Repossessed, page 14
We sat for a few moments in companionable silence. “What is that lovely feeling upon this skin?” he asked after a bit, lifting his face to the sun. “Is it wind?”
“Oh, that. Yes, it’s wind—or more like a breeze, really. Hey, Hanael,” I said, unable to keep from asking any longer. “Is the Creator angry with me?” Hope springs eternal in a Fallen’s breast.
“I am not an intermediary between you and the Creator.”
“I’m just asking a question.”
“My function does not involve answering that question.”
“That’s my punishment, isn’t it? I am Fallen, and so I’ll never get the one thing I crave most—answers. But you, Hanael, you have all the answers, even though you never asked for them or even wanted them. It just doesn’t seem right.”
“All is right with the Creator.”
“Yeah, well, you would think so. You’re the Creator’s Pet, and I’m the guy in the corner with the dunce cap.”
“Kiriel. I’m here because you took part of a life that wasn’t yours.”
“I only took Shaun’s body when he didn’t need it anymore.”
“You took it before he was to leave it behind.”
“Just a few seconds before.”
“Those few seconds weren’t yours to take.”
“They would have been filled with pain anyway.”
“Nevertheless, they were his. They were not yours. You have interfered with what was to be.”
“Yeah, but what can you do? We can’t really turn back time now, can we?”
“Shaun will regain possession of his body. He will get those lost moments back. And more. You have interrupted the trajectory of his existence. He requires more time now, to rebuild an arc that is uniquely his.”
“You mean he gets to pick back up where he left off?”
“You must leave Shaun’s body in the same manner in which you took it.”
“Are you saying I’ve got to step in front of a truck?”
“Just so.” Hanael nodded. Then he smiled—a lovely sunbeam of a grin. “It’s been challenging,” he admitted—but not unhappily, it seemed to me. “The man who was supposed to hit Shaun didn’t, so his trajectory has to be remade as well. And the woman who will hit him today—yes, you’ve created some interesting and…unexpected bits of work.”
“But Shaun can’t—”
“Shaun will sleep for a while, and when he awakes, his mind’s memories of you will be gone.”
“You mean, you’re going to put the guy into a coma?” I thought about it for a moment. Really, it was probably better than being awake for what I was going to do to him.
I thought of exactly what it might mean, coming back to a body that’s just been flattened by a truck. “I hope you’re going to let him get the full use of his body back,” I told Hanael. “It’s bad enough that I…borrowed it. I’ve been careful not to harm it—or tried not to, anyway—you know, the punch in the face was just a minor bump, not that you’d understand—and now you’re going to go and totally bust it up.”
Hanael looked amused.
“Okay, I get it. No answers, no hints. As usual. Hey. Stop looking at me like that.”
“But I like to look at you, Kiriel. You’re very interesting—quite an intriguing creation; full of surprising depths, of unexpected twists and turns.”
“That’s the second time you’ve used that word about me. Unexpected. And you say it like it’s a good thing.”
Hanael smiled again. “It’s a good word.”
“I like it, but it surprises me that you do.”
He didn’t argue the point. Of course not: he’s perfect. Instead, he said, “Shaun has never appreciated his existence the way you have. Having to work for some of the simple things he has always taken for granted might enable him to be more appreciative, do you not agree?”
“I suppose it might. Just…you know. Don’t be too hard on the kid. That’s all I’m asking. Don’t be too hard on Shaun, okay?”
“Are you praying, Kiriel?”
“No, I’m asking.”
“I’m not the one you should be asking.”
I sighed. “I never know if He hears me or not.”
“You know He does.”
“Well, He never answers me.”
“And if you had all the answers you desire, Kiriel—after you received them—what would be left for you to do?”
“Don’t be a smart aleck, Hanael. Capisce?”
Hanael made no comment—of course not—but merely smiled.
“You smile too much. And quit looking at me like that.”
“As you wish. Shall we prepare to go now?”
“I guess.” I stood up, brushing off the seat of Shaun’s khakis. I looked up and down the street. No traffic yet. “I really loved this place,” I admitted. “I wish—I wish—oh, blast. It’s going to be like I was never even here.”
“You think so, Kiriel?”
“Well, yeah. Shaun won’t know, like you said. I don’t mind that. But there were people—I just wanted to matter a little bit. Leave some kind of mark, the way humans get to. That’s all.”
“Perhaps you did.”
I waited for Hanael to explain, but of course he didn’t. It’s like pulling teeth to get anything out of these guys. “Like how?”
“Perhaps you should consider the matter more closely.”
“Do you mean Jason?”
But Hanael didn’t answer.
“Or Shaun?” I realized something. “Because of what I did, Shaun’s going to get a second chance. And the people who care about him—really, he’s pretty lucky, isn’t he? Although I’m sure he’s not going to think so, getting hit by a truck and all. He won’t know that he was supposed to die. He’s probably just going to think his life sucks.”
Speaking of which, my last moments here were going to suck, too. “Man, this is going to hurt,” I remarked, peering down the street for an oncoming vehicle.
“Yes.”
“It’s going to hurt bad.”
“Yes.”
“Guess I can’t complain, though. It’s part of this existence, pain is.”
“Yes.”
Two blocks away, a pickup turned the corner and came into sight. You could tell by the way it fishtailed that it was going far too fast.
“Hey,” I said, still watching the truck. “Hanael. I’ve got to ask you something. Did the Big Guy send you?”
“It was part of my function to come.”
“But did He send you personally? Did He give you the go-ahead Himself? Did He tell you to come deal with me?”
Hanael didn’t look puzzled. That’s because nothing ever puzzles the Unfallen. They know all the answers. “It is part of my function to be here,” he said, as if that explained it all, “and so here I am.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” These guys are like clocks—you know exactly what time they’re going to be chiming before the hands even hit the numbers.
Not me.
A new idea had begun to bubble up. I thought I’d try it out when I got back.
What if I gave some of the souls in my care a teensy nudge or two? Whispered in their ears—so to speak—that perhaps they could take mini-vacations of their own? A soul who’d left corporeal existence fairly recently would surely like to pay a comforting visit to a loved one. Souls who’d left the earthly plane long ago might enjoy a quick tour of the places their feet had once trod, to see how things had changed. A particularly weary soul might prefer to merely float in peaceful nothingness, leaving its torments behind for a bit.
Technically speaking, they’d all be breaking a few rules, but what’s the worst that could happen to them? Get sent to Hell, ha ha?
Souls are pretty stubborn. But to give us both even an infinitesimal break from our shared misery—now, that would be having an effect!
Even the Creator would surely notice that.
I cast a sideways glance at Hanael’s shining, obedient countenance, and I knew beyond a doubt that you couldn’t pay me to be one of the Unfallen.
My place in this universe may not be what others would consider desirable.
But it is mine.
The truck rumbled down the hill toward us. It must have been late for an appointment; it was moving too fast. Way past the speed limit.
“They really need to put a stop sign up there,” I remarked to no one in particular.
Fear. Horrifying, but when it’s the last physical sensation you’re going to have, it’s delicious. It’s a shakiness that starts deep inside, works its way up to your arms, your hands, your jaw. It knots your stomach.
Actually shaking! I’m shaking with fear!
“Catch you on the other side, dude,” I told Hanael, and I couldn’t help but give him a grin as I stepped off the curb.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to my friends Cathy Atkins, Kris Cliff-Evans, Lisa Firke, Shirley Harazin, Cindy Lord, Nancy Werlin, Laura Wiess, and Melissa Wyatt for their critiques and support. Also to the Four Star group for all their help over the summer: David Davis, Chris Ford, Trish Holland, Kathy Lay, Tom McDermott, Jan Peck, Diane Roberts, Sue Ward, and Cerelle Woods. A very special thank-you to my writing buddy Martha Moore, who’s always there for me, and to Steve Malk, whose hard work and dedication enable me to continue writing.
About the Author
A. M. JENKINS’s favorite deadly sins are Sloth and Gluttony. The others are also enjoyed in moderation.
The award-winning author of DAMAGE, BREAKING BOXES, and BEATING HEART: A Ghost Story, Jenkins lives in Benbrook, Texas, with three sons, two cats, and two dogs…and has never been possessed by a demon, so far as anyone can tell.
REPOSSESSED is a Michael L. Printz Honor Book.
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Also by A. M. Jenkins
Breaking Boxes
Damage
Out of Order
Beating Heart: A Ghost Story
Night Road
Credits
Cover art © 2007 by Will Staehle
Copyright
REPOSSESSED. Text copyright © 2007 by A. M. Jenkins. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Adobe Digital Edition May 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-194799-5
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A. M. Jenkins, Repossessed
