Yet he heard her voice loud and clear in his mind. Why do you think there’s only a single stairway to heaven, but an entire highway to hell? Because it’s a lot easier to slide down than climb up, and it takes a whole lot less energy to boot. But the one thing about us Gautiers is that we never do anything that’s easy when there’s a major butt-kicking to be had.
“I get it,” he snapped at himself. “Nelly is dead. You can stop beating her.”
He had to keep going and not let anything stop him.
And as tempting as it was to turn around and run back to the caged safety he’d left behind, he’d have to cross just as much dangerous ground to return as he would to move forward where who knew what was waiting for him.
Why did I throw that rock?
’Cause he’d wanted to see what was there. And whoever said curiosity had killed the cat must have watched it walk off this precipice and get eaten by the monsters swimming below.
Okay. Focus. Got to keep going. And he couldn’t do that until he got back on his feet. He bit back a whimper at the mere thought.
Over, under, around, or blasting through like Bubba and Mark. There was always a way to get through any obstacle. You just had to find the right explosive.
Letting out a deep breath, Nick braced himself to stand up and move forward. I’ll just pretend I don’t know there’s a five-hundred-foot iguana in a sea below waiting for me to fall.
Or huge swords dangling over my head about to break off and plant me to the bridge …
It could be worse.
Yeah, right. Why did people say that when it was obvious bullshit? Really, it could not get worse.
At least that was the thought. But no sooner had those words gone through his mind than he heard the strident voices the wolf had warned him about.
You are going to fail. Who are you to think that you won’t? What makes you so special? Nothing. Nothing at all. You’re just like your worthless, selfish father. Everyone hates you. No one would care if you died right now. No one would miss you. They wouldn’t even send a card to your funeral.
Who do you think you are to venture here like somebody? You’re nothing but a pathetic waste who should never have been born. Your mother weeps over your birth and every time she thinks of you. The world would be much better off without you in it. Loser. Stupid. Retard. Moron.
Every horrible thought he’d ever had about himself … every doubt … every insult and harsh word that other people had leveled at him echoed in the dank darkness. Their cruelty and his own shouted until he could hear nothing else. Not even the pops of weakening ice.
Whoever said that words could never hurt you was a flank rank moron! ’Cause every one of them tore through him and shredded what little ego he had. They left his soul bleeding in agony. He felt like he was walking barefoot over a glass meadow with his heart strapped to the bottom of each foot.
Those words hurt so much more than any physical blow and they voiced all the inner doubts about himself that constantly flogged him.
I am a socially awkward mandork. No girl is ever going to want to be seen in public with someone as ugly and stupid as I am. Why should they? I’m never going to be anything more than a piece of ignorant, backwoods trash eking out a sorry existence where I barely make rent.…
You don’t belong here with decent people, Gautier. You belong in a dump with the rest of the garbage.
Tears filled his eyes. Acheron had been right. It wouldn’t matter if he became president and ruled the entire world, if he led an army to save all of humanity, he’d always hear that hatred. It was forever carved into his soul.
The weight of it all drove him to his knees. He covered his ears, trying to blot it out and not hear it anymore. But no matter what he tried, it wouldn’t stop. If anything it seemed to get louder.
Nick screamed out in utter agony. “I hate all of you!” But that wasn’t really what hurt him. It wasn’t even the truth and he knew it.
He hated himself. He always had.
You will destroy the world. No matter what you do or try, it won’t be enough. You will kill everyone you love.…
Everyone believed that. Caleb. Kody. Ambrose.
Him.
You should just throw yourself off the edge and let the ugly iguana have you.
Mocking laughter rang out.
Tears gathered in his eyes as he considered the future Ambrose had told him about. As he saw Ambrose’s scarred face and angry, bitter eyes.
His eyes.
His face.
You should just lie down and die.…
Everything was so overwhelming. If he were to die, his mother would be safe. Kody could return to wherever she’d come from.…
The world would be a better place.
Do it.
More tired than he’d ever thought he’d be at sixteen, Nick started to fall. I just want the pain to end.…
What are you doing, Gautier? Nick frowned as he heard Caleb’s growl in his ear that drowned out all the words of hatred. When did you turn into a punk?
It was enough to slap him hard, and when it did, the lyrics from his favorite song spilled out of his lips as a breathless whisper.
If you’re looking for trouble, just look right in my face.
Yeah, this Cajun don’t run. Not for nothing.
And definitely not today.
He rose up in the darkness and glared straight in its face. “You want a piece of me? Then c’mon, bitches, and get some. But you better not come alone!”
In that moment, he felt the heat of perseverance inside him rise up and take hold. It flamed so bright that he no longer felt the cold at all. Oh hell no …
Lowering his head, he moved forward with determined steps. He had things to do and people to save.
Starting with himself.
He paid no attention to his haters. No attention to the dangers. He stayed focused on moving in a straight line as fast as he could. The voices became louder, but he did to them what he did whenever his mom started on one of her Olympic bitch sessions.
Ignored it for everything it wasn’t worth.
He had sixteen solid years of selective hearing training. And his teachers thought it was worthless.
Ha!
And in the end, the wolf was right. The mists faded harmlessly away without hurting him, and he finally found himself in the room with multiple doors.
All right, we’re here.
Each door had a small window in it. Nick went to the nearest one and glanced through it. The second he did, a monster jumped up and snarled in his face.
Screaming, Nick jumped back.
The monster pounded on the door, trying to get to him.
Nick panted in terror. Thank God no one had seen him act like a girl. Well, not Simi or Kody. He would have done that a lot sooner than either of them. But Casey would have screamed like he did, and then some.
“At least I didn’t wet my pants.” But that was as close to spontaneous loss of bladder control as he wanted to come. Ever.
He approached the next door with a lot more respect and caution. Looking in slowly, he frowned. It looked like a sunny beach. Water rolled against perfect snow-white sand. He could even hear birds singing.
Nice. Gorgeous. Inviting.
Definitely certain death. That had to be a trap. He’d seen this movie enough to know it.
Narrowing his eyes, he tried the next contender. But it was too dark to see anything at all. Since the dark had brought him here safely, maybe he should choose this one?
I was born from darkness.
Might have the right symmetry.
Still, he hesitated. Better to check out the other two doors before making a decision. No need to rush this when his life was on the line.
Frowning, he stepped over. The next one was what appeared to be a meadow at dusk. Woods surrounded it. Since it was neither appealing nor scary, it might be a safe bet.
Definite maybe on this one.
Scratching his ear, he went to the last one and froze. Instead of a window, it was a mirror that reflected his image back at him.
This was the right door.
It made total sense. His biggest enemy was himself. Kyrian said that all the time. We know instinctively what to do and still we don’t. Whatever you do, Nick, don’t get in your own way.
Nick put his hand on the knob, then paused. What if I’m wrong?
“I have to trust myself to do the right thing.” And every journey began with a single step. Opening the door, he stepped through it and took a moment to get his bearings while the door closed.
The instant the latch clicked, the sunny sky above rumbled with thunder. Dark clouds rolled in and boiled, turning the sky into a deep, dark red. Bloodred.
Undaunted, Nick moved forward, across the vacant field that faded until it turned into New Orleans.…
Looking around, he scowled. “I know this place.”
It was where North Robertson ended near the North Claiborne bridge in the Ninth Ward. When he’d been a kid, he and Tyree and Mike used to play here. Tyree’s grandmother lived in the little white shotgun at the end of the road where the pavement stopped abruptly just short a few yards from the levee. Tall and heavyset, Tyree’s grandmother used to sit on the front porch in her rocker, shelling beans or knitting, or fanning herself with the big old Jesus hand fan she’d gotten from church so that she could watch them, and, as she so often shouted, “keep you godless heathens out of trouble.”
They’d play ball near the levee or pretend to be wilderness explorers in the vacant, overgrown lot across the street. It had a cement pad where either a house had been and was destroyed, or where someone had planned to build one and never had. Either way, it’d been a great place for them to sit and eat the cookies Tyree’s grandmother would bake for them on Sundays. And every time she brought them a batch, she’d say, “Now y’all boys be careful and don’t get bit by some hungry gator coming up over the levee ’cause it smell rotten boys with cookie sugar in them. I’d hate to have to tell your mamas you done got eat now.” They would exchange bug-eyed stares and keep watch for a gator that never came. Or tell each other they’d spotted one in the brush, and then they’d have to run for it or get eaten.
Even in the hot, sweltering, mosquito-infested summers, those had been good times. How he missed being that innocent and carefree. Back then he hadn’t even known they were poor. Hadn’t understood what his mom did for a living. No one in their neighborhood had looked down on them.
Pity life couldn’t always be like that.
As Nick came up to the back of the house where Tyree’s grandmother would hang her “unmentionables” and they’d chase lightning bugs, he smiled at the memory of a woman he couldn’t have loved more had he been related to her.
He hadn’t thought about this place in years. The last time he’d been here, he was eight years old and they’d come to pay respects to Tyree’s family after they’d entombed his grandmother in St. Louis #1 with her husband he’d never met.
Nick paused as his heart broke all over again for the loss of such a wonderful woman. He could still hear Tyree’s mother and aunts singing their mother’s favorite hymns. “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” … A chill ran over him as he saw a ghostly image of her still at the clothesline, fussing at him for slinging mud too close to her laundry.
His throat tight, he cleared it. “Miss you, Miss Mabel.”
Now don’t you be sad for me, little Nicky. One day, I’m gonna be up in heaven with them angels. But don’t you worry none. I’ll still have time to look down on my boys and smile with pride at the men y’all become.
His eyes filling with tears, Nick reached a hand toward the image of her, knowing he couldn’t touch her, but still feeling a need to try.
The image vanished instantly.
Blinking back his sadness, he glanced around. Why was he here? What was the point?
Was it because he was trying to find his way home, and this had been one of the first places where he’d learned to understand that word?
With no clue, Nick headed for the bus stop on Claiborne at Tennessee. At least he knew how to get back to his condo from here. It wouldn’t take him long.
But as he turned to walk down Tennessee Street, he heard something strange overhead. It wasn’t a plane or helicopter. He couldn’t place the sound. Not until he heard a loud screech. Looking up, he saw a huge bird coming straight at him.
No, not a bird.
It was a winged, armored demon. One that swooped down, blowing fire at him. Nick dove toward a parked SUV, but instead of landing beside it, he went through the door.
He rolled across the ground several times before coming to rest on his back. Aching all over, he stared up at a ceiling instead of the sky.
What the…?
No longer out in the open, he was in school between classes.
“Are you okay, baby?” Casey knelt down beside him.
Scowling, Nick looked around. Everything seemed normal. Just another day at St. Richard’s.
