Soul Corrupted (9 page)

Grace

I should’ve known Josh wouldn’t
be content with me forever. He was driving the car that killed us both, and even
though Ms. Alvarez was the one who technically caused the crash, it could’ve
easily been him. He was drunk. He went to Hell for a reason.

But typical naïve girl I am, I believed he’d changed.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. He had what he wanted from our relationship until I started
putting him off—sue me for being preoccupied with my family’s devastation—and
then he had to get it elsewhere. It’s not the first time he’s put sex before
doing the right thing.

I feel bad for Hope. She seems nice enough. Maybe she
won’t be as trusting as I was.

Or…what if I’m lashing out because I’m hurt? What if
Josh really has deep feelings for Hope? She’s really living, not trapped in the
afterlife forever. I wonder how far a relationship with a human can go. Can
humans have babies with Angels and Demons?

But how could Mr. Griffith allow it when I can’t say one
word to my family without losing the ability to see them for the rest of their
lives? Josh has to be lying about getting permission. If I go ask Mr. Griffith,
though, I could get Josh in trouble—maybe even get him kicked out of
Heaven—and I can’t bring myself to do that. Despite everything, I can’t
turn off my feelings, and I still care about Josh. And a part of me doesn’t
want to know for certain if he lied to me.

A hiccup escapes and I cover my mouth. I’m trying to
blend in again near the gates. It’s busy, full of incoming souls, but it’s the
easiest place to be alone with no one interested in me or my issues.

Maybe I can transfer to the gates. Maybe if I talk to
Mr. Griffith, he’ll let me be a greeter Angel. I still can’t understand how
someone like me can be expected to save the world. I feel like it was mostly
luck the first time. What’ll happen when my luck runs out?

I kick at the mist by my feet. I’m wearing my old, worn-out
tennis shoes and jeans. No need for Angel robes. They only make me feel more separated
from the real world.

“There you are.”

Mr. Griffith stands over me, holding out a hand to
help me up.

“Hi,” I say, pasting on a smile and accepting his arm,
seeing no way out. “You were looking for me?”

“Why, yes. I was hoping we could chat. You look like
you could use a cup of coffee. I’ll buy.” He winks and escorts me back through
the throngs of lost souls and greeters. Things might have been so different if
only he had been the one to meet me here instead of Ms. Alvarez.

Of course, Mr. Griffith is much too important to spend
his time greeting dead teenagers. That’s what greeter Angels are for. Still,
someone else—
anyone
else—would’ve been nice. Shona, maybe. I
may have never even had to go near Cam. But then again, that would mean I’d
never have met Josh.

We pass through the breathtaking hallway of stars and soon
we’re back in Mr. Griffith’s office, which today is decorated as a café
straight off of a street in Paris. Tiny birds flit around the bottoms of the chairs,
hoping for crumbs, and one table is set for two with steaming mugs of coffee, milk,
and a plate piled high with cookies of various types, including chocolate and
peanut butter, my favorite. I nearly cry at the sight of them. I seem to cry at
everything lately.

I take a seat and halfheartedly pick at a cookie,
tossing a crumb to the birds below. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re very welcome. So,” Mr. Griffith takes a sip of
his own steaming cup, “I hear you and Josh are going through a tough time.”

I sink back into my seat, breaking up the cookie into
tiny pieces on my plate. Maybe he did give Josh permission to be with Hope.
“Word travels fast in Heaven, huh?”

“It’s hard to hide things from this view.” He spreads
his hands out to indicate all around. “But what matters is you, Grace. How are
you holding up?”

His fathomless eyes focus on me, giving me his
undivided attention and making me feel like I’m the most important person in
the world. But all I can think is that Josh used to make me feel that way all
the time.

“I’m kind of a mess,” I say, and finally take a bite.
A soft breeze tickles my neck and I catch a waft of freshly baked bread. I
inhale.

Mr. Griffith nods, full of understanding. “Love is one
of the hardest things humans have to deal with, living or dead. I’m not sure,
but I suspect that’s why The Man Upstairs created chocolate.”

I surprise myself by giggling and take a sip of
coffee.

“Tell me, Grace: what’s on your mind? I want to know
how you’re feeling.”

“Everyone I love is out of reach. I guess I’m lonely, and
maybe a little afraid.” The words pour out as I lean in to answer. “I’m in
Heaven, and it isn’t that I’m not grateful, but it just doesn’t feel all that
perfect here. I thought with Josh it would be okay, that we could build a new
life together and he would be enough, even without my family.” I have to stop
for a minute to collect myself before I start sobbing again. “But like you
said, we’re going through a tough time. And I can’t visit my family—not
in a real way. I can only watch them suffer.”

Mr. Griffith grinds his teeth like he’s in pain and
shakes his head. “I’m so sorry, Grace. It must be difficult. I can only imagine.”

I sink back into my seat, defeated, and Mr. Griffith
puts a hand on mine. I feel my spirits lift with the contact, but I’m on to him
and I pull away. I don’t want a Band-Aid. I want my family.

“This is my fault,” he says, tossing a piece of cookie
to a bird. “I should not have allowed you to visit your family. It would have
been easier if you couldn’t see what they’ve become.”

“What? No.” I stand. “You can’t take them away.” I’ll
die. I’ll dry up like a starfish on land.

“I won’t, Grace. Relax.”

I swallow, breathing deeply until I’m able to think rationally
again. “I’m glad you let me see them. I would have wondered forever. My
imagination would have been just as bad. At least now I can be near them.”

“You know what always makes me feel better?” Mr.
Griffith is full of life again, his dark eyes sparkling like dewdrops. “Besides
chocolate?”

“What’s that?” I ask to be polite.

“Saving a soul. You can’t help the ones you love, so save
another soul—the right soul for you.”

“You want me to focus on my job,” I say, embarrassed.
“I’m working on it. I’ve been studying a couple of the potential souls. I’ll
look into the others and report back—”

“No.”

I stop, unsure what he’s getting at. “Am I fired?”

He laughs. “No! Not at all. You’re ready to do more
than study. The halls will guide you to a new room, where you can have a quiet
space. Pick one of these souls you’ve found. Guide him or her—you’re more
than capable.”

“But I thought you didn’t want us to interact with
anyone until we were sure it was the next potential Antichrist.”

“Even if a potential soul doesn’t become the Antichrist,
everyone needs guidance, and since they are technically a potential, you are
allowed to interact.”

I rub the end of a strand of hair between my finger
and thumb. Maybe this is what I need. I can’t change Josh’s mind, and I can’t reveal
myself to Noah. There’s someone I can help, though—I think of the little
boy named Kobe, walking the streets of Detroit like a shadow.

“I know exactly who I can help. Thank you.” I rush
over and give Mr. Griffith a hug. He returns the embrace and I’m fueled with excitement
and renewed determination, just like the first time I met with him alone.

I can make a difference instead of wallowing in
self-pity. I can save Kobe’s soul.

Keira

I don’t mind the Boss sending
me back to corrupt Noah. I’m looking forward to spending time with him.

The moment I packed up the “picnic,” I ducked behind a
tree, changed back into my own body, and returned to find Noah in the midst of
a drug deal with the boys from his basketball game. Now I wait, enjoying being
in my own skin while he finishes up. The pierced-tongue kid leers at me where I
sit up on the splintered picnic table, legs crossed, and I wink just to mess
with him.

“See you next week,” the other kid says.

“About that,” I say, “you’re going to have to start
working for your fix. Noah’s too busy to cater to small-timers like you idiots.
Bring in some new clientele and he’ll set you up for a month. Otherwise, you
can find another source for your habit.”

Noah glances at me, eyebrows raised, an amused smirk
on his face. “You heard the lady.”

“Whipped much?” Tongue asks, stepping toward me
menacingly.

Noah moves closer, but I hold up a hand and lean
forward into Tongue’s face. “You think you can intimidate me?” I bat my eyes at
him. “I chew up boys like you for breakfast and spit you back out by lunch.”

“What’s so special about Noah?” he asks, settling a
hand on my knee.

I grab his fingers and squeeze with Demon strength until
he falls to the grass, crying. “He’s a real man. You? You’re a waste of space. Now
get the Hell out of here.” I compel him with the last words and he turns to
leave.

“Like we said, see you next week,” the other boy says.

I nod to Noah, letting him know he can take over.

Noah shrugs. “Doubtful. I’ll have better clients by
then. Let’s go, babe.” He holds out a hand for me and I hop off the table to
take it.

The boy scowls, but follows Tongue toward the parking
lot. I press myself against Noah, wrapping my hands around his neck.

He leans down and kisses me deeply. Maybe once a
century I find someone who can make my toes curl with a kiss, but I’ve never
met someone who sets my whole body on fire. I pull him closer, wanting to
devour him from head to toe.

“Can you take us back to my room?” he asks, working
his mouth over my ear.

I answer by snapping my fingers and transporting us
inside my cloud of black smoke right to his bed.

“Whoa. That was awesome.” His chest pumps in and out
like we just got off a roller coaster.

“You mean I’m awesome. And you were right, by the
way.”

“About what?” he asks, getting on his knees and
crawling toward me.

“You can do so much better than those creeps in the
park. You’ve got untapped potential, Noah Howard. I can feel it.” I run my
hands over his arms.

“I’m starting to see the possibilities now that I’m
with you. I feel like I can finally be somebody. I want what Lucifer promised.
I want power. I want to be important like you made me feel at the park.”

“I thought I knew what I wanted when I was human. But
the more I tried to find it, the more it eluded me.” Why did I say that? It
must be on my mind after Lucifer’s torture session.

“Did you have a deal with Lucifer?” he asks, eyes searching
me like he’s trying to X-ray my brain.

“No. No deal. I earned my place downstairs all on my
own.”

 “I bet you always did what you wanted when you
wanted. I bet you never let anyone keep you from being who you wanted to be.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I tell him,
pulling him down on top of me for another slow kiss that ignites my blood.

He stops after a minute and lifts himself to look down
at me, smoothing my hair from my face lovingly. Is he teasing me?

“Can I ask you something?” The question slips from
somewhere inside. What is wrong with me, asking permission like a dimwitted
child?

“Sure.”

“You said you wanted your parents to forget about your
sister. What was that about?” I think I know: with his parents willing to waste
the rest of their lives missing perfect Grace, Noah was ready to sacrifice his
own soul to stop their suffering. I just want to understand what’s so special
about her that everyone is willing to give up their lives and afterlives for
her.

He clenches his jaw and tightens his hand into a fist
as he sits up. I probably should have waited to ask until we weren’t in the bed.

“Her name was Grace. We were close. But…my parents
always favored her. They’ve forgotten that I even exist since the accident.”

I tentatively put a hand on his fist.

“I had this plan in my head, you know? I never said it
out loud, but I guess I can tell you. You won’t judge me, right? Of course not—you’re
a Demon.”

I pull my hand back into my lap. “Tell me.”

“I wanted them to forget they ever had her so they’d
finally notice me. I’d be the favorite for once.”

That was
not
what I was expecting. “So you
don’t want her forgotten because it hurts to miss her so much?”

He snorts. “She annoyed the crap out of me. She always
corrected everything I did. She was like a watchdog. I think it’s pretty
obvious I’m no saint, but she was convinced I was. You know the worst part?”

I shake my head, unable to form words.

“Now I know she’s been rewarded for getting all the
attention. She’s in Heaven and I’m going to Hell. How’s that fair?”

“I know what you mean,” I say. Hadn’t I thought that
very thing about Josh?

“But I don’t care if they forget anymore. I don’t need
their approval like I thought. What I really need is to finally do what’s right
for me, and it’s probably better if they don’t pay any attention.”

Noah’s lost in his thoughts, so I climb onto my knees
and rub at his shoulders for a bit, thinking. Noah sounds a lot like me when I
was young, with his hunger for affection and a desire to make it happen at any
cost, with anyone.

Or maybe I’m just thinking that because of what
Lucifer put me through.

“What’s the worst thing you ever wanted to do?” I ask,
moving in front of him to take his hand.

He smiles. “I don’t know. Make my parents forget they
ever had my sister? Do wicked things with you?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“That’s not awful. It sounds pretty good to me.” I crawl
into his lap and pull his mouth down to mine, placing his hand on my waist.

He stands, lifting me up, and tosses me down on the
bed where I bounce and squeal. He climbs over me, entwining his fingers with
mine. “I just want to be somebody, you know?” he says as he kisses my neck. “Is
that really so evil?”

It’s tough to catch my breath, engulfed in the feel of
Noah and his scent of cloves and mint, but I try. “I don’t think it’s evil.”

“Says the Demon in my bed.”

Noah drowns out my next words with his mouth, and this
time the kiss is hot and fierce and hungry. I respond with fervor, hoping he can
make me forget myself for a moment instead of reminding me of what I am.