Chapter 12
Anthony’s eyes glinted with their familiar wickedness. “Megan,” he commanded, “Find that filthy rouf and bring him to me.”
Surprised at being spoken to, Megan stuttered, “The r-rouf?” Gathering herself together, she questioned again, “You mean Calvin?”
“Yes, yes,” Anthony waved his hand around dismissively, “That one. Go find him and bring him here.”
Megan looked at Gizmo, raising her eyebrow as she clenched her fists. She hoped that her silent brain waves were loud enough to penetrate his skull.
“Do I go with her too?” Gizmo asked, turning to face Anthony.
“Ah,” the archangel cocked his head to the side, “Do you think I’d grant you that privilege?” He straightened his tie. “You won’t get any alone time with Megan anymore, boy,” he decided, his eyes as narrow as those of a snake’s. “I won’t allow any more lies to float around this house.”
“Lies?” Megan hissed, “Are you talking to us about lies, Anthony? Whatever happened to your honesty? I don’t seem to find it anywhere I look!” She pretended to think, “What did you tell me the first time you talked to me, Anthony? Something about this not being personal?” She let out a bitter laugh. “And that you’re making this easy for me?”
Megan stepped closer to the screen of the television, her eyes smarting with anger. “If those aren’t lies, Anthony, I don’t know what is.”
And with that, she turned around and walked down the hallway, away from Gizmo and away from Anthony, toward the kitchen at the far end of the passage.
Behind her, she could hear Gizmo and Anthony continue talking, but she wasn’t interested anymore.
Lies. What had Anthony meant by lies? Gizmo hadn’t lied to her. About anything.
Megan’s soles were hurting by now, and taking a deep breath, she stopped her quick pace to lean against the wall to her right. Realization struck her like a blow to the stomach – she was here, in this strange place, along with Gizmo. And somehow, over the past few hours, she had grown to trust him.
And if Gizmo had lied to her, knowing that at this point she was completely dependant on him, she had no idea what she would do.
And in a split second, she made her decision. She wasn’t going to be dependant on Gizmo anymore. She was capable of dealing with this situation on her own, without anyone’s help.
In fifteen minutes’ time, she reached the familiar tall brown doors of the kitchen. Slowly, she pulled them open and stuck her head inside.
“Calvin?”
Low murmurs came from somewhere inside. Hesitantly, Megan stepped in and looked around. The kitchen stood in all its glory, without any trace of the little rouf.
“Calvin?” she tried again, “Where are you?”
“Megan?”
Megan jumped. Instead of hearing Calvin’s voice in response, a deep masculine voice answered her, coming from behind a door to her left.
“Y-yes?” Megan stammered, staying rooted in her position. She had no desire to move in the direction of the new voice, remembering clearly what had happened the last time she had done that.
“Come in here, silly girl,” the voice chided, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Something in the voice was bugging her, something different, something disturbing. However, her legs seemed to have a mind of her own, as she found them carrying her toward the door. Her heart was slamming against her chest in a desperate bid to escape, but she knew that there was no way out.
Raising a hand, she twisted the brass doorknob of the door and slowly pushed it open.
The room was small, about the size of the other rooms in the mansion. It was completely white and almost empty. The only furniture in it was a small round chocolate-coloured table and a black computer chair on wheels.
The computer chair turned around, causing her to jump in shock.
“Megan!” the man laughed, his eyes twinkling with something undecipherable. “It’s about time you came.”
His voice was like a thousand whispers, strong and solid yet subtle and soft. The layers in his voice spoke mysteries, intriguing Megan immediately.
Megan drew herself up to her full height. “Who are you?”
“I’m Deal Fallon,” the man introduced himself in a pleasant American accent, “I’m, uh, how do I say this.. I’m basically the Keeper of Purgatory.”
Megan let out a little giggle – she couldn’t help herself. The Archangel of Death, the Keeper of Purgatory? What was today, international Death day?
“No, no, Megan,” Deal shook his head, “It’s not international Death day. These things actually take place outside the normal world, you know.”
Despite the man’s casual tone, Megan’s mouth dropped open. “You can… you read my mind?”
“Yes,” Deal smiled, “I’m granted with that talent. Cool, right?”
Deal Fallon looked around the age of forty. With brown hair and green-brownish eyes, he somehow gave off the aura of someone much less intimidating than Anthony.
Yet something was off about him, something that felt wrong. Megan tried shaking away the feeling. For the first time today, someone was talking to her in a trustable and non-confusing manner, and she was suspecting him?
“Right,” she forced a smile, “So what are you doing here?”
“I’d love to say the same for you,” Deal frowned, “What are you doing here?”
Taken aback by the abrupt question, Megan stuttered, “I… I… um.. Anthony…”
“Oh, that’s right,” Deal gave a very fake laugh, “Anthony. Looks like he’s attacking innocent ones like you now too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your aura,” Deal spoke in his soft voice, “It’s blue, it’s pure. There’s no way you’re ever entering Purgatory. Nope, you don’t deserve it. You’re going straight to a better place.”
Megan forced back the urge to roll her eyes. “That’s interesting and all,” she told him, “But can we not talk about me as if I’m already dead? Because I’m not.”
“That’s interesting,” Deal retrieved the twinkle in his eyes, “Being here on Anthony’s will is practically synonymous to a death sentence.”
“That’s interesting too,” Megan shot back smartly, “Do you know Anthony, Mr. Deal?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact I do,” he replied, “But I wish I didn’t.”
“So do I,” Megan murmured under her breath. Deal’s eyes sparked with interest. “So you don’t like Anthony, then?”
“Of course I don’t!” she exclaimed, “He’s the one who’s given me the supposed ‘death sentence’.”
Realization seemed to dawn on Deal. “So he hasn’t given you any reason behind it then?”
“No.”
“And he’s been all mean and rude to you and stuff, right?”
“Yes,” she answered unsurely.
Deal burst out laughing, bending over to slap his knee. His wide forehead was creased and his face was red. But even though he seemed to be laughing his lungs out, there was something close to bitterness in his voice.
“Care to explain, Deal?” Megan asked impatiently.
“No, not really,” Deal Fallon sobered up, “Maybe I should just let Anthony do the explaining.”
Megan was about to demand an answer, when a timid voice behind her asked, “Ms. Megan? Did you need me?”
“Calvin!” Megan spun around and looked with relieved eyes at the rouf. “Anthony wants to see you.”
“Anthony!” Calvin squeaked, “He- he’s here?”
“Yeah,” she said, “He’s here… Do you mind coming with me?”
“N-no! Not at all, Ms. I don’t mind in the least. Come, let’s go.”
Leaving Deal behind her, Megan followed Calvin out of the kitchen and down the hallway. She was buzzing with questions but didn’t ask a single one to the little rouf. If Anthony was watching through the walls – as if that thought wasn’t scary enough by itself – she didn’t want Calvin to get into trouble because of her curiosity.
“Anthony,” she greeted coldly as she approached the white television from which the Archangel of Death was staring at her.
Gizmo was sitting down cross-legged on the floor, with his back to the right wall. Both Anthony and Gizmo seemed to be ignoring each other’s presence.
“I’ve brought Calvin,” she stated unnecessarily, and Calvin stood a bit straighter. Smiling slightly, Gizmo stood up and walked to her side. His presence, however abrupt, put Megan at ease.
“Good day, master,” Calvin recited in his squeaky voice, his suit making him look more like a butler than anything else. Megan still couldn’t believe that creatures like roufs existed out of her ordinary life.
“Rouf,” Anthony nodded, “It is time. You know what you have to do.”
Calvin shuddered visibly, before bowing and practically running away on his delicate feet.
‘What was that all about…’ Megan couldn’t help but wonder.
Anthony turned his attention to her, his blue eyes flickering over Gizmo for a split second. “Okay, it is now time for your question. What would you like to ask?”
Megan had already decided. Anthony had to answer truthfully, that was part of his terms.
“What do you have with Deal Fallon, and how does that relate to me?”
A sharp intake of breath sounded from both Gizmo and Anthony. However, with her eyes closed, Megan did not register this.
She formed a mental image of the Keeper of Purgatory in her mind, and gasped when the realization hit her. This was why she had felt so unsettled and insecure while talking to him.
Deal Fallon had no eyebrows.
__________
A/N: Guess who’s back on track and still alive? Me! :D
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Harpy