Chapter 8
Eight
Kai
Pacing in a dark hallway filled with shadows, I pause.
Closed doors of varying shapes and sizes surround me.
Some wooden, some metal. Some tall, some miniature.
They all have one thing in common: each door is locked.
As I run from door to door, jimmying the doorknobs, a wave of anxiety overtakes me, knocking the breath out of me.
I’m stuck. Again.
There is no escape.
I won’t ever escape.
I slip from sleep, immediately jolting and gasping for air, the faint glow of moonlight beaming through my bedroom window bringing me back to my senses.
What the hell? I haven’t had that particular dream since before my death.
It’s as if the ruling stole the temporary sense of peace I’ve felt the past two years…
This must be a joke. A cruel, sick joke.
I run my hand through my hair and take a deep breath, lying back down. Judging by the sky’s current state, the sun won’t rise for another hour or so. I don’t have to head to the ancient library until then. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to forget the details of the dream I just had.
I could go back to sleep—heaven knows I need it after the roller coaster I’ve been stuck on over the past twenty-four hours. Or I could get a head start on the day with a good walk. Maybe it’s time I smell the roses or something like that. I’m sure that could be considered therapeutic.
Regardless of where I go from here, there’s no way I’ll fall back asleep after that one… So it’s time to wakey-wakey.
I meander into my bathroom casually, slipping out of my pants and turning on the shower’s valve to the warm side. The Middle Realm wouldn’t be nearly as opulent without showers.
In good ole angel-afterlife-fashion, the shower isn’t like the ones in the land below, though.
No, instead of plumbing, the water disperses from a small rain cloud resting inches below the bathroom’s marble ceiling.
The realm’s divine light powers the cloud, gifted to us by the Archangels.
I guess this is one thing I can thank them for.
As I step into the shower, I close my eyes, stand under the piping hot water, and focus on what lies ahead.
It’s funny, but I envisioned my afterlife almost entirely differently from my experience so far.
Before dying, I thought there could be something else, something bigger in store.
I had no clue what that something really was.
But becoming a Guardian Angel for my grieving sister and breaking a divine law so big that it ruined my chances of ascending anytime soon? Yeah, that sure as hell wasn’t on my bingo card.
Where do I go from here, though? How long will I have to serve in the library?
Will I ever be permitted to ascend, or will I be stuck here forever?
What about my wings? Nearly everyone who stays in the Middle Realm has wings.
I was looking forward to seeing the color of mine, but knowing it could take a million years to ever earn them takes the fun out of it.
Look, I know, I know—I broke the law. The honorable thing to do is to accept the consequences and let it be. I had fully intended to do that last night, but as soon as they declared the verdict, my optimism depleted.
The way they punished Cleo struck me, too. It doesn’t take a genius to gather that she finds purpose in her role in the Middle Realm. Being suspended indefinitely over something so seemingly minor irks me.
I roll my head back and release an exasperated sigh. After spending a sufficient amount of time wallowing in self-pity, I decide it’s useless and step out of the shower, wrapping a fluffy cream-colored towel around my hips.
Stepping out of the bathroom into my bedroom, I notice a beam of light shining in through the window onto my bed.
The sun breaks across the sky, casting it into shades of lavender and pale pink.
It reminds me of the sunrises I used to watch on Earth.
While this sunrise is objectively more vivid, I can’t stop images of the Cove’s sunrises from flooding my mind. My old home.
Visiting my old hometown would probably give me the reset I need. A quick visit to the Cove wouldn’t hurt anyone. Hell, no one would even miss me here… If only it were that easy. I turn away from the window and decide to get dressed.
It’s like it’s the first day of school. Only, instead of making new friends, I’ll be cozying up with dusty old books and scrolls, my only companion being an angel who would set me on fire if she could.
I press the library’s sensor with my pointer finger and await for it to unlock. Hearing the latch click, I open the golden doors and take in the vast space.
I have always called this the “ancient library” because, well, it is ancient, but I guess it’s technically known as the “Library of the Sky” here.
Striding leisurely, my eyes drift up to the arched ceiling covered in oil paintings of clouds.
Yet again, I can’t help but wonder who we hired to paint all the murals in this realm.
The style of these paintings reminds me of the famous Starry Night painting, with its swirling blue sky.
Maybe that same artist took the liberty of painting these clouds after his death.
Unlike other parts of the realm, we can’t have authentic clouds in here, not with all the books and scrolls. Several tall mahogany bookcases surround me, containing thousands of books varying in color, shape, and size, complete with timeless ladders to reach the highest shelves.
It’s settled. Jasper would enjoy this space. I think.
A circular marble information desk with golden accents takes up the middle portion of the room—I presume that’s where they’ll station me. Damn, do I feel inadequate; I haven’t checked out a library book in over a decade, and I never even set foot into the library of the high school I coached at.
Venturing around the desk, I catch a subtle waft of eucalyptus. I follow the scent through the bookcases on either side of me, which leads me to an occupied book nook with a window view.
Am I surprised she got here early? Not in the slightest.
“Eager, are we?” I call out, approaching the cozy spot she’s claimed as her own.
I’d estimate she arrived at least an hour before me based on how comfortable she’s made herself here, covered in blankets and all. Her head turns toward me, her dark eyes lifting from the book she’s holding to me.
“Must you always speak so loudly?” she whispers coolly, turning her gaze back to the book.
“Must you always speak so properly?” I whisper mockingly. She rolls her eyes, unamused. Again. “Whatcha reading?”
She continues reading, ignoring my question. I step closer.
“Would it kill you to try?” I smirk, scratching my chin.
Talking to her is like talking to a wall.
I draw a breath, turning around and walking back to the information desk to await further instructions from the library’s overseer.
They haven’t arrived yet—I can’t blame them, I’d sleep in, too, if I could—but I’m sure they will soon.
Can’t kill someone already dead inside, a voice whispers so faintly from several feet behind me I almost miss it. I toss her a glance, noticing she’s still reading—almost as if she didn’t utter a word.
My mind must be playing tricks on me. Wouldn’t be the first time.
I approach the desk and step into the center behind the counter, noting two comfortable beige chairs for the first time. I lean back into one, resting my arm on the rest, and then glance at the staircase leading to the archives, recalling my last encounter with Cleo there.
Despite not sharing her theories about the nature of my relationship with Jasper, Cleo really has come through for me. Without her, I would’ve never been able to learn why Jasper could see me. Hell, I wouldn’t have even been able to visit the library.
And what have I done in return for her? Nothing. Zilch.
In fact, I hurt her.
And that doesn’t sit right with me.
I can’t blame her for giving me the cold shoulder, but damnit, my stomach is in knots over it.
“Kai Greene, I presume?” A different voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts. I glance up to see a woman with short, curly black hair and blue eyes standing over me. I rise out of my seat smoothly and reach out to shake her hand. “I’m Hadley, the library’s overseer. Welcome! Have you seen Cleo yet?”
“Oh—”
“I’m here, Hadley.” I turn to face Cleo as she slips her novel back on the bookshelf behind the desk.
“Splendid, you both arrived earlier than I anticipated.” Hadley claps her hands together.
“What a good way to start your divine services here! Come along, eager beavers. The sooner I show you the ropes, the better.” She waves her hands for us to follow her.
I take the lead, following right behind her as Cleo trails me.
Wait a minute… I don’t think I’ve gotten a single word in since meeting this angel—
“The library is organized into three different sections. The first is a collection of novels for entertainment purposes, located on the left side. The second is a collection of nonfiction books, situated on the right side. The third is the archives chamber, located on the upper level near additional lounging areas. You two have visited the archives before, so I don’t anticipate needing to emphasize the importance of keeping track of those.
Those scrolls and tomes may not be taken outside the library, unlike our entertainment and nonfiction books,” she explains while walking, brushing all the book spines we pass with her fingertips.
We reach the staircase and ascend, arriving just outside the doors to the locked archives.
This level’s walls are lined with tall windows, flooding the space with soft, natural light.
To enter the archives chamber, we have to use a separate sensor from the one outside the library.
Hadley presses her finger against the sensor, unlocking the door.
The massive, circular room has one small window—unlike how the rest of the library is full of windows.
Instead, it primarily glows with soft, warm beacons of candlelight.
In the center of the room sits an oversized, round, purple amethyst table, with several candles placed on marble candlesticks resting atop it, their flames never-ending and lighting the room.
The walls feature built-in shelves that extend from the floor to the high ceiling.
Rolled-up scrolls, ancient books, various knick-knacks, and dust flood the shelves.
The room is overfilled with so many items that some scrolls, letters, and books sprawl across the porcelain floor itself.
It’s nearly impossible to find specific information in the archives, considering how dusty and chaotic it is.
Finding records here during my guardianship was challenging, to say the least.
“You will work on several projects for the library during your sentence, including organizing books, auditing scrolls and tomes, renovations, and more. On a day-to-day basis, you can expect to assist several angels with finding and checking out books.” She nods her chin toward the chaos engulfing the shelves.
“Tidying up and reorganizing the archives will be your main initiative and highest priority. This space has been the least nurtured as of late, so it needs lots of love.”
“How long do you expect this project to take?” Cleo stands next to the amethyst table, her arms crossed, brows low.
Hadley chuckles. “Well, there are roughly a thousand articles that need to be organized and audited here, so I’d estimate it will take several weeks. The better you two work together, the sooner you’ll finish the job!”
Weeks. We’ll be spending weeks in this dusty-ass chamber, sorting through old stuff I couldn’t care less about.
“Great,” I mutter under my breath, my tone laced with sarcasm.
“Should you need anything at all, please come find me. I’m around most of the time.”
“That’s it? No further instructions?” I ask, confused.
“That’s it. You two can decide amongst yourselves how to go about this first project,” she affirms, turning to leave.
This might be the most laissez-faire work environment I’ve ever had. That’s one perk, at least.
Hadley’s footsteps echo down the staircase, leaving Cleo and me alone together. Wasting no time, she joins my side and reaches into the pocket of her loose black linen pants, pulling out a small object.
“Here.” She holds up a box, opening it so I can see a solid gold ring. “Put this on.”
“Damn, we're moving too fast. At least take me to dinner first, Cleo.” I scoff while gazing down at her and stare at the ring. Something about it seems… off. She pinches her nose with her opposite hand and lets out an exasperated huff.
“I suppose I’ll have to put it on for you.
” She grabs my right hand—her touch gentler than I expected, considering her hostile tone today—and slips the ring on my pointer finger.
As she does, a burning sensation spreads across my hand, funneling through the rest of my body.
The ring melds with my skin, causing panic to rise in my chest.
What the hell is this thing?
She doesn’t let go of my hand, though. Her touch remains soft, reassuring, even—reminding me of a blanket’s embrace on a winter day.
The feel of her hand over mine comforts me in a way words can’t adequately describe.