Realm Wraith (27 page)

* * *

The quaint little café down the street from the hospital stood hidden between taller buildings, an inviting sign over its front doors, and scattered tables huddled outside where people could enjoy their drinks out in the open air. But, as open and friendly as the place appeared, its customer base had dropped over the years, all but the most loyal of patrons moving on to fancier establishments. Not all was lost, as being close to the hospital still made it a gathering place for many newly released patients and doctors looking to spend their downtime somewhere.

Darkness fell over the city, and the sun hung low in the sky on its descent below the skyline to make way for the coming night. Street lamps were just beginning to light up in these hours of dusk as David’s car pulled up along the street, and always being the good friend, he got out to help Rayne into his chair.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said, reaching into his coat. He pulled out a cell phone and handed it to Rayne. “Since your old one was damaged in the accident, I thought you might like a newer model. If you need a ride home, don’t hesitate to call. And if you don’t need a ride home, feel free to call and tell me about that as well.” He winked.

Rayne smirked back, and waved as his friend got back in the car and drove off into the sunset. He checked his watch: twenty past five. He couldn’t see Miranda, and for a moment he wondered if she’d had the nerve to stand him up. But then, they weren’t really dating. She couldn’t ignore a situation like this, and blow him off as she wished. Even if she did refuse to present herself, he knew where he could find her, in dreams.

Instead of worrying about being alone, he entered the café and ordered himself a black coffee. Feeling cramped within the confines of the building, he chose to sit at one of the outdoor tables. There were fewer people outside to bother him. Almost no passer-bys walked the streets, and the only other occupant of the café tables was an older man some distance away, munching a scone. Rayne watched the sun as it fell lower and lower in the sky, and the growing shadows brought by its fading light. Then he felt her standing beside him, awkwardly posed, as if unsure of what to do.

“You came,” he said.

Outside, in the dim light of the evening, Miranda looked quite beautiful, though her face was quite thin, and she had dark circles under her eyes. She wore simple clothes, a blouse and low cut skirt beneath a burgundy jacket, and her wavy hair was tied back in a ponytail. In her hands she clutched a simple leather purse, her fingers digging into the taught material as she expressed a nervous attitude.

“I suppose I’ll be getting myself a drink,” she stammered. “Won’t be a moment.”

She placed her jacket down on the table where Rayne sat, and he watched her walk into the café. A short time later she came out, holding a latte. She sat down, eyes darting around.

“I don’t— I’m not really sure where to start,” she mumbled.

Rayne didn’t quite know where to begin either. With Gabriel, it had been more direct; the man had come to him. Miranda’s much more withdrawn attitude would not make this easy.

“I suppose I didn’t really expect you to recognize me,” she said, mixing the foam of her drink. “When I heard your voice in that place, I didn’t know what to think. I prayed I was imagining things. I was embarrassed, and then when you came in today, I wasn’t sure what to do. I mean, I didn’t think I’d really heard you, but then when I saw the way you looked at me. ‘twas horrifying, it was. I just, I thought I was alone, deemed ‘twas simply me punishment.”

“So you knew that it wasn’t a dream?”

“Not at first. The first few nights that it happened, I thought I’d gone mad. But every night I came back there. I imagined something was wrong with me. I tried therapy, but no matter what breakthroughs I had, nothing changed. It finally dawned on me that I was supposed to be there, that I was being punished, and after that I just accepted it.” She looked down, trying to choke back tears again. “And as time passed, that place, it started to affect me. I lost all color in me skin, me hair fell out. It became harder and harder to see until finally, both my eyes, they just popped from me head, and everything went dark. A bit after that, I couldn’t open me mouth, and one night I found it’d been sewn shut, and I could no longer speak. ‘twas a terrible affair, but every morning I’d wake up, and I’d look completely normal, like nothing had happened.” Her voice lowered to a hushed whisper now, filled with disbelief from the words that poured from her lips, trying to stay quiet, to hide such words from the unwelcome public.

“How long has this been happening to you?” Rayne was mortified to think her fate was one they all would share over time.

“Five years.” She looked at him, wiping away tears. “And it’s only gotten worse. I fear it’s started to mingle into me real life. Vision’s gotten rather bad lately. And sometimes I have moments where I suddenly can’t speak. The doctors think it’s all in me head, but I know better.”

It had never occurred to Rayne that what changed their souls in the Abyss would slowly corrupt their lives in the real world.

“Please, Rayne, tell me what that place is.” Tears streamed down her face, her eyes red and puffy from built up misery. “And tell me, why would you be in someplace so horrible? You can’t have done anything so wrong that you would deserve to share my fate!”

“Keep your voice down,” he whispered. “The demons call it the Abyss.”

“Demons?!”

“Yeah, it’s—well, it’s Hell, I suppose. But it’s less fire and pitchforks than I’d imagined. You and I, we’re what they call Realm Wraiths.”

“Realm Wraiths? I heard someone mention that word.”

Rayne took a deep breath as he composed himself. He explained everything to her, about the Abyss, about how only Realm Wraiths maintained awareness because they still lived, and about everything he’d experienced since his first arrival in that place. He did not mention Tomordred though, not wanting to frighten her by recounting how he’d almost been devoured.

“Then you did something wrong?” Miranda asked when he finished. “Something that would d-damn you for all eternity?”

“I think, maybe,” he sighed. “My head’s been a right mess since the accident. You recall when I came in to see Dr. Orban?”

“Yeah.”

“If I did something wrong, I don’t remember it, and that’s become a problem. So while I try to remember what I did, I’m stuck there.” His face grew stern. “And none of the others want to admit any wrong doings.”

Miranda’s face filled with grief, a crestfallen look of despair etched in her features. “So that’s it then,” she murmured. “I’m there because I’ve sinned.” Her body trembled, and she sobbed into her hands.

Rayne wheeled himself around the table to sit beside her, and he tried to put a reassuring arm on her shoulder.

“Whatever it is, there must be some way to identify what you did, so you can atone for it.”

“No, you’re wrong!” she cried. “I do deserve to be there. I’ve done something horrible, and I can never be forgiven for it.”

“Tell me.”

She stared at him, agape at his bluntness.

“Please? I want to help you. Whatever it is you’ve done, you always seemed like such a good person. Look at what you do for a living, you help people. You bend over backwards to be nice to others and make them feel comfortable, even when you’re miserable. You’re not a monster.”

“But I am,” she sobbed, leaning on the table. “You would never understand. You have a son that you love so much, and I could never—I-I—” her voice froze, all sound vanishing in that instant. A strangled gurgle escaped her mouth and her eyes went wide in horror, as she clutched at her throat.

“Calm down, please. Just,” Rayne tried to collect his thoughts, “tell me what happened. Does it have something to do with my son?”

“N-no.” She’d found her voice again. “It’s
my
son. I killed him!” She began crying again, bawling into her arms as they lay stretched out over the table.

Rayne gasped. He didn’t even know she had a child, and as a father himself, this news distressed him. He could see the old man at the next table staring at them now, as Miranda was calling attention with her weeping.

“Maybe we should move elsewhere,” he whispered to her. “Come on, let’s walk a bit, clear our heads.”

She wiped the tears from her face, utter misery marring her beauty. With a soft sniffle she picked up her purse. She looked very uncomfortable, but Rayne knew she couldn’t run away from this now. They left the gentle lights of the café together and went down the street. She kept a slow pace as Rayne rolled his chair beside her.

“His father left us when he was born,” she said, after a moment of silence. “I tried my best to raise him alone, but it was just too difficult. I had to work two jobs just to pay the bills. He was always crying and bawling, like infants do. I would sometimes fantasize about leaving him on someone’s doorstep, where somebody with better means could take him in, raise him as their own son. But it was my child, and I was stubborn.”

She sighed, continuing on in that same detached tone. “One winter’s night, he was sick, and wouldn’t stop crying. I put him in the car to take him to the doctor, but all I could think was how much of a burden this was and how I couldn’t afford all this. And as we drove, he just kept screaming and shrieking and it drove me positively mad. I couldn’t take it anymore. When we drove across the bridge overlooking a river, I decided I’d had it. I’d put an end to our miserable existence, and be done with it forever. I turned the wheel as hard as I could and that was it. We plunged into the river, and as the water filled the car, he finally stopped crying.”

Rayne tried to measure his response without sounding too judgmental. “God, that’s awful. But you survived.”

“I did.” She looked down to him. “Another driver saw the car go over the edge. He called the police, and dove in after me. Quite the hero, he was. I drowned, but they resuscitated me. As for me son, a young sick infant, in freezing waters, he never had a chance. They all thought it was an accident, that I’d slipped on a patch of ice and lost control of the car. Everybody pitied me, and no one blamed me. And that was when it started. Every night, I go to that place. And I can no longer see. All I ever hear is that horrible screaming, like the shrieking of me son as I snuffed out his life.”

Rayne sat in his chair, stunned. Though he had asked her to tell him the truth, he wasn’t sure what to think of it. He had never expected this kind, caring woman to do something like that.

“So you see,” she continued on. “I’ve earned my place there. You’d best stop this talk about atonement. Me whole life since then has been one long nightmare. Nothing I do can ever make up for this. I dedicate myself to caring for others, but no matter who I help, or how many lives are saved because of me, nothing can make up for that one life I took away.”

“You really believe that?” he whispered. “And you’re just giving up?”

“After five years, there’s nothing else for me to believe in. I assume when I do finally die, I’ll be there forever?”

“Yeah.”

They walked a little further in silence. The sun had sunk below the buildings, leaving the skies dark, and stars began to appear.

“It’s so lovely,” Miranda whispered, gazing up at the heavens. “I try to enjoy these moments, while I still can.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Rayne snapped. “I don’t think you should give up. Even if we can’t redeem ourselves, we shouldn’t just give in to despair. I think if we all stay together, at the very least we can make our time there a little less painful. We still have the rest of our lives to work this out, before the end.”

“But we’re only going to keep getting worse,” she said. “I’m already blind and mute. The rest of me life? What will become of me forty or fifty years down the road? I shudder to think.”

Her eyes darted back to Rayne, and she reached down and grasped his arm.

“As I thought,” she said, running her hand against the back of his. “Your skin is so cold. Not as cold as when you grabbed me there in the Abyss. ‘twas like being clutched at by ice.”

His hand pulled away from her grip. “That’s just the night air,” he hissed.

“Are you certain?”

He couldn’t look her in the eye. “It’s the most logical explanation. I think it’s too soon.”

It dawned on him as he spoke, when he’d drawn a bath earlier that afternoon, he hadn’t been keen on using warm water. It felt more comfortable at a colder temperature. He exhaled, watching the frost formed by his breath, wondering how much of the cold night formed the vapor, and how much of it was him. Miranda watched him, and he guessed she thought the same thing.

They continued down the street, passing buildings. Rayne lost track of how long they wandered, content to be out for a stroll, enjoying Miranda’s company. Few words exchanged between them now, each lost in their own thoughts. When she came to a stop, he looked up.

“This is where I live,” she said. They stood before a small apartment building, a little run down, but it had its charm. “After I lost him, I no longer had to work two jobs. I moved out of the slums and came to live here. It was too much, living back there, where me son and I were together.”

“I didn’t realize you lived so close to the hospital. It must be nice.”

“I never drove a car again. I enjoy the walk, anyways.” She sighed. “I suppose I should call for a taxi to take you home.”