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CHAPTER ONE
FRANKIE
Death feels like a dreamy abyss.
I’ve been floating here for an immeasurable stretch of time, hearing whispers. Sometimes the voices are familiar, warming my belly with comfort. But often the voices are foreign, so foreign I’m not sure they’re speaking a language I understand. Their words make sense to me on occasion, but I never know whether they’re addressing me directly.
Have I been in limbo? Waiting in a virtual queue for disembodied souls?
Death was a relief when it came. I went out in a blaze, as I’d always wanted. There’s satisfaction in that, so I welcomed the end. It was an end to the pain, so I accepted it.
But how long will I linger? I was sure that black oblivion would take everything away, but I continue in an endless dream.
“I don’t want to make any of these plans without you,” a soft voice is saying. “I’m a patient male. But this is the worst kind of waiting.”
I relate to the distant sentiment because it feels like I’ve been in this waiting room for a century. Are the voices I hear waiting too?
“They have so many questions for me. I don’t know how to answer. And I’ve never rutting…” A frustrated breath. “It’s all been so clear before. I’ve never doubted like this. A battle won; a mate found. And yet? I’ve never been more lost.”
The sounds start to feel so harsh. I remember that I have eyelids as they start twitching, itching to open again. There’s weight on my palm, warm and heavy. My fingers flex.
“Ti kori.” The voice sounds choked. It’s so loud. “Are you listening?”
When my eyes open, the lights are blinding. I was never certain that heaven existed, but I find myself in a bright space.
The first thing I see is an angel. It must be an angel, because it’s not completely human. At a glance, from the neck down, I’d assume it was a stone statue at a museum. There’s no color in their skin. They’re drawn in grayscale, all shadow and light. It’s the hair and eyes that make the creature appear otherworldly. Soft blue curls fall past their shoulders. Both hair and eyes are the color of Caribbean seas with the saturation on high.
They’re a figment of my imagination. Maybe this angel is a hallucination, my brain summoning a beautiful ethereal being to whisk me into the afterlife.
And since I have no idea how to proceed in the afterlife, I ask it outright.
“Are you an angel?”
“What’s an angel?” the creature asks, their eyes widening. They stare at me as if I’m the awe-inspiring one. All the while, they keep a tight grip on my hand, as if letting me go might send me reeling back into the abyss.
“Well,” I say, glancing at his shoulders. The details come into focus. It’s a man. He’s broad and strong. “You don’t have wings.”
“Wouldn’t that be useful?” he muses.
“I mean, are you taking me somewhere? What is it? A new life… Or maybe, nothingness?”
He searches my face, furrowing one blue eyebrow.
“You’re already somewhere safe,” he tells me. “There’s no need to leave.”
Something about those words makes my stomach drop. No need to leave. It’s all wrong.
His eyes start to dart around, concern pulling at the corners of his lips. It makes him look more human. The fogginess starts to recede as I follow his gaze over my shoulder. There’s a machine there, and it startles me to a sober mind. I’m in a tub, up to my neck in warm goo.
“Wait,” I murmur. Memories start to flood through me. Every sensation of having a body slams into me at once. My legs are heavy. My throat is dry. Goo-soaked hair is clinging to my neck and back, tickling me.
My eyes land on the unidentified creature.
“Frankie,” he whispers, clutching my hand. “It’s alright. You’re safe. I promise.”
Not an angel, not a hallucination. An alien. A huge alien, touching me, holding onto me. I look down. I’m wearing next to nothing, something akin to a bathing suit.
“No,” I say, scrambling to get my feet under me. “N-no… No…”
