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“I was scared you wouldn’t love me,” he said honestly.
“Now you know.”
“I do.”
She reached farther into the vacuum to cup his cheek. “You’re not staying.”
“No.”
“Good.” She withdrew her touch and gave the slightest of winks. “I’ll see you around.”
The light in which Agatha had been standing disappeared, leaving him with only the other sliver that cut open the darkness like a crack between two stage curtains. Beyond the shard, the luminosity was grainy, the atmosphere scratchy, and the sounds staccato. He thought about the portal and in a second he was there, in the center of that murkiness beyond the light with a vortex at his feet. Souls were captured in the millstream in various stages of crossing from their plane to the material one in which Alice lived. Around him, the voices he’d come to know on earth sounded once more, but this time they were outside, not in his head. They scattered away from him, fear carved on their faces as they recognized him for what he was.
Peering down the twister, he knew what he had to do. He reached out slowly and held a shaking hand over the hole. The urge to plunge down was enormous. It would take him to Alice, Alice with a rainbow around her face who’d be able to see him, but Alice needed to live. His whole body trembled as he faced the worst finality of existence, which was closing the bridge between him and Alice forever. He pinched his eyes shut and let his soul expand with his love for her, a love bigger than himself, allowing it to give him courage.
“I love you, Alice,” he whispered.
Then he clenched his fist with reverent determination and reversed the flow of the portal, drawing every single soul that wandered the planes of the living back to where it belonged. Pain and anguish pulsed off those poor wanderers as they filtered back to their various stages of existence, but he didn’t leave them without hope. The trust fund he’d established for his charity project would enable Crim and the girls to continue their work.
When the plane was clean, he closed and sealed the portal. Only then did he open his eyes to look at the man who’d materialized in front of him. Boris. Shock and fright were etched on his twisted features.
“I told you to stay away from Alice,” Ivan said.
“No.” Boris looked at his feet, as if he would find a small crack through which he could slither, but the portal was gone. “Don’t send me back to isolation.”
A voice, clear like a chime, spoke behind Ivan. “You had a chance at redemption, Bo, but you blew it.”
Ivan turned to see a woman with long, blonde braids and lion-like eyes.
“Isolation is too good for you,” she said. “From now on, you’ll serve the souls who are yet to find their peace, aiding each in his quest, until there are no more quests to be conquered.”
“That’ll be for eternity,” Boris said.
The woman’s lips tilted, and for the briefest of seconds her face took on the features of a leopard-like creature with spots on her skin and a predator slant to her eyes.
Boris fell to his knees. “Not that. Not that.”
And then he was gone.
Ivan looked at the spot where Boris’ shape had been. The circular trace of the portal was wiped away. Once more, there was nothing but darkness. When he lifted his gaze back to the woman, he saw with fascination that her face had changed again, now resembling the harsh but handsome features of a man. His jaw was dusted with a golden stubble and his copper eyes had a soft shine.
Despite his newfound, all-knowing insight, Ivan had no clue as to the apparition’s identity.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Bo won’t bother anyone, again,” the man said in a baritone voice. He chuckled. “He’s got his work cut out for him.”
“You deported him?”
The face distorted and was a woman, again. “Think of it as a demotion.” She smiled.
“Are you God?” Ivan asked.
Her laugh was light, like when crystal clinked together. “Is that what you’d like to believe?”
“What are you, if not God?”
“A quantumancist.”
“A what?”
“A lot to take in, right? Just think of me as your personal genie.” Her face blurred like a malfunctioning hologram and when the image was restored, she was the man, again. “Tell me, Ivan, if you had one wish only, what would it be?”
“Alice,” he said without reflection. “She needs to know her mother is happy.”
The woman was back. She tapped a finger on her lips. “We can do with some cherub singing.” There was a glint in her eyes, and her lips twitched. “That’ll make Clara very happy.” The man with the golden hair replaced the woman’s face. “Mm, you used up your last wish for someone other than yourself. Very saintly.” He sighed. “This isn’t a story in which you need to comply with a set measure of nobleness to pass a secret test. Damn, I was hoping you’d ask for something a bit more dramatic.” He waved his hand in the air. “I’ll just have to decide what to do with you myself.”
