Page 12 of New Beginning

“Almost? What can’t I do?”

“Be with or talk to those you know who are still living.”

Suddenly, Teddy was glad he wasn’t married, glad he hadn’t left a boyfriend behind. He thought about his friends, about Charlie… then got stuck on the three he’d killed.

“Drink,” Mikkel pushed the glass into his hand.

The water tasted better than any water he’d ever drunk in his life. He drained the glass.

“This isn’t hell,” Teddy said. “I should be in hell.”

Mikkel went back to get more water. “I know hell, Teddy. Trust me, there are no leather couches, no cold water, the noise level is off the scale, mostly screaming, and the company leaves a lot to be desired. You wouldn’t fit in at all.”

Teddy took the glass, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed Mikkel’s warm skin. The touch sent a strange jolting spark right up his arm.

“I killed them,” Teddy choked out, the confession tearing out of him before he could stop it. The guilt was a physical weight crushing his chest. “The crash. It was my fault. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be safe, sitting in some cosy—”

“Drink,” Mikkel commanded gently, cutting through the rising panic.

Teddy took a sharp gulp. Mikkel sat on the edge of the low coffee table right in front of him, leaning in close.

“Listen to me very carefully,” Mikkel said, those dark brown and amber eyes locking onto Teddy’s, holding him fast. “The world is full of terrible accidents, unfair diseases and even worse choices. The world isn’t fair. Bad people do bad things. Sometimes good people make mistakes. But you are not a bad person. You are a good person and you did not make a mistake.”

He hadn’t been there. He couldn’t say that.

“If you aren’t a demon taking my soul, then what are you?”

Mikkel tilted his head, a slow, intriguing smile curving his lips. “Let’s just say I’m a collector of interesting souls. And yours, Teddy… yours is far too bright to burn.”

Teddy released a shaky sigh.

“Sleep now. Rest. I’ll come back when I feel you’re ready.”

Teddy nodded. But ready for what? He felt suddenly exhausted. When had he last slept? What day was it? Where exactly was he? But the questions dried on his tongue and as he slipped sideways, he felt Mikkel lift him into his arms. He smelt good. He was strong. Teddy couldn’t keep his eyes open. He knew he was being carried upstairs. When had he last been carried anywhere? He was laid on a bed, his shoes were removed, then his mind went blissfully quiet.

~~~

Mikkel didn’t want to leave him. He wanted to stay and watch him sleeping. Don’t. That’s just creepy. So he left and when he got back to his house, instead of searching for pain, as he’d planned before Azrael’s visit, he looked up Teddy Doyle in the Celestial Reckoning. He wasn’t interested in what he did for a job, Teddy could tell him that. Mikkel wanted to know what had made him into the man he was, who’d raised him, who’d loved him, if someone had hurt him.

Five years old. Teddy was filled with paralysing fear. He sat at the table, not feeling well, but knew he would have to eat whatever his mother put in front of him. He wasn’t allowed to move, wasn’t allowed to speak, mustn’t do anything to upset her. The problem was, he was going to upset her because he didn’t want to eat anything. He felt sick. If he ate, he’d be sick.

He tried not to breathe in the smell of the food, but even breathing through his mouth, he could taste it in the air. Liver. She put the meal in front of him. Liver, mashed potatoes and peas. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. He hated liver, hated mashed potatoes but he’d have eaten it if he hadn’t felt so ill.

“Eat your dinner.”

“I feel sick.”

She should have cuddled him, told him he didn’t have to eat it. Maybe taken his temperature, put him in bed. Instead, she leaned over, cut off a chunk of liver and forced it into his mouth. Then she did it again and again and he threw up. All over the table, all over his mother’s hand, all over his plate and the table.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Go to your room,” she screamed at him.

He ran.

Mikkel was filled with fury. If the woman hadn’t still been alive, he’d have visited her in hell and he hated going to hell.

Eight years old. Teddy woke in bed to find his mother in his room. It was morning. He must have overslept but worse than that. Fear rattled through him. He clutched his bedclothes under his chin. When she looked at him, Teddy realised she knew. The bedclothes were wrenched out of his grasp and she stared down at his wet pyjamas, soaked sheet and mattress.