“I forgive you,” Chamuel repeated.
“STOP,” Hemah screamed, slapping Its hands over Its ears.
“I forgive you. Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it,” Chamuel told him.
“Mark Twain,” Jennifer added, smiling at her counterpart.
“YOU ARE NOTHING,” Hemah screamed. “Weak. Nothing.”
“I forgive you,” Chamuel went on. “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.”
Jennifer and Chamuel stepped forward together and stood side by side.
“Mahatma Gandhi,” Jennifer shared, putting her arm around Chamuel’s shoulder.
“I forgive you, Hemah,” Chamuel told him. “Forgiveness does not mean ignoring what has been done or putting a false label on an evil act. It means, rather that the evil act no longer remains as a barrier to the relationship.”
“Martin Luther King,” Jennifer supplied.
“You will STOP,” Hemah roared. “NO MORE.”
Chamuel simply smiled at the irate being who was losing Its mind as we watched. The pain of being forgiven for the pain It had caused was tearing It apart from the inside out.
“I forgive you,” Jennifer said, much to Hemah’s shock. “You did your best to kill me. I forgive you. Confucius said, ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself: Do not do to others what thou wouldst not wish to be done to thyself. Forgive injuries. Forgive thy enemy, be reconciled with him, give him assistance, invoke God on his behalf.’ I forgive you, Hemah.”
The former Higher Power who had done Its very best to destroy was now being destroyed by being forgiven. Hemah was on the ground rocking back and forth in agony. Shitty Ritchie watched his counterpart with no sympathy. I wasn’t sure he was ready to forgive Hemah yet.
Of course, that was probably the ticket that would send Hemah straight into insanity.
“I’m working on forgiving you,” I said flatly. I wasn’t positive I meant it, but I truly wanted to mean it.
The evil being on the ground held the key to saving my daughter. I needed it. Now. The realization hit me hard and fast. Chamuel was dead. Its hand felt icy here in the Darkness. If Hemah was dead as in ghost-dead, Its hand would feel the same. It was risky touching the disgusting creature, but I didn’t care.
It was time to go and I wasn’t leaving without the knowledge I came for. I move to Hemah with speed that rendered me invisible for a moment. Giving It the chance to run wasn’t on the agenda. Bending down, I grabbed Its hand and yanked It to Its feet.
Bingo. Hemah’s hand was a cold as Chamuel’s. They were both dead. And they were both ghosts. I got one of the answers I’d come for. I didn’t bargain for what came next.
“Fuck,” I muttered as I fell into Hemah’s mind.
Pictures began to race across my vision so quickly, I couldn’t make them out. It was like an old, static-filled black-and-white TV screen was inside my head. Scene after scene flashed by as I willed it to slow down.
I realized that this was the chance to get what I wanted. If Hemah wouldn’t tell me where Uriel’s cage was, I’d dig it out of his memory.
I concentrated hard.
“The beginning. Take me to the beginning,” I shouted.
“No,” Hemah choked out, trying to pull his hand away. “No.”
I didn’t let go. I held so tight, I felt Hemah’s bones dislocate. Didn’t matter. The asshole was dead. My daughter was alive. I refused to believe anything else.
“Do the right thing,” I growled at the cowering piece of shit. “SHOW ME. Show me the cage.”
Chamuel’s hands on my back sent shivers down my spine. I was beginning to feel like I was encased in a block of ice. It sucked, but I could take it. I could take anything to get to my child.
“Show her,” Chamuel demanded in a cold voice. “Show her what you did. There is nothing left for you but the truth, Hemah. Do not fail again.”
Hemah stopped trying to pull away. Its head dropped forward and a moan filled with so much agony and regret that it felt visceral fell from Its lips.
