Shimmer (Riley Bloom #2)(28)

I gazed down at my dog who was gazing up at me, and I couldn’t help but hope he couldn’t hear my thoughts just like I couldn’t hear his. I didn’t want him to know what a big wimp I’d become.

I wrapped my arms around my waist and bent my head low, my hair whipping all around me, getting thrashed pretty good, as I danced around on my tippy toes to keep my feet from being burned.

Some apprentice I was turning out to be—I couldn’t even concentrate my way past Rebecca’s manifested weather storm.

I’d barged my way in here without ever once stopping to consider just what I might be getting myself into, only to flip out and lose all my nerve at the exact moment it truly began to matter.

It was like gazing into a mirror and seeing the absolute very worst version of me.

But then again, I was only twelve.

Eternally stuck at twelve.

And with that in mind, how much could really be expected of me?

It’s not like being dead made me any wiser than I’d been when I was alive.

It’s not like being dead made me any more mature, or instilled any more confidence or strength in me than I’d had on my very last day on the earth plane.

I mean, maybe if I’d been allowed to make it to thirteen, I’d be grown-up enough to face something like this. But as it was, thirteen, and all that it promised, was never going to happen for me, so why should I be expected to deal with something as big as all this?

But just after I’d finished the thought, Bodhi tugged hard on my sleeve and said, “You’re wrong.”

I raised my head slightly and peered at him through my tangled up bangs.

“You can concentrate and focus, you’ve already proved that.”

I swallowed hard. Even though my body no longer made saliva that I could actually swallow, I did it anyway. Old habits really do die hard, it seems.

“Not to mention the fact that you don’t know squat about the Here & Now.”

He had my full attention.

“You have no idea how it works, do you?” Bodhi asked.

My eyes locked on his.

“No one is ever stuck anywhere, Riley. Seriously, what kind of a place do you think it is?”

I looked at him, because to be honest, I really wasn’t sure. At that point, I still had a whole lot of questions as to how it all worked.

He ducked his head lower and clenched that green straw between his teeth as he said, “Then again, I guess now you’ll never find out just what you’re truly capable of over there. You know, since you’re choosing to be stuck here instead.”

I gaped, at first unable to utter the words, though it wasn’t long before I said, “You mean, I can … I can, maybe … actually … turn thirteen someday?” I pressed my lips together, sure it was too good to be true.

But Bodhi just quirked his brow and shrugged in a vague, noncommittal kind of way. “There’re no limits that I’m aware of—pretty much anything is possible there. But, the sad part is you’ll never even get close if you can’t find your way out of here.”

I stared down at my toes, my dancing scorched toes. Hearing his voice in my head urging, “Concentrate. Focus. See the true reality of this place, not the one Rebecca wants you to see.”

So I did.

And it wasn’t long before the wind stopped, the fire extinguished, the ground went still, and my toes cooled, though my hair still looked like a fright wig.

“You can deal with that later.” Bodhi laughed, chucking me under my chin. “But first, we have some souls to release.”





21


Buttercup and I went one way, while Bodhi went another. Each of us approaching the nearest, suffering soul, taking hold of their hand, and immersing ourselves in their world of pain until we could introduce that small space of silence that guided them out of their hell.

And if you think that sounds simple, if you think that sounds easy-peasy, well, let me tell you: It isn’t.

Not even close.

The truth is, we were subjected to some pretty dark things—along with some pretty scary things, and some pretty horrific things, and some pretty sad things. And I’ll speak for myself when I say I personally witnessed the kind of suffering I never could’ve imagined, never wanted to imagine, before.

I felt the crack of the whip against my bare back that caused my skin to break open and ooze.

I watched with an indescribable fear as an intentionally aimed bowling ball whizzed right past my face, missing me by only a fraction of an inch.

I heard the horrible thwonk as that same bowling ball slammed into a far less fortunate friend, filled with the horrifying knowledge that yet another brother had passed.

But still, I kept right on going, offering hope, love, and compassion—the three biggest, most powerful forces in the universe—and when I saw that moment of reprieve, when I saw that small gap of silence introduced, well, I encouraged them to seize it, focus on it, and grow it until it became big enough for them to climb into.

Big enough for them to fly away in.

And somewhere along the way, a funny thing happened.

With every soul we released, Rebecca’s world, her darkly glistening bubble of anger, grew a little bit smaller.

Though I couldn’t see her, I could tell by the way Buttercup stilled, lowered his head, and pulled in his tail, that Rebecca was somewhere among us. But for the time being anyway, she didn’t dare approach, and honestly, I felt so empowered by the work I was doing, I’m not sure I would’ve cared if she had.