Page 19 of Brave Spirit (Bound Spirit #6)

Kaleb

I t’s rare to have a whole day alone with Callie, because her time is often carved out in portions with school, witch training, volunteering at the hospital, and each of the guys.

It leaves little time for rest, which is why I planned our Saturday together around comfort, relaxation, and peace.

Since Donovan bluntly reminded me that each of us offers something different to Callie, and our relationships sink or swim on their own, I’ve considered what I can do that the others may not.

I can give her an opportunity to put down her burdens of responsibility for a little while.

I’ll make all the plans and handle all the details so when she’s with me, she can just be.

Unfortunately, my parents interrupted my best laid plans when they informed me Friday night that I’d be guiding my “first” spirit into the afterlife the next day.

A neighbor down the street lost their daughter to suicide.

She was a grade behind me and silently struggled with depression for years.

That night, she lost the fight. Since we were so close in age, my parents thought I would be better suited to help her.

As any good son would, I agreed to change my plans.

Now it’s eleven in the morning on Saturday, and instead of making brunch for Callie, I’m standing in front of a ranch-style home with a lush garden and a birch tree growing in the front yard.

Heavy emotions swirl in my gut. I feel genuine empathy for the family inside.

After nearly losing Nolan, I know what it’s like to think a person you love is okay, only to later learn they were deeply unhappy and didn’t say anything.

However, I also feel a deep frustration that a day which was meant to be joyful and content is now weighed down with tragedy, and then there’s the sickening guilt for feeling that way.

My mother gently touches my shoulder, mistaking my conflicting emotions for nervousness. “I know this is a lot to take in.” Her brown eyes soften with compassion. “But you’ve trained for this. We know you can do it.”

My father squeezes my other shoulder. “Remember to listen and be patient. Most spirits simply need someone to listen and validate their feelings. Guide them through their next steps, and with a lightened heart, they should have no issue making it to paradise.”

“I know,” I reply, my voice sounding too normal for all the turmoil inside me. “I’ll be fine.”

Both of them smile, and my mother kisses my cheek. “We’re so proud of you,” she adds, dropping her hand from my shoulder. “You’re going to be a wonderful surgeon one day, traveling around the world, saving lives when you can, and then guiding those who don’t make it.”

“Yeah,” I reply, hiding my discomfort behind a perfect Kaleb smile. “Thank you for convincing the concilium to send me to college.”

“We know how important it is to you to help the living as much as the dead.” My father pats my back. “Now, it’s time to do what we were made to do. Can you sense where the spirit is?”

“She’s on the roof near where the tree branches hang over,” I answer, motioning in her general direction.

“Good.” He nods approvingly, completely unaware that this isn’t my first time tracking ghosts.

“Time to get moving.” He steps aside to stand next to my mother, hiking the bag containing a fresh, homemade lasagna and chocolate chip cookies over his shoulder.

“We’ll help the family while you help their daughter.

” Armed with comfort food and training in grief counseling, they follow the path to the home’s front door.

As I walk toward the tree before the family spots me loitering outside, my mind can’t help but return to James and what I did.

The rippling repercussions hang like a weighted stone around my neck.

I did the right thing for all of the wrong reasons.

Helping him pass on was my job, but it wasn’t in consideration for his soul.

We needed his body, and I needed him gone before he found out that Callie could bring him back. Felix is alive, but the cost was steep.

James had one request before he passed on—tell Bree that when she dates again, make sure he isn’t prettier than him.

It’s an inside joke between them, so she would know his last moments were filled with thoughts of her.

I can’t say any of that now, because she doesn’t know he’s dead.

The James she knows now is the guy who dumped her for Callie.

Even if I could figure out a way to tell her without giving away that he’s actually dead and my best friend is using his body to interact with the living, it would just hurt and confuse her.

Pushing down my conflicting emotions about my past and future, I take a few deep breaths and let a familiar mask slip over my face. Perfect student. Perfect son. Perfect light nephilim.

The spirit, Abby, stares at the garden below, her expression despondent and lost. I clear my throat when I’m close, but she doesn’t acknowledge me—likely because she’s already figured out no one can see her.

Unlike supernaturals, humans don’t have enough magic in their blood to consistently see the spirits they anchor to the mortal realm.

At most, they’ll see flashes of the deceased, and only if the spirit is desperate.

Considering all that Abby’s been through, I doubt she’s motivated to be seen by the living.

“Hello, Abby.” I offer her a warm smile and a wave. “I’m Kaleb.”

She frowns at me, her tangled, brown hair shadowing her eyes.

“I know who you are—captain of the football and baseball team, class representative for the student council, and honor roll student who volunteers at the local hospital to read to the sick and dying. You’re every parent’s dream child. Perfect in every way.”

Her words pierce my mask, my lips pulling tight, but I keep my voice calm and free of bitterness.

“I’m not perfect, but I go through the motions so people think I am.

Feels easier to hold up the lie than for anyone to see the truth, which is that I’m secretly drowning under the weight of everyone’s expectations of me. ”

Abby looks at me more carefully, her gaze telegraphing that she relates. “How can you see me when no one else can?”

Jumping, I grab the edge of the roof and hoist myself up. I brush dirt from my hands as I answer with a teasing smile. “I’m a nephilim.”

“A what?” Her despair seems to give way to curiosity.

I sit down beside her, my legs dangling in the open air. “We’re part angel and part human. Our job is to help the dead pass on.”

“Like the grim reaper?” Her eyebrows furrow as she pulls her sleeves with tattered edges over her hands.

“Kind of.” I rock my head side to side. “Though we’re more like spirit social workers. I’m here as someone to talk to and help with what’s standing in the way of you passing on.”

She shoves her covered hands between her knees. “So I’m still here because I have some kind of unfinished business?” Her thin lips twist into a wounded smile. “I thought the pain would stop, that it would finally be over.” She laughs with bitter sadness. “And here I am. I can’t even die right.”

“Want to talk about it?” I ask, my heart aching from the amount of self-loathing dripping from her words.

“Will it help?” Her voice is small and lost as she hunches into herself. “Will it make the pain stop?”

“It might,” I answer gently, my hands curling over my knees as I wish I could offer her a comforting touch. “Letting it all out can be cathartic. The pain might be what’s keeping you here.”

Abby tucks her limp hair behind her ears and releases a heavy sigh.

“I don’t even know what was wrong with me.

I didn’t always feel this way.” She wraps her arms tightly around herself.

“I used to love the outdoors—hiking, camping, climbing into trees just so I could sit in the branches and listen to the silence of nature.” Her gaze traces along the thick branches of the birch tree up to the canopy of leaves.

“Then the pain came. Not like a broken bone or a sprained ankle, or something you can point at and know how to fix it. It was like a bruise that ached inside me with no answers. No explanation. No cure. Some days, if I thought about the pain, it hurt so badly I couldn’t breathe.

Other days, I felt nothing. I was numb to everything.

I went through the motions, but I didn’t care about anything. ”

I shift my left hand so it sits between us—the best I can do to offer physical closeness. “And you kept it all to yourself?”

Her face crumples as she nods. “I’ve never had close friends, and my mom and dad were fighting a lot, mostly about money.

I knew if I told them, they’d do the right thing and send me to doctors and pay for therapists.

Maybe they would have even put me in one of those clinics.

But what if after all that, I was still broken?

My existence was enough of a burden on them.

I didn’t want to be what broke them.” She looks up at me with agony in her eyes, begging for understanding.

“I tried really hard to be good and happy for them, or at least pretend to be, but it hurt so much, and I was so tired.” She goes back to staring at the tree, her voice distant.

“When I found out that the reason money was so tight was because they wanted to hold onto the house for me, I figured out how I could help them and finally make the pain stop. If I wasn’t alive anymore, they’d be free.

I was so relieved, it was the closest I’d felt to happiness in years.

” Her fingers curl into claws that dig into her sides.

“It took me a year to gather the courage to actually do it. I got close a few times, but I chickened out at the last minute.”

My heart bleeds for this girl, her pain brushing against some of my own fears. “What made last night different?”