And Gideon yelled at them, expression stricken and desperate. When neither responded, too lost in their grief, he shoved Jai out of the way and put his mouth to my dead lips. Gideon worked furiously, his lips moving. He said my name over and over, begging me to come back. But I didn’t.
Fisting one of his hands, he brought it down on my chest violently over and over. I swore I felt the echo of pain every time he struck me, but it was a detached ache. My physical body was separated from me by the veil, and I could only watch as Gideon slammed his fist into my chest again and again.
At long last, the fight left him, and he slumped, his hands hovering over me as his face twisted in anguish. He gathered me into his arms and buried his face in my hair, rocking me back and forth as he shattered apart.
Unable to face their pain, I turned away, tears pouring down my cheeks. The Maker watched me, Their eyes brimming with sorrow.
“They’re hurting,” I said.
They said, “Yes.”
“I could stop it.”
They nodded.
“I could go back.”
“Yes, you could.”
“How?” I touched my bloody torso. “I’m dead. I traded my soul for Gideon’s; you said so yourself.”
Another nod. “We did, but the soul is a complicated thing.”
“What—”
“Your soul has been split a very long time. By choice or Fate?” the Creator mused. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. But you gave all you had, tearing your soul apart for the one you love. For Gideon to live, your soul is forfeit.”
“A soul for a soul,” I said.
As the Maker’s appearance changed again—a Latina girl with a birthmark covering almost half her face—They said, “Balance must be maintained.”
“Then how can I go back?”
At that, They smiled. “Your soul is forfeit. But your soul is rather unique, divided in ways even we did not foresee. You extracted your soul—or rather, one half of it. Your Fallen soul is enough. It is an acceptable offering. Consider our bargain complete. Your debt is paid.”
“My Fallen soul? What does that mean?” I rubbed my forehead, confused.
“It means, Riley Shepard, that you will return Angel in all the ways that matter. You will have limitations, as your soul is not… complete.” I could tell from Their expression that They didn’t like the word choice. With a shake of Their head, They continued, “But you are bonded with three strong, noble men. We are confident you will do just fine.”
“That doesn’t sound fair,” I said, and the Maker arched an eyebrow. I rushed to explain. “I mean, to you. Or to the balance. I mean, how is half a soul equal to one full soul? Or is… Gideon has his soul, right?”
They laughed, a tinkling wind chime so like Noel’s. “Leave the balance to us. We are just and fair, but we are also merciful. Allow us this. For all you have sacrificed, it is time you received grace.”
Justice. Mercy. Two sides to the same coin.
The breeze rustled through my hair, and the branches of my tree danced. The blackbirds chirped, and I breathed deep. It would be easy to stay here, to open the door to Elysium and embrace my mother for the first time. I would dance with her in the meadow and learn forgiveness at my father’s hand. Blue would sing in his screechy voice as I played Canasta with Bethany and Sharon. Beau and I would stand on the shore together, watching the horizon for the boats of those we loved.
I would wait for my angels for eternity, and when they finally set sail, I’d welcome them home and tell them how much I’d missed them.
Yes, I could stay here, and it would be good. It would be easy. Nothing would hurt anymore, and I could finally rest.
“Living is hard,” I said as the sunshine warmed my face. “There’s pain and sadness and loss. Death is easy. It’s warm here and comforting. I don’t hurt here.”
“It isn’t called Paradise for nothing,” the Maker said with a cheeky grin, and I barked a laugh. “You have fought valiantly, beloved. There is no shame in wanting to rest.”
They cupped my face, Their hands soft and warm. Love overflowed from Their face as They gazed at me like I was someone precious.
“You are loved beyond measure, and that will never change. Whether you stay with us or return to them, we will be proud to call you our child.” Tugging me down to Their height, the Creator of all popped onto Their toes and placed a kiss on my forehead. “Well done, our good and faithful child. We look forward to the day you come home to us forever. On that day, there will be much rejoicing. We will lead you to springs of living water, and you will no longer know pain or mourning, for the former things will have passed away.”
I swallowed thickly as a fat tear streaked down my cheek. Their thumbs brushed it away.
They said, “But that day is not today. Go in peace, beloved, and live.”
“Thank you,” I whispered as I straightened to my full height.
The Maker was an Indonesian girl now, hair fastened in a small bun. They rubbed my cheeks with Their thumbs, then They released me and stepped back.
I took a deep breath and turned around to face the second door. Jai was holding Noel as they wept. Gideon cradled my dead body to his chest, his index finger tracing the swell of my cheek. My chest ached, but their suffering was almost over. I would be there soon.
With trembling fingers, I clasped the doorknob. It was warm against my palm. Carefully, carefully, I twisted.
Glancing over my shoulder, I met the Maker’s loving gaze. “There’s one thing I still don’t understand,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“How do I even exist? How is any of this possible?”
Their smile was blinding as they said, “We told you. Love is our crowning achievement, the single greatest force in all the universe.”
They said, “Against all odds, love created you.”
They said, “Through sacrifice and strife, love protected you.”
They said, “And now, in the end, love has saved you.”
“I’d do it all again,” I said. “If it meant I had them, even for a moment, I would do it all again.”
And the Maker said, “We would expect nothing less.”
Without another word spoken between us, I turned my back on Elysium, on all the ones I’d lost but would one day meet again, and on my Maker. Facing my future, I opened the door and walked into the light.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Everything. Hurt.
I knew it would. But it was so much worse than I’d hoped. My leg throbbed, and my stomach burned. My organs screamed in protest as they attempted to knit back together again. Each nerve ending spasmed and shrieked with stabbing pain, like little knives jabbing every inch of my body. Rising from the dead sucked.
But it sucked less when sensation flooded my limbs and I felt someone’s hand clinging to mine. The fingers were callused and rough. Hot liquid dripped onto my knuckles as choppy breaths warmed my skin.
Someone was wailing, heart-wrenching sobs that tugged at my heartstrings. A heavy weight draped over my legs, twisting my hip at a painful angle as my torso was cradled to a vast chest. I smelled metal and mud, rain and blood. But through the overwhelming stench of death, I smelled peppermint. Peppermint and dokha and lilac and sunshine.