Risen (Haunted Series Book 22)

Mia saw how handsome and strong he was.  His patience was his strength.  He didn’t fidget; he used his time to think.  His brown eyes were luminous when he looked down at Mia.
“Did you get what you needed?” he asked.
“More.  Did they fool you with their bag of junk?”
“No, instead, I asked them for a decent bar of soap.  Strong enough to wash the scent of the old ones away.”
“So, they gave you what?  Irish Spring?”
“They tried.  I declined and came out here to wait.”
Mia reached up and put her hands through Ted’s auburn curls.  “You look like a pirate without your hat.”
Kevin and Fergus approached.
“Come, let’s walk back, and I’ll tell you where Stephen is right now.  There are too many ears here, and I smell demon.”
“I thought you smelled like a demon,” Ted said.
“No, an old one. To Kai, this means fallen.  Demons have the scent of sulfur about them.  Acrid like a match.”
“What do the fallen smell like?” Ted asked.
“No matter how they try to cover it up, the smell of burnt angel feathers comes through.  You see, as they fell, each feather burned.  The pain had to be excruciating.  Not even crashing through the earth’s crust would have erased the memory of this pain.  And if they were fortunate enough to survive the fall, the odor remains to remind them of it.  To human noses, burnt angel feathers smell like frankincense.”
“Kevin smells like whisky,” Fergus said.
“It’s better than despair,” Kevin fired back.
“Speaking of despair, what was the pit like, Mia?” Fergus asked.
“For each individual, it’s different,” she hedged.
“That isn’t an answer,” Fergus said.
“If the source of your despair is, let’s say, slugs, it would be full of slugs.  You would have to endure slugs until the keepers feel you have been punished enough.”
“What was the source of your despair?” Kevin asked.
“I’d rather not say,” Mia said.  “Plus, mine was compounded because I brought Ruax with me.  It could have been what Ruax wanted me to see.”
“Tell us,” Kevin begged.
Ted stopped walking and took her hand. “You don’t have to tell us.”
“But we’re never going to stop asking,” Fergus promised.  “What is it that you, Mia, despair of the most?”
“The color pink and insecure males whom I have to take care of.  There, are you satisfied?” she snapped.  “Ruax was clinging to me and afraid of everything that came out of the pink fog.  Soon, my escort also became insecure, and I had to sort that out.  The fog made all but one insecure, and it took forever to leave it.”
Ted was quiet.  Mia knew, he knew, partly, it was about him.  Mia had assured him over and over.  He had no reason to be insecure, and rationally, he agreed with her.
“Why do they do that?” Kevin asked.
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Mia said.
“Why do they put you through it?  Is it just for punishment?”
It took Mia a moment to realize that they were the keepers and not the insecure men in her life.  She answered, “I think it is, but maybe it could help me to think about why I despair over the color pink and work it out so I don’t anymore.”
“So, are we going to see you in one of Sabine’s pink cashmere sweaters?” Kevin asked.
“No.  I still hate pink.  But I did learn that I don’t really despair of taking care of insecure males.”
“Otherwise, you wouldn’t be going to fetch my son,” Kevin reasoned.
“What was Abigor like, insecure?” Ted asked.
“Dangerous.  He was going to kill Sticks for making me smile.”
“Who the hell is Sticks?” Fergus asked.
“Let me answer,” Ted begged.
“Alright, but be kind.”
“He’s a teenage demon who seems to be made of wood.  He haunted the big trees in New Orleans.  Mia sent him to the Pit of Despair.  He’s also the demon who Mia got herself engaged to when she was there.”
“A demon!” Kevin exclaimed.
“It was a misunderstanding. I had him break the engagement,” Mia assured him.
“How?”
“He dropped me out of a tree on my head.”
The ghosts howled with laughter.
“He saved Murphy and me.  The guy may be a demon, but he’s also a hero.  You see, what I’d like you to understand, if the two of you are going to haunt this world, is to not judge any individual by their race, their government, or if they were stupid enough to marry me.”
It was Ted’s turn to laugh.
~
Murphy walked along the deck.  He passed the night watch and nodded his head.
“What are you doing out of your bunk?  I would think you would be bone-tired,” the watch said.
“I am, but the calm sea is disturbing me more than the waves did.”
“That’s because you’ve already learned that the calm always precedes a storm.  Storms on the sea are harrowing.”
“They can be on land too,” Murphy said.  “There are dead that walk just in front of the storm.  They carry away unwatched children and drop them miles away.  They, also, will fight you and carry your dead soul with them.  They are called Wanderers.”
“Sounds like a fierce mob,” the watch said.  “Tell me more.”
“Then comes the hail and, sometimes, a cyclone. They call them tornados.  They rip up everything and kill without conscience.  They just drop out of the sky.”
“I read a book about a cyclone.  The Wizard of Oz, it be called.”
“I’ve read the same book.”
“Then you and I have something in common.  Riff’s the name,” the watch said, holding out his hand.
Murphy looked at the man, dressed in black from the bandana covering his head to his boots, before he shook his hand. “My name is Stephen Murphy. Folks call me Murphy.”
“Murphy, I heard