Page 1 of Unholy Fate

CHAPTER ONE

JAMES NEFF

The waitingroom’s beige walls held no answers as I stared blankly at them. I’d been waiting days, maybe weeks. Time seemed to stretch endlessly here. Aching hunger gnawed at my belly and my mouth was parched, as though I’d been eating spoonfuls of sand. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d slept. My eyes ached and throbbed.

As I shifted uncomfortably and the hard plastic chair creaked, realization crept into my foggy brain. I tore my gaze from the walls, realizing I couldn’t remember how I’d ended up in this room. When did I walk in? Frowning, I racked my brain. Nothing. It was all a blank.

Lifting a hand, I looked at it, turning my palm until it faced me. Old scars from years of work and toil were gone. The skin was as aged as it should be, but it had a freshnewlook to it. The sight, crazy, yet inescapable, ate at me as I sat. There was no pain, no aches in my knuckles or twinges in my lower back, things that had been with me for over a decade. Nothing else made sense.

I was dead.

This must have been some kind of purgatory. An eternity of boredom as penance for my sins? Maybe. I certainly had stains on my soul.

As soon as the idea took hold and sank its roots into my mind, the scene changed. In the blink of an eye, I was standing by an open French door, gazing out at an endless expanse of snow—strangely untouched by cold. Nearby loomed a stunning marble building. Confused and dizzy from the change, I tried to steady myself. Glancing down, I saw I was now dressed in a clean white shirt and pants. A simple bed with a nightstand stood nearby, a magazine atop it.

“What the hell is this?” I whispered to myself.

Flashes of memory assaulted me, summoned up from deep in my subconscious as my mind cleared. This wasn’t a hospital, despite the strange surroundings. Visions of my own death replayed—searing pain, abject terror, overwhelming sorrow and guilt. Brief glimpses of an unfamiliar man’s face flashed in my mind. The man had dark, brooding eyes outlined in heavy black eyeliner, high cheekbones, and his full lips quirked in a knowing smirk. Shoulder-length dark hair framed an impossibly beautiful yet cruel visage.

I didn’t know him, but his image filled me with inexplicable terror. A soul-deep foreboding that sent chills up my spine.

If I was dead and this was the afterlife, could I possibly be in heaven? Did my anguish and remorse over a lifetime of misdeeds grant me salvation in the end? Memories of my sins flooded back— bribes I’d paid, innocence I’d stolen, faceless prostitutes in seedy motel rooms. I’d always thought myself irredeemable. But maybe, my guilt had been enough. Maybe I was forgiven.

I took a shaky step toward the imposing marble edifice, pulse pounding, not daring to believe it could be true. Heaven. Absolution. A chance to see my loved ones again and leave my wicked past behind. I could only pray this wasn’t a cruel illusion. With a deep breath, I approached the grand entrance, desperate to learn my fate.

The ornate door swung open soundlessly as I approached. A man stood framed in the entrance, tall and golden-haired, with chiseled features and piercing blue eyes that seemed to look straight into my soul. He wore flowing white robes that billowed around his muscular frame. As I gaped in awe, magnificent feathered wings unfurled from his back, spanning an impossible width, pristine and radiant.

The sheer power emanating from him stole the breath from my lungs. I felt like a tiny insect before a god, insignificant and unworthy. Yet his full lips curved in a benevolent smile as he gazed upon me with warmth. He stepped aside with fluid grace, motioning for me to enter.

“Welcome, my son,” he said with a refined English accent, his voice warm and pleasantly deep. “We have been waiting for you.”

Knees shaking, I passed over the threshold, hardly daring to meet his beatific eyes. The interior stretched before me, a minimalist expanse of gleaming white marble shot through with delicate veins of gold. Sunlight streamed in through unseen windows, bathing the space in a soft glow.

Pale wooden furniture dotted the room, arranged in small conversational groupings. Settees upholstered in cream linen sat beside low coffee tables bearing artful arrangements of succulent fruits and golden pastries almost too perfect to bereal. It reminded me of the posh office spaces frequented by the wealthy and powerful, where I’d closed many shady and lucrative deals in my past life.

A thrill ran through me at the thought that perhaps heaven operated in a similar fashion. Maybe I would be given important responsibilities, tasks to keep me busy throughout eternity. The familiarity was comforting after the disorienting journey that led me here. I’d always found great satisfaction in my work, and the idea of continuing in some fashion filled me with cautious optimism.

With a grateful glance at my celestial guide, I ventured further into the pristine space, awed at its simple elegance. A burbling laugh threatened to escape my throat. I could scarcely comprehend it—a sinner like me, granted a second chance, my transgressions wiped clean. It defied belief. But oh, how I wanted it to be real.

As I ventured deeper into the serene space, a woman seated behind a sleek white desk caught my attention. She was a vision of beauty, with lush curves and chestnut hair cropped into a playful pixie cut. Her pastel pink sundress draped elegantly over her figure, and her face radiated an aura of gentle kindness as she looked up and met my gaze with a warm expression.

I approached hesitantly, still in awe of my surroundings. She opened a slim laptop on the desk before her, the soft click of keys filling the tranquil air.

“James Neff?” Her husky voice was like honeyed whiskey, smooth and intoxicating.

I found myself momentarily tongue-tied by her presence. She continued, her fingers dancing over the keyboard. “Date of birth?”

“October 2nd, 1961,” I said.

More typing, then, “Greater Boston area?”

“Yes, that’s me.” The confirmation tumbled from my lips, almost reverent, my lips curving with happiness.

As she input the information, a profound sense of hope blossomed within my chest. My past misdeeds lifted, replaced by an almost giddy lightness. Could it truly be this simple?

Memories of Sunday school lessons flickered through my mind, tales of redemption I’d once dismissed as naive fantasy. Yet here I stood on the precipice of paradise, daring to believe that grace was within reach.

Fragments of my former life danced before my eyes—the faces of my dear parents, long since passed. Billy, my childhood best friend, taken too soon. Even Rusty, my faithful pup with his odd quack of a bark.

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