Misguided Angel: A Parnormal Romance Novella

“Not at all.” Sylvia smiled, and again Kelsey felt her warmth, the simple goodness coming off of her in waves. Her eyes in the failing light were an almost glowing green, the color of summer leaves in sunlight. “Come back whenever you want, sweet girl. We’ve been worried sick about you.”

“I’m fine.” It was a lie, but she thought the day with Sylvia had helped. And the night with Jake’s ghost.

“You’re not. Of course you’re not.” Sylvia hugged her gently, delicate arms enfolding her with the lightest squeeze. She closed her eyes, stiffening, absorbing and resisting the strange woman’s warmth at the same time. “But you will be.”

The daylight was fading fast as Asher emerged again on the street. He kept looking into the faces of humans as he passed them, making eye contact. They all looked so anxious, so fearful, so full of fragile life. What had Kelsey thought when she woke up this morning? What was she doing now? With a glance at the setting sun, he walked faster, headed for the cemetery.

In the Garden of the Dead

By the time Kelsey left the apartment, the sun had set into a cold, purple twilight. The snow on the sidewalk had been packed into a pebbled, grungy sheet of ice. But inside the cemetery, it was drifted white and virtually untouched. She sank in almost to the tops of her boots even on the path, and the moonlight glowed like silver all around her, even under the trees. Jake’s small marker was almost completely covered. She got soaking wet digging it out with her hands, but she didn’t mind. She felt sad but serene, at peace in the beautiful night.

She took a

postcard out of her pocket. The picture on it was one of Jake’s paintings from before he got sick, a dove with wings outspread with an arrow piercing its breast. She took off her glove and took out a ballpoint pen. “Dearest Jake,” she wrote. “The weather is beautiful. Wish you were here. With all my love forever, Kelsey.”

She hadn’t brought whiskey or the icon candle, but she had Jake’s lighter in her pocket, a heavy silver one that had belonged to his grandfather. She ran a fingertip over the wings etched into the silver before she lit it up.

In the flare of the tiny flame, she saw a man standing in the shadows of a willow tree, watching her. “Hi,” she said, raising the light.

He looked as surprised to be seen as she was to see him. “Hi,” he said back, stepping out of the shadows. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“It’s okay.” He should have been freezing, the way he was dressed—slacks and a sweater with an open overcoat. But he seemed perfectly comfortable, perfectly at ease. “You aren’t—you didn’t disturb me.” She let the lighter go out and slipped it into her pocket before offering her hand. “I’m Kelsey.”

“Hi Kelsey.” He wasn’t wearing gloves, but his hand was pleasantly warm. “I’m Asher.” His accent was strange, nothing foreign she could identify, but too precise to be American.

“Hi Asher.” She could still see him clearly by the moonlight. “This is Jake—my husband, Jake. His grave…he died about a week ago.”

“I’m sorry.” He seemed to mean it; his eyes turned sad. “He must have been young.”

“Yeah, he was.” She looked down at the postcard in her hand. “Excuse me.” She knelt down on the grave and lit it, letting it burn as they watched. He didn’t seem surprised at all; he just stood there beside her as it burned. “He had cancer.” She didn’t stop to wonder why she was telling him any of this, why it should seem so natural that this stranger should be with her. She felt immediately at ease with him much as she had with Sylvia. Kindness seemed to radiate out from him, an inner light that glowed in his eyes and on his skin in the snowy blue moonlight. “It started in his lungs and went to his liver.”

“I’m so sorry, Kelsey.”

“Thanks.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she smiled, looking up at him. “You’re really sweet.”

“Not really,” he said, smiling back. “Or not always.” He offered her his hand and helped her up.

“So why are you here?” she asked. “Do you have family buried here, too?”

He paused before he answered, seeming to choose his words carefully. “I do see family here,” he said. “And friends. I visit sometimes.”

“I’m going to come every night.” Usually handsome men made her nervous. Jake had joked that if he’d had a decent haircut and a shave when they’d met, she never would have talked to him at all. “I’ve been writing him letters.” Her eyes met his, and she stopped. What was she doing, telling these things to a perfect stranger? Sylvia was her neighbor at least; she knew where she lived. This Asher could be anyone. “It’s probably silly.”

“Of course it isn’t.” He sounded absolutely sincere, not like he was just being nice or keeping her distracted while he decided how to steal her purse. “If my body were here, if I had left someone behind…” He looked away from her to Jake’s grave. “I would like it if she wrote me letters.”

“Thanks.” He sounded sure that Jake had gone on somewhere else, that he would read what she had written. “You’re not going to offer me a ride in your van, are you?

He laughed. “No, I promise.” His smile was infectious; she couldn’t stop herself from smiling back “I’m on foot, actually. Can I walk you home?”

For a moment, she almost said yes. That morning with Detective Black, she had felt a dozen different instinctual alarms go off every time he got near her. With Asher, she felt calm. But weren’t serial killers sometimes supposed to have a knack for making women feel all warm and fuzzy? “No, thank you,” she said. “It’s not far.”

“All right.” He didn’t seem disappointed, and he didn’t press. But he walked beside her to the gate, and when they reached the sidewalk, he took her hand again. “Be careful, Kelsey.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Good night.”

“You too.” She should have been completely freaked out, but she wasn’t. She felt comforted and cared for, much as she had the night before when Jake had come to her as a ghost or a dream or whatever it was—she still wasn’t ready to examine it yet; she was just grateful it had happened. “Good night.”

Jake’s Paintings

When Kelsey got home, she turned off the ringer on the phone and changed into painting clothes, yoga pants, and one of Jake’s old tshirts with her hair pulled back.