Soul Corrupted Page 2

  The blue flame in Lucifer’s eyes makes me cringe inside, but I put on my most innocent look and wait, still and patient, counting on his love of gloating.

  Finally a grin tips the corners of his mouth upward, making the flames dance dangerously, and he speaks. “It was a promise from The Man Himself. ‘Lucifer, my son, you will be given a chance to rule over the souls below as you see fit, and it will be decided by the One whether your way should continue on forevermore.’”

  I roll the words over in my mind. The One—the Antichrist. Does that mean that I was right and there never was a Savior? The Antichrist actually seals the deal for him; no wonder Lucifer’s so happy. Why wouldn’t the Antichrist be on his side?

  “So you can see that Irma is simply another misguided soul, and an annoying one at that. I would torch her now if she hadn’t had such a lovely idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We give a little shove to a soul who could be the next potential Antichrist, and we delay the Angels from getting in the middle before the soul has been tipped to our side. It is finally my time, Keira. I’m done waiting around. That’s where you come in.”

  “How do you know Josh and Grace are the Angels they’ll send?” I ask. Lucifer’s eyes burn scarlet when I speak the names, and his grip on my arm tightens.

  “I know the Archangel in charge of them. He has seen them succeed and will believe they can do it again. It’s not the first time his faith has been misplaced. There may be rules set down by The Man Himself, but the way we carry them out is up to us, and my counterpart is so predictable. Now go start working your magic.”

  Chapter 3

  Josh

  I’m worried about Grace.

  I thought seeing her family again would be good for her. All it’s done so far is make her miserable. It’s mostly that little shit of a brother. He’s worse than I was. I wish I could show him what he’s doing to her, but I can’t. Mr. Griffith won’t allow it, and the last thing I want to do is test him.

  Mr. Griffith is cool, though. He’s easy to talk to, always knows what to say, and can really cut loose with his loud laugh and sarcastic comments. The thing is, I’m slow to trust, especially when it comes to father figures. And this particular father figure is the one who saved my ass. Who’s to say he won’t change his mind?

  “How about a game of pool?” Mr. Griffith asks as I pop the top off an ice-cold soda.

  In Heaven, we can change a room with just a thought. Mr. Griffith says he chooses the décor based on the person he’s meeting. For me, he’s turned his office into a pool hall, with arcade games and dartboards lining the wooden walls. The only things missing, besides people, are the smell of smoke and the sting of alcohol. I don’t ask for either. Just the thought of them makes my stomach hurt from memories of a time when I would drink and drive to escape my miserable life with my dad.

  I shake off the thoughts, take a chug of cola, set it down near the edge of the thick, green felt, and smile. Being around Mr. Griffith brings a grin out of everyone as far as I can tell. He gestures to the rack on the wall and I select a cue while he sets up.

  “You have a lot on your mind,” he says in his deep voice, which is tinged with a trace of some unidentifiable accent.

  The balls crack and spin when I break. I sink the nine-ball in the corner pocket. “Is that why you called me?” I ask, chalking the tip of my cue for my next shot.

  “One of the reasons.” Mr. Griffith drinks from a soda of his own with a satisfying sigh.

  I can’t help but laugh even though I’ve missed my shot. “Enjoying that?”

  “I’m so busy, I rarely think to indulge. I should do this more often.” He leans over the table, eyes so intent on the ball that I’m surprised it doesn’t explode. He gives it a shove with the cue and it slides right into the side pocket.

  “Nice shot,” I say. “Too bad it was stripes. That’s my ball.”

  “Oh?” He nudges the tip of the pocket and I peer inside. It’s a solid.

  I tsk. “Cheating? In Heaven? Really, Mr. Griffith?”

  “Sometimes things aren’t as clear cut as they appear.” He levels his eyes at me.

  I get the feeling this is meant to be a life lesson purposefully directed at me.

  I sit on the edge of the next table and watch as Mr. Griffith continues sinking balls in various pockets.

  “Isn’t there something we can do about Grace’s brother?” I finally ask.

  He pauses, stretching with the cue behind his back. “You mean Noah?” Mr. Griffith scowls. “Such a shame. It must be awful for poor Grace to watch him walk the wrong path.”

  “It’s killing her. Well, you know, metaphorically. There has to be something we can do, right?” I don’t want to let this slide. I need a reasonable answer.

  “Unfortunately, as much as I want to swoop in like a superhero and prevent him from making those choices, I can’t.” Mr. Griffith hits the cue ball with the stick still behind his back. It knocks the three-ball into the side, sending it bouncing off different edges of the table until it finally comes to a stop just at the edge of the corner pocket. “If I altered the course of his life, Noah would lose his free will, and that would be the saddest crime of all.”

  I get ready to shoot, finally, but before I can, Mr. Griffith’s ball falls into the pocket. I sigh. “I get it. We aren’t allowed to use our powers to force someone to make good decisions. But he’s already made the bad ones, and this affects more than just him. Can’t you fix things now for Grace’s sake?”

  “I’d love to, Josh. But it never works out the way you imagine it will. That’s why we assign Guardian Angels like the two of you to certain souls. You can guide through friendship and example, but you can’t force with power.”

  “So assign me, then.” I volunteer as Mr. Griffith takes aim at the perfectly lined-up eight-ball.

  He laughs. “I forbid you from revealing yourself to Grace’s family for a reason. I only assign Guardians to those who ask for help or those who have the potential to become the Antichrist. And before you protest, think about what it would mean for Angels to be influencing human decisions all the time, across the globe. What if an Angel sees a woman about to murder a man and intervenes? Clear-cut, right? Not if the Angel didn’t realize that the woman was defending both herself and her child from an abusive man about to kill them. There are billions of people on Earth, and Angels may not understand all the nuances involved, especially if we’re trying to save every life. It may be difficult to stand back and watch, but humans need the ability to make their own decisions. Free will should never be taken lightly. Besides, Josh, if I put you in the middle, it would only serve to come between you and Grace. It’s better if you stay on task and be there for her when she needs your support.”

  “On task. Right. You want us to start searching for the next possible Antichrist. And you said you’d teach us how.”

  Mr. Griffith shoots and misses, a big grin spreading over his face. I stare at the eight-ball for a minute, waiting for it to come to life and spin into the pocket, but it doesn’t.

  “All you have to do is watch the prospects until you see the signs.”

  “How do we find the prospects? What signs?” I sink a ball in the side pocket.

  “Heaven allows you to conjure whatever you desire. So desire a window that will show you the prospective souls. You’ll find seeds in a soul that show a darker need or desire that calls to that individual. Remember, even the most heinous soul grows from a small seed.”

  “Lots of people do bad stuff,” I say, sinking the next ball with a combo shot.

  “True. Very true. And it’s no exact science, but over the millennium we’ve noticed certain attributes that potentials have in common. Think of your last assignment for example.”

  “Cam?” I shudder at the memories, all the horrible things I had to take part in because the Devil forced me to. Every time I see Tommy Two, I remember how he made it to Heaven in the first place. How, to avoid Lucifer’s w
rath, I sat there while Cam tortured him—while Cam studied his bloody face, reveling in the pain he felt. My stomach turns.

  Cam planned to kill, maim, torture, and blow things up because he loved anarchy. He loved manipulating people and forcing them to feel pain and fear. Tommy Two was just the beginning. That must be what Mr. Griffith is talking about.

  I wonder how Cam is fairing in Hell with Lucifer as I make the next shot. “How many potential souls are there at any given time? I thought Cam was the only one.”

  Mr. Griffith takes a sip of cola. “What you are looking for are souls that may become a ‘Cam’ so you know who to focus your attention on. Even an Angel’s judgment is fallible and we must be sure, or we’ll be wasting our time while Lucifer’s attention is drawn to another potential dark soul. Only one soul becomes the Antichrist—Lucifer’s counterpart on Earth—but there are many potential souls with seeds of darkness inside them. If you can find the one destined to become the Antichrist, we will have a greater opportunity to reach that soul in time. Last time we were fortunate that Irma’s plans involved both you and Grace finding Cam at the same time.

  “The signs of the Antichrist’s reign are more literal—a cluster of thirteen ravens, a purple sky, and the number of the Antichrist: six hundred sixty-six. But if these signs become visible, Josh, then Heaven may no longer intercede. It means the destined Antichrist has committed murder and harnessed the power of Hell, and only Hell can touch the Antichrist. This is what you must prevent.”

  “I’m kind of confused. I’m no expert at religion, but I thought the End Times meant the world is finally going to be saved or whatever, but then when I was in Hell, Lucifer seemed pretty sure it would mean his rise to power.”

  Mr. Griffith gets that fatherly look on his face, or at least what I picture a decent father might look like when his son asks a good question. “Humans don’t have the story quite right. Let’s just say that once the Antichrist rises to power, things are out of our hands.”

  I peer down the cue, taking careful aim and pretending not to be shaken by his words, but my hand slips at the last moment when Mr. Griffith sneezes.

  “Excuse me,” he says, taking my place at the table.

  I close my mouth and shake my head a little. “But why use Grace and me? Isn’t it too important a job?”

  “Ahh, excellent question. You are the ones we chose because you were once human. I was born an Angel, created directly by the Man Himself. Once you take a job up here, it’s only a matter of time before you become more Angel than human. You become part of Heaven, and you lose touch with the world below. You can no longer—how should I put it?—‘fit in’ as easily. There’s a limited timeframe that Angels are able to spend masquerading as humans on Earth, and that’s precisely what’s needed in most cases. A friend.” Mr. Griffith takes another gulp of soda.

  I nod, trying to wrap my head around all of it. Then I take a deep breath, try to focus on what I wanted in the first place, and appeal to Mr. Griffith one more time. “Grace is kind of upset about her brother. So, I was thinking it would be helpful to our mission if you stepped in—just this one time—and helped.”

  “It will be good for Grace to focus on something besides her old life.” Mr. Griffith taps the cue ball and it does a figure eight, turning completely around to knock the eight-ball in the pocket by his wrist. “Look at that! I won.”

  Seriously? “You were cheating,” I say. “You didn’t really win.”

  “Oh?” Mr. Griffith arches an eyebrow at me. Subtle.

  “If it was cheating to save a life and not a stupid pool game, it would be different. It would be worth it.”

  “Too bad right and wrong aren’t that clear-cut,” he says, replacing his stick on the rack. “If I’d stepped in to save Grace in the first place, you may never have made it here.”

  Score one, Mr. Griffith.

  Chapter 4

  Grace

  The smooth circle of glass appears in the center of the room, just in front of Josh’s sofa where we sit side by side, Tommy Two nuzzled close to my hip.

  “Show us the possible future Antichrists,” I say. “Please.” It’s habit to be polite, even if I’m talking to an inanimate object.

  The surface wobbles and reflects a series of bright colors before resolving into an image of a house. But before my eyes can settle on the scene, it becomes a different building, maybe a rundown apartment. And then it shifts again. It switches several times, and as I wait for it to resolve, my mind jumps back, as it always does lately, to Noah. The image settles on a Tudor-style house in a nice, suburban neighborhood lined with trees. I recognize it right away.

  “That’s your place,” Josh says.

  I sigh. “Sorry. I was just wishing I could see what Noah was doing.”

  Sure enough, my brother’s familiar form appears in the driveway, where he stuffs his hands in his pockets and hunches his shoulders against the wind. I stand, suddenly no longer wanting to know what he’s up to, and walk to the other side of the room where I keep the framed pictures of my family from my life on Earth. I’d rather see this younger version of Noah—the one where his warm, honeyed eyes are so innocent and eager to please.

  “You have to focus, Grace.” Josh speaks from the sofa, where he continues to study the flat image before him. “Mr. Griffith said if you focus on our work then you’ll feel bett—”

  “Oh! Shoot. There’s something else I have to do. I totally forgot. Would you mind taking over just for now?” It’s true. Since my own training consisted of bits and pieces of misinformation explained by Ms. Alvarez, aka Psychotic Bitch, Mr. Griffith appointed someone to fill me in on all the things I never learned so I could train Josh the right way. He assigned the job to Shona, an Angel trainer and Heavenly librarian. She was supposed to teach me about greeter Angels, who welcome incoming souls, this afternoon. As usual, I was distracted by my family.

  I’d been at my dad’s office. I wanted to see why he’s been at work so much and not home where Noah and Mom need him so bad. It was a pretty boring afternoon for him as far as I could tell, but I got lost in his scent of coffee and paper, and the way he kept rubbing at his stubble, like he always used to when I asked a question he didn’t know how to answer.

  Tommy Two gives a sharp bark and I’m snapped out of my thoughts. I swipe at a tear that lingers in the corner of my eye and look to Josh, who hasn’t answered me and is still watching the window. His face is as white as his robe.

  “What’s wrong?” Panic stabs at me. I want to run over and see what Noah’s gotten himself into now, but I can’t seem to move.

  Josh snaps out of it and forces a smile. “Sorry, it’s nothing. I didn’t mean to worry you. I was watching another soul and remembering…things.”

  Oh. Things means Cam. I rub my arms from the sudden chill in the room and nod, relaxing only a bit. “I shouldn’t ask you to go through this alone. I’m being selfish.” And totally absorbed in my own problems.

  “No.” He stands and crosses the room in three long strides, where he pulls me to his chest. I melt.

  If I didn’t have Josh, I don’t know what I’d do. Probably go insane worrying about my family. With him, I don’t feel alone. I’m so lucky to have his love. I nuzzle deeper into his body, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that seems a part of me as well. I’m glad we retained all our biological traits, even if it’s just for comfort’s sake. It would be so strange not to hear a heartbeat. And how could Heaven be Heaven without the ability to enjoy the taste of chocolate or feel the warmth of the person you love?

  “You’re amazing,” he says. “You’ve been through so much, Grace. And part of it’s my fault, which I’ll never forgive myself for.”

  Here it is. I’ve been searching for a way to bring it up, and he’s done it for me. So why is it still so hard? Drawing a deep breath, I lunge right in. “I don’t blame you for my death, Josh. It’s the stuff that happened after that I have a little trouble with.” There, I said it.

  What col
or is left seeps out of his face and his blue eyes turn to glass. “After?” He swallows.

  I nod. It feels good to let out the thoughts I’ve been avoiding, the niggling feelings of doubt that hover whenever I’m alone and not distracted by my family. “When you and I—” I pause, feeling the heat in my cheeks even after all this time with him. Then I make the mistake of looking into his beautiful eyes. He’s crumbling right in front of me. He knows what I’m going to say. That I’m going to ask how he could sleep with me, knowing I would fall. He’d admitted his love, admitted he was a Demon, admitted everything—except that if we made love I would be thrown from Heaven like garbage, doomed to work for Lucifer for the rest of eternity. It had been such a beautiful thing between us, but the memory is shrouded in betrayal.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I love you. I know you’ve changed. I mean, you’re here, right?” I pull back, tortured by the look on his face. He sacrificed himself to save me and I’m being selfish, fixated on this one detail. I turn to leave. I need to go find Shona and get over myself.

  Josh catches me and turns me to look at him, holding me at arm’s length. His voice is a croak when he does speak. “Look, Grace…” He shifts uncomfortably. “Maybe you should stay here so we can talk.”

  This is silly. I trust him. I love him. “It’s nothing,” I reach up to push a dark, renegade curl from his forehead. “I was only talking about how awful things were, but now they’re okay.”

  “Something is not okay. I know you, Grace. I can tell.”

  “If something’s bothering me, it’s my family, definitely not you.”

  He nods, accepting my words. “I know firsthand what it’s like to go down the wrong path. I hate that you have to see someone you love do it, knowing you can’t do anything to stop it. I just want to protect you, Grace.”