Atroyel, p.7
Atroyel, page 7
I shrug on a black T-shirt, comfortable white cotton pants, and a pair of deck shoes before checking on Troy. He’s still out cold, but his essence is still firmly in this realm. He’ll find us when he wakes. After masking my power to avoid detection from Lord Syrael’s ever-seeking eye, I make a quick circuit of the island we’ve created to ensure the magic dome cloaking its existence is firmly in place. I repair and strengthen a few cracks caused by us using our magic, glad to see our combined spell casting withstood Lord Syrael’s seeking eye. I take another couple of circuits to stretch my wings before heading back to find the others. By now, I expect that Cass has ensured Aleah’s needs are met, and she’s in a receptive mood for a good meal, one of my specialties, and a long chat about many things magic.
I’ve got the first three appetizers for our dinner well underway when a laughing Aleah leads Cass into the kitchen.
“What’d I miss?” I ask as I slide a plate of stuffed mushrooms in front of them. I’d had to guess what foods might appeal to Aleah based on the somewhat sketchy list of her favorite foods from Troy. Aleah takes a stool at the butcher’s block, making it easy for me to keep working while we chat. Cass wanders over to the dual-zone wine fridge and ponders the reds through the glass door.
“Cass says I’m the first person he’s met who’s more of a control freak than he is.” She laughs as I widen my eyes in surprise. “I know, right? I haven’t known him long, and even I can see he’s a total control freak. These smell delicious.” She picks up the small tongs and slides a couple of the stuffed gems onto the small plate in front of her. I puff up just a little. Cooking soothes me, and there’s nothing better than cooking a good meal for an appreciative audience. Even better, I’ve hit on one of her favorites with the first pitch. Just as Troy had warned us, our little goddess is far too small, having lost even more weight since he died. As I watch her pleasure consuming the delicacy, I make it my mission to put more pounds on that tiny body.
Cass comes back with a bottle of wine and three glasses, uncorks it, and pours us each several ounces. He takes a seat beside Aleah.
“You are more of a control freak than I am.” Cass’s stern appearance and our connection tells me he’s not content with where things are at with Aleah.
“Why do you dislike me so much, Cass?” Aleah asks.
The directness of her question surprises Cass. I hide a smile and pretend not to watch while he tries to hide his discomfort.
“What makes you think I dislike you?” Cass takes the offensive.
“Every time I’m near you, I get the distinct feeling I’m a supreme pain in your ass, and you think I’m not good for your brother,” Aleah says.
“Don’t take it personally, beauty,” I say, “Cass treats everyone that way. I’ve been trying to get his approval my whole life.” I clamp my lips shut. I hadn’t meant to let that nugget of information slip.
Cass frowns at me then turns his attention back to Aleah.
“Being a sex angel isn’t a job, it’s a calling. One that requires our commitment, and we can’t be split between to masters. Being here with you takes us away from our mission. It’s nothing personal. Why does what I think of you matter to you?” Cass asks. I glance over in surprise. My senses tell me he’s taking this quite personally.
“I’m tired of people disliking me for no reason, that’s all. If you prefer not to have me around, let’s figure out a way Troy and I can carry on without you.” She looks thoughtful while she takes a bite of the mushroom. Determination radiates from this woman. She looks at me. I wink, hoping to convey my admiration for her. I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Cass this way. His frown deepens, but he says nothing.
She closes her eyes and sighs as she chews, making it clear this particular discussion is over. “Oh my gods, these are so good. What’s in them?” Her chestnut brown eyes beam pleasure at me.
I laugh. “So many questions, mon chou, but then Troy did say you’re an amazing cook. They’re baby portobellos baked with olive tapenade stuffing, asiago cheese, and a layer of prosciutto.”
“Amazing. I usually don’t like olive tapenade, but these are great.” She pops the rest of it in her mouth. After a swipe with her napkin, she says, “Why did you call me a cabbage?”
“My darling woman, mon chou is an endearment meaning my favorite one.”
She keeps those eyes trained on me and says quite seriously, “You barely know me.” The buzzing in her brain tells me she’s gone on alert, looking for whether this is a sting, a scam from a sweet-talking man, or an actual compliment.
“Not true. I’ve known you long enough to know you’re my favorite mate-in-law.” I step away from those probing eyes and slide a board of smoked salmon bites from the fridge. I never lost the comfort from cooking no matter what realm we occupied, but the choices available here made it a delight.
She laughs and helps herself to a few of the bites. “You get first place for being the charmer in the group.” She raises one of the bites in the air and salutes me. “And if you keep cooking for me, you’ll be my mon chou, too.” She pops it in her mouth, but a smile beams from her eyes.
“So, what’s up for the rest of the day?” I assemble the fixings for a salad, thankful my brother, mister fussy, is a ghost at the moment. Including his finicky appetite limited my options. Cass will eat anything as long as it’s well cooked.
“First, we had to set priorities. Then we had to do the research, so I had enough information to make an informed decision. Then I had to give Daisy my answer and set my to-do list for tomorrow.” She draws in an exaggerated breath. “And then, I had to decide what my priority is for this evening.”
“I hope it will involve coming up with a plan to keep you safe from Lord Syrael.” I add a bit of angelic speed to my prep, and the knife flies through chopping the veg.
Aleah’s eyes are fastened on my hands. She holds her breath and only lets it out when I stop. “That is so cool. And frightening.”
I flash her my panty-dropping grin. I feel the flush of heat flow through her, but it’s as if I run into a brick wall in her mind.
“Our priority is to find out how I can be with Troy in the flesh.” Her tone makes it clear this is not a subject for discussion. It’s the brick wall of her will. I’ve only encountered this once before in my travels. It was with the head of a religious order who’d used his will to deny all need for creature comforts to help those considered the bottom feeders in any society.
Cass raises his hand, and the small tray of bottles sitting on the counter glides through the air and settles in front of Aleah.
Show off. I send the thought to Cass.
Takes one.
Brother banter is fun, but we’ve got to figure out how to release Troy’s soul.
“We’ll do just that as soon as Atroyel gets here. Meanwhile, let’s get your meds into you.” He places the tray and a medicine cup in front of Aleah. One thing about Cass, even if he hates you, he’ll do the right thing. “Atroyel tells us you must take these medications consistently. We don’t want to miss another dose.”
I expect annoyance, but there’s a tickle of activity in her cerebral cortex that signals humor. “No, we most certainly do not.” Despite a tone that’s hard to read, her eyes dance with laughter. She drops her gaze but not before I catch a glimpse. Cass gives her a stern look.
Troy’s ghost shimmers into the room, going in and out of focus. Aleah jumps to her feet, clutches her left shoulder, and looks around frantically. Her brain activity goes into overdrive, trying to figure out what’s happening as adrenaline surges through her body.
With a burst of speed, I catch her before she hits the floor in a dead faint.
“I’m fading,” Troy gasps before his divine light winks out.
15
ALEAH
My heart hammers in my chest as something yanks me back to consciousness, back from the black hole I’ve dropped into.
I’ve lost him again. He’s gone. The dream has turned into the nightmare I knew it would. I can’t feel this pain again. It’s taken me months to lock the terror behind bars that make it tolerable. Then my godsdamned mind tricked me into believing he’s still with me.
He’s gone . . . without me.
The pain is too much. I sink into blackness. Except it’s not black; it’s nothingness. As if I’ve been dropped into a sensory deprivation chamber. I try to sink in deeper. At least I can’t feel anything here. Not feeling is good. Nothing else matters. I’m determined to get the best of this situation, but something keeps pulling me back.
Fuck off. Stop taking pieces of me.
“Aleah, get your ass back here right now.” A man’s voice snaps the command as a beam of light breaks into the void. “You will help us bring Atroyel back.”
But I’m too tired. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t fight. I don’t even know what I’m fighting for. I’ve lost the only person who loved and accepted me for myself. I’m suffering from hallucinations. My body is breaking down with something rare, an obscure diagnosis where the only thing they know for sure is that it’s progressive. I just don’t have the strength to do it all on my own. To do it without the one person who made me love life. Maybe if I go into the darkness, I’ll find him.
Far, far away, I hear voices.
“Stop that. If Syrael’s found us, we haven’t got much time.” This voice is soft but filled with urgency.
Time. What is time? I have a vague sense that it’s something I want to stay far away from.
Something warm seeps into the void, and a faint light shimmers in the distance. It’s as if I’m hovering on a precipice. If I step off, life as I know it will be over, but I’ll have peace.
“Oh no, you don’t.” A blast of light drops into my chamber, blowing away all that wishful thinking. I squint against the blinding light and see a man . . . with wings . . . wearing low-slung jeans . . . who looks just like Brad Pitt in the movie Meet Joe Black.
“You’re Joe Black, the angel of death.”
“I get that a lot. My name is Bob. Now tell me, Aleah, to what do I owe this rather inconvenient call?”
I narrow my eyes and send him my best asshole look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“She’s right. You do huffy like the best of them.” Bob leans against something invisible and crosses his legs at the ankle. “I’m talking about your attempt at a premature death. Why are you trying to run from your destiny?”
Only I would have a delusion with a madman who looks like Brad Pitt. “I’ll bite. What destiny would that be, and who is she?”
“You’re destined to be reunited with your mate, and she is our wife, Tate. She’s the Chief Justice of Bardo, and she said to tell you she’s not about to let you into Bardo before your time. Although she takes a more romantic view of all this, I agree with her. We did too much work to return your Troy to you. He seems to be willing to tear the universe apart to be with you. Are his feelings misplaced?” Bob raises his left eyebrow and extends his wings.
“You have no idea what I’m dealing with.” That damned eyebrow lifts even higher. He probably knows exactly what I’m dealing with, but I decide to ignore that for now. Once I’ve got something to say, nothing will stop me from vomiting it out.
“I’m on my own in a system that swallows people like me,” I whine. I can’t seem to hold back the self-pity leaking out of me. “Besides that, you have no idea what it takes to help your husband die with dignity in the middle of a pandemic. But I gave him my word, and I did it.” Right about now, I wish for my body back so I can pace. This moment is definitely a pace-worthy one. “But now that he’s gone, I’m all alone. There’s nobody there for me, and I’m sick, too. I’m just so tired.” I let out a long, dramatic sigh. “And now I’ve gone off the deep end, and I’m not even on good drugs. The fact that you’re here is proof positive I’m caught up in some kind of psychotic breakdown.”
Bob straightens up and tucks his wings in. At least, I assume that’s what he does because they disappear. “Maybe Tate’s right. You need to get laid so your brain can engage again.”
Ouch. The rebukes sting even if they are close to bang-on. I am wimping out. Who can blame me after what I’ve been through? But the criticism gets my hackles up . . . Which was probably the point, but that doesn’t stop my motor mouth from engaging. “Who the fuck is this Tate, and where does she get off criticizing my love life? And why do you call her our wife? What has all this got to do with my death, anyway? You are here to take me to heaven, right?” I don’t have a pity party often, but when I do, I make sure it’s a frigging event. I might as well play along with my demented state until the drugs kick in. Oh gods, maybe I’ve had a frontal lobotomy, and that’s why I’m floating in this sensory deprivation chamber. I give a mental eye roll. That’s a little dramatic, even for me. But since this is my breakdown, I might as well imagine that Brad Pitt and I walk off into the sunset just like in the movie.
“Ahem.” Bob interrupts my death dream. Of course, he does, just when I’m finally getting to a little sizzle. I have every right to be a bit bitchy, and it has nothing to do with my hormones.
“I see what caught her attention. Tate is the Chief Justice of Bardo, which is—”
“The realm between realms where we go before we’re reincarnated. I know all about it. I wrote an article about it.” Oh yes, I’m on a roll, telling the angel of death who probably rules Bardo that I know more about it than he does. The look on his face says that in spades. “Sorry, continue.” I think a semi-sheepish grin his way.
“She gets off criticizing you because she’s chief justice of all things dealing with sex and love, and your Troy asked for her help. I call her our wife because I’m one of four mates.”
I’ve never been so glad of this nothingness stuff because it hides the expression that springs to my face. I gape. There’s no other thing for it. A hundred or so questions spring to mind. Bob puts his hand up, stemming the flow before it can get started. I snap my mouth shut.
“You can find out about the lifestyle when you go back. As for your death, it’s not your time. One of the demon lords is trying to snuff out your light prematurely, but it’s not his decision to make. Do I have your attention yet?”
No need to get pissy. I know he’s trying to kill me. That’s the point.
Bob gives me a look. I nod but keep my mouth shut.
“You need to learn to believe. First in yourself, then in the magic. Let the magic lead you.”
“And just how am I going to do that?”
“That’s easy. You’re going to look beyond the wall of rigid rules you have and let the angels guide you. The spell you need to release the magic is in your Double Diary. You don’t have a lot of time to lose because your Troy is somewhere in the void beyond our reach. Let the angels read it to you and free yourself, body and soul.” He extends his wings again. “And for gods’ sake, get laid.”
With that, Brad’s lookalike disappears. A very different bright light replaces his. And heat. The line from The Wizard of Oz springs to mind. I’m not in the void anymore. I open my eyes and stare into brilliant blue eyes that look a lot like those on the Bob guy.
“Oh, Ali.” Tears spill out of Tristan’s eyes. He makes no attempt to hide his fear or the fierce determination behind it. He clutches me to his chest, and a warm flushing sensation spreads through me. Fingers of heat similar to the effect from contrast dye used in CT scans take away my usual pain. He lowers my shoulders to a pillow. I immediately try to sit up and wish I hadn’t as nausea rolls through me. Then the migraine hits. The blast of nausea curls me into a ball and gives a split-second warning of the crushing pain that follows. The kind of pain that would make me blow my brains out if some fool put a gun in my hand.
Hands clutch at my shoulders, presumably trying to make me stretch out. Not a fucking chance. Go away. I just want it all to go away. There’s nothing there but the pain. Make it stop. But something is stopping me from passing out. Something I have to get out.
“He said to read the diaries. You have to read the diaries.”
There, I did it. I let go and slip into blessed darkness.
16
ATROYEL
I punch the gray curtain separating me from Aleah but don’t even have the satisfaction of that relief. My incorporeal fist barely causes a ripple in the strange barrier. I’ve run into a lot of curious things since I died, and that angel took me to Bardo, and here was another. It’s as if I’m watching Aleah and my brothers from inside a large aquarium. Their hazy images ripple in and out of focus. The sound of their voices drifts through, soft and indistinct. I have no idea what caused this latest problem, but none of that matters now. There’s a lot I can’t remember, but a couple of things are apparent. My beloved, my only reason for living, is in danger; her life is in danger. Somehow I’d weaved magic into our diaries that would unite us if we were separated. These angels, my brothers, are part of the equation. At least I could feel them before. Now, this fucking curtain took that away. It will take all of us to save my Aleah. I have to find some way to get back to her.
I slam both fists against the gray curtain as she slips into unconsciousness. “Read the fucking diary!” The force of my silent scream ripples the curtain. Troy shakes Aleah’s limp form and says something to Cass. Cass’s mouth forms the word “fuck” loud and clear. He snatches up the first journal and starts reading. Finally. Thank gods.
Double Diary
Troy on Tuesday, August 21
The Double Diary is not a new concept but unique considering the traditional diary is usually a one-person endeavor that offers the benefit of personal insight and/or a record for historical reflection. A two-person diary provides the opportunity for so much more.
