Wings of Darkness: Book 1 of The Immortal Sorrows Series (30 page)

     Once the truth was out, it would
set everyone free.  Asher could leave me alone, Fate could rot in whatever
Hell there was, and I could go back to my dull, but comfortable little life.
Maybe someday, when I was about to die of natural causes, his would be the last
face I saw.  I hoped so.

***

     I saw the little girl again.  The
one from the Jack O’ Lantern Festival, who reminded me of a little china
doll.  I didn’t see the little boy who’d been with her, but maybe he was
hiding.  She certainly didn’t seem to be.  She’d been watching me for
the past twenty minutes as I put up some last minute Halloween decorations.

     I wasn’t doing any major
decorating.  For that I would have waited on Gwen to help me, but she was at
her self-defense class.  I was just throwing a few spider webs up and
putting some caution tape up around my front porch.  Just to spook the place
up a little.  It was nice doing something normal, for a change, instead of
worrying about all the supernatural craziness that surrounded me. 

     Speaking of which, Asher had been
missing for most of the day.  I wasn’t about to admit that I missed him,
or that I worried that maybe I’d run him off, finally, with my nasty
attitude.  I caught myself looking for him, for the hundredth time that
day, and it annoyed me.  I didn’t want to be that girl.  All needy
and insecure, not to mention, controlling.  I gave myself a little mental
shake and forced my thoughts in a different direction.

     Halloween is always a good subject,
and one that I never get tired of.  I’d already made plans to go over to
Gwen’s house for Halloween night.  Her mom, Missy always threw a big pitch-in
dinner that turned into a block party for the neighbors.  My dad would
probably be working, so with neither of us home, I planned to put out a big
bowl of fun-sized candy bars and a sign inviting the little ghosts and ghouls
to ‘treat’ themselves.  I just hoped that one greedy kid didn’t come along
and take the whole thing. I’d done it that way the past two years, and so far,
so good.  At least I hadn’t come home to find toilet paper and rotten eggs
all over the yard.

     My attention floated towards the
little girl watching me. The way she watched me creeped me out just a teeny
bit.  Really, I’m not that interesting.  Yet she remained focused on
me. It made me more than a little uncomfortable.

     The strangest thing was, she was
swinging on my neighbor’s porch swing, and nobody seemed to notice. Their cars
were in the driveway, so I was pretty sure someone was home.  I’d never
seen her in the neighborhood before, yet there she was, swinging back and forth
as the swing’s old, rusted chains squeaked in protest.  Back and forth,
the toes of her patent leather shoes barely brushed the concrete.

     “You know, if you’re going to watch
me, you might as well come over and help me.”  I raised my voice a little,
so it would carry across the street.  The kid jumped like I’d screamed at
her.  She looked guilty, and a little shocked that she’d been
caught.  I smiled and waved at her, trying to be friendly.  She
looked both ways before motioning towards herself.  “Yeah, you.  Do
you want to come help?”

     The girl seemed to hesitate, then
nodded as she smoothed the skirt of her dress and petticoats. Her smile was
small, but beautiful.  The old porch swing gave one final squawk and
settled back into place as she hopped down. 

She nearly gave me a heart attack when she crossed the
street. She didn’t look for oncoming traffic, and the guy in the red Ford
Taurus that sped by, never slowed down.  Jerk.

     She came up to me slowly, like she
might want to run the other way, instead.  “Are you crazy?  That guy
almost turned you into road kill!”

     The girl turned and watched the car
as it continued down the street.  “He didn’t see me.”

     “No kidding.  You have to be
careful.  You don’t want to get hurt.”  She backed up a couple of
paces, eyes huge.  “Look, I’m sorry.  You just scared me, is
all.  I’m Izzy.  What’s your name?”

     It took her a moment to
answer.  I wasn’t sure she’d heard me the first time, and was about to
repeat the question when she finally answered.  “Madeleine,” she answered,
shyly. Then, she bobbed an odd little curtsy in my direction.  “My name is
Madeleine Elaine Price.”

     “Wow.  That is an awfully
grown-up name, Madeleine.”  I held up a wad of fake spider web.  “So,
do you want to help me?”

     She nodded, but didn’t look too
enthused about the idea of being put to work.  I laughed as I handed her
the webbing.  “Izzy?  What is it?”  She glanced at the webbing
like she’d never seen anything like it before.

     “Spider web.”  No sooner had
the words left my mouth, than she shrieked and dropped it.  “It’s not real
spider web, silly.  It’s fake.  Look.”  I stretched it out so
she could see the fibers and the plastic spiders that came with it.

     She giggled, weakly.  “Oh,
sorry. You must think me foolish.”  She had a strange vocabulary for such
a little girl.

     “I think you probably aren’t from
around here.”  I nodded towards my neighbor’s house.  “Do you know
the Browns?”

     A shake of her head sent her curls
flying.  “No, not really.” 

     “So what were you doing over
there?”

     Madeleine glanced away before
looking at me.  “Watching you.”

     “Really?”  I was getting the
idea that something was wrong with this kid.  She dressed funny, she acted
funny, she even spoke funny, and not in the ‘ha, ha’ sense, either. 
“You’re bound to have better stuff to do than watch me.  I’m not that
interesting.”

     Her little heart-shaped face lit up
with her smile.  “Oh, but you are.  You can see me!”  And there
is the crazy, I thought, as I sat down on my porch step.  I knew, deep
down, that she wasn’t what she’d seemed.  There was more to little
Madeleine than met the eye, but I sensed no threat from her.

     “Sit down, kid.”  I patted the
concrete step next to mine.  Madeleine sat down and smoothed her skirts
down over her knees. She was quite the little lady.  Kids these days don’t
wear dresses like that. I let out a deep breath I hadn’t realized I’d been
holding.  “Madeleine, don’t people usually see you?”

     She shook her head. 
“No.  People seem to overlook me, these days.”

     I held out my hand.  “Can you
shake hands with me?”  She placed her tiny hand in my much larger one, and
I felt the shock of pure energy coming from her.  Energy, but no
flesh.  Madeleine was a ghost.

     “Can you feel my hand, Madeleine?”

     She pursed her lips into a perfect
rosebud as she concentrated.  Finally, she shook her head.  “Not
exactly.  You feel funny.  Not like the others.  I thought you
were different when you saw me the first time.  Now I know you are, but
what are you?”

     “I have no idea.  I’m still
trying to figure that out.  Want to be friends, anyway?”

     She nodded quickly.  “I would
love that very much. I haven’t had a new friend, in ever so long.”

      I’m generally not that fond
of children.  I make the exception for Gwen’s little Brother, James,
because he’s extremely cute and worships me. He’s also Gwen’s Brother, and
therefore family. Madeleine, I felt certain, would be another exception. 
There was something so adult and sad about her; I just wanted to make
everything all better for her, even though I knew that was impossible. 
Whatever tragedy had happened to her, had happened long ago.

     “Madeleine, do you remember the
last thing that happened to you, before people stopped seeing you?”

     Her little forehead wrinkled up in
concentration, and I was almost sorry that I’d asked.  She chewed on her
bottom lip as she thought back.  “There was a fire,” she said, slowly. “In
our apartment building.  There was a lot of smoke, and the baby was crying. 
There were firemen out in the streets with blankets, and my papa tossed the
smaller children out the window to them.”  Goosebumps crawled up my spine
at her words, spoken so matter-of-factly.

     She’d died in a fire.  I was
sick at the thought. “What else?  Do you remember what happened to you?”

     “I’m not sure.  I remember
falling, but then everything went dark.”  She frowned at the memory. 
“I don’t think they caught me, do you?”

     “No, honey, I don’t think they
caught you.”  I started to touch her shoulder, to comfort her, but dropped
my hand since I wasn’t sure she could even feel it.  “Do you remember
seeing anyone, right after that?  A man, or a woman, probably someone you
knew?”

     “I thought I saw my granny, but it
wasn’t her.  It was a woman with red eyes, and she scared me, so I ran
away.  Sometimes, I see her and she still scares me.”  She still saw
her Reaper?  Was that even possible?

     “Madeleine, I know she may look
scary, but believe it or not, that lady was trying to help you.” 

     Her eyes were huge, and I swear I
saw tears pooling.  “She isn’t trying to help, Izzy.  She
hunts
us, and when she
finds us, she sends us to a terrible place and they do terrible things to
us.  That’s what happened to Evan.  She caught him, and he’s gone,
now.”

     “Who is Evan?”

     “My friend.  You saw him; he’s
a little boy.  And he’s gone, now, and I’m all alone.”  She broke off
in a ragged whisper, and the tears she’d been holding spilled over and ran down
her cheeks.

     “I’m sorry, honey.  Maybe Even
isn’t really gone.”

     She shook her head sadly. 
“No, I saw the bad lady take him.  He thought you could help us, but it
was too late by the time we found you again.”

     “Help you?  Why would Evan
think I could help?  I mean, I will if I can, but why would he think I
could, in the first place?”

     She sniffed, delicately. 
“Because, Izzy, he saw you, when that lady went to Heaven, and he told me that
you were like the others, but not like them.” 

     “The others?”  I had a tiny suspicion
about Evan.  He was the little boy I had seen in Wal-Mart, I would bet
anything.

     “The others,” she insisted, a frown
line appeared between her brows as she tried to clarify what she meant. 
“The ones with the glowing eyes.”

     I nodded, understanding. 
“Those are Reapers, Madeleine.  I’m not really like them.”

     She didn’t look convinced. 
“Evan thought you might be, though.” 

     “I’m really not like them, but I
have a friend who may be able to help you.”  I hoped Asher would be able to
help her, but I didn’t know if there was really anything that he could do for
her.  She was one of the lost ones.  A Sorrow.

     “Absolutely not!”  I backed
away from Gwen in horror. “You have got to be kidding me.”

     “It’s not that bad, Iz.  Also,
it’s not entirely my fault.  The pickings were getting mighty slim at the
costume shop.  That’s what we get for waiting till the last minute to buy
an outfit.  If you’d just come with me, maybe you could have found something
better, but it was either these or a chicken and an egg outfit.”

     “First, I had a test to study for,
so I couldn’t come with you, and second, I’d rather you had gotten me the egg
outfit.  You could be the chicken.”

     Gwen smiled wickedly as she held
the outfit up for inspection.  “I thought you, of all people, could
appreciate the irony of this.”

     “A black-winged angel costume,
Gwen?  Are you serious?  Are you trying to get me killed?”

     “Come on, where’s your sense of
humor, Iz?”

     “Where’s your sense?  I can’t
go to your mom’s costume party wearing a slutty angel outfit.”

     “This isn’t slutty angel. 
Slutty angel is just a G-string and pasties with wings.  This actually has
a dress with it.  Also, slutty angel costs about twenty bucks more, even
with less material,” she shrugged.  “Go figure.”  She draped the
costume across the end of her bed.  “This, my dear, is mysterious,
possibly, Fallen angel.”

     The costume was kind of pretty, I
grudgingly admitted.  It was more of a little black dress, really. The
sleeves were detached, and made from some kind of gauzy, sparkly material that
could be easily seen through.  I fingered the material; it was silky, and
as light as air.  The sleeves attached at the shoulders and the back of
the dress.  When the arms were lifted, they billowed out into wings. 
Genius.  The ‘wings’ were still pretty, but there wasn’t any big, fake
feathered monstrosities on the wearer’s back this way.

     “If you want, you can have the
white angel costume.  I was gonna take it, but you can have it, if you
want.  I’m flexible like that.”  Gwen draped the twin outfit across
the bed, next to the black one.  They were perfectly matched, except where
the black was highlighted with silver, the white one was done in gold.

     I snorted.  “Nobody in their
right mind would buy you as the ‘good’ angel.  Nobody who knows you,
anyway.”

     “That’s exactly what I thought,
too.  See-- irony at its best.”

     The costume was beautiful, no
doubt.  It was also likely to get me killed.  “It’s pretty, but not a
good idea, Gwen.  Where is the witch outfit you wore last year?  I
can wear that.”

     “Even if it would fit you, which it
wouldn’t because you’re a munchkin, it’s gone.  Mom put it in the Good
Will donation pile when she went through last spring and cleaned the closets
out.”

     “Crap.”  There was only a
couple of hours before people would start showing up for the party.  We
had been cleaning the house and making creepy finger food all morning: some of
it looked like real fingers and toes.  And eyeballs.   I was
kind of tired and really didn’t feel like going back to the party store in
hopes of finding a different costume.

     Gwen could tell I was
wavering.  “Just try it on.  If you hate it, I swear I will trade
you.”  She gathered the dress up and shoved it into my arms.  I
marched into the bathroom.  It wouldn’t hurt just to try it on.  It
would make Gwen happy.

     “This may be the worst idea you’ve
ever had, Gwen.”  She shut the door on me with an audible click.

     “Just try it on,” she called
through the door. 

     The dress was tight, but it gave me
curves in places that I never had before.  I slipped the sleeves up and
hooked them into the tiny buttons at the shoulders of the dress.  It took
some contortion and possible karate moves, but I finally got the button hooked
at the back of the dress, too. 

     I took a deep breath and stepped
back into Gwen’s bedroom. I smoothed the skirt down and spread my wings out
with a little flourish.  The dress came to about an inch above my
knees.  If I’d been taller it would have been a mini-skirt, but it was a
good length for me.

     Gwen’s smile was brilliant and
wicked.  “Wow.  You look awesome, Iz.  I can’t believe how long
your legs look in that outfit.”

     “Tee, hee.  Yuck it up. 
That white dress is going to look like a shirt on you, Lady Long Legs.”

     She only giggled as she circled
me.  “So, you’ll wear it?”

     “Do I have a choice?”

     “Nope.  Not really.”  She
grabbed a hairbrush.  “Sit down so I can fix your hair.  No
arguments.”

     It wouldn’t do me any good to
argue, I was sure.  I dropped down on the edge of Gwen’s bed and waited
patiently while she grabbed bobby pins and hair ties out of her dresser
drawer.  “So what are you doing to me?”

     “I’m not sure.”  She eyed my
head critically, turned it back and forth like she’d never seen it
before.  “I think a braid, maybe, or just a curly up-do.  Any
preferences?”

     “Surprise me.” 

     And surprise me, she did. 
Half an hour later, after much brushing and twisting, and only minor pulling,
she turned me towards the mirror to reveal a braided bun with a few wispy curls
escaping around my nape and temples.  It was kind of elegant.

      “Damn, I’m good,” Gwen
declared, as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.  “The purple
highlights in your hair look awesome with that dress.  I swear I should
become a stylist.”

     “It’s pretty, but you’ve been
playing ‘Barbie’ long enough.  You need to go get dressed.”  I
couldn’t help smiling at her enthusiasm. The whole outfit was a bad idea from
the start.  On the other hand, things had been fairly quiet for a few
days, so maybe I could get by with it.

     A quiet little knock on the door
interrupted us.  James barely waited for an invitation, before popping his
head through the door. He came all the way into the bedroom and looked me up
and down.  “Looking good, isn’t she, Squirt?”  He nodded his
agreement, eyes huge.  Gwen giggled at him, pleased that someone
appreciated all of her hard work.  “Hey, check this out.”  She
motioned for me to raise my arms.

    I stood up and lifted my arms overhead so
the wings could be seen, and did a little turn for him.  James danced
around me excitedly.  “Those are so cool!  Are you going to fly with
them?”

     I chuckled weakly.  “I hope
not.”  I’d just about had enough of flying, thanks so much.

     “You’re so pretty, Izzy.”  He
sort of turned his head this way and that, obviously trying to decide what I
was supposed to be.  Finally he gave up and asked, “Are you a butterfly?”

     “Aww, you say the sweetest
things.”  I shook my head, and laughed.  “You’re close; I’m an
angel.”

     “What kind of angel has black
wings,” he asked.  It was eerie sometimes, how much he reminded me of
Gwen.

     “An awesome angel,” I
answered.  “Your sis picked it out for me.”  He nodded.  If Gwen
did it, then it must be awesome.  Everything Gwen did was awesome, in his
eyes.  “You look pretty cool, yourself.”  His outfit was red and
gold, with extra padding where his muscles should be.  He even had a
glowing, battery-powered disk in the middle of his chest. “Iron Man,
right?”  He flexed a padded bicep for me and smiled, happy he was so
easily recognized.  “Where’s your helmet?”

     “I left it in my room, for now. 
Can’t see out of it.”

     Gwen patted the top of his blond
head.  “Probably better leave it off till you go downstairs, Squirt. 
We don’t want you landing head-first in the living room.  A trip to the
emergency room would ruin Halloween for everybody.” 

     “I’ll be careful, Gwen.”  He
was so sweet.  I almost dreaded watching him turn into a teenager
someday.  Teenaged boys are usually horrible creatures with too much
attitude and not enough good sense.  I simply couldn’t picture little
James turning into one of them, one day.

     “Did you want something, Squirt, or
are you just visiting? Because I really need to get dressed, myself. ”

     “Oh, um, Mom said to tell you guys
to hurry up.  She’s still trying to get Daddy into his costume, I think,
and she needs help.  With the food and music, and stuff.  Not with
getting Daddy dressed.”  He turned a little pink and giggled at his own
joke.

     “Got it.  Tell her we will be
down in a few minutes.”

     “Okay.”  He spun on his heel
and ran full-speed down the hallway. 

Gwen snatched her outfit off the bed and headed towards the
bathroom.  I opened her nail polish drawer and dug around till I found a
quick drying silver glitter that would look good with my outfit.  I
figured I had a few minutes to kill while Gwen primped. 

    One hand was finished, and I was down to
two fingers left bare on the right hand when I felt him.  Asher was
back.  Stubbornly, I kept my back turned and my head down as I finished
the last two fingers.  His hand fell on my shoulder and trailed down my
nearly bare back.  I shivered at the contact, but couldn’t force myself to
move away, even though I knew I should.

     “You look lovely, Isabel.” His
voice was warm, approving.  I capped the bottle of polish tightly, and put
it back in the drawer.

     “Thank you.  What are you up
to, this fine evening, Asher?”  I blew on my nails, and avoided looking up
at him. 

     “We need to talk.”  Those may
be the four most frightening words in the English language.  They usually
translate to, ‘You need to sit and listen while I tell you, in great detail,
all the ways you are screwing up’. 

     “Keep your voice down.  Gwen’s
getting dressed in the other room,” I whispered it, remembering too late, that
I should have been keeping
my
voice down.

     “I heard that,” came Gwen’s muffled
voice, through the bathroom door.

     “Crap,” I muttered.

     “I heard that, too,” she said as
she sauntered out of the bathroom.  She struggled to reach the button at
the back of her dress that attached her wings.  Her arm was contorted
painfully over her head, and curses dripped from her lips like honey.  She
stopped a few feet from me, and looked directly at our unexpected
visitor.  “Hello.  Asher, isn’t it?  Have you come for the party?”

     Asher didn’t look amused.  “I
came for Isabel.”  He watched her fumbling attempts at fixing her
wings.  “And why, pray tell, do you still remember me?  Grim was
supposed to have fixed that.”  He crossed his arms over his broad chest
and stared down his nose at her, impatiently waiting for an answer.

     She struggled with the button a
moment longer, before finally giving up. “Iz, a little help here?  Button
this damned thing for me, would you?”  She gathered her hair up out of the
way and waited patiently for me to fasten her sleeves to the dress.  “As
to why I still have my memories,” she said to Asher, “it’s probably got
something to do with the fact that your buddy has a thing for blondes. Also,
like I told him, who would believe me, anyway?  Reapers?  Angels? 
Nobody’s gonna believe that shit.”

     My fingers hesitated, then I
hurried up and finished.  She had been talking to Grim?  Was she
insane?  “Be careful of him, Gwen.  He isn’t like Asher.  I’m
not sure whose side he’s on.” 

     “Relax, Iz.  He’s not even my
type.”

     “Liar.  He’s exactly your
type.  He’s completely wrong for you, has a mean streak a mile wide, and
he’d give your parents hissy fits, if they knew about him.”

          I
stepped back as she raised her wings and twirled.  She was gorgeous; a
vision of white and gold.  Her blonde hair hung loose down her back, and I
thought she looked much more angelic than I did, though I guess that was the
point.  And she’d been talking to Grim.  She was certifiably crazy.

     Gwen stopped admiring herself in
the mirror and gave me a long stare.  She eyed Asher up and down, a lazy
smile tugged at her lips and left a dimple to peep out.  My heart dropped
into my stomach.  I knew that look; something bad was about to
happen.  And she would enjoy it.

     “And would you like to explain to
me why
he
is a
good idea?”  One hand was on her hip, and the other hand busily ticked off
reasons why Asher was a bad choice.  “He’s too old for you. His buddies
all seem to want you dead.  He makes bad decisions
for
you, or do I need to
remind you that he tried to wipe
your
memory out, too?”  She drew a deep breath, because she was only getting
started.  “Your cat doesn’t like him.  You can’t take him out in
public because people are scared shitless of him.  Oh, and did I mention
that he’s the freaking Angel of Death?”  Her voice grew louder and
shriller with every point she made. 

     Asher watched her,
fascinated.  She’d made some good points, but I was utterly
mortified.  Never, ever, have I been more humiliated.  I wanted to
duct tape her mouth shut, but I figured she could chew through it. 
Staples…staples would do the job.

     “We aren’t talking about Asher,” I
hissed.  “We are talking about Grim.”  It isn’t possible to die of
humiliation, or I would have.  Died right there, on the spot.

     “Ladies,” Asher interrupted, “as
much as I enjoy this little peek into ‘girl talk,’ I really am extremely busy.”

     Gwen smirked, “If you need to go
kill something, don’t let us stop you.”

    I could’ve given him a suggestion, but I figured
I’d miss her if he killed her.  At least it would shut her up, though.

     He chuckled easily, less horrified
than I was at her little display.  “I just need a moment with Isabel, if
that would be alright?”

     “Suit yourself.”  Gwen had
said what she needed to, and was winding down.  You two could go stir the
crock pots.”