What lives? I barely remembered my childhood, and the only images etched in my memory were bad ones. Bloody ones. As for Cecilia … she had been taken when she was twenty. That was eighteen years ago. Did she really know another way of life?
I looked down at the dull wooden floor, ashamed of myself. Cecilia had suffered for so long. We both had. Of course she would want a better life. She really did deserve it. But here … living in this house, in this small town on the other side of the country, was still not far enough. Perhaps if I convinced her to move to a remote island, or some other faraway corner of the world, then we might have a chance.
At this point, I really doubted we would make it.
And yet, I couldn’t stop myself from falling for Cecilia’s dream.
Tomorrow. I would talk to her about this silly dream tomorrow. We could use a good night sleep first.
“Okay,” I whispered.
Her brown eyes lit up. “Really?”
How could I say no to her? “Really.”
Smiling, she advanced to me and squeezed me in a tight hug. “Everything will be okay. You’ll see.” She kissed my cheek, then continued her perusal of the house. She went back to the kitchen and opened the back door. The outside lights came on, illuminating what looked like a small porch. “Oh my word, come see this!”
What? Did the house come with a pool? For Lia to be renting it, it had to be super cheap, and I doubted a cheap house came with a pool.
Knowing she would bother me until I let her show me the backyard, I dragged my feet out to the porch.
A big cherry tree sat on the right side of the yard, leaning over the short wooden fence and spilling over to the neighbor’s backyard. Its soft pink flowers were in full bloom and emanating a sweet scent.
“Wow,” I whispered.
“I know,” she said. “It’s so pretty.”
It really was. It was mesmerizing, actually. If the tree was this pretty at night, I wondered how gorgeous it would be during the day, when the sun was high in the sky and shining down on its petals.
“I don’t think I have ever seen a cherry tree this close,” I muttered.
“My parents used to have a few in the orchard on our family ranch.” Her voice gained a sad lilt, as it usually did whenever she talked about her family. She hadn’t seen them in eighteen years. She didn’t even know if they were still alive, but because we were and always would be in danger, she didn’t dare look for them. “All right. We have a lot of work to do.” She went back inside the house, only to cross the kitchen and the hallway and exit through the front door.
She had probably gone to get the few bags we had in the car. Not that we had much, but Lia had planned even that. She had sold the last gold piece she had stolen from Slater, and with the money, she had bought a crappy Corolla that had seen better days. We also used some to buy clothes and food, and purchase fake documents. We saved a little because Lia insisted we would need money to buy furniture for the house.
Of course, she didn’t tell me about this plan until a week ago, when she finally bought the car and picked up our documents. At first, I refused to go along with her foolhardy plan. She had been lying to me. She knew, better than me, how dangerous it was to stay in one place for long. I indulged her, because I thought that little streak of hope was enough to keep her going. I didn’t actually think she would do it.
I shook my head and a sad laugh bubbled out of my throat as I remembered how eager and excited Lia had been. She always tried to find the bright side. She had helped me survived many dark nights. That was one of the reasons why I loved her so much.
I walked back into the house and glanced at it again. The stained foyer wall, the broken board on the stairs, the cracked footboards. Maybe if we handled it with love, this house could become a home.
But for how long?
I shook my head. No, I wouldn’t think of that right now. For a moment, even if only for a night, I would dive into Cecilia’s dream, and I would pretend everything was all right.
Devon
My footfalls and increased breathing thrummed in my ears as I ran across the town’s main street. This late at night, it was rare to see anything open, much fewer people out. After ten, even the only gas station and the connected convenience store closed, which was why I chose this time to go out and exercise—so I wouldn’t be bothered by anyone.
Rarely, I bumped into Paul, John, and their delinquent friends. But unless they were doing something bad—like fucking breaking into to the record store—I gave them a wide berth and kept running.
Thankfully, I hadn’t seen anyone out and I also didn’t have to report to Ryder. As much as I liked seeing my old friend, it also pained me more than I dared to admit. Unlike me, he and the other warriors kept going on missions—quests assigned by the gods where the warriors searched for and apprehended or killed demons, keeping the world at balance—because they hadn’t fucked up like I had. And what pissed me off the most was that I had no idea what I had done wrong, how I could fix it, or how I could escape this meaningless human life.
I turned onto my street and slowed, upset with myself for letting my thoughts wander back to my punishment. My fucking curse.
How could I not think of it, though? Eighteen years, ten months, and six days ago, the gods pulled me out of hell and offered me a second chance.
“Don’t fail this time,” they said.
I had spent three hundred years in misery, and they wouldn’t even give me a clue about what came next? “If I don’t know what happened the first time, if I don’t know what I did wrong, how can I fix it?”
“When the time comes, you’ll know,” they said. They handed me a ring and said, “Our gift to you. It’ll bring light even in the darkest of times.”
Then, they sent me to Earth.
I had been roaming the world for almost nineteen years, searching for whatever I was supposed to find, but how did I even start if I had no idea what I was looking for?
Finally, I settled in Misty Hill. But not because I had wanted to. The gods had sent me here for some reason, one I hadn’t found out yet. But even if they told me to move again, I wouldn’t. Until the gods came to me and told me more about my mission, I wouldn’t move. I would stay here and live a lonely, aimless life, my only interest taking the next breath.
I came to a halt, my running shoes skidding on rough concrete and my hands resting on my hips as I sucked in cool air.
I had new neighbors.
Two women had parked their beat-up Corolla in the driveway of the house next door. Slowly, I walked to my house, watching as they carried their bags from the car to the house. From my front porch, the darkness was engulfing, but I blinked, adjusting my eyes to the dark, and saw almost as clear as day: one looked like in her mid-thirties, the other was not much older than a teenager.
I frowned. Who were these women and what kind of neighbors would they be? If they disrupted my peace …
I closed my hands into fists and forced the air out of my lungs.
Relax, I told myself.
If they bothered me, I could arrange for them to be kicked out of the house. That simple. For now, I’d watch them in case they spelled trouble.
Past