Page 72 of Fear the Fall

Dead Inside

Toweringgrey structures block the visitors that roam the sacred home of the dead, leaving me to feel completely alone with the devil by my side. Each and every tomb is different from the next. Many are chipped and worn to the point that even standing directly in front of one, I’m unable to read the epitaph carved into the stone.

“What are you thinking?” Luke asks, sidling up next to me.

“I wonder who this person was,” I admit. “Are they in Heaven, or is one of your demons torturing them in hell?”

“Neither,” he says matter-of-factly. “She,”he stresses, “is stuck here in purgatory. She’s leaned up against that stone over there watching you rather intently,” he says, pointing toward a tall mausoleum.

My nose scrunches in confusion, as I see nothing.

He chuckles. “Our girl Rosa doesn’t trust you.”

“Who?”

“Rosa Cortez, the deceased woman whose tomb you’re loitering in front of.”

“Is there any woman, living or dead, that you’re not on a first name basis with?”

He spins me toward him, pulling me into his firm chest and effectively knocking the wind right out of me. “Must we spend our one day together throwing barbs and fighting jealousy? I’m here with you. It’s all that I want, Victoria.”

I step out of his embrace, clearing my throat. “Twenty-four hours, Lucifer. It’s all you have. I’ll do my best to follow your rules, but this isn’t fun for me. I’m here because you’re forcing me to be.”

His eyes darken, a cloud of anger rolling over his handsome features, highlighting his true nature.

Good. Be the bad guy. Make it easy for me to keep you at arm’s length.

As quickly as the anger has come, it’s gone. Surely, he read my mind and realized that showing his evil isn’t in his best interest. The king of deceit isn’t dumb. He knows how to play the game.

I walk toward the very back of the cemetery, stopping periodically to read a tombstone that catches my attention. That’s when I see her.

A few tombstones ahead, luminescent and hovering above the ground, a young woman with raven black hair and haunting black eyes peers at me with a mix of interest and wariness.

A spirit.

These are not beings I’m very familiar with. I don’t know their abilities or which side of the war they’d join—assuming there is a war of good versus evil.

“Rosa?” I call out, and she retreats, running even farther into the labyrinth of graves, and I follow, picking up my pace.

I weave in and out of tombs, trying desperately to catch her, but she’s always one step ahead of me. Eventually, I give up, having lost sight of her. I’m bent over, breathing heavy from my chase, when I feel a rush of cold fall over my back. I turn around and freeze at the specter suspended inches from me. Her head is tilted at an odd angle, inspecting me as if I were something alien.

“What are you?” she rasps, with what can only be described as a death rattle. “I thought you were something evil at first. You’re surrounded by darkness and it chills me to be near you,” she enlightens me. “It’s almost as if you’re dead inside.”

Why do people keep saying that, and what the hell does it even mean?

“I’m perfectly alive,” I say, nerves racked by her description of how she views me.

Can nobody else see her? People walk by, staring at me like I’m the strange one.

“Let me... touch you,” she asks for permission, but moves forward without gaining it. I take a quick step back, bumping into something hard. I don’t bother to look, assuming it’s yet another grave marker. “I won’t hurt you,” she assures me, but I’m not feeling any better about the idea.

Ghosts are unnatural creatures. Once you die, you’re supposed to move on. Heaven or Hell—those are your options, yet some souls remain trapped on Earth by their own choices. Luke said it’s purgatory, but he and I have different views on what that entails.

As far as angels were told, purgatory is more of a state of reliving your final moments, over and over again. A sort of pre-torture. Some souls come out repentant and are allowed through the gates, while others become the worst part of themselves and are thrust into Hell.

Whatever this woman is experiencing isn’t natural, and the thought of allowing her to touch me doesn’t sit well. However, a larger part of me—a very moronic part—is curious what she’ll find. So, I do the dumbest thing I can and step into her touch.

An icy chill creeps over me, frosting every part from my head to my toes. I fear I’ll freeze if I don’t move away, but I am fixed in place.

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