My Way to Hell (31 page)

And time was ticking away, precious time that could be used to keep Carlos from that monster. “Enough. We don’t have time to feel sorry for ourselves. So let’s figure this out.” If she kept her goal set on keeping Carlos from Armando, she could force what she knew she had to do from her thoughts for the moment.

“Maybe there’s some kind of spell or something we could use to stop him. If you found one to capture his soul, there must be more. But nonetheless, I’m in.
Whatever
you need, I’m in.”

She looked away to keep her eyes from revealing how close Darwin was to the truth. “Well, Brain, the problem is, we’re not exactly a force to be reckoned with.” She held up a transparent hand. “Or I’m not, anyway. You can’t go this alone. He’ll massacre you. We have to catch him by surprise.”

Darwin sat up straight with such force, he shook the bench. “That’s it. By hell. That’s it!” He jumped up, pulling her with him and bouncing his round body up and down.

Her head bobbed while she bounced, too, utterly confused. “What’s it?”

“I know exactly what we need to do. So listen up, Marcella Acosta. We have a rogue demon to catch.”

Marcella knew exactly what she had to do, too. At this precise moment, she knew it. Tasted it. Felt it in every pore of her body.

She could save Carlos from Armando. There was a way.

It just wasn’t a way that would leave happiness in its wake.

But unfortunately, for all of Darwin’s bravado, for all of his motivational speeches, there was no way to change what she was. What Kellen was.

She was a ghost.

Kellen was a human.

Never the twain shall meet.

 

 

 

“If this woman doesn’t kill me with her mouth, she’ll kill me with worry,” Kellen ranted to Delaney, who’d come the moment he called. It had been hours since Marcella had vanished. His worry that she’d been sucked back to that plane grew with each second that ticked painfully by. He sat with Delaney and Clyde around his small kitchen table, coffee cups with stone-cold liquid in them littering the surface of the chipped Formica.

“Have you tried thinking about her in her, well, you know . . .” Clyde asked, looking down at the table. “That was how you got her here the first time, right?”

Kellen’s nod was curt. All he could do was think about her. “I have, and nothing seems to be working.”

“So she just disappeared into thin air?”

“Yep. We were . . . uh. Yeah.” He halted, forcing his face to remain unreadable. “She just disappeared.”

“Damn,” Clyde commented with a grin that was all male, all knowing. “In the middle of, you know, the whoopee?”

Delaney swatted his arm and frowned. “That’s none of our business. But seeing as you brought the subject up—are you and Marcella—you know, slammin’ the—”

“A gentleman never tells.” But his eyes took a break from worried and became warm and uncharacteristically sentimental against his will.

Throwing her arms around his neck, Delaney squealed, but just as suddenly dropped her arms, a frown forming on her face. “Why couldn’t the two of you have figured out that you were hot for each other before she became a ghost? Talk about shitty timing.”

Kellen’s gut twisted in a knot. “Still nothing in the way of ideas about how to keep her here?”

Her sigh was that of frustration. “Not a blessed thing. I’m still wondering how she’s managed to stay as long as she has.”

Kellen decided to throw something out there that he’d given much thought to in the hours since Marcella had disappeared. “Why couldn’t she just stay here as a ghost?”

Clyde’s and Delaney’s heads both popped up. “What kind of life is that, Kell? For either of you?”

His response was quiet, yet deadly serious. “It’s better than none at all.”

Delaney’s mouth fell open. She clasped Kellen’s hands between hers. “You’re in love with Marcella.”

He didn’t answer. His chest grew too tight to acknowledge it with words.

Pressing Kellen’s fist to her forehead, Delaney bit her lower lip. “I want to jump up and down and cry all at the same time. You two couldn’t have done this five years ago? Even six months ago? You know, the two of you are the most stubborn, pigheaded fools I know! When you finally come to your senses, everything’s gone to shit.”

Kellen gripped her hand harder. “We have to find a way to keep her here, Delaney. But not just that, we have to find out for sure if that’s really Armando in Solana’s body.” When he’d explained what Marcella suspected, Delaney went from mortified to angry to ready to take action. According to her, all they had to do was summon Armando’s soul and draw him out of Solana’s body. It was dangerous because an angry demon was a vengeful demon. A million things could go wrong that Delaney staunchly refused to voice, but made her face go chalk white.

Delaney rolled her shoulders and sat up straight. “Okay, first things first. While we wait for Marcella to show up, Clyde and I will go hunt for some of the things we’ll need to get that son of a bitch out of his host’s body. We’ll work out the when and how when I get back, because, if nothing else, we have to have a plan. A solid one with backup.” She rose from the table, holding out her hand to Clyde. “So call me if you hear from Marcella. And tell her I said if she found a way to hit the mall, the least she could have done was ask me to come with,” Delaney joked, clearly attempting to lighten his dour mood.

Thumping Kellen on the back, Clyde said, “I know your worry, friend. So I won’t say something absurd like don’t worry. Just sit tight till we get back.” He followed Delaney out the door, leaving Kellen in abysmal silence again. He sat back down and fiddled with the handle of his cup, unable to stop the visions of Marcella that swarmed his mind’s eye. If that motherfucker Armando had touched a hair on her head, he’d hurl a case of fucking Morton’s at him right before he made his eyes bleed by dangling prisms over his head.

“Could I wear something crazy like footie pajamas and a scarf when you think me up? It’s cold outside.”

Kellen’s chair scraped the linoleum, his head whipping around to find the corner she hovered in. “Jesus Christ, Marcella! Where the hell did you go? Is it Carlos?”

Marcella brushed his arm with her hand, her nerves frazzled for what she was about to do—lie—stall—lie, lie, lie. “No. I just had a sudden urge to take one last shot at the Pier 1 semiannual sale. Alas”—she held up her hands—“nothing. Still can’t pick a damned thing up.” She smiled up at him.

He grabbed her shoulders and gazed down at her, smoothing the tension in her arms. “Okay, now let’s be serious. Where did you go? Did Carlos summon you again?”

She couldn’t look him in the eye, her throat tightening to the point of uncomfortable. “No. I just needed to think.” This was the right thing to do. To go on believing she’d ever be able to give Kellen all the human things he so wanted, whether he’d admit it or not, was delusional. But it didn’t make the right thing to do any less painful.

“About?”

How to cap that motherfucker Armando.
Again.
How to walk away from a man she’d fallen desperately in love with and wanted to be able to watch
The Bachelorette
with, every Monday night like clockwork. How to do it without crying like the total sissy-ass she’d become, and do it convincingly. “This whole thing. You know, you, me . . . what’s happened between us.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave her his most intense gaze. “I’m ready.”

“For?”

“The freak. You’re pulling away. I can feel it.”

Her heart thumped against her chest with hard slaps. Summoning up the Marcella of old, she hardened her face, letting her body language convey the necessary mood. “Ask yourself this, Kellen. Do you really believe there’s a chance I can stay here on this plane? Like, really stay.
All of me.
Do you really believe we can ever have a normal, average relationship the way things are now? Because you’re kidding yourself,” she scoffed.

His jaw tightened. “There was never anything average or normal about you, Marcella.”

“And there never will be. I was a demon. Now I’m a ghost. You’re a human. How do you bring your see-through girlfriend to the softball games you play once a week with the other teachers? How do you have a family and do all the normal human things families do, with a woman no one can see but you? You can’t, because it’s ridiculously sentimental and stupid. We aren’t the Ghost and Mrs. Muir
.
”

Kellen’s stance grew rigid, the gorgeous planes of his face determined. “I told you I would find a way to keep you here, Marcella, and I meant it.”

She gave a snort, dripping with derision. “Right, Superman. You do that. In the meantime, I’m out. This can only end badly, so I’m ending it before we get in any deeper. We’ll have nice memories, smile fondly about them someday. Now go off and get that cute blonde wife you’ve always wanted. Get married at the local VFW hall, have a couple of kids, and do Fourth of July picnics with Delaney, Clyde, and their twelve hundred orphans from Somalia, okay?”

Grabbing her by the arm, he shook his head, his teeth clenched. “Blondes were never my thing.”

“Well, a woman who doesn’t float and can change her own panties all by her big-girl self is. Or will be—
should
be. You’ll only become defensive as time goes by due to a situation I can’t change. If you thought you hated me before, imagine how much you’ll hate me when I can’t attend PTA meetings for the children you’ll never have. Besides, who knows how much longer I can stick around anyway? For all we know, the next time I disappear, it could be for good.”

“Or things could remain just as they are.” Kellen’s answer to their dilemma was stoic, but oh so solemn.

That he was willing to make that kind of sacrifice made her heart clench so hard, it felt as though someone had their hand wrapped around it. Yet a sacrifice of that magnitude could only lead to heartbreak. “You know what?”

“What?”

Marcella decided to turn the tables on him. Play the selfish man card. Whatever it took to discourage him from a relationship that would only become strained from its limitations. She knew ruthless. She understood anger. It was crucial that she rediscover those emotions if she was going to do this right. “Do you realize how selfish it is of you to ask me to stay here with you? Have you given any thought to the idea that someday, you’ll die? You’ll hit those pearly gates with the kind of joy that
should
be associated with crossing over. Me? I’ll be peeking through them from the outside looking in. I’ll have to face an eternity alone. I think I’ve done my time, Kellen, and I’m not doing any more. Not even for
you
.” If there were any way, if she believed there were even the slightest possibility she could find a way to become earthbound again, she’d grab it and never let go. But they both knew that was impossible.

“You’re running away again,” he taunted, pulling her in closer, drawing her to his chest, enticing her with the security of his arms. Arms she wanted to never leave.

And she couldn’t let that happen. Carlos was at stake, and there was no way she was going to let Kellen in on that. If he knew Carlos was her great-grandchild, there’d be no stopping Kellen from trying to protect him. If Armando found out how important Kellen was to her, he’d see him dead just so he could revel in her anguish.

She’d begun this cycle of vengeance—she’d end it all on her own—without anyone else’s well-being in the mix. Too many people had been hurt by what she’d done so long ago. No. More.

Pushing from him, she winked a saucy, flirtatious eye, just like she’d always done, a million times before. Though her teeth clenched together and her heart crashed against her ribs. “And you can watch my cute ass as I do it.” And then she softened, because looking at him was going to be her end. “So please, Kellen. Just let me go,” she whispered, planting a gentle kiss on the lips she so wished to linger upon forever. “Tell Carlos, no matter what, I didn’t just ditch him. I know he won’t understand why I’m leaving, but someday, please explain.” Marcella turned from him then, swallowing hard, fighting the temptation to float right back into his arms and stay there.

His warning was gruff, raspy, tearing at her from the inside out. “Don’t walk away, Marcella.”

She wasn’t walking. She was floating. Right out the fucking door and away from the kind of pain that she’d have to live with for an eternity.

“Her?” Marcella asked, pointing to one of two women who leaned against the high desk’s counter. One woman, all of maybe twenty-five, stood with her hand planted saucily on her voluptuous hip, while the other hand busied itself twirling a strand of thick, dark hair with flirtatious zeal.

Darwin leaned in to Marcella. “Well, if honesty’s playing a part in this body hunt, you have to admit, she’s certainly a close facsimile to you. You know, big breasts, small waist, bodacious ba-donk-a-donk. Admittedly she falls to the trailer-park-ish side of things, I’ll grant you, but close enough.”

The idea here was to find a host body for Marcella to possess so that catching Armando while he was still in Solana’s body would be two against one. She at least needed working limbs to be able to pick up something heavy and brain that bastard over the head—hard.

Ah, déjà vu.

Marcella eavesdropped on the conversation the two women were having at the End of the Rainbowl Bowling Alley and Brews. The one with the long dark hair and legs that should be illegal in a pair of Lycra biking shorts gave her not-quite-as-striking gal pal a little shove. “Go ahead, Margie. Gawwwd. You’ve been givin’ him the once-over all night. Just go do it.” She hiked up her bountiful round C cups with a wink and a giggle.

Margie, shorter and dressed like she’d just left her local VFW’s annual pig roast slash clambake, was pensive. Scratch that, she was downright green. She tightened the knot on the ice blue sweater precisely thrown over the top of her shoulders and played with the strand of pearls around her long neck. “But it’s so forward, Pat! I can’t,” she moaned with a cry, clucking her tongue while she waffled.