“What is this place?” she said, her tone growing firmer. “Who is that crying?”
“Compared to the other Realms, the Netherworld is a dead zone, literally. Human souls filter here for either rest or torment, their fate depending more on their state of mind at death than human morality. If you live and die in a state of peace, then that is your state here, despite the darkness. If you lived and died in a state of anguish, then . . .” Mikel took a step backward. “Someone is approaching us.”
Two pairs of footsteps clacked swiftly in their direction.
Mikel’s wings snapped open, and she held out her hand. Her curious expression seemed to stop their attackers faster than the barrier, and her eyes brightened. “They’re saying they know you. Should I let them manifest, Angela? But I should warn you, they don’t seem happy that you’re here. You might”—the angel’s tone lowered meaningfully—“have to see unpleasant things.”
Silence. The crushing kind, hinging on a momentous decision.
Angela’s lips trembled. Her own soul shivered violently. Two pairs of footsteps. Two angry pairs. She already knew who this was. “Yes. Let them manifest.”
Erianna and Marcus stepped out from the shadows.
They were covered in burns. Angela clapped a hand over her mouth, struggling to hold back her vomit. Those hate-filled eyes. That charred skin. Her mother’s singed hair and her father’s toothless mouth.
They rushed for her, before she could even try to run.
Angela’s body numbed over. Her breath stifled away, oddly painful. It was nearly impossible to move, and when she tried to speak, her lips felt weighted by cement. Mikel was suddenly so far away, a helpless spectator, and with a terrifying jolt, Angela realized that time had slowed. Before her, Erianna and Marcus laughed at her with their eyes, gloating at her helplessness as they’d never dared to when alive. The past began to swirl around them all, one scene after the next. There was the belt her father had used to devastating effect. The mocking voice of her mother, telling all her friends to ignore Angela, to leave her alone. Brendan, bringing her snacks while she hid, locked in her room. Then, the sounds from her parents’ bedroom at night. The whispers among the maids.
The closet used for punishment.
Her paintings, thrown into the furnace because of their unspoken evil.
It was too much. Her head felt like it would shatter as much as her heart, and unable to bear any more, Angela screamed.
The images cracked and burst apart like glass, leaving Angela face-to-face with Erianna and Marcus again, gasping, her cheeks wet and her eyes blurred by tears. But now she could talk and move slightly, as if revealing her pain had forced her parents to relent a little. “What do you want?” she shouted. “To kill me?”
Their faces said it all. This was their revenge for an accidental death, and the intent was either for Angela to join them in that death or to go insane. The voices from the past intensified, mocking her from a million invisible mouths. Images hadn’t worked, so now her late family was trying noise. Vaguely, she could hear them shouting to join her, their words almost lost beneath the horrendous abuse. If she didn’t take control fast, they would win this time.
Yes, that’s it. I’m going to take control.
It was something she’d never done in the eighteen years of her miserable existence except when it came to suicide, but now she was a step above her parents, mostly because she was alive, possibly because she was the Archon. She’d be damned if they were going to squash her hopes mercilessly one more time. For once, and for forever, they would have to either serve her interests or vanish along with the rest of the past she’d abandoned.
She glanced back at Mikel.
The angel’s eyes were fearsomely bright. She knew what was going to happen, and seemed almost hungry for it.
Angela rounded on her parents again, struggling to move. “Here’s your choice. And it’s your last chance. You’re either on my side—or you’re not. Which is it?”
They glared at her, as if thinking about what that could mean.
Then they lunged for Angela’s throat, their burned fingers grasping maniacally.
“Fine.” She thrust out her hand as Mikel had, shocked at the sudden force behind her words. “Go back to the darkness.”
Her parents stopped. The mocking voices ceased. The past that had been so brutally forced upon her crumbled into mental dust. Hideous groans filled the emptiness, and then the horror vanished into a vortex of wind and power. Angela dropped back into time with a sharp rush of air in her lungs, and immediately the funnel centered on Mikel, coalescing into a glowing sphere held in the center of her palm. The angel held it up to her mouth, her eyes brighter than fire, and Angela slumped over with her hands against the cold ground, huffing and shuddering inside. It wasn’t long before Mikel stood beside her again, and she took the angel’s hand, standing on wobbly legs.