The Stars Forbade Us Read online

  THE STARS

  FORBADE US

  THE STARS

  FORBADE US

  Holly Wentz

  © 2018 Holly Wentz

  The Stars Forbade Us

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Elm Hill, an imprint of Thomas Nelson. Elm Hill and Thomas Nelson are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.

  Elm Hill titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018952582

  ISBN 978-1-595558800 (Paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-595558886 (Ebook)

  Information about External Hyperlinks in this ebook

  Please note that footnotes in this ebook may contain hyperlinks to external websites as part of bibliographic citations. These hyperlinks have not been activated by the publisher, who cannot verify the accuracy of these links beyond the date of publication.

  CONTENTS

  PART ONE:

  ALIYA AND EZI

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  PART TWO:

  THE UNJUDGED

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  PART THREE:

  BEYOND THE VEIL

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  PART ONE

  ALIYA AND EZI

  CHAPTER ONE

  The room is softly lit in warm yellows with dark wood accents. Aliya stands at the bedside, running her fingers along the old woman’s wrinkled hand as its papery skin grows cold in death. Looking across the bed she smiles gently at the handsome middle-aged man who stares intently at the old woman’s face, visibly struggling to hold back his tears. She always chided him for crying, and now he fights showing his grief at her passing. Sadly she chuckles. “Silly boy,” she whispers to the man who had been her son and gazes one last time at the woman she had been before turning from the peacefully sad scene. As she turns, the scene and the physical world it belongs to begins to haze and go out of focus until everything is a blur of whispers and dreams.

  Only two things are left in sharp relief; Aliya and the large male she now faces, a male she knew before turning would be there. La’sha was always there to escort her back to the Grey City. It wasn’t home, she always reminded herself of that when La’sha arrived. He was not escorting her home, he was only escorting her back to there. Not home. Home was still waiting on her … she hoped.

  “Hello, La’sha.” she sighed, looking up at him.

  La’sha was tall with thick corded muscles, as dark and wild as he was beautiful. As a hellhound, his natural state was of a giant beast full of fangs and claws and fur. But in this humanlike form his thick black hair shagged to nearly his shoulders, and its gleaming set off his bright black eyes. Piercing eyes that were currently narrowed at her; his lips forming that strange half snarl half grin she always found endearing, if not a little frightening.

  “That’s a nice picture.” he says, nodding his chin at the quickly fading bedroom, the threads of memories, words, and love unraveling into the Ether. Aliya reaches out to one of the wispy threads as it glides past her, a memory of a day at the beach and finding a starfish.

  She smiles, “You never forget, you know, the ones you lived among, the ones you were. You never forget, but you remember differently than they do.”

  Sighing, she lets the mother and son’s entwined memory continue out to join the Celestial then looks above her. She knew there was no reason to look, no reason to wait. This time had not been the one. She had not lived it right, though she could argue she had not spent it too wrong either. If she were to argue, she would say she lived a good if not righteous life, but there was no argument in this arrangement. The rules were very clear and she was lucky the opportunity was even offered. No, she just paused and looked up for no other reason than that she had a chance to do so. She always wondered if he was there, just beyond the dark. She wondered if he was just there, looking back at her. If she reached up, would he reach down? Unconsciously, she began to raise her arm. La’sha cleared his throat in impatience.

  “Ready?” he barks, stepping back and gesturing into an abyss with one hand while offering his other hand to her. Taking it, she nods in resignation. “Ready.” she replies.

  The abyss doesn’t really exist. It is an illusion created by the Men of Earth, woven by all their fears of what awaits after the physical body dies. If one is too consumed by this fear, the abyss greets them with shackles to chain them in its insubstantial grasp. If one listens in passing through its thin veil, one can hear those trapped there, imprisoned by their own fears. Aliya hated walking through it. No matter how hard she tried, she always listened and she always heard.

  One step through and they emerged at the Crossroad, a desolate place with nothing but desert scrub without any desert beauty stretching out as far as the eye could see. The Crossroads themselves were paved with what appeared to be crushed shells, covered for seven yards in the Four Directions. From there, the pavement was different so that they formed a large white gleaming X in the middle of nothing. In one direction, a large wide cobbled road led to the Punishment. It was not a trick, it did not appear the easier road, and the cobbled stones, though they may be large and smooth, radiated a mixture of desperation and hopelessness. It was paved by an eternal caravan of the Damned and the Fallen in their journey to their Judgment. Her father had helped pave that road. She shivers at that thought and looks across to the other way.

  That road was mostly dirt, packed clay and crushed stone, it led into the Wilderness and somewhere, far beyond the Desolation, the Burning City sat atop a ridge inflamed with hate and greed and all the wickedness of Hell. Behind her was a short path of pavement that ended in a chasm that yawned out, its other side lost in mist. That way led back to the Physical realm; the Crossroads were the one gate the hellhounds did not guard, for even the winged abominations of Hell could not cross this chasm. Only those with permission to enter the physical world could cross, and there was a far easier gate to pass through.

  Putting her back to the chasm left her facing the path she would be taking, a nondescript ribbon of asphalt leading out and in the far distance the Grey City. Parked on the other side of the Crossroad, in place of her own unremarkable hooptey, was a sleek black Cadillac CTS, its chrome accents glinting red and orange in the setting sun.

  “Is that your car?” she said, laughing, while gesturing at the beautiful vehicle.

  La’sha scowled at her before glancing at the car then back at her. “Yes, why? What’s wrong with my car?” He looked such a mixture of insulted, annoyed, and hurt she couldn’t stop from laughing harder. When his eyes flashed red and he clenched his hands to hold back his claws, she immediately sobered.

  “There’s nothin
g wrong with the car.” she said, trying to sound placating. “It’s just I always pictured you in a big ferocious muscle car. I never pictured you a Cadillac man.”

  Of course, just applying that title to him sets her off cackling again. La’sha growled and actually snapped at her as he pushed past towards the car. Afraid he might just be angry enough to leave her there, she hurried after him and jumped in the passenger seat before he had time to get the key in the ignition.

  As he pulled onto the black top, she let down her window to enjoy the open arid air before the crush of the city choked it full of civilization.

  “I’ll have you know this car has plenty of muscle; she just doesn’t have to go around flexing it. She’s a badass and everyone who sees her knows. She’s just a classy badass.”

  Aliya had been leaning her head against the door frame to get the full blast from the wind, but she turned at La’sha’s statement. “I’m not sure which is more disturbing: that you’re defending the badass reputation of your caddy or the fact that it is not only a caddy but a female.”

  La’sha flips her off, and then he said the one thing he knew would stop the abuse to his car. “So, couldn’t quite pull off a virtuous life this time, huh?”

  Aliya winces before sighing and leaning her head back against the door. He hated doing that to the little thing, but hey a guy’s car was sacred and deserved defense. Of course, Aliya could use a little defense herself. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he surveyed his charge. Like all of her kind, she was beautiful in the most carnal sense. Her dark auburn hair glinted shades ranging from gold to bronze to black. Her body was a study in the most sexually divine proportions, even tipping to the obscene when it came to the fullness of her breast and roundness of her backside. And her amber eyes were perfectly almond-shaped that sparkled when happy but burned wild when she was lusty—and oh man, was the girl lusty. Of course it was hard to blame her; she had been created in lust, and the nature of her father ensured that lust would always be an ingrained part of her very essence.

  Of course therein lay the problem. Lust was a part of her at the most basic level, and she had been trying for the past untold millennia to prove it wasn’t. Aliya was determined to prove she was not her nature, an abstract thought that he was at a loss to understand. How could anyone not be themselves, not be who and what they are? It was such an odd thought to try and prove. And La’sha believed it was the human in her that created that thought. For only a human would believe they could be other then who they were. The true question was: is it possible? The true answer being her only chance.

  CHAPTER TWO

  They entered the city abruptly, going almost instantly from a desolate desert road to a chaotic metropolis. For a single turn of the wheels, the front end of the car was doused in the shadows created by two high-rise buildings on either side of the road while the back end still gleamed in the dying light of the fading sun, and then the entire car was swallowed. They emerged out of the alley that led to that desert road, and La’sha turned unto the bustle of the main highway running through the Grey City.

  Called the Transit by locals and travelers alike, the highway ran straight through the city’s heart. It started at the First Gate, a huge six-lane laceration running the whole way and straight out again towards the Burning City. Whether it went straight the whole way, only those who travelled it knew. No one who went to the Burning City came back, at least not in any form they would have been recognized in. Between the Grey City and the Burning City was the Desolation, a wasteland of Hell. On the Desolation’s end of the Grey City were the warehouses, largely abandoned. The rows of dilapidated storehouses lined along that end of the city limit, a testament to industry that never existed.

  From the Transit, the city fanned out on both sides, tight streets crossed and crisscrossed each other. Buildings as short as three stories to as sweeping as thirty or more all crushed and crawled over each other filled with the inhabitants of Existence.

  On the one side was the First Gate. It is the primary gate that those in this Spiritual realm, with or without permission, passed over into the Physical and vice versa. The Gate reminded Aliya of a huge rail station, like Grand Central or Kings Cross, with its wide open space below the vast vaulted ceiling. But unlike its mortal lookalikes, the Gate had no downtimes, no quiet moments. There was always a press and surge of bodies; humans newly passed who wailed as they came to terms that Paradise did not await. Others more inclined to continuing a life of vice, who quickly moved out into the city’s teeming streets; eventually to become mired there or carry farther out to the Burning City.

  Hell spirits, and even the occasional Demon, came there seeking a way to slip past the ever present hellhounds. The Demons, of course, were both the easier to spot and the more difficult, depending on how you looked for them. If you were seeking evil, they could effortlessly slip past you. They were always more open and charming, much more “caring” than the hell spirit. To find them you had to look past the outer façade they presented. You had to watch with your heart, feel with your eyes looking deep within theirs. Then they were obvious, because while looking into the heart of a hell spirit, you may find any or all vices. Looking into a Demon’s eyes, all you saw was hate. And in that unconscionable and endless hate lay true Evil.

  Like most of the established inhabitants of the city, Aliya lived on the side of the Transit closest to the Crossroads. Most permanent residents were not truly—or purely—evil. They were either humans who had not, or could not, fully accept the Truth of Existence and therefore were confined to this hazy smog-cloaked City of In Between. Or they were like her, creatures beyond human—and more importantly, beyond redemption—who refused to fully embrace their place in Existence. For them, life was a long waged war against themselves, where they took any open opportunity to try and seek a salvation their very essence deprives of them. To Aliya, the city was a representative of her life as it stands, a hope gleaming faint in an otherwise dreary landscape.

  La’sha pulled to the curb in front of the five-story brick-faced apartment house where Aliya kept a room. It wasn’t home, she reminded herself as she looked up at the dirty dark front. Unlike many similar buildings in the mortal world, this one had walkways with iron railing slashing across the frontage with each room’s entry accessible from the outside. The walkway above allowed cover for the one below, with those on the fifth floor exposed to the elements as soon as they stepped out their doorway. Aliya has the sixth room down on the fifth floor. While it was exposed to the infrequent rains with their sulfuric drops, it was also far above the dangerous streets. Plenty of potential victims between her and any who wished to do harm. It was not a charitable thought but this was not a place known for charity.

  After stepping out onto the filthy sidewalk, she leaned back down into the car. “Are you coming up?” she asked La’sha, a mild husk forming in her voice. As a lust spirit, she had often found momentary lovers in the bars and clubs clogging the city. While she never purposely went looking for one, their compliments and persistence had often worn her down. Most had no intentions for more than a mindless night of casual sex, though some were more insidious. She, unlike most lust spirits, knew who to avoid. You couldn’t die in this Existence, but there were times many wished they could. La’sha was one of only two constant lovers she retained.

  Early in her quest for virtue, she had determined she would be as wholesome here as she tried to be in mortal life. While her reason as to why was completely known to her in this form, unlike in her mortal ones, her nature was also completely known. And unhampered by a human shell, the spirit of want and desire burned as hot within her as it blazed out from her. During her first waiting period after her first failed attempt, depressed and frustrated, she went to the nearest bar and quickly became first drunk then naked, in the bathroom, with three men. Afterwards, she became so enraged and disgusted at her own weakness that she got into her car, intent on driving to the Burning City, to become one of the truly Lost. It
was La’sha who stopped her.

  At the time, all she knew of La’sha was that he had been the one who retrieved her at the moment her first mortal life ended. He had been in his natural form, a great wolven creature that had snarled, growled, and herded her through the abyss. So when the large man with a wild mane of black hair had stepped out in front of her beat-up car and allowed it to slam directly into him, she thought at first it was a crazed human, despondent on their newly determined afterlife.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Aliya quickly got out and rushed to the poor man, cradling his head in her lap as she tried to soothe the being who must have felt as hopeless as she did.

  “Don’t give up,” she murmured softly; “all is not lost. I know it feels that way now, in this sad sorry city, but there is hope.” Lifting his head as gently as she could to lean it against her shoulder she pointed out, away from the road and city, out towards the Crossroads.

  “You see past there, where the roads meet in white. There is hope there; when you feel lost, go and sit where they meet. They will tell their stories. Some are sad and some are frightening, but some are of You and Me and We making it out of here, making it to Paradise.” She gently stroked his hair, leaning her cheek against his head, “There now, don’t fret. We can go together if you like. The roads never lie. Our happy ending is there” But as she began to try and lift him up, he suddenly turned and lifted her, setting her on the car’s hood. Black eyes bore into hers and just as she could see a Demon, so could she see a hellhound.

  Canting his head, he asked in a deep gravelly voice, “Why are you leaving?”

  “You!” she gasped, leaning back, “You’re the hellhound who escorted me.” This close to his eyes, there was no denying not only what, but exactly who he was.

  He gave a grunt she supposed was an affirmative then asked again in the same tone, “Why are you leaving?”