Death Lies Between Us (An Angel Falls Book 1) Page 7

  Go inside. Go find Jared. No, go find Lance, I order myself. He’ll know who the kid is and what to do next. I want to move but I can’t. I saw the boy; he was wearing a red shirt and a baseball cap. Where’s the hat? I can’t find it anywhere. Why are there no marks on the ground at all? Am I hallucinating? Why is part of my brain insisting none of it was real?

  I hear my Grandmother’s sweet voice saying, “Julie, Jared, promise your Grandma you’ll stay away from Castle Hill.” And my father, years ago, trying to scare us with ghost stories about the castle. Another memory swirls around in the pit of my stomach making me nauseous, something about a missing boy. I grasp for the details, but a brusque, snorting, “Ha!” breaks my temporary spell.

  I jump and then spin around so fast I get dizzy and begin to fall. The trees, the blur of gray stone, and a hulking shape swim in front of me. Vice grips attach to my upper arms and keep me upright. Yellow teeth are the only constant in the swirling chaos. The canines are pointed and look sharp, vampire teeth, no I correct, cat teeth. So I hadn’t been hallucinating. The mountain lion ate that poor little boy and has come back for me.

  I’m strangely calm as I stare at those pointy teeth, distant from myself. Waiting for the bite and not the least bit frightened, only a sense of relief to know I’m not crazy, until it makes a sound. Not a growl or a hiss like a cat but a rough voice.

  It tells me, “I knew I was right about you, cherry pie. You say one thing but mean somethin’ else. Here you are, waitin’ for me at my doorstep.”

  I’m thrust back into my body like water through a flood gate and I’m instantly aware of everything all at once. The mauve sky overhead, the close proximity of the stairs, the pressure from each finger on my arms, Mason’s sour breath leaking from his evil grin, and his menacing muddy eyes.

  “I didn’t know you lived here,” I squeak out.

  “Didn’t you?”

  “No.” I shake my head and scream inwardly, how am I going to get out of this? He’s a total sicko! I get a surge of anger which reminds me of the visions I was having earlier of hurting him but a distinct inner voice urges me to play along for another minute. I try to breathe so I won’t panic.

  “Where’s your friend?” I attempt to sound calm but my voice shakes a little.

  “You wanna entertain two of us? I’m beginning to like you more and more.”

  “I meant Lance. Where’s Lance?”

  “He’s busy,” he assures me.

  I pull back, trying to get free. It’s a mistake, Mason grips even harder. A whimper of pain escapes from me and that too is a mistake. He smiles for real this time, not the evil grin, but a smile of satisfaction. My eyes bulge out of their sockets as I fully realize what a complete psycho he is.

  “Let go of me. I need to get back. My brother and his friends are looking for me.”

  “No they’re not.”

  He looks over at the staircase then back at me. He tugs at my arms and I stumble an inch forward.

  “How ‘bout a drink at my place?” he asks, but I don’t think he expects an answer.

  He drags me another couple of inches, even though I pull backward with all my strength. He’s going to force me up those stairs, I realize. There’s no way on earth I’m going with him. I dart a glance over to the stage doors but no one has come outside. Will anyone hear me if I scream? It’ll be full dark soon and then what? Will I just disappear like the daylight? No, I tell myself. I’ll fight him to my death, right here.

  I try to kick him in the crotch but fail because my skirt is too long and tight to lift my knee very high. I hit him somewhere near his calf. His shoulders shake in a silent laugh.

  “Why don’t you make this easy on yourself and come upstairs with me. Have that drink. It’s your choice darlin’, but no one’s gonna hear you.” He stops pulling me but his grip remains painfully tight.

  We’re about six feet from the bottom stair. Six feet to fight. “Let me go!”

  “That’s good,” he says. “I like it feisty.”

  “You’re freaking crazy!” I’m about to unleash all of my fury in a single attempt at freedom, or die trying. My heart thumps like a bass drum, pushing the adrenaline into every cell of my being. I hesitate looking for any edge of opportunity. He makes his move, pulling me in close to him. I kick him again, just as someone speaks.

  “Release her.”

  “Ayeaaaa!” I scream.

  Mason must have been equally shocked because he lets me go. We both whirl on our heels to see who it is.

  Nathaniel? How… I don’t have time to finish my thought because in the next instant several things happen. Nathaniel punches Mason hard enough he staggers back into the side of the stairs, demanding, “Stay the hell away from her!” Then he has his arm around me and is whisking me away faster than I think is humanly possible.

  Somehow I hear Mason groveling at our backs. “Hey, I was just playin’ around. The stupid tease.”

  I cringe into Nathaniel’s side as we escape away from the castle and deep into the forest. When we stop, Nathaniel guides me with a soft hand to sit on a fallen log. He kneels in front of me and looks me over. His face stops in front of mine. There are lines of tension around his eyes and mouth.

  He asks in his satin smooth voice, “Juliana, are you all right?”

  “How did you…? Wait, where did you…?” I stumble over the words like my mouth is full of marbles then just say, “Yes, I think so.” My voice is shaky but it must pass as a good enough answer because Nathan stands up and takes a step back. He turns to the side so I see his profile. His expression is hard as he stares into the darkening woods.

  I should be worried about being in the dark, far from anyone I know, alone with a strange guy, but I’m not. He feels different to me, familiar, even though I don’t know him. I start to stand up, unnerved by the new feelings. He stops me.

  “Sit there a minute longer. You’re safe with me, I promise.”

  I pause and then let my weight shift back, feeling the bark crackle under the denim of my skirt. My legs and spine have turned to jelly and I’m not sure I could stand if I had to. The added sensation of shattered glass rattling through my veins is unnerving, I admit, but not life threatening. I’m in one piece, and I’m whole, I tell myself, it could have been much worse.

  I look up to Nathaniel. It’s almost as if he is watching out for me or something. Why would he be? He did find me, just when, just when…. I can’t even think about it. I rub my arms, remembering the feeling of being pinned between two meaty hands. A cold sweat breaks out over my face and neck. I try to hold in the shiver. It doesn’t work.

  Nathan says so low I have to strain to hear the words, “I should’ve stopped him sooner. I’m sorry.”

  My brain registers what he said and it seems absurd. “Don’t apologize,” I say. I swallow hard, trying to find the right words to thank him. How do I express gratitude for my life with mere words? “I,” I start, then have to try again, “I…” and the emotion chokes me. My brain and my tongue are seized by paralysis and I can’t continue my thought.

  “You don’t have to say anything right now.” He looks at me and his face turns from serious to soft. In the most velvety soft voice he says, “You’re all right now. Take as much time as you need.”

  I stare back at him and a warm layer of safety wraps itself around me. It stills the trembling and quiets my nerves. His eyes are pools of dark water reflecting the moonlight, but it’s not cold, it’s inviting. I can’t look away, but he does, breaking our connection. His soft features turn stony again as he stares out into the dark forest.

  I look down into my lap, confused by his abrupt change of demeanor. One moment searching my face with eyes of concern and the next, hard and distant, almost pissed off.

  Turning the direction of my focus, I notice my knees are no longer shaking. I run my hands down my legs in reassurance, they’re solid and steady. I close my eyes and breathe deep. Deep breathing helps people feel calm, right? I could use tha
t right now. Am I hallucinating again? Lost in some dream world? No, I answer, this is real. I push my palm onto the log, it’s rough and scratchy. I push harder until it hurts. I’m not dreaming. Okay, Jules, breathe. Am I in shock? No, I’m not in shock, and I don’t want to fall into that numbing trap.

  “I would’ve fought to the death, back there,” I confide in the dark.

  “I don’t doubt it,” he whispers back.

  “Thank you,” I say, even though it doesn’t seem like enough.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t thank me yet,” he says.

  I struggle with confusion as I try to process his words. “You don’t say things the way I expect.”

  “I can’t help it,” he says.

  That makes me smile, just a tiny bit, on the inside.

  “You’re not what I expected either,” I think I hear him say, but it’s so low I’m not completely certain. The next thing he says I hear clearly.

  “I’ll be right here.” He moves away from me slightly, settling next to a tree trunk. “When you’re ready, we’ll go back.”

  I’m not ready yet, so I close my eyes and begin to drink in the cool air. Absorbing the smells of the earth and the pines and the feeling of the ground beneath my shoes, and then I begin to let it all go. I let go of the smells, I let go of the feel of the log under me, I let go of all the fear of being manhandled, and I let go of forcing the breath to come in and go out. I no longer have any sense of time or space and it doesn’t seem to matter. I become everything and nothing, and it is bliss.

  “Juliana?”

  Maybe I want to be hallucinating after all. His voice is low and silky. It caresses my ear, giving me the oddest urge to purr. I refrain from doing so and instead sit unmoving, trying to hang onto the warm ripples moving through me, remnants of the voice.

  “Jules?” it asks again.

  It’s is so nice, so soft. If I sit here long enough will I hear it again?

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Still low, a whisper, downy soft, another warm blanket of security wraps itself around me. “Mmmm-hmmm,” I hum back. I feel cocooned in warm waves. Each breath rolls through me in a perfect rhythm, back and forth, and in and out. Nathaniel’s soft voice feels so comfortable.

  He speaks to me again. “I think it’s time to go.”

  I hear the words, but make no effort to move. The tone of his voice soothes me and I feel far away. He picks me up, cradling me against him. I open my eyes and look up into his grave face. The highlights in his hair are somehow visible in the dark woods and look like streaks of light around his head.

  It feels odd being carried like a child, and yet in the moment, I don’t mind it one bit. The strange shifting movement feels comfortable and I close my eyes, hanging onto the waves, breathing deep.

  “Where are you taking me?” I ask, and it feels as if I am speaking from another galaxy.

  “It’s time for you to go home.”

  The vibration of his words seeps into my skin and I curl my head and neck into him like a cat snuggling up for warmth. He pulls me closer. His arms are strong and reassuring. Deep in the far recesses of my mind, I wonder what kind of guy picks someone up and carries them through the woods in the dark. His movement seems effortless; his breathing is unlabored, as if I weigh nothing at all.

  “Who are you?” Did I ask it, or did I think it? I’m not sure. No answer comes. Am I dreaming, or hallucinating? Does it matter? He could take me anywhere and I’d willingly go, I decide. An infinitesimal thread of reality is trying to hold me back. It’s shiny and red and is warning me of something. I have no energy left to dwell on it so I mentally cut the cord. It has been such a long day, so long. I let out a deep sigh and feel myself slip even farther away. I want to stay right here, forever, with Nathan.

  Chapter Eight: Detour

  Nathaniel

  I’m in so deep I can’t see the exit anymore, way beyond interfering; I’m out of my mind involved in this girl’s life.

  I slide the van door open and place her with the utmost care on the velour seat. A dark cascade of hair covers half of her face and spills over a shoulder halfway to her lap. I brush it back revealing her pale face and revel at the feeling of her soft cheek, and the warmth and tingle of my fingertips responding to her.

  The humanness of her, her breathing, her heartbeat, all of it is so fragile. Why is she affecting me so much? I have no right to change her future and now I’ve done so — twice. It’s inexcusable. All things happen for a reason, both good and bad. I have told countless people those very words and I believe it when I say it. I know good things can happen to bad people and bad things can happen to good people, but what I don’t understand is why I can’t let anything bad happen to Juliana.

  Watching her chest rise and fall in peaceful and vulnerable sleep, I realize I don’t know anything about this girl. I want to tell myself she’s a stranger to me but I can’t. I feel as if I know more about her in one day than I know about anyone else who has ever been in my life. It’s an absurd feeling but I can’t shake it. The recognition isn’t about trivial things, like when her birthday is or what her favorite movie is. It feels deeper than that, like knowing what emotion will cross her face before she even feels it and knowing if she were in any pain I would hurt just as much. How can I ignore it? This is the reason I’m over-the-top involved.

  A heavy weight presses on my shoulders as I grasp the notion that it’s probably too late for her. Intruding into her life, or not. I suspect it won’t make a difference in the end. All people die and that’s where I come in. I give comfort. I explain what’s happening to them, what’s coming and I help them move on. That’s what I am, I remind myself, not some comic book hero rescuing girls in distress. Changing someone’s fate is out of the question. Fate, the word slaps me in the face. I don’t even believe in it. Or do I? What is fate anyway? Are we destined to be something, to do some great thing in life before we pass on? Or is it more like a timeline, marked with highlights of events we’re supposed to reach and when the timeline ends, we end? If that’s what fate is like, then my timeline had been plucked from the bottom of a stinky fish barrel, ending in death and a crappy job.

  Juliana shifts and leans over, resting against my side. Physical contact isn’t a part of my life anymore. When I was alive I never paid much attention to the feel of things, common everyday things like the smooth curve of a door handle or the wind cooling my skin, but after I died, being able to touch something and feel the texture and the pressure of it is a rare gift. The opportunities come few and far between, and this, having Juliana asleep next to me, nothing like this has ever happened. What would I give to stay right here with her, forever? Everything?

  Just do the job and quit prolonging the inevitable, my stern and rational self says, but the rest of me doesn’t agree. She is so young, so vital, the injustice of it nags at me. I’d been young. My life was just beginning when it had happened. I’m doing it again; being close to Jules and remembering things I don’t care to think about. I need to focus on the now. I’m in a van, doing my job. It’s a strange job and, at least for today, a horrible and crappy one, but it’s my job. Stay close to my client and wait. This is what I do.

  Even though I sit still, my mind is restless. I’ve created a detour for her, I admit, but I was justified. I think back to Mason with his hands on her and I feel the anger boil up again. I couldn’t let her end be at the hands of a woman hater. I flex and clench my fingers wishing I had beaten his face in. People like him don’t deserve air. I look down at her, the curve of cheekbone, the line of her nose, the softness of lips, and down at her arm. The finger bruises already show. My mother had those same bruises one too many times. That fucking ass-wipe had the same look in his eyes my father had when he was worked up and looking for a fight, taunting rage behind beady black pupils. He would find my mom. She was the one person who would always fight with him. That’s the truth of the matter. That’s why I had to tempt fate. Mason’s crazed eyes and his
grip on her was more than I could bear. Juliana didn’t deserve that fate. No one did.

  Destiny, karma, life lessons, whatever it’s called, I couldn’t let that abuse continue to happen in front of me, not that. There had to be another way and to hell with the consequences. To hell with me because I have no idea what happens to someone who is already dead but won’t let the living alone. I guess I’m going to find out. All I can hope for is that Juliana won’t suffer for my bad choices.

  Muffled voices grab my attention and I turn my head to see who is coming. Jared and Caleb are by the back door. Caleb stretches his arms overhead and Jared bounces on the balls of his feet.

  I hear Jared talking. “Lance was really into our set. He asked us to come back.”

  “Awesome. Let’s switch up the list when we play for him again,” Caleb counters.

  “Yeah, definitely. Hey, did you see when Jules left?”

  “Pretty early on, I think,” Caleb answers.

  I watch Jared look around. His head swivels right and then left, and stops. He appears to be staring toward the garage. “I need to find her. I can’t believe she didn’t come back.”

  He takes a few steps away from the castle squinting into the gloom toward the two story garage. Worry lines are etched across his brow.

  Why is he looking over there? It has to be a coincidence, doesn’t it? Jared’s concern for Jules’s welfare seems to be foremost in his mind; they must be very close.

  “I’m sure she’s fine, man. Hey, we need to go tear down. You coming?”

  Caleb holds the door open for Jared.

  “Let’s get it done.”

  A few moments later and they’re back with guitar cases, crates, and rolled up cords in hand.

  “See, no worries. Jules is sleeping in the van,” I hear Caleb say.

  Jared doesn’t answer. He comes around and slides the door open. He looks at her for a long moment then says loud enough to wake the dead, “Jules, you alive?”