Page 89 of Veil of Death and Shadow

“So they might be alive? They aren’t angels in the way you are?” I asked.

Kieran stiffened. “No, they’re not like me.”

“What do you mean Azraelwasa real person? Did he die?” I asked, after conveying his words to Sora.

“No one knows. We were told that he used to be the primary conduit between my world and yours. Heard he was a total dick—most with that kind of power are. But he disappeared decades ago. Even still,” he added, “the mythologies that humans hold are so deeply fractured and contorted, they’re all but meaningless. It would be like,” he narrowed his eyes, “like trying to understand Ireland’s entire history, everything the country embodies and has ever embodied, through nothing more than taking a bite of cereal, the kind inside the leprechaun box, the one with those wee marshmallows. It’s completely fanciful. Reductive to the point of absurdity.”

Sora’s shoulders sank when I finished translating. “So there’s no reaching the dead then?”

“I didn’t say that,” he said. “I’m here, aren’t I? I know Azrael used to commune with the departed, even those who weren’t awakened into a death of service like me. My kind are very rare.” He shot me a smug grin. “Most of the dead immediately move on to whatever comes next. I haven’t any idea what that is though. I’m in the dark like the lot of you, I suppose. Though I have my theories.” His expression grew more serious. “I’ve heard of human witches fiddling around with spells—parlor tricks more like—but some might be able to speak to the dead. It would be rare, of course. Better chance with a phantom or an echo; by their nature they hold onto a small flash of themselves. Otherwise, the dead don’t hold their living memories.”

“You don’t remember your life before you died?” I asked, surprised by how much he was willing to share now, after an afternoon of refusing me any of the answers I wanted.

“No, not really.” The corners of his eyes pinched. “When I woke up, I was me. I had my personality, general likes and dislikes—but the people in my life, the specific experiences I had when I lived in this realm? All gone. It’s better that way though.”

“How so?” I couldn’t imagine all of that being erased, everything that made me . . . me.

“Better if we aren’t tethered to this world, to the connections we used to have. It would make everything harder. Some things come back over time. But I’ve never chased after my memories. I prefer to exist in the now—not want anything I can’t have. Makes my job easier; makes the occasional vacation less devastating when it’s over.” His expression shut down, like he’d said too much. “Anyway, that’s as far as I’ll go with your answers. Tell your friend that those cults want what cults and religions have always wanted—power and control. They won’t help her, not without a price she won’t be willing to pay. Her time is better spent on the living; the dead have moved on. For their sake and for hers.”

Sora’s expression was uncharacteristically closed off to me as I relayed Kieran’s thoughts.

She sat, silent, drumming her fingers noiselessly on the table as she processed.

But then, just as I stood to get ready for bed, she said, “Wait.” Her eyes darted to mine; her brows lifted in excitement. “The curse!”

“What?”

“Ask him about your curse. If there’s such a thing as a death curse. Or omen or whatever.” My breath hitched, but she went on, turning towards where she imagined Kieran to be sitting—though he was now across the room, studying Menace’s picked-over dinner with curiosity, as if it were a museum exhibit and not some abandoned nut shells and homemade kibble. “Ask if he’s ever heard about someone who’s been cursed to lose everyone they love to some tragic, early death.”

Again, I was shocked by her question. Partially because I hadn’t thought to ask it first myself, and partially because I was terrified to hear the answer.

There were two options, as far as I could see.

Either way, I’d lose.

I’d find out that everyone I lost was, indeed, dead because of me, or that I’d spent a lifetime pushing people away for no legitimate reason.

Neither option filled me with anything less harrowing than dread or regret.

Kieran’s brows furrowed as he considered her demand, his gaze darting between the two of us as he stitched together an answer. Then, as if realizing something, he shook his head. When his eyes locked on mine, I saw something flit behind them, pity maybe, or something close to it that I couldn’t quite parse. “I’ve never heard of a curse or omen like that, no.”

After saying goodnight to Sora, I got ready for bed, surprised when I found Kieran lurking in my bedroom, an ever-present shadow that not even Peter Pan could shake.

My neck heated when his eyes fell on my vibrator.

“Well,” I cleared my throat. “Goodnight, I guess. Will you—er—be back tomorrow? I’m not really sure how long this whole guardian-angel-life-audit thing is supposed to last.”

“Back?” His brow arched in question. “Oh, I’m not leaving tonight.”

“Don’t you have more important,” I waved my arms like wings, “angel-y things to do than watch me sleep?”

His eyes glittered with amusement. “Not in the least.”

“How long will you be stalking me then?”

“Until my job is done.”

“And you’re not going to give me any more hints as to what that job is or requires from me to speed along?” I asked. His face remained as impassive as always. “Right. Of course not. Why be helpful when obstinance is an option.”

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