Just as he was mine…
My throat closed up as I fought the draw of the memory, and I swallowed hard against my unshed tears, trying to force them back.
But then, like a drug-induced sleep, the memory took hold of me, overriding my awareness that I wasn’t really here, and that I hadn’t already relived this moment a thousand soul-shattering times already.
49HELENA
I floated down and down, through an arid atmosphere of pure nothingness—like outer space but without a single twinge of light.
Keeping the urge to panic in check—as much as possible—I let myself sink through a soundless abyss absent of color and shape.
When I reached a certain depth, the sense of gravity grew stronger. My form stretched, elongating from an orb back into my normal, human-shaped spirit body. An instant later, my feet connected with solid ground, and the world gained shape, gray stone walls rushing in to meet with and join the matching floor.
A giant black throne—empty of any occupant—loomed ahead, flanked by Gothic wrought iron candelabras with onyx tapers lit by black flames.
The shadows this ominous candlelight threw galivanted along the rear wall, taking on phantasmal shapes that seemed to possess clawed hands, teeth, and eyes.
I swallowed down my building terror and peered behind me, searching for any sign of anyone or, perhaps more importantly, any way out of here. Wherever here was…
A slow look around confirmed what I already suspected. That no door or window interrupted the stone walls that now imprisoned me.
I did discover, however, that I had company.
An enormous crowned figure now occupied the throne, his black gauntleted hands gripping the armrests of the obsidian chair.
Glowing red eyes, a pair of angry slits, beamed at me from behind the mask lost within the darkness of a black hood.
“You do not belong here, soul,” said the man—the entity—with a voice like an undead Gregorian monk, deep and melodious, but somehow corrupted, as if produced by tattered vocal cords.
“Um,” I said, offering the tiniest of curtsies because, well, hewaswearing a crown. “Hi. Uh, I’m here looking for someone. Are… are you like… the supernatural equivalent of a Walmart greeter? I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before.” I cleared my throat. “Descended into an all-consuming void of dreadful nothingness, I mean…”
“You have no darkness that binds you here,” said the man—the creature, who must be one of The Few. “You cannot be admitted.”
Oh. Well. That sounded like agoodthing. Sort of…
For me at least.
“I’m looking for my friend,” I admitted. Honesty being the best policy and everything. “My boyfriend,” I amended, then quickly added, “Actually, I’m… pretty sure he’s… the love of my life.”
“Love?” asked the figure. “Life? That cannot be. Foryouwere not meant to find love in this life.”
I stiffened and scowled, arms going rigid at my sides. “Who says?”
“Sir Black,” replied the figure as he rose. “Ruler of this realm. Warden of Wraiths. Guardian of Shades—those souls whose darkness weighs them in regret and paints them in the impenetrable shadows of despair.”
“Right. W-well,” I replied, lifting my chin, refusing to shrink, Grim’s words about turning up my song returning to strengthen me. “I’m Helena. Children’s librarian. Avid reader. Musical fan. Pancake maker. Dad joke enthusiast. Unapologetic Swiftie. And girlfriend to the Grim Reaper.”
Might as well give him the full rundown so long as we were comparing résumés.
“I know who you are,” said the figure, Sir Black, as he started toward me with a slow and measured stride, armored boots clanking against the stone in a way that made me gulp.
He… did?
“Th-then you know I don’t fit the description for tenants of your world. At all. So I don’t see where you get off making judgments about me or declaring things overmylife.”
“But your friend,” said Sir Black, coming to a halt right in front of me. “Doeshefit the description?”
I frowned and tilted my head at this bleak sentinel, confused. My thoughts whirred as I tried to resist the nearly overpowering urge to step back from him and put distance between us again.
