Chapter 15

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     I quieted down and scanned all five faces at the table that had identical stupefaction written all over them. My lips stretched into a smile. This was not your granny tea party, besides I haven't finished telling the story up to the end, yet.

A moment has passed, and nobody moved waiting for me to continue. I would be glad to continue, but something that Ruth said and my present situation really blown my mind away. According to her, I was an error. Later, I realized that my situation was deeper and far more pitiful. She was right, though. I've stuck here. And now some kind of realization hit me. I've stuck not only on earth but also in this body. I wasn't really sure if I got my assumptions right. A lot of things happened to supernatural kind. Not to take that little realization into consideration would be stupid. And to declare myself almost immortal would be twice as stupid, but somewhere in there, I felt like I hit the bull's-eye.

I'm permanently stuck in this body and simply my ability to die narrowed down to impossible.

Though, I was new in this soul business, one thing I got right. My body somehow survived, or my soul simply materializes and became one with my body. Whichever it was, from an ordinary Stacy Ann Jenkins I became a freak of nature. In other words, I was an error, and I needed to know what exactly triggered the part about my particular condition. Something told me it was due to my body rejecting the fera, or in other words my demon soul. I was supposed to be consumed in every sense of the way by a demon. And my body didn't let it happen.

What I didn't tell my group of listeners was that it wasn't all that Ruth said. Our conversation was short, but she gave me more details on my condition. I just found it unnecessary to share with strangers, even though I've already spilled almost everything from my past. Almost.

The part I didn't tell them was about why after my dying schedule was messed up, I haven't been offered the second change. And it was rather simple, indeed.

There are no free passes as you can see. I somehow broke the natural cycle and instead of dying like any other normal person should have, I refused to summon to my death. My soul was forever marked as "error" and left together with my body run free without an opportunity of ever coming back home. To Eden.

And if my worst suspicion was correct. Then I was no better than Demon or the Fallen Angels. I was a banned from entering a life cycle human. Why? Because I went against the rules. Even if my reasons were sound.

I could be wrong. Because maybe, just perhaps, there was a bigger reason behind my miracle survival. And all that I came to know after spending so many weeks surrounded by death and demonic aura in the loony bin, messed me up more than I realized. I wasn't crazy. I just knew too much that made me think that I haven't even scratched the top of the iceberg, yet.

"So what happened, next?" a male voice sounded out behind my back. Instantly something shifted, and four guns were pointing somewhere behind me.

I swear, I stopped fearing guns or any kind of weapons, but if for people in two thousand ten was natural to carry a gun in their pants...God, what has happened to this world for this past half a century I missed.

"What the hell, Chris!" I heard Ash yelling. "Do you freaking know the rules..."

I glanced at Mike, then at George, then my eyes traveled to Charlotte, who was only in the group sitting with a frown on her face and crossed arms at her chest looking pissed. Then, I looked at Ash and the nameless boy, who I'm sure, had a name I just never heard it out loud. Then I slowly turned around to meet blue eyes of Chris.

He had a gun of his own that he was pointing at me. My stomach clenched uncomfortably at a sight of a gun into my face, but I refused to let fear take over me, and before he could speak or even press the trigger, I sighed and rotated on the chair to face the table again. I wanted to taste the theory of my supposed immortality, but not today.

"Anyhow, I went into hiding and for three weeks had been jumping from motel to motel looking for a place to stay and blend in. But instead of worrying about my well-being, I was worrying about my mother. I knew that I had to go back home at least to warn her about Tyr Palus and his brother. She was who she was, but she was my mother, and I couldn't leave her like bait on a hook. And in a certain sense, she was. I came right into hands of Tyr," I said unemotionally.

After I had spoken, I noticed everyone shift again. The guns disappeared as fast as they appeared making me wonder again, who the hell those people were. The irony.

Chris went to the kitchen counter and got himself a cup from the upper cabinet. Then he slowly reached the table where six of us were seated and placed the cup in the middle. After that, he retrieved from the living room and in a moment came back with a chair.

I watched him dismissing Mike and Ash and sitting next to George. Surprisingly, his landing on the chair was graceful; at least it looked graceful to me. Not that I didn't notice it already that he was quite a looker with his brown hair and absolutely gorgeous face. And it wasn't my lonely heart speaking, it was a fact, and unfortunately, it didn't mean anything to me.

Chris filled his cup with coffee from the glass coffee pot and made a slow show of taking a sip. Then, he finally sat back on the chair focusing his attention on me.

I rolled my eyes. "Right," I clicked my tongue showing him that he could cut the act. I wasn't interested. So I just looked back at George. "When I returned home I found our house filled his guests as if nothing ever happened. As if I never went missing. My mother only smiled at me and told me to go clean myself up in my room. Tyr was among the guests..."


May 19, 1963. Jenkins residence.


The laughter of the guests at the party rang in every part of the house. I found myself standing in the middle of my room bewildered trying to connect the dots and see the big picture. Something was wrong with Sheila. She was too content and smiled almost robotically at me like I was one of her guests. Tyr walked me upstairs with his gaze that told me everything. Basically, saying that if I wanted to live, I shouldn't have returned. I shook off the feeling of despair and went to my bathroom to clean myself up.

When I was done, I pulled some presentable ensemble that consisted of a pair of pants and a green blouse and pulling my shoes on I spun to the door and froze.

"Hello, sweetheart," Tyr murmured lazily eyeing me like a predator. "You know everything yourself. So why have you made such a mistake of coming back home?"

I gulped, but instead of responding something else left my mouth. "What are you?" I blurted.

Tyr smiled wider and took a couple of steps towards me. When he was close enough to feel his breath on my face that smelled like static electricity. I couldn't help but wince. It reminded me so much of his brother and my memory of him still remained full of terror.

To keep me still, Tyr grabbed my chin in his iron grip and forced my face up. Unwillingly my eyes met his and I gulped nervously again unable to move away.

"What do you think I am?" he asked me and leaned to place a kiss on my lips. It was barely a touch, but it had nothing romantic about it. Once, his lips were on mine I felt something like poison invading my mouth. He kissed me again, and I watched his eyes color shift from dark brown to black. He kissed me again, and again, and once more, deepening the kiss each time. I whimpered from the pain he caused me and tried to release myself from him, but I couldn't. I just stood there motionless.

At last, he stopped and hissed into my mouth dissatisfied.

"Immune," he spat angrily. Then he seemed to collect himself as a new thought entered his head and he smirked at me. "So, you still want me to tell you who I am?" he asked and when I didn't answer he cocked one eyebrow observing me mockingly. "Any guesses, Stacy Ann? Or you're as naïve and oblivious as always?"

"You're not human," I said monotonously still having a full mouth of his poison. It was like some sort of sedative that numbed me from head to toe last time and nearly causes my death. Hence, if Ruth was right, I was already past due, and it was not really necessary at the moment.

"Of course not!" he exclaimed irritatingly at my slowness. "I'm better. I'm what you humans call a fallen angel, just better. I was born of a fallen angel and a mother of all darkness. Do you know what their names are?" he leaned again bringing his lips to my ear. "Lilith and Lucifer," he whispered. My thundering heart stopped beating for a moment, and I sensed ice cold pricking all over my chest.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


"Bullshit!" Chris exclaimed. "Bull – shit!" He jumped up dropping his chair behind him. "Why do you even sitting here listening to this bull crap? It was evident from the second one that she is mental," he yelled pointing his finger at me. "Now she is saying some kind of religious sect nonsense."

"Who's Lilith?" I heard Charlotte asking the nameless boy.

"I don't know," he shrugged and looked at George. "Who's Lilith?" he whispered to him.

"Dial it in Google and check it, Ian. You are not five."

Ian huffed rolling his eyes and shrugged his shoulders again.

"Shut up, Chris," Mike shot his glare. "We know how you feel about religion, but don't accuse every single person in being crazy. Just sit your ass down and let her finish."

"What did you just say to me," Chris expression turned angry and in a split second he lunged himself on Mike. "Repeat it into my face," he pinned Mike down on the floor together with the chair and held his fist above his face. Mike didn't flinch, just I sensed discomfort radiating of off him.

"Enough!" George thundered. "If you have any problem with anyone at this table you're more than welcome to leave my house, Chris. Otherwise, sit your ass down and shut the hell up."

Chris glared at me clearly unhappy with the results of this argument and jumped away from Mike. "She's wasting your time," he pointed at me. "Screw you all," he spat and started unhurriedly making his way out of the kitchen.

I bit my lip thinking of Chris. He made a point. What I said was as insane as it could get for an ordinary person, but the problem was that it was true, even if it sounded crazy.

"Do you want to shoot me, Chris?" I asked him calmly. He stopped moving and abruptly spun around.

"What was that?" he gave me a dirty look.

"You heard me," I repeated. "According to you I'm a liar and everything I said came from my demented imagination. Do you want to shoot me? You can proof yourself right and be a hero for a society getting rid of someone as insane as myself. So what do you say, Chris? Do you want to taste a theory or are you too chicken?"

"You are clearly insane," he spat with disgust.

"What are you losing then?" he remained silent glaring at me wide-eyed. "Okay, how about my shoulder. Aim into my shoulder, or my leg, of my hand?" I involuntarily opened my hand noticing that the scratches on my palm started bleeding again. Maybe I was wrong about my inability to die. Pain in my body didn't lessen a notch. So, I could be dead wrong about the rest of my assumptions. I slowly rose from the seat and went to stand in front of Chris. I knew how scary my eyes looked, and I knew for sure I scared Chris with my delicate appearance, but I stayed firm on my desire to be shot to know for sure if I'm invincible in that sense. At least, I found no bullet wounds on me from the Collector's shots. Worst-case scenario, I'll end up wounded and bleed. Again.

"If you die, I hold you responsible," he finally said and then shook his head muttering profanities under his breath.

"Deal," I looked down examining my both palms not sure which to offer since both of them were severely damaged and not in the condition to 'shake hands.' "Never mind," I dismissed my urge to shake hands and started moving out of the house followed by Chris, who still was muttering some unhealthy words. "Any neighbors?" I asked when reached the front door.

"Would that stop you?" he asked with a snort.

"No, but it might give them a whole new reason to call the police and put you in jail for that," I replied calmly.

He sighed heavily. "Just move. I'm about to shoot you right now."

We walked out into the front yard of a two-story wooden cabin. I glanced around noting that a thick forest surrounded this area, and as I scanned farther into the surrounding, there was no visible human vicinage. Not really surprised, I found the rest of the spectators scattering out of the front door, chatting lively as if they were about to watch a circus performance. I glanced their way noticing that none of them had a worried look. Charlotte scoffed again when Ash pushed her back into the house saying something about her age. George was silent, but still held a hint of curiosity deep down in his gaze. Ian remained skeptical about my whole experiment but nonetheless, watched Chris and I taking our positions opposite each other. Mike, however, the only one of the group had uncertainty in his eyes.

"Are you ready?" Chris almost barked out.

"As ready as I can get," I replied and watched him raising his right arm with a gun firmly set in his hand.

Here it is.

The moment of truth.

I held my breath, as he pressed harder on the trigger...

Click, Click, click, click, click...cl...cl...cl...

And nothing happened. The gun hadn't fired a single bullet out of the pistol. Chris frowned at the gun making me fight a smile. Then, he turned the point of the gun in the direction of the woods and made several gunshots. Looking angry, he pointed it back at me. And the bullet stuck inside, again.

"What the hell!" he exclaimed staring at me with a wild look on his face.

If only I knew myself. Tsk.

Then there was another gunshot, and as it thundered through the air, all five men exclaimed CHARLOTTE. While they all shout out her name, I heard a clink of metal, but no pain came. I looked up and saw Charlotte sitting in the window holding a gun. Despite her age she looked mature, and the gun in her hand didn't actually look out of place. Her brows, though, were creased together.

"Charlotte!" George exclaimed. "No video games for the entire week and no TV."

"But, Why?" she whined. "She wanted to be shot! I can do that it was better than Chris! Besides, I don't understand!" she exclaimed. "I aimed perfectly well into the side of her shoulder. I made a shot! But where the heck the bullet is?"

I looked down rather curiously and started searching for the bullet on the ground. Interesting. I noted to myself. But now I knew for sure. A smile stretched on my face, and I looked up meeting Chris's fearful blue eyes instantly.

"Stacy," he whispered. "The bullet is stuck in the air right above your shoulder."   

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