Death. What happens after it? What lies beneath the surface?
Poor Arielle Daniels stumbled through dangerous hoops to figure this out. She wakes in a new place--the Void--and discovers that what waits after death are layers, dimensions, and sadly...
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"Screw the balance."
The door slammed behind Penelope as she rushed into the bedroom. Moonlight spilled in through the window, glaring into her eyes, hurting them. With a flick of her wrist, she tugged the curtains shut, blanketing the area in a comfortable darkness.
"Screw the rules."
She fluttered over to the mirror and gawked at her appearance. She'd let herself slip into that form, again; the one that petrified Arielle, the one that petrified her. The one that blew blistering heat into a zone and charred humans to a crisp, the one provoked by rage, by despair, by hatred.
Usually, she controlled it fine. And she had to, otherwise she'd draw attention from the other realm. Long ago, she'd learned to level her anger and didn't allow that figment of her personality to surface, especially not in front of vulnerable newbies. She'd normally hurry off and scream into the Void—literally—to ease her tension, then return to work as if all were well.
But nothing was well, this time. Everything had gotten out of control. Benny had broken into the house one time too many. Hadn't killing Kylie been enough to discourage him? Why was he so stubborn? Penelope had hoped such sadness, such sinister actions would put him in his place, stop him from digging into things he wasn't ready to discover. That he'd develop the fear she'd been hoping to instill in him for years, that he'd finally learn his lesson about prodding too far into things he didn't—and shouldn't—understand. But instead, it had only brought him death. Kylie's death, and his own. And apparently, the FBI agent's demise hadn't shocked him; it had prompted him to want revenge.
And Arielle—oh, that girl. She got under Penelope's skin like no other newcomer ever had. All her questions, her incessant curiosity, her constant denial—they were annoying. If she wasn't so frustrating, so daft, she would have made a perfect candidate to stay in the Void, to reach spirits that Penelope couldn't. But she'd proven today that she didn't have the stomach for it. Protecting the Void was essential. Ensuring humans didn't cross boundaries set up centuries ago to keep it hidden, to keep it safe, was the primary goal of a senior specter like Penelope. And instead of being helpful, Arielle was now a hindrance, a threat to that peace.
Chatting with living beings as if they were relaxing with tea and biscuits and discussing the weather? No. Penelope wouldn't accept that, and Arielle would be punished for it.
"Screw the souls. Screw her soul." She itched to go downstairs and punish Arielle now, to teach her a lesson—but she wouldn't learn. She hadn't comprehended anything after scratching Benny, not after experiencing sickness when venturing too close to her perimeter... and clearly, not after watching Benny die. Stubborn souls didn't deserve to dwell in the peaceful Void; they deserved torture.
A faint cry croaked through the air, and Penelope stilled. She recognized it, and it chilled her to the core.
She's here... oh, she's coming.
Penelope should have expected it, after unleashing her fury while murdering Benny. Such intense emotions always drew her—the being from the other realm that Penelope feared yet admired so.
Perking up, fixing the collar of her T-shirt, Penelope squinted at her pallid face, at her reddening eyes. Red—the only color she'd grown accustomed to in the faded world of the Void. She'd hated the shade in her lifetime, but had come to love it here, as it signified strength. Courage. Thirst. Vengeance. Whenever her eyes filled with it, whenever her heart loaded with it, she thrived. And if she let it overpower her, she knew she'd show up—her other half, her buried self, her powerful ally. Her twin from another dimension.
Arielle had only seen a glimpse of Penelope's real abilities. She'd only sniffed a whiff of what she could do, what she wanted to do. And she had no idea what—and who—was coming next.
"Arielle will suffer, I'll make sure of it."
Penelope enjoyed teaching, but her alter-ego didn't. Her alter-ego detested wasting time, loathed waiting around, couldn't stand watching someone learn at their own pace. Her pace was now or never, and her rules were solid as stone—if they fight, if they defy, send them to me.
At first, Penelope wanted Arielle to herself. Wanted to mold her into the perfect Void ghost, instruct her in the ways. But as her interminable questions continued, and as she disobeyed, Penelope changed her mind. She'd held off her other self for as long as possible; but now, there was no stopping her.
As the air charged with disdain and dread, Penelope closed her eyes and breathed it in. The dimensions were bleeding into one another, slowly. A rip was tearing into the Void, soon to allow her other self to creep in.
And once she crept in, she wouldn't leave until she got what she came for.
"Arielle... she's hungry for Arielle."
The other Penelope fed on fear. She fed on questions and confusion and lies. And all those things surrounded Arielle, and had surrounded her for a long time. She'd craved Arielle since the instant she'd set foot in the house, and had begged and begged to break into the Void and take her. Penelope was too busy protecting the Void—scaring and killing humans—to respond to her alter-ego's demands, but she could no longer ignore them. She could no longer ignore her.
The air tore apart as a claw sliced through it. Followed by another claw were a hand, and an arm coated in blood, reaching into the Void from another place. Then came a leg, covered by a lengthy white gown, frayed at the edges. A small bust, and another arm wrapped in a flowy sleeve that fanned out at the wrist. Arrived next a milky neck, a pale face, and glowing, scarlet eyes. A mop of greasy ink-hued locks, and a grin the likes of which the fictional devil—invented by humans—would shy away from.
There she was. Breaking into the Void, drooling with excitement as she wandered over to Penelope.
"Penny," said Penelope, adrenaline pumping through her, making it hard for her to stand still before this entity so identical to her, yet so much more violent, so thirsty, so ravenous for blood.
"Penelope," said Penny, in her raspy, centuries-old voice. She stretched her arms out, winked, and dove into Penelope's chest.
Penelope sighed, her lungs expanding as she drank her alter-ego in, letting her possess every confine of her body, every cavity, controlling every nerve and muscle and organ. She smiled as she squeezed into her brain and commanded her thoughts, her movements, her emotions.
Soon, Penelope became Penny. Her mind packed with her memories—centuries of hauntings and killings, of throwing people down stairs and drawing them into her terror-filled realm to torment them. Flashes of recent escapades—whispering to Jade, fluttering around Stella and menacing her, toying with Arielle's sanity and summoning her here.
"She was a perfect fit," said Penelope, though her voice wasn't her own; it was Penny's now. "But you're right, she doesn't belong. I should have listened to you." Her claws elongated, nearly scraping against the floor, and her hair puffed out behind her as her energy manifested as a powerful gust. "We have work to do."
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