The Drazen World: Purgatory (Kindle Worlds Novella)

each other, Hunter placed both palms over my cheeks and leaned down brushing his soft, delectable lips over mine. Just a whisper of flesh against flesh. A message meant just for me. A plea, really. Closing my eyes, I reveled in the feel of such mortal contentment, something so human in a place that is anything but. "I'll be back," he repeated as he drew away from me and took a step back. I nodded, not knowing what else to do. I mean, where was I supposed to go, anyway?
"Okay," I whispered and did just that. I waited for his return like a woman waits for her soldier. Yet, this situation was so far removed from that scenario that it bordered on ridiculous to even compare.
From the moment I jumped off that pier, nothing has been normal.
I found myself in Purgatory. I learned God has a PA and apparently souls could find each other in the drab waiting room to the afterlife.
Was this my destiny? Finding love beyond the realm of the living?
Just my luck. Gabrielle Reeves found the hope of love as her mortal body rotted somewhere in the belly of Los Angeles. The City of Angels. How fucking ironic is that shit?
Chapter 9
As always, time had no meaning in Purgatory. Minutes, hours, days, months...they were just blurs of space between conscious moments. I was asleep when Hunter returned, waking me as he slid in behind me on the bed. Warm breaths caressed my neck, one arm snaking under my head replacing the pillow as the other wrapped around my own across my chest. Lacing his fingers with mine, he whispered through the silence. "Hey, beautiful." He knew I had awakened to his movements but I kept silent. I needed some answers but I wasn't certain he had them. Before I could conduct the next Inquisition, I had to get my mind straight. Be direct with my inquiries.
"Just ask, Gabby."
"Who was he?" I blurted out.
"Samael?" He asked, avoiding it seemed.
"Yes."
"Be careful what you ask for, Gabby. You cannot 'unknow' and sometimes information is best kept in Pandora's Box."
Fuck, I always hated riddles.
"Hunter, please. Just answer my question. What am I going to do, have a mental breakdown?" A sarcastic laugh escaped through my mouth. "Been there. Done that." Behind me, Hunter stiffened for a mere second but long enough for me to feel it. Whether it was fear, anger or surprise at my words I would never know but he did have a definite reaction.
"You were confused, Gabby. It's not the same thing."
Ah, yes. The synonyms.
About six months before going for a midnight swim loaded with an abundant amount of alcohol in my system, I had made a list. It was meant to amuse me but had, in fact, pissed me off more than anything.
The title was still so fresh in my mind: "Socially Acceptable Ways of Naming Depression." It had become a game for me because it was common knowledge that the "D" word not be used.
1. Sick
2. Ill
3. Tired
It's not depressing if it sounds like a flu.
4. Under the weather
5. Hurting
6. Irritable
It's not depressing if it sounds like PMS.
7. Sad
8. Exhausted
9. Preoccupied
It's not depressing if it sounds like a grieving episode.
The truth of the matter is that my depression was not a moment. It was part of my life. As music was my oxygen, my highs and lows served as the carbon dioxide I exhaled with each breath. I had learned to accept it, to live with it and to hate it with every fiber of my being. My family? Monica? Well, they never could accept it so they fought it and ultimately lost to their fears.
We all lost... but then life was a gamble, our very souls the bargaining chips.
"What are you thinking about, Spunky?" I heard Hunter ask from behind, pulling me back to the task at hand.
"About life. Or lack thereof." I chuckled but could tell Hunter was not amused.
10. Confused
And the list goes on, apparently.
"So, who was he?"
"His name is Samael."
"Don't do that," I said, turning around to face him. Needing him to know that I wasn't a child to be handled with condescending care.
"Don't do what, Spunky?" He asked on a murmur.
"Treat me like a five year old. I know his name. I want to know who he is. Why was he wearing colors? Why did he come off as an asshole? Why was he looking at me like he wanted to devour me?" That last question got Hunter's full attention. So he sighed, turned to lie on his back and brought my head to his shoulder, cradling me in his protective hold.
"He's the angel of death, Gabby. Equal parts good and evil. The leader of Fifth Heaven with two million angels working under him."
Sitting up straight, I looked Hunter straight in the eyes and tried not to tremble from his words. I failed, obviously.
"Satan?" That made no sense.
It was Hunter's turn to chuckle for some crazy reason.
"Sorry. I'm not mocking you, Gabby. It's just that he hates being confused with Shaytan. Apparently, he feels he's too good looking for what that name implies."
I knew I was staring but...fuck.
This was surreal.
"So, if he's not Satan then...who is he? I don't get it, Hunter. He said he was hoping it would all end to his advantage." What the actual fuck was going on? At that moment, I wished I had researched religion more thoroughly but my mind had always been overly consumed by facts of those who could help my career, my craft, my music. Religion was just something going on in the world, having no bearing on my art.
With an arm under his head and a hand slowly stroking the blonde