Beautifully Unnatural: A Young Adult Paranormal Boxed Set (123 page)

Unable to watch any more, Alexander left. It pulled at his heart to see the man’s grief played out in a delusion. Was it so bad if he let Bruce enjoy being with his wife for a few moments, the wife Alexander had taken from him?

Alexander shuffled his way up the stairs to Gabby’s room. He stood in front of the door contemplating whether to enter, then heard a soft sigh, like a small child waking from a nap.

Who was more crazy? At least Bruce had an excuse. His hallucinations were from alcohol withdrawal while Alexander’s were from Gabby withdrawal.

He pried the door open, finding the room as he’d left it, empty. Not wanting to relive any more moments with Gabby, he focused on his quest to find information on alcoholism and the symptoms of withdrawal. He crossed the room to the laptop on her desk and flipped the lid up. The moment it finished booting up, a small window appeared, requesting a password.

Password? He hadn’t thought that far ahead. He tried
Eliana
,
cheerleading
,
Moore
, and many others. Nothing worked. Finally, he typed in
Alexander
and held his breath while he hit
enter
. Still not right. After thinking for a moment, he realized most passwords required a number. He decided to try replacing the letter
L
with the number one and hit
enter
. It worked.

He was her password, a status equivalent to being number one on her speed dial. When she’d created this password, he still meant something to her.

Once, she’d loved him. Could he dare hope she could love him again?

The internet popped up and he typed
alcohol withdrawal symptoms
into the search engine. He clicked the first entry listed, the article confirming his suspicions.
Severe withdrawal symptoms may include hallucinations, shaking, vomiting, and headache.
A person experiencing these symptoms should be monitored by a health care professional. Rise in blood pressure and possibility of stroke may occur.

Great. Taking him to a hospital wasn’t an option. He could keep Bruce from having a stroke, though he’d likely have to reveal himself to heal the man. Which meant he would have to remain in this house day in and day out. Not what he wanted to do, but he knew it was what he needed to do.

He had to be careful, though. These hallucinations scared him. He still couldn’t figure out how Bruce had seen his hidden angel form. Could it just be a memory from that night or was there more to these hallucinations?

“No. Stop! Make it stop!” Bruce called, his voice carrying through the house.

Patronus barked wildly.

Alexander slammed the laptop shut and bolted down the stairs.

Patronus stood on all fours in the doorway as if on alert.

Bruce sat up in bed, covering his ears. “It’s so loud!” he shouted. “My head’s going to explode. Make it stop!”

Alex concentrated on pushing the hallucinations away as he stepped closer. He couldn’t calm him like Grace could, but he could keep the demons away by healing his dreams. He focused on all the calming sounds around them, waves from the ocean, a bird in the air, Gabby’s soft breath—No! He had to stay focused. He strained his ears, picking up the sound of a tree rustling in the wind, and channeled the calm sounds to Bruce.

A moment passed and Bruce released his ears. Relaxing back into the bed, his eyes rolled up into his head as his lids closed.

Alexander sighed. He longed to see Gabby. He grasped his chest, trying to make the pain go away. He couldn’t allow himself to feel despair, not with Bruce in the room. Only happy calming thoughts. It was the only way to keep Bruce from having a stroke and himself from going crazy.

Chapter Fifteen

The sweet lyrical words of
Amazing Grace
floated up softly from somewhere downstairs. Gabby could picture Grace’s lips pouring out the music. A slanted yellow glow on the wall indicated the beginning, or end of the day.

How long had she been in bed? Her arms strapped down? A dull pain in her neck and back made her think it must’ve been days.

“How long?” she croaked.

“You’re awake?” Sammy’s cheerful voice stirred her hope that the sun was rising, that it was the start of a bright new day. A day she could get out of bed and live again.

“How long have I been strapped to this bed?” Her voice sounded foreign to her ears.

“A little over a week.”

“My father—”

“He’s fine. Alex is with him.”

“Alex? Are you crazy?” Gabby’s anxiety rose up in a flash. “Wh-what? How? W-why?”

“Gabby, relax. Don’t get excited.” Sammy walked over to the doorway. “Grace!” she yelled downstairs. “Grace! Gabby’s awake. I need help.”

The beautiful sound of
Amazing Grace
stopped abruptly and a moment later, Grace entered the room.

She didn’t want the music to stop. It sounded hopeful, and loving, and everything she longed to feel right now. A sense of her mother’s warm touch caressed her skin. “Don’t stop. Please.”

“Don’t stop what, dear?” Grace’s hand grazed her cheek then a damp washcloth was laid across her forehead.

“The song. Don’t stop singing, please.”

The music started again, this time filling the room and her heart. Gabby listened, concentrating on the sound of Grace’s voice, trying not to think about her father, Alexander, and the mess her life had become. Slowly, her anxiety withered away, back to the deep crevice inside where it came from.

As the song ended, the yellow glow on the wall faded.

No. It wasn’t a new day. It was the same black dismal dusk, just like the past several she’d awoken to, followed by nights full of terror, fear, and loneliness.

“Grace, I don’t want to do this anymore. Please, just let me die.” Gabby’s chest constricted painfully with despair.

“Shush, child. Calm yourself. You’re through the worst. It will get better now. The anger has passed, most of it. Now, you will face fear, loneliness, and depression. At least, that’s how it happened last time.”

“Is the worst of it really over?” Sammy whispered.

“Shh, go get some fresh water. I’ll take the next watch.”

“What happened last time?” Gabby mumbled.

Grace didn’t answer.

“Tell me,” Gabby rasped.

Grace dabbed at Gabby’s forehead. “She didn’t make it honey. She’s in hell, but you’re strong.”

Footsteps sounded and the door closed behind a blurry figure, but her eyes couldn’t focus. Her body still itched, as if a million flesh-eating beetles were feasting on her insides. She glanced down at her arm. At least the boiling in her skin had stopped, but she swore it looked ashen.

What did her face look like? Would she turn into a hideous creature like Forras?

“I don’t want to be a demon. I don’t want to be evil.”

“You won’t,” Grace said soothingly. “You’ll beat this.”

“How do you know?” Gabby shifted, trying to stretch her body.

“Because you were meant for great things. Be comforted. You’re not alone.”

“You’re wrong. I’m always alone,” she whispered. Yes, she had Grace and Sammy caring for her, but her mother was gone. Her father, in his grief, had turned to alcohol, and Alexander had lied and betrayed her.

“Grace, how…how could he have done that? Why did Alex kill my mother? And then…” Gabby choked on the words, not sure she wanted an answer. It didn’t matter what his reasons were, she didn’t love him. Maybe she had at one point, but not anymore. The thought of betraying someone she loved and cared for like that was unimaginable. It disgusted her.

“It wasn’t him,” a familiar voice spoke.

“Mother?” Gabby looked around for where the voice came from. A voice she’d never forgotten, but only saw Grace looking down at her quizzically? Was she hallucinating again? Was it Grace speaking, but in a softer, higher tone? If so, this was a welcome mirage, unlike the others she was forced to endure over the past several days.

“You are free to love him,” the voice said.

“Mom? Is that you?” Oh, how she wished it were possible. Gabby closed her eyes and concentrated.
Say something, please. Let me hear your voice again.

“Yes, sweet girl,” it answered in the delicate, inviting tone of her mother’s voice. Pure joy blanketed Gabby’s soul. “I’m here. I never left your side.”

“I don’t understand. Y-you’re dead.” Gabby opened her eyes and saw Grace’s hands clasped as if praying.

“No, child. I am resurrected, a fallen angel with wings renewed.”

Grace’s lips didn’t move. She scanned the bedroom, but no one else was there. Gabby’s head swarmed with questions. “Fallen angel?” Like Alex? “Wings renewed? That doesn’t make sense. You sound like my mother, but you died in a car accident.” The image of her mother’s lifeless body flashed through her mind. “I’m imagining this. I have to be.”

“You’re not imagining it. I was called home after years of walking the Earth. It was my time to return to Heaven for a great purpose. We don’t always understand. Sometimes, the truth is hidden in shadows. It’s our job to trust and be patient for all to be revealed.”

“Trust? In what? How? The person I love—loved,” she quickly corrected herself, “killed you.” Gabby could feel the darkness spreading out from her heart again. A shadow stretched across her insides, over her intestines, liver, lungs, down her legs, and up her arms. A blackness, darker than an overcast, moonless night sky.

“Hang on, my child. All will be well.”

Grace started to sing again. Keeping one hand on Gabby’s arm, she sang and sang as Gabby whimpered.

“I’ll stay with her, Eliana. I promise.”

Gabby heard Grace speak but couldn’t make sense of the words. How could Grace be talking to her dead mother? How could Gabby have been talking to her? She wasn’t just sick from a poison, but flat-out crazy, too.

The darkness spread until her entire body was buried alive in an inky blackness. Air choked from her lungs as black dirt pounded her down further into her grave. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t cry or scream. Nothing.

Forced to lie there unable to move, her chest constricted from the weight of the dirt pressing down on her.

Dying.

Death.

Darkness.

It surrounded her.

****

Dreams plagued his night. He tossed and turned, fighting the images of demonic creatures and possessions, but he lost.

A graveyard shrouded in mist appeared. Alexander’s insides knotted as he sensed Gabby clawing at the dirt walls of a grave, screaming as she fought to free herself.

He had to find her. Had to help her.

Forras’ laughter echoed through the house.

Alexander reached out with his mind and screamed, Gabby!

No response.

He bolted from his chair beside Bruce’s bed and raced outside. Wings exploded from his back. He launched himself straight up and took flight, landing at a nearby graveyard. Standing in the silence, he held his breath, listening but no longer heard her pleas.

Extending his wings, he hovered above the ground, moving between gravestones to find the loose soil of a fresh grave. The sweet smell of oranges wafted in the light breeze from a grove nearby, competing with the stench of death.

She struggled to breathe, speak, cry. The sound of her nails scratching at the dirt sent chills through his body.

“Forras. Tell me, or I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what? You can’t do anything. If you kill me, hell, if you even fight me in anger, you’ll become just like me.” Silence descended for a moment. “Hey, that’s an idea. You can take my place, and in the end, I still win, even if I fall. I’m getting bored on Earth anyway, and Hell sounds, well, heavenly to me.” Forras gnawed at Alexander’s already fraying patience.

“I don’t care. I’ll gladly sacrifice myself to save her.”

Forras’ howled into the night. “I’m counting on it.”

Gabby’s gasps grew louder, as though Alexander stood right next to her. He looked down at the jagged rock resting a few feet below him.

Freshly etched in the gravestone was a name. Gabriella Moore. He dropped to his knees, his wings dragging in the grass. Gabby’s breath faded. Then the faint sound of her heart stopped.

He clawed at the ground, throwing dirt in every direction. “Hold on! Don’t leave me. You can’t die! You can’t—”

“Alexander, wake. It’s a dream, nothing more.”

Alexander jerked, his eyes snapping open at Grace’s distant whispers. His heart hammered in his chest but slowly calmed when he realized he still sat in the chair next to Bruce’s bed.

He forced himself upright in the chair, sweat dripping from his face as he searched the dark room for Forras, the cause of his nightmare.

He swiped his arm across his forehead, mopping up the sweat from his brow.

Sweat? He didn’t sweat. Had he exhausted himself to the point of some sort of illness when he tried to heal Bruce?