Between Heaven and Hell (PA #2)

Chapter Ten

It's raining today.

Drops of water plink against the metal roof of my house and thump against my window. It's very calming, watching droplets combine until gravity pulls them down in a steady stream on the glass.

The world outside my cozy room is hazy, obscured by rolling black clouds, pelting rain, and a solitary tree perched like a sentinel next to my window.

I don't mind it one bit; in fact, I find the whole thing to be very soothing. It's like I'm the only person alive in the whole universe, with only the rain for company.

"....poison..."

".......antidote....."

"...must consult the..."

These must be whispers in the wind. Except, the tree outside isn't moving, its branches are steady and its leaves are still.

"Is it exactly as you imagined?" a voice asks.

Startled, I turn around and spot a man. A man with a face that constantly shifts, never settling on a particular feature. He's old and grizzled one moment, only to be young and dashing the next. I accept this about him and do not fear him.

"What do you mean?"

His chin, which goes from rounded to pointed, juts toward the window. "The rain. Is it as you thought it would be?"

I follow his gaze. I still don't understand the question, but I nod anyway. Pressing my fingers against the glass, I feel the cold seep into my skin like tiny needles.

"....bloodwork...."

"....irregularities...."

"....further testing...."

The nonexistent wind continues to share its secrets. I disregard what can't be meant for me and focus instead on the changing man.

He still stares out the window, his eyes volleying through an array of colors before briefly settling on blue. Looking at me once again, his eyeballs are completely black. There's no white space, no color on the iris. Just black.

"You've done well so far, child. Everything is going according to plan," he tells me.

That's good to hear. I love it when a plan comes together. Even plans I have no recollection of, made by a man who fluctuates between degrees of familiarity.

I know him, and I'm sure I've never seen him before in my life. These two things should be mutually exclusive, but somehow they're not.

Like a child chasing after bubbles, I can't catch these thoughts before they disappear completely.

"...wake up...."

"...wake up...."

"...need..."

"...to..."

"...wake..."

"....up..."

The man raises his head, as though straining to hear the wind's whispers. He dips eyebrows that go from bushy to penciled on, before once more addressing me.

"I'll see you soon, daughter of Heaven and Hell and all the places in between."

This voice, I know I've heard his voice before.

He fades. When I turn back to the window, the view outside is drastically different. The rains have stopped, the clouds have moved on, but most glaring of all? Everything is on fire.