When Death Loved an Angel by Cheree Alsop

Author:Cheree Alsop [Alsop, Cheree]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Paranormal
ISBN: 9781301865574
Google: maKZAwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00FZAJYVG
Barnesnoble: B00FZAJYVG
Goodreads: 18698496
Publisher: Cheree Alsop
Published: 2013-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

***

He was about to leave the hospital when his arm gave an unexpected tingle. He glanced down at the list of names. One stood out from the rest. Rosemary Abbot. As he followed the name, the path became familiar. His steps slowed when he reached the room. The word ‘Diablo’ whispered through the doorway. He crossed the threshold and met a pair of familiar blue eyes.

“Rosemary?” he asked softly.

She blinked. Instead of defiance, there were tears in her eyes. She shook her head, her movements frail. “I didn’t believe I would be happy to see you,” she said, her voice wavering. Her white curls were pressed to her head and she held a hand to her heart, covering the flower print of her hospital gown with fragile fingers. “But I feel it here.” Tears shone in the low light. “I feel the weakness.”

Death’s heart gave an answering throb. He put a hand to it, trying to keep it from beating. Death had no use for a heartbeat. He was ready to stop pretending he had a heart.

He crossed to her bedside, anxious to get it over with.

She reached out a hand. He hesitated, then felt her thoughts crash over him.

He saw her as a toddler reaching for a dog’s wet nose. Somebody shoed the dog away, but she wanted him to come back. The image changed, showing a pool of water. Kids laughed in the pool, waving for her to join them. She grabbed a thick rope and swung out; for a moment, she was suspended in midair, then she plummeted into the water and came up laughing. She was a woman ice skating across a frozen pond, her hand held by a young man who smiled at her, his gaze promising to take care of her and keep her safe.

The next memory showed Rosemary at a funeral service. Two young children stood by her side. Death recognized the man in the picture by the casket. He tried to fight the memories. They swam over him again; blue and white flowers encircled the casket, matching the officer’s uniform the man wore. Death knew the man’s face. He remembered the feeling of the uniform beneath his fingers. He saw the bullet hole through the man’s chest, he heard him whisper ‘Rosemary.’

Death fell to his knees on the hospital floor. He shook his head, trying to clear the images from his mind. Rosemary reached down for him. “I’m ready,” she said. “I want to go home.”

Death put his hands over his head, trying desperately to sink through the floor, to be anywhere but at the bedside of the woman whose husband he had taken away.

“I can’t do it,” he whispered.

“You must,” she said. “Because if you don’t, who will?”

He sat in silence for several minutes staring at the white tile floor and trying to will his heart to slow or stop altogether. He preferred the latter. It would be easier if he didn’t have a heart at all, especially if it was going to hurt so badly.

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