come in all shapes.”

  “Good to know,” I say never having heard of such a person before and wondering what else that entailed.

  An appraising green eye watches me closely before Vivi turns back around and opens the front door.

  Vivi, it turns out, is not just sick — on our walk down from the bluff she told me she has cancer but wouldn’t share her diagnosis with me — she’s also strong-willed, bossy, intelligent, magical, and I think, used to getting her way. I like and respect her immediately.

  “If you’re going to follow me around like a puppy,” she says with mild scorn, “then make yourself useful and start the fire.”

  She points to a monstrous woodstove centered in front of a stone hearth to our right as we enter a great room measuring at least thirty by forty feet. A log staircase lines one end of the room and leads to a balcony where there’s a row of closed doors. On the opposite side of the great room is a wall of windows looking out into the wilderness. Her definition of a cabin is somewhat different than mine. The walls are built of huge logs. The chinking is old and darkened with years of wood smoke. I admit the place is cozy, but on a grand scale. This place is a mountain lodge if I’ve ever seen one. Other than Vivi’s light shuffling steps as she moves to her desk, the house is as still as the dust on the windowsills.

  Walking out the front door to the woodpile I spotted on our way in, I have a moment of déjà vu. How many fires did I start as a kid? How many cords of wood did my father make me chop and stack? A hundred, or a thousand? The intensity of the feeling slaps me on the chest and I reach for something to steady myself. I lay my palm against a tree trunk. For a second, I felt alive again, not just an impersonation of what I used to be, but completely back to my old self. In the next second, the feeling is gone. I’m a being of another dimension, here and not here, real and yet not made of blood and bone. I stack my arms high with firewood and walk back to the house.

  With the wood alight and the crackle of flame growing strong, I grab a chair from the nearby dining table and go sit with Vivi at the desk.

  She angles a sheet of paper toward the light shining in from the window as she reads. Envelopes and documents are stacked neatly on the desktop along with various stones, crystals, candleholders, a pendulum on a chain, and a mini black cauldron holding pens and pencils.

  Not wanting to interrupt, I gaze out of one of the large windows. The view is as nice as any I have seen in these mountains and better than most. There’s not a sign of civilization anywhere, not another house, or road, or even a power line, only wilderness. Juliana would like it here. She loves the mountains and I have to agree with her. Nature is easy to be with. I once read, “Nature never hurries, yet everything is accomplished”. Motivated humans accomplish a lot, but they often severely lack the grace found in nature. The mountains, the trees, and the birds outside Vivi’s house are a much-appreciated sight after all the tragedy I’ve been a part of lately.

  Suddenly distracted by not knowing what time it is, I look around the room and see a tall grandfather clock against a wall. The pendulum is unmoving.

  “Have somewhere better to be?” she asks not looking away from her papers.

  “No, ma’am,” I say. “You’re my responsibility as long as you need me.”

  “Never needed a man in my life and I’m not about to start now,” she says, and half-turns in her chair, eyeing me as if daring me to contradict her statement.

  “If you want me to wait outside I can,” I offer. “I only meant if you’d like to ask me any questions, I’ll do my best to answer.”

  She lays the letter down and takes off her reading glasses and sets them on the desk. Her green eyes pierce mine as she openly stares at me.

  “Do something extraordinary to prove what you are. Knock my socks off, why don’t ya?”

  I give her my own assessing look, surprised by her request. Without saying anything, I relinquish my body for about five seconds and then reappear in the chair. To her eyes I disappeared, but the truth is I didn’t go anywhere at all.

  “How was that?” I ask. She doesn’t look at all impressed by my show.

  “Something spectacular would have been better, young man,” she says with mild disapproval. “Any respectable witch could have pulled an invisibility charm. I thought you were from the heavens.” She shakes her head at me. “I was hoping for a meteor shower or an earthquake. Make the evening news and put an end to my wretchedness.”

  “Spectacular is out of my scope of capability right now,” I say.

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “Believe it or not there’s a limit to what I can and can’t do. I can open the pathway to the other side when you’re ready. That’s about as spectacular as I can manage.”

  Vivi Costa narrows an eye at me.

  I ask a more serious question. “Do you want to talk about what is so miserable?”

  “Live as long as I have and you’ll have plenty of misery of your own. Life isn’t exactly the bowl of pudding promised to you when you’re a child.”

  “No, it isn’t,” I agree, thinking back to my own life, and death. Growing up with alcoholic parents and my father accidentally shooting and killing me in the kitchen wasn’t what anyone would call “pudding”.

  She takes a deep breath and as she exhales I hear another rattle and a slight wheeze from deep inside her.

  “Will you go into the kitchen and get us a drink? I think it’s time for a little liquid encouragement.”

  “Sure,” I say, rising from my chair and moving across the large room to the kitchen.

  “The Scotch. Cabinet next to the icebox. Ice in mine if you would please.”

  I do as she asks. My future, or should I say my past, with alcohol was defined by my delinquent parents so I only put ice and water in my glass. Alcohol and I may not be friends, especially after watching my family be destroyed by it, but I don’t judge others for enjoying it.

  Vivi pours herself a heavy triple shot of the golden liquid, then holds the bottle out to me.

  “No, thank you. Too much of my history comes with those kinds of bottles.”

  “Suit yourself,” she says and places the Scotch on the desk.

  Holding the glass under her nose, I see her take in the rich fumes. Her knuckles are knobbed and the skin on the back of her hands is thin and spotted with age.

  “I used to say, ‘To your health’, but it doesn’t apply to you, and look where it’s gotten me.” She gives the glass a somewhat dubious look and swallows a healthy measure of the alcohol and then another one. Her eyelids drift closed and she sighs over the rim of the glass. “I will miss this,” she confides. “Those Scots do know how to make some damned good liquor. He was partial to drinking Scotch whiskey too. The one like yourself who I’ve met before. Thought maybe you were all fond of drinking.”

  “One of my kind?” I ask, my interest instantly peaking and screaming like steam from a kettle suddenly brought to a boil.

  “He used to be like you. He was a powerful man. A magician of sorts he was. Not like your flimsy disappearing act, but real magic. A high priest. Taught me quite a lot. Told me all about the Summerland and crossing over to the other side as well. I’ll never forget him. He’s the one who told me to, ‘Stop bullshitting around and live your life the way you want before it’s too late’.”

  The sensation of shivering creeps over my skin. “Do you remember his name?”

  “Of course I remember. You don’t likely forget the name of someone who changed your life, now d
o you?”

  She somehow manages to look down at me, even though she’s looking slightly up. I wait patiently.

  “His name was Liam. He was a right bastard. So full of himself. I should have left Ireland immediately, but his wife was kind to me. Maybe that was the beginning of my trouble, or maybe it was the beginning of my life. It’s hard to say, isn’t it? Moments like those come around less often than an extreme spring tide. It comes on like a flood and directs your whole life from there on out.”

  I try to not let my face show my inner turmoil. Could she really have met Liam? How could this coincidence be happening to me? Now, when I would do anything to speak with a fallen angel and find out what it’s like to come back.

  Rumors about Liam have been in the foreground of my thoughts since I decided Juliana will live a long life and I would do everything I could to help her. That was before I knew I was watching the wrong person. Jared is the one who is going to pass, not Juliana. That first mix up doesn’t matter now. Jules is more important than my eternal soul. When I’m with her I would give anything and more for one more minute of her company. In my mind, it sounds absurd and unreasonable, but then I see her and it all makes sense. If I can return to Earth and have a life with her, I will jump on any opportunity, no questions or hesitations.

  Marcus is the only one I know who has ever met Liam. He refuses to share any details about Liam’s history. Including where to find him and how he did it.

  Does Vivi know where Liam is? Does she really understand what he is, or was? And how had he helped her exactly? What does this mean? Are we really thinking of the same fallen angel?

  “Was this some time ago?” I ask carefully.

  Vivi takes another healthy drink of Scotch. The desk chair creaks as she settles back against the wood. She suddenly looks very tired, as if gravity were taking a heavier toll on her than it had the moment before. Her shoulders, eyelids, and corners of her mouth droop in unison.

  “Such a long time ago, and so very far from my mountains,” she says as she stares down into her glass.

  She’s obviously starting to tire, but this strange turn in our meeting has me so worked up I can’t stop the next question. “I may have heard of this Liam. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know what he was?”

  “He told me, of course,” she says as if this is obvious. “I didn’t want to believe it, but I believed his wife. She was the high priestess of the coven. She helped me understand who I was. And, she was…well,” Vivi flips her hand in the air. “She was his love. His destiny.”

  She closes her eyes and I watch her chest move with a labored breath.

  “The two of them were so helpful, just when…when I needed some things to be different in my life. Liam said I would have a guardian when it was my time to cross over, but my understanding was it would be after the fact.”

  She looks up at me expectantly.

  “In most cases, you’re correct. We come unseen just before death and we meet as you leave your body behind. Your circumstances have changed the rules slightly because of your decision to end things differently than planned.”

  “A few days difference and I get you to come and try to change my mind. Hmmph,” she snorts contemptuously, then swallows more of the Scotch.

  “You’re free to do whatever it is you see best,” I say with sincerity.

  She glares at me with skepticism etched in the lines around her eyes.

  “I can see you’re a straightforward kind of person, as am I. I saw what you were about to do up on the ridge and I decided I’ve had enough death for one day. I wanted to try something different. Cases like yours are new to me and I’m already tired of it.”

  Vivi’s tight lipped mouth pinches, then softens into a smile. Her shoulders begin to shake and she closes her eyes again as she begins to laugh. “Holy shit,” she says, still shaking with mirth. “They sent me a rookie.”

  With a clinking of ice, she finishes the last of her Scotch, sets her glass on the desk, and slaps her knee. “I love it. Well, Rookie, I’m tired as sin. I’m going to rest and re-evaluate my life purpose. I’ll get back to you. Go on home now. I won’t be feeding the worms today.” With this, she stands up and reaches for her shawl hanging over the back of her chair. She gives me one last appraising glance and walks across the house toward the kitchen.

  I wonder what comes next. If she had truly just changed her mind I think I would be given another assignment which means nothing has really changed. “Vivi,” I call over. “Here is some more truth between us. I’ve been assigned to you and I can’t leave. I can wait outside or come and go, but you’ll be seeing more of me.”

  She pauses by the kitchen counter, one hand gripping the edge as if she were unstable. I move to her side before I realize what I’m doing and help steady her.

  “Why don’t you let me help you?” I offer.

  She doesn’t look up at me, but I see her nod in acceptance.

  “Would you like something to eat before you rest? I can cook a simple meal in a few minutes,” I say as I steer her to the dining table.

  “Cook for me? No one has offered to do that in years. Okay, I’ll let you. But there isn’t much to eat in the house,” she says as she takes a seat.

  “I can manage.”

  As I open the refrigerator I see she wasn’t joking. The contents of the fridge include a couple of condiments and a box of baking soda. Closing the door, I look around the kitchen for a pantry and I realize everything around me is free of clutter and completely sparse. There’s no mail lying around or dirty dishes in the sink. Opening a large cabinet which might be a pantry, I find it in a similar state as the fridge. Vivi Costa had eaten all her food and had not replaced it. It looks like she prepared her home to go on vacation, only she wasn’t planning on returning. Bending down, I search the pantry and find a small stash of canned food.

  As I look for a can opener, Vivi asks, “Do you know anything about Wiccans or witches?”

  “What I know is fairly limited. Why do you ask?”

  “There’s a saying, what goes around comes around. My time has come around, Nathaniel. I don’t think you should stop me.”

  “And you think ending your life will make amends?”

  “Some mistakes cannot be righted, so no. I am not looking for deliverance.”

  I glance over at Vivi sitting at the table, staring at her clasped hands.

  “Are you speaking of witches now?”

  Her shoulders seem to sink an inch.

  “Curses are powerful things. I was young and hurt and I’ve been paying for my mistake my whole life. I’m done, Nathaniel. I am so done.”

  She turns to me. There is sorrow buried deep in her soul. Buried with the knowledge of what she had done and all the grief it caused her.

  “Regret can travel with you, you know,” I say as I stir the vegetable soup in the pan on the stove.

  “I’m willing to travel with baggage.”

  “Would you consider letting me in on your secret? Maybe we can resolve the past so you don’t have to take it with you to the Summerland, as you prefer to call the afterlife.”

  Summerland. Most of my clients call it heaven or the other side. Vivi used the Wiccan term for the afterlife. It has a nice sound to it. She’s quiet as I pour the soup into a bowl and bring it to her with a spoon.

  “My ex threw me out when he found out I was a witch. I was young. I hardly understood it myself. Liam and Kathleen took me in. My life was a catastrophic disaster.”

  She pauses and stares down at the soup. “I’m not up for this story right now.”

  “Only share what you want, and only when you’re ready, all right?”

  She nods slightly and takes a spoonful of soup and then another. I sit down at the table and let her eat.

  When the bowl is half empty, she says, “You did say you’re here to help me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Will you bring me paper and a pen from my desk, Nathaniel?”

 
I walk over to the desk, marveling again at how different my new cases are. Not only am I having a conversation with someone who has a beating heart, but she is making requests of me.

  “The notepad will do fine,” she says from across the room. She coughs once. It sounds half-choked with something wet and thick. I grab the paper and a pen and turn back to her not liking the sound. Her hand is to her mouth and I can see her trying to suppress something unpleasant. She fails, and the coughing begins. I’ve heard sounds like this many times. Hard, retching pain, from deep down in the lungs, and often accompanied by globs of mucus or worse.

  Moving quickly, I place my hand on her back. Without much effort, I start to channel the energy I use to form my physical body. It mostly feels like heat as it passes from me to her. It can help ease pain and help someone feel better overall. This transferring of energy is something all angels can do, even those who watch over the dead and dying. Does it drain me? Yes, but not in any permanent way. Helping Vivi’s cough takes very little from me and I suspect I won’t even notice any change in how I feel. But, using universal life energy to supply my physical needs is limited. Where the balance point is, between doing too much and not doing anything physical at all, is unknown.

  Recently I pulled more energy through me than I’ve ever attempted to do before, and I did it in a matter of seconds. There were multiple repercussions to this action. The first of which was Juliana’s brother lived. I also disappeared for an unknown number of hours or days, and I didn’t know if I was ever coming back. It was a powerful experience. I know I’ve changed after the incident with Jared, but I haven’t discovered all the details of what those changes are. I feel more substantial. As if more energy is available to me than it was before. These three cases thrown at me back to back are also a part of the aftermath of what I did for Jared. I think the higher-ups have decided to keep me as busy as possible so I will stay out of trouble. If I need to know something, the bosses usually send my mentor, Marcus, with news, and that rarely happens. I have yet to see Marcus since I saved Jared’s life. Our friendship is another repercussion of the incident with Jared. Marcus and I will probably exchange some unfriendly words as soon as I see him again. Saving a life and altering the future of a client is one of the only rules an Angel of Death is not supposed to break.