by Jody A. Kessler
Saving the life of someone you love should not be the worst thing you have ever done, unless you are an Angel of Death.
Disgruntled with his position in the afterlife and conflicted by his feelings toward his new client, Nathaniel Evans forgoes the rules and saves nineteen year old Juliana Crowson from being hopelessly stuck in Forge Creek. This alters Juliana’s destiny and she finds herself in a series of near death accidents.
In the mountains of Colorado, Nathaniel comforts Juliana as she struggles to understand her paranormal abilities while coping with her brother’s drug addiction. When an ill-tempered Native American Shaman teaches her the difference between ghosts and place memories, she decides she wants nothing to do with the supernatural world. Too bad she doesn’t know that Nathaniel is part of it.
Will fate bring these two together, or has Nathaniel made the biggest mistake of his afterlife?
“Juliana?” I don’t respond. I can’t face anyone.
“Can I sit with you?”
I hug my knees into my chest with my face buried in my folded arms. I mumble into the pit of my lap. “Are you here to end my misery?”
It’s an odd answer but then again so was the question. “Then, please leave.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come, but neither can I go.”
I turn my face, taking in the crisp air and digest his unusual answers. There are so many things that have happened tonight that don’t make any sense. Why would one more confusing sentiment make any difference?
Loneliness wraps around me, holding me in a cool embrace. I break its grip by saying, “It goes on the list, you know?” I speak into the dark. No movement or sound gives away his location but I can feel him close by. The low thumping of Blue Nouveau’s drums is the only sound breaking the stillness of the forest.
The caress of his voice brushes my ear. “Which list are you referring to?”
“Our list — things that are inexplicable.”
“Which deficiency of mankind are we adding tonight?”
“Lying to someone you love.” My voice is flat but the tear leaking from my eye gives away my true feelings.
“We can put that one on the top of the list,” he says.
A gentle hand surprises me as it wraps gently around my swollen ankle and finds a comfortable hold. The warmth penetrates through the sore muscles like a mild current of electricity.
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