A Ghost of a Chance (28 page)

Constance expanded herself to her full size and puffed out massive white wings, a brilliant snowstorm against the black house. Without hesitation, the rest of the ghosts fell into place, linked shoulder to shoulder, facing out, like soldiers standing in a line. When Keenan craned his neck, he watched them click into place like colorful piano keys. They must have extended all the way around the house.

“What’s happening, Cee?” The words came out of Keenan’s mouth a bit tattered, as if they were afraid of something.

Constance’s wings folded around his shoulders and took the fear away. “This is where we finish the fight, honey.”

“Fight?” Keenan watched as Reggie opened his door and pulled Isabella out with him.

Constance pulled on a wayward feather and straightened it. “For thousands of years we have waited for this. It is here we take our stand.”

“Against Reggie?”

Those soulful eyes fired with passion when she turned her head to him. “No, Keenan.” She turned it back, squared her shoulders, and twisted her neck from side to side. “Against hell.”

Keenan swallowed hard, knowing down to the sinews of his soul that whatever happened next he was absolutely unprepared for.

Chapter Twenty-Five
The Spirit of the Dead

When Keenan was very small, he had a babysitter (or maybe one of his mom’s boyfriends) who loved to juggle: fruit, balls, toys, dishes, shoes, anything he could get his hands on. One hot summer afternoon, apparently bored and not too bright, this young man decided it might be a hoot to juggle the baby. Young Keenan, barely walking at the time, scooted out of the danger zone as quick as his chubby little legs could carry him. Unfortunately, due to the nature of an eighteen month old body, the exercise was one of futility; a hand the size of a basketball (or so it seemed to the infant Keenan) scooped him up by the bottom and balanced him in midair, while the other hand filled with some kind of fishbowl squished together with a very angry kitten.

Keenan had to admit the initial attempt was an astonishing accomplishment; he flew over the tall man’s head and plopped down onto the opposite hand at the same time the bowl plopped down into the other and the cat remained, for the moment, suspended in the air above the man’s face. Regrettably, inertia and the jumbled contortions of the unfortunate feline were apparently something the skilled acrobat had not contemplated before attempting the feat. With a loud meow and a resounding un-kitten like hiss, the cat lodged itself squarely on the young man’s face, wherein he attempted to dislodge it. The bowl flew up out of his hands to shatter an expensive looking chandelier, and Keenan, for the first time in his life, knew what it was to fly… if only for a moment.

It was that gravity defying emptiness that filled him as he watched Reggie and Isabella enter the gate.

His ghostly existence clarified for him in that moment; the world shot into a reality that was almost painful. Everything looked so… alive. It was the only word he could think of. The trees, the grass, even the houses around them shimmered with a kind of vibrancy that made his ears hurt. The ghosts filed away from him on either side and disappeared around the corner of the house. The glow of each was bright yellow as if some kid had stolen a highlighter and, during the glee of insanity, outlined them all. Behind him, the black house was a midnight sky, full of holes.

It was hard to look at Isabella. So many emotions coursed through Keenan’s blood when he did. He was royally pissed that she had lied and betrayed him, even more so at the fact that she didn’t even try to fight Reggie in the end. That emotion, despite his best efforts, was quickly melting under those angelic brown eyes. Every time he saw her, his blood coagulated into glop and his heart grew twice its normal size. He couldn’t help it.

“You need to focus!” The words screeched against his chalkboard brain. When he glared at Constance a rush of guilt flushed through him. Strain was red in her face. She was working to hold the group together and Keenan had let his mind wander through casual thoughts without a care.

“Sorry.” He forced his head around and concentrated on the couple.

“Are you ready, Isabella?” The words came out of Constance silently and Isabella gave the lightest tilt of her chin. Keenan’s confusion deepened.

Still holding Isabella’s arm, Reggie slammed the gate and gloated at the house. “Come on, lover. It’s time to meet the third sixty degrees in our triangle. Haven’t I always told you what fun a threesome can be?”

Isabella pulled her arm out of Reggie’s grasp and spread her feet on the cement path.

“I don’t think so, asshole.”

Shock parted Reggie’s lips. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m done taking your crap.”

Reggie lifted his hand and pointed a finger at her. “I made you, bitch. I can destroy you!”

“You’re right. You did make me, Azazel, along with a lot of other Muses, but you were as much an asshole then as you are now.”

He balled his fists and shook them. “I loved you,” he hissed through his teeth. “You should have followed me. I was your father.”

“There is only one Father, Azazel, and you betrayed Him. You got what you deserved!”

Apparently, Reggie was trying to blast her or something with his hands, but he frowned at them when nothing came out.

“Missing something?” Isabella sneered. “You’re human now. Impotent! As limp as you’ve always been.”

Reggie shrugged and the side of his mouth curled. “Yes, well.” In a quick movement, he brought the back of his hand across Isabella’s cheek and sent her flying. She crumbled in the middle of the lawn. “You’re human too, in case you haven’t noticed, my little bit of muslin. I do have my resources. I’ll deal with you when I’m done. Count on it.”

Turning around, Reggie walked toward the stairs leading to the front door of the house but stopped abruptly. His faced tightened and he raised one brow. He was nose to nose with Keenan.

A charge of anger clouded Keenan’s responses. He wanted to punch this guy but hard. It took self-control and Constance’s whispered, “Don’t move,” to keep him still. When Reggie shrugged and moved forward, he pushed into Keenan’s chest. Keenan’s body softened under the pressure, caving in just enough to create a little resistance.

Reggie took a step back, frowned, and tried it again with more force. This time Keenan pushed back harder. Reggie bounced off Keenan’s chest as if it were a rubber mat. He flew back and almost fell. Catching himself, he glared at Keenan without seeing him.

“What the hell?”

Taking a running start, Reggie plowed toward them at full speed. He hit hard this time, making the line of ghosts buckle and Keenan take in a gasp. It wasn’t physical, Keenan had to remind himself, but it still felt that way. The line held, and Reggie went flying this time, propelled upward and back. When he landed on his ass, Keenan cringed a little. That had to hurt, and, still somewhat attached to his body, Keenan knew it was going to leave one hell of a bruise. Pins and needles glanced through his shoulders in empathy.

Reggie got up stiffly. He put his hands on his hips and locked his jaw. “Who’s there?” he screamed. “Gazardiel, I know it’s you. You and your ghost friends. I will send you all to Hell!”

“Not without your powers, you won’t. Human, indeed. You have been such a fool.” Isabella rose from the ground, her succubus form flowing like tunneling water now. Where her arms should have been, graceful sleeves of black night poured into massive random shapes. From her feet and sides more starry blackness emptied into the air around her. A sound, a melody, vibrated from those masses, drowning out every other noise. Keenan knew that sound and couldn’t help smiling in response. He held his breath, wishing he could hear it forever.

Reggie’s scream broke through the resonance and he doubled over covering his ears. In an instant, the mass enveloped him, wrapping around his arms, his legs, and his torso until he disappeared into the darkness. It muffled his voice.

At almost the same time, Isabella flew out of the mass in a blur and snapped into Keenan as if he were lime gelatin. In an instinctive move, he caught her in his arms.

She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him close. “Do you love me?” Her voice and her eyes were desperate.

Keenan couldn’t answer. The pain of her betrayal still lingered like acid in his mouth. Everything from the last few days buried him under mountains of doubt. Anger mixed with hope, joy with pain, and confusion jumbled his brain. In the boiling turmoil, one thing remained steady, strong at its center, despite his better judgment or common sense; Dabria/Isabella had given him the only real joy in his life. The other experiences, good and bad, anchored themselves around that and came to an abrupt halt.

“I do love you,” he said to her upturned face. When her eyes softened in relief, he knew it was absolutely true.

“Then kiss me, Keenan.”

Without hesitation, he pressed his lips to hers and the world went away.

Chapter Twenty-Six
Back to the Netherland

There were only three times in Keenan’s life that were truly, exquisitely, absolutely perfect. The day he got his first bike, the day he sold his first painting, and that first kiss in the restaurant from Isabella. This outshone all of them.

Watery static ignited when their lips touched firing every nerve in Keenan’s ethereal body. Isabella’s soft moist lips seemed to merge with his mouth; it was hot, sensual, and yet pure at the same time. A white light seemed to go off in Keenan’s head, blinding out every other thought until there was nothing in his existence except that kiss. His bliss was complete. Keenan’s body melted into Isabella’s until there was only one.

What happened next Keenan was aware of on a plane of existence he could later only describe as bizarre. He was not himself any more. Keenan as a person disappeared. Some kind of floating spirit replaced him, one that melted everything around them. Keenly aware of his surroundings, he absorbed the universe, as if both physical and spiritual had merged. Isabella was part of him now, wrapped around his psyche until he had difficulty knowing where he began and she ended. At the heart of this awareness was an emotion Keenan had always struggled with, had always kept at arm’s distance, had always turned his back on. The dam burst and love flowed like lava through his phantom heart.

A white roiling circle exploded out of him into the physical universe. It lingered for a moment, delicate, alluring, a ring cloud full of light. Then it shot out on all sides.

A tendril of cloud caught Keenan by the chest and ripped him from Isabella’s arms. Overwhelming energy propelled him toward Reggie. The surprise on Reggie’s face was satisfying as Keenan got nearer.

In a last blast, the ring of fire engulfed Keenan’s physical body and pulled something from it like a fly from pancake batter. A black hole opened. It was deep, spherical, like a cookie cutter had removed a piece of reality, a horizontal tornado turned inside out.

The ghostly form of Reggie popped out of Keenan’s body in an instant. He was a spirit again. The look of surprise irised from his face like a camera shutter. It stayed that way for only a moment. Terror replaced it. Reggie’s scream shattered against the ghosts, the house, and Keenan. It was a high-pitched banshee cry that filled the air. Reggie struggled against the vortex, clawing at the air, those shark eyes now pale and pleading. Keenan watched as darkness enfolded Reggie’s form, twisted around his chest until it imploded upon itself. In a blink, he was sucked inside.

Keenan had no time to respond. He plunged into his own body with such force it flew back toward the vortex.

The wind howled inside his now corporeal ears and sucked the breath out of his lungs. He couldn’t open his eyes. Fire took over his brain. Debris smacked against his exposed hands, throat, and face. Keenan couldn’t even lift his arms to protect them. His body dangled against the torrents and flapped in the winds like a car lot banner. The pain was excruciating. Keenan was helpless.

With a last push of strength, he managed to get his eyes open. His first sight was Reggie disappearing into the black hole at the tornado’s center, his hands outstretched, those black soulless eyes wide with terror. Then he blipped out.
Blink
.

Keenan knew this was the end. It should have scared the living piss out of him, but for some reason it didn’t. A kind of calm settled over him. He knew he had saved the world and Isabella. That was enough.

A gray cloud appeared suddenly in front of him that materialized into Amos. The angel unfurled his wings and smiled at Keenan. The forceful winds didn’t seem to bother him.

“Nicely done, boy,” was all he said and Keenan frowned. A rope or a hand would have been much more helpful. The hole was closing around Keenan and he bowed to the inevitable.

A hard jerk caught at his legs and he stopped. Twisting around, he saw a hand on his ankle and then another. They clawed at his jeans together and pulled.

Keenan flipped over and landed in a heap on top of someone. The vortex shut down in a loud ear-splitting bang that shook the ground and everything went quiet.