My Soul to Win Read online

  Cast of Characters

  Teigan St. Claire Former detective with the Minneapolis Police Department.

  Evaline Marsh A demon.

  Marley “Poppy” Jae Mann Performance manager and dancer at Club Vixen.

  Pastor Grace Ware Pastor of Our Lady of Divine Truth church.

  Elisabeth (Beth) Jane Brewer Teigan’s former lover, a lawyer.

  Kate Everest Fey. A lawyer in Beth’s law firm.

  Rachel Spenser Beth’s cousin, former property of Evaline.

  Sue Ellen Teenage member of Our Lady of Divine Truth.

  Lisa Jean Horne Teenage member of Our Lady of Divine Truth.

  Sasha Sarafina Horne Lisa Jean’s mother.

  Dancers from Club Vixen (And Family)

  Karen “Naomi”

  Helen “Hyacinth”

  Jebediah

  Jake

  Griffen

  Jeri Jebediah’s daughter

  Florida Jebediah’s ex-wife

  Demons of Hell

  Theophania Evaline’s former superior in Hell.

  Nifili

  Tienbellart

  Quentaslart

  Gods

  Alathea, Veritas A god

  Credits

  Thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta readers: Brisa, Charlie, Janeen, Johnna, Laurie, Lindsay, Lori, and Martha.

  And to you, my readers, who help me to make all this possible.

  Bearings

  I looked around, then stared for a minute, a good, long minute. In front of me was the Lake Harriet Band Shell. I was in Minneapolis.

  And not entirely with it.

  Perhaps you’ll forgive me. I’d been to Hell and back, quite literally, with a detour through at least two different Heavens on the way. I’d met not only the Christian god, but my own god, the one the Romans had called Veritas, but I called her by the Greek name, Alathea.

  I was her distant offspring. Who would have guessed?

  I looked around. I didn’t know what to expect. I’d been gone for a long time. I hadn’t a clue how long, none at all. I didn’t know how long I had belonged to Theophania. I didn’t know how long I’d been in Heaven. I was sure I’d spent far more time in Hell, though. Decades. I was sure it was decades.

  I saw cars. They looked like cars, but they were quiet. I smiled at that. “It’s about time.” They were electric, or so I assumed. “Good.”

  I looked down at myself. I didn’t appear too bedraggled. I didn’t think I’d frighten anyone. I was in my cop clothes: white blouse, navy suit jacket and slacks, black belt, black, sensible shoes. I felt a familiar weight and peeked.

  God had given me my gun back. I stared at the butt for a moment. I hoped I wouldn’t need it.

  I pulled the badge out, opening the case. I stared at it for a long time. According to my identification, I wasn’t a detective with the Minneapolis Police Department. Police badges weren’t typically adorned with wings. Along the bottom of the badge, in an arc that looked somewhat like an open scroll, was the name Alathea. The identification portion contained simply my name, Teigan St. Claire, and a title, Special Agent. No address; no department.

  I folded the case and put it back.

  I began walking.

  * * * *

  I wasn’t really with it. I think I said that. I wasn’t really with it. I wandered the streets of Minneapolis. I didn’t have a destination in mind, although there were a few places I specifically avoided.

  I approached one of the churches, one of the grand churches of Minneapolis. As I drew closer, I began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. By the time I stood upon the steps, I had no further desire to step inside.

  That woke me a little. In my pocket was a badge with angel’s wings. I was an agent of God, or so I believed. But it also said Alathea, so maybe I was really her agent, and I wasn’t welcome in a church to the Christian god.

  Or maybe I carried the stench of Hell with me.

  But I didn’t feel welcome in the church. That had never in my life bothered me before, but it bothered me now.

  I turned away.

  I walked past my old precinct house. It was still there. I didn’t linger. I had no idea what I looked like, although I hadn’t really worried about my appearance beyond ensuring I wouldn’t scare anyone.

  I’d been missing for a long time, after all, but now I was back. Had it been so long everyone I knew was long dead? I didn’t know.

  I wasn’t ready to let anyone recognize me.

  I had my gun, and I had a badge. What I didn’t have was a purse, a wallet, or any money. No driver’s license. No credit cards. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about that.

  I moved on, but only another two blocks. I came to another stop, and then I stepped off the sidewalk and into the bank. It hadn’t been my bank. That wouldn't matter. I moved towards the tellers and looked at the wall past them.

  Again, I stared for a long time.

  May 7, 2043.

  I’d been gone for two and a half decades.

  Tears began crawling down my face. I said nothing, but simply stared at the date on the wall, crying quietly.

  Two and a half decades. Twenty-five years. I’d been gone for twenty-five years.

  “Miss?” I turned. “Miss, are you all right?”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Bathroom?”

  She pointed. “Should I call someone?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I rushed in the indicated direction then spent several minutes pulling myself together and several more cleaning myself up before I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

  Miss? Indeed. I looked like a woman of, at most, twenty-five years, and probably not even that old. Theophania had adjusted my body shortly after taking me, and it appeared the changes had stuck.

  I wondered if I was immortal now. Was I some sort of angel? What was I?

  I didn’t have those answers, and I wasn’t going to figure them out staring at myself in the mirror. So I stood up straight, looked at my reflection, and said, “You have a case to solve, Special Agent St. Claire.”

  But I wasn’t ready to begin, not really.

  Outside the bathroom, the woman was waiting for me. “I’m sorry,” I told her. “I’m better now.”

  “Did you have business with the bank today, Miss?”

  “I only came in to check the date. I’m sorry to have troubled you.”

  “May seventh,” she said.

  “May seventh,” I agreed. “Thank you.”

  She didn’t stop me as I stepped past her and made my way from the building.

  * * * *

  I wasn’t ready to begin. And so I wandered. Evening arrived. I came to another stop and looked around. I wasn’t sure where I was, but I turned left and looked across the street. It was another church, small, quite small, really. But it felt inviting, and I didn’t understand.

  I wasn’t entirely unaware. I looked both ways before crossing the street. The cars were so quiet.

  I crossed, and the closer I came to the church, the better I felt. I stood on the steps, and it was as if the doors called to me. I approached, and they opened by themselves.

  Ha.

  By themselves.

  Two teenage girls stepped out. They saw me and held the doors for me. I stepped past them. “Thank you so much.” But then I turned. “What church is this?”

  “Our Lady of Divine Truth,” said one of the girls. They released the doors, and I don’t know if they heard my chuckles.

  Divine Truth. I rather thought I might be in the right place.

  I wandered the church. I heard other voices, but I didn’t see anyone. Behind me, the doors opened and closed a few times. I heard laughing teenagers once or twice. I wondered if a youth program had just ended.<
br />
  I came to a stop just before the steps leading to the sanctuary. There was no cross, or even an altar. There was a pulpit to the left. The entire sanctuary was lit with gentle, indirect lighting. It was warm and inviting, and I felt myself drawn forward.

  I shouldn’t have done it, but I did. I took two steps, walked forward a short distance, and then stopped, closing my eyes with my arms held out. I turned two full circles, my arms wide, my eyes closed.

  I felt warm and safe.

  “Are you there?” I asked. “Are you listening? Are either of you listening?”

  “Yes.” I gave a little shriek, my eyes snapping open, and I spun. Standing at the head of the aisle was a woman wearing casual street clothes and a smirk. She laughed. “You weren’t expecting an answer?”

  “No, actually.”

  “Do you often speak to God?”

  “Not often, no.”

  “When you speak, does she often answer?”

  “She?” I prompted. The woman shrugged. “No, not often,” I said. Then I realized where I was, and I guessed who she was. I hurried forward. “I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect.”

  But she held her hand out. “All are welcome here, child.”

  I managed not to laugh. I was older than she was. Well, I presumed. A lot can happen in twenty-five years. Had they cured aging? I didn’t know.

  I didn’t know anything.

  But I descended the two steps, coming to a stop facing the woman. “I meant no disrespect. I am sorry. I’ll go.”

  I tried to step past her, but she stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Child,” she said again. We turned to each other, and she set her other hand to my cheek. She frowned for a moment, but then smiled again. “No. Not a child.”

  “No,” I said. “I haven’t been a child for a long time.”

  “You are, however, a little lost. You came for answers.”

  “I don’t know why I came,” I said. “It felt right.”

  Her smile broadened. “Good. Sit with me.” Apparently, she wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer, she tugged on my arm, and I let her lead me to the front pew. We sat, and then she said, “I am Pastor Grace.”

  “Teigan,” I said. “My pleasure.” She took my hand, and together we turned, sitting side-by-side facing the sanctuary. “There’s no cross,” I observed. “No altar.”

  “No,” she agreed.

  “What denomination church is this?”

  “Our own,” she replied. “This was once a Lutheran church. The former congregation outgrew it. It sat idle for some time. Now it is ours.”

  “Our Lady of Divine Truth,” I said. “One of the girls told me.”

  “There is a sign outside as well,” said Pastor Grace.

  We sat quietly for a minute, the pastor continuing to claim possession of my hand. I didn’t understand why. Was she afraid I would bolt if she released me? Did she care? I said nothing, and I didn’t try to take my hand away. I hoped she would talk, but she sat quietly until I couldn’t stand it any longer.

  I gave myself a little internal laugh. I wasn’t accustomed to being the one who cracked the silence first.

  “You’re not asking about my soul.”

  She snorted. “That would be very intimate, and we’ve only just met.”

  “Isn’t that what ministers do, though?”

  “Perhaps others,” she replied.

  “You called God ‘her’.”

  “I did,” she agreed. “Are you offended?”

  “No.”

  “Do you believe?” I turned to look at her. She was watching me. Slowly, I nodded. She squeezed my hand. “Good,” she said. “Are you in some sort of trouble, Teigan?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I have things I need to do.”

  “Did you want to talk to me about them?”

  I considered. “What denomination church is this?”

  “You asked me that already.”

  “And you didn’t really give an answer,” I replied. “No cross. No altar.”

  “That’s not really what puzzles you, is it?”

  “You seem to be good at avoiding my questions.”

  “We’re our own denomination,” she said. “In a way, we’re a Universalist church.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “We’re not Christian, not exactly, but we’re not not-Christian, either.”

  “That’s clear as fog.”

  She smiled again. She was quite lovely when she smiled. “I know. We do not believe a loving god picks and chooses who may enter heaven.”

  “So the wicked alongside the righteous?”

  “The believers alongside the other believers alongside everyone else who tried to live a good life.”

  “Atheists?”

  “Yes. Buddhists. Hindus. All who did their best to live a good life.”

  “You are quite inclusive,” I said.

  “Clearly, not everyone agrees with our principles.” She gestured.

  “It’s a lovely church,” I said. “I didn’t mean to offend anyone.”

  “That’s the third time you said that,” she replied. “Do I look offended?”

  “No.”

  “That should tell you something. You looked so peaceful, Teigan. I was watching you. You looked lost when you stepped in, but the closer you drew to the sanctuary, the more peaceful you appeared. I wouldn't have interrupted you, but I wanted to meet you.”

  “I felt at peace,” I said. “I-” I looked away.

  “Please tell me, Teigan,” Pastor Grace said gently.

  “I didn’t feel welcome in the other church,” I said. “But I was drawn here.” I turned back. “I don’t know what any of that means.”

  “Was someone rude?”

  “No,” I said. “I stood on the steps and felt as if something was pushing me away. I thought it was because…” I trailed off and looked down, staring at our clasped hands.

  “Am I making you uncomfortable?” she asked after a moment.

  “No,” I whispered.

  “Are you a good person, Teigan?”

  “I’ve tried to be. But I’ve been… in a bad place, for a long time.” I looked up into her eyes. “A very bad place, Pastor Grace.”

  “And you think that is why you couldn’t enter the other church?” Slowly, I nodded. She gestured to the sanctuary. “Bad people don’t stand there looking entirely radiant, then ask God if she is listening as if she believes she will be answered.”

  “I didn’t-” I started to say, but then closed my mouth. “I suppose I thought she might.”

  She nodded. “Teigan, why do you have a gun?” With my free hand, I tightly closed my jacket, cutting off her view. I also tried to take my hand away, but she held, and I didn’t fight her. “Are you a cop?”

  “I used to be,” I admitted. I gave a little laugh. “My title is now Special Agent.”

  “For the FBI?”

  “No, but something like that.”

  She looked into my eyes. I don’t know what she saw. She nodded.

  “I should go.”

  “Why?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You came for answers. I don’t believe you have found them. Are you going to find them if you leave?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Stay,” she said. “Have you had dinner?”

  “Pastor Grace,” I said gently.

  “Have you?” she prompted.

  “No.”

  “Is there somewhere you need to be?”

  “No.”

  “Then have dinner with me,” she said. “A simple meal.”

  “Pastor Grace,” I said again, not sure what my point was.

  “Are you afraid of me?”

  “Of course not.” I smiled.

  “Do you have dinner plans? Perhaps you are on a case, and you must see to it.”

  “You’re being very kind,” I said. “I don’t want to impose.”

  “Please join me for dinner, Teigan,” she s
aid gently. But then she released my hand and stood, stepping away, then turning to see what I would do.

  I looked up at her then, slowly, stood. I took a half step and then collected her hand again. “Grace,” I said.

  She smiled broadly. “Come.”

  * * * *

  Still holding hands, she led me about the church. We locked the doors, and then we stepped out the back. She had a small cottage behind the church, and she led me to it. It was small, only a single bedroom, but it was warm and inviting. In the living room, she said, “You won’t need it here.”

  I nodded, knowing what she meant, then asked, “Where do you want me to put it?”

  “Closet,” she said. “On the shelf, if you like, or you can hang it up. Whatever works. No one will bother it.”

  I nodded. For the first time since we arrived, I released her hand. Then I took off the coat and stepped to the closet. I found a hangar. I hung up the coat then slipped out of the shoulder harness. I hung the gun on the hangar, inside the coat, and then replaced it in the closet, finding a way the gun didn’t show if someone offered a cursory look.

  I turned to her, and she was smiling. “Thank you,” she said. She held out her hand, and I crossed to her, giving my hand back to her. “Does this bother you?” She squeezed my hand. “Somehow it feels right. I can’t explain it.”

  “Somehow your church felt right,” I said. “Maybe it’s not the church. Maybe it’s you.”

  “I’m not anyone special,” she said. “Come.” She tugged me towards the kitchen. Inside, she sighed, releasing my hand. “Sit. I’m going to make tea. How does a little stir fry sound?”

  “It sounds lovely. May I help?”

  “Sit,” she said. “Relax.”

  * * * *

  While she cooked, we talked easily. Twice more I offered to help, but she told me she preferred to do this part herself. We talked about nothing important, but then she set two plates on the table and sat. “Will you be offended if I pray?”

  “Not at all.”

  “We hold hands,” she said. She offered hers. I placed mine inside her fingers. She clasped and then bowed her head. I did the same, but I found myself watching her. “Dearest Lady,” she said. “We thank you for this wholesome meal and for the welcoming joy you have shared with us this day.” Then she said nothing more for a minute before looking over at me and smiling. She squeezed my hand and then released it.