“Sam, you’re coming over for the game, right?” a voice asks. It’s my friend, Doug. We’re old high school buddies, grew apart for a few years, then reconnected in the police academy, even winding up as partners. That’s why we’re currently in a police cruiser together, he to my right, and me behind the wheel. It’s our shift, and we’re out on patrol. It’s been a quiet Wednesday night so far. A few domestic disturbance calls and a drunken disorderly. Nothing major. Having finished the latest one, we’ve tucked in under the shadows of an alley, shooting the breeze while listening to light rock on the radio.

Without turning, I shake my head. “Can’t. It’s on Saturday, right? Stacy’s parents are coming over.”

Stacy is my fiance. We met a few years ago, while I was still in the police academy. She’s this pretty German redhead, with a ponytail, green eyes and a face dotted with freckles. Her cheeks dimple when she laughs, and she has the most dry, deadpan sense of humor ever, which I fell in love with. I popped the question about two months ago. She said yes.

“Bring them too,” Doug suggests, “the more the merrier.”

“Her dad’s a Patriots’ fan,” I reply, and as the words leave my mouth, I can already anticipate what the response will be.

“You’re marrying into a Patriots’ family? Who are you?!” Doug exclaims, only half in jest, throwing his hands into the air.

“As spoken like a Steelers’ fan,” I laugh.

“Hey! Last I checked, you were a Steelers’ fan too.”

“I’m just good at pretending to care,” I shrug.

“Speaking of pretending to care,” Doug begins with a knowing smirk, “have you decided on a date for the wedding yet?”

Low blow, man, low blow. But true nonetheless. Don’t think poorly of me, please. I did care, at the beginning. But insanity has driven me to apathy.

I groan. “Don’t talk to me about that. Stacy’s girlfriends have her convinced it's like taking the SATs or something. Like, did you know apparently eight is a lucky number in Chinese culture? So having a wedding on the 8th is good luck.”

“Neither of you are Chinese though.”

“I know!” I groan, “And I could talk all night about how she thinks the dresses-”

Suddenly, I’m interrupted by a voice coming in over the radio. It’s dispatch. “All units be advised, possible crime in progress on Flowers and Main. Single armed suspect with a gun. Possible hostage.”

Flowers and Main street? That’s only a few blocks away.

“Saved by the bell,” Doug quips. He reaches for the radio mic, then replies, “This is Officer Doug, Unit 8. Responding to the call from Main and Fruits. Please acknowledge.”

“10-4, Unit 8. Proceed with caution. No sirens.”

“Got it, Dispatch,” Doug replies. And with that, we’re off.

****

We arrive a few minutes later at what appears to be an abandoned strip mall. The parking lot is dark, save for the flicker of a single, orange street lamp. I peer out past the windshield, looking for any movement. Beside me, Doug reaches for the radio.

“Dispatch, this is Unit 8. On site. No signs of a suspect or hostage. Over.”

As I continue scanning the area, I find that all is quiet, eerily so, and seemingly empty. A false alarm? Maybe it was a prank call? All appears fine. And yet, there’s something nagging at me. I can’t quite place it, a gut feeling perhaps, or some kind of sixth sense. “Doug,” I mumble, “does this feel right to you?”

“How do you mean?”

Instead of answering, I reach for the radio mic. “Dispatch, this is Unit 8. Who called in the emergency? Over.”

A long silence filled with static before a response comes. “Unit 8, this is Dispatch. The call came anonymously. Blocked number. Untraceable.”

“What about the time? What time did the call come in?”

“Sam, what is this all about?” Doug asks.

“Call came in at 23:52,” the voice says over the radio.

I look at the clock on the dashboard. It reads midnight on the dot. A coincidence or…

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning strikes, not more than eight feet from our cruiser, sending sparks flying across the asphalt, and I quickly shield my eyes from the brightness.

“Holy fuck!” Doug exclaims besides me.

I’m about to say something as well, but then, something before me suddenly causes the words to catch in my throat. I see a figure standing outside, by the singular light post. The flicker of the lamp makes it hard to discern many features, but I can at least see that it's a woman, a redhead, with hair tied back into a ponytail. She is dressed in a white nightgown, which appears almost ghastly against the backdrop.

Before I can think, I’m unbuckling my seatbelt and rushing out the door. Behind me, I can hear Doug calling. I can’t make out the words, but I understand the gist. He’s telling me to get back in the fucking car. I step forward.

Closer to the woman now, I can see she has green eyes, which almost glow in the darkness, like neon. Her face, a slender nose, dotted with freckles. She smiles at me, two dimples lining her cheeks.

“Stacy?” I ask, for the woman so resembles my fiance, “Stacy, is that you?”

The woman just stares silently at me, her gaze lingering upon mine. One second. Eight. Maybe many more. It’s like I’m in a trance. Then, she finally opens her mouth.

What comes out is garbled, like I’m underwater. Sounds I cannot understand. And yet, it feels nostalgic. My heart beats faster. Then I see the woman raise her hand. From it hangs a pendant. The chain is made of gold. At the end is attached a ring, about eight inches in diameter, also gold. She presents it to me, as if gesturing for me to take it.

I’m not sure why, but I feel compelled to touch it, and so I do. The second I lay my finger on the cool metal, a shock hits me, like static. It jolts me back to my senses, and when I look up, I find that the doppelganger of my fiance is no more. In her place is a blonde, still dressed in a nightgown. Her crystal blue eyes watch me- quizzical, contemplating.

“I, um, ma’am, everything alright?” I ask.

“How about you, Officer? You seem… lost. Are you far away from home?” the woman replies. Her voice is melodic and soothing, like sweet honey on a hot summer day, and I almost find myself getting sucked in, save for a shout from Doug, calling out to me from behind.

“Sam! Sam! Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine!” I call back. Then, turning to the woman, I instruct, “Stay here a second, okay?” I wait for her to nod before I start making my way back towards Doug. I never reach him, however, for as I’m walking, I find something suddenly catching the corner of my eye. It’s a gleam, and it takes me all of a second to recognize what it is. It’s the barrel of a gun. I’m suddenly reminded of the call to dispatch.

I swerve towards the woman, but I know I won’t make it in time. She’s too far away. I yell out. I’m not sure what exactly. A warning, perhaps. At that same moment, a sudden gust of wind rises. It whips past me, throwing off my cap, tousling my wavy brown hair. I see the woman fall to the ground. The caw of a raven fills the air. Then comes the gunshots. One. Two. Eight. I lose count. Some ricochet. One slices my throat clean through. My hands instantly reach for my neck, trying to stem the bleeding. It’s no use. I fall to the ground. My eyes feel heavy.

“Sam! Sam!”

Someone’s calling my name.

“Verbanntyi.”

It’s cold.

****

“Are you insane, Sister?! You realize what the council will do to you, if they find out what you’ve done?”

“Speak any louder, and they just might, Sister.”

“Don’t take that tone with me. I’m not the one who brought ‘him’ here.”

“This is only temporary. He’s not staying.”

“You-! You’re not sending him down to Arcadia, are you-?”

“That’s exactly what I shall do.”

“You’re a fool if you think the realm will just turn a blind eye to all this.”

“It’s what I, what ‘we’, should have done from the start. Our cowardice caused all this. Our betrayal of our dearest friend. Sister, do you feel no shame?”

“... He won’t make it to adulthood, you know.”

“Well, now that’s up to him, isn’t it?”

“... Do whatever you want.”

Silence. A pause. Then the slamming of a door.

I wait, and wait some more. Minutes pass, perhaps hours. Finally, I open my eyes, blinking twice from the brightness, adjusting to the space around me. Lifting my head, I find myself in a perfectly white room filled with ambient light. I’m sitting, on what seems like air. There is a desk ahead, made of maple, behind which a woman rests. It takes me a second, but I recognize her. It’s the blonde from the strip mall parking lot. She appears in thought, her eyes closed, her fingers rubbing her temples.

I cough softly to draw her attention. It works. Her crystal blue eyes open, training on me. “Ah, you’re awake,” she says.

I nod. “Um, where am I?” Then I remember. I reach for my neck, touching it gingerly. My fingers come away dry. No blood. “Am I-?”

“Yes, you’ve died, Samuel Tazuth.”

“So this is… what? The afterlife? Just who are you?”

“I am a goddess. This is my domain. I’ve brought you here as gratitude.”

“Gratitude? For what?” I ask, confused.

“For saving my life.”

“I, um, I don’t understand,” I reply as a million questions stream through my mind. What was a goddess doing in an abandoned strip mall? How did she get there? Why was someone trying to kill her? And could a goddess even be killed by a bullet? “I, um, I-”

The goddess holds up her hand, silencing me. “I know you have many questions, but we don’t have much time. You will just have to trust what I say for now. Understand, Samuel?” When she sees me nod, she continues, “Good. Now, in forcing you to sacrifice your life to save mine, I have caused you great karmic imbalance. According to celestial laws, this must be corrected. So tell me, how can I repay you?”

I think for a moment. “Doug, my partner, the other officer that was with me. Is he-? What happened to him?”

“You need not worry, Samuel. Your friend is fine. He’s unharmed.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “A-and Stacy? I, I saw her, saw, you, um, actually, I don’t know what I saw, to be honest…”

“Your fiance is also unharmed,” the goddess replies. Then she gives me a quizzical look. “I see your instinct is to immediately think of others. That is honorable. But tell me, is there nothing you want for yourself?”

I find the question strange. “I’m already dead, Goddess. What can I possibly want for myself?”

“How about a second chance?”

My eyes open in surprise. “You can bring me back from the dead?”

The goddess shakes her head. “No, a soul cannot return to a broken body. But, it can find a new one.”

“Wait, like reincarnation?”

“Exactly. I can send your soul into the body of a newborn. Not on Earth- the magic there is too weak to support such a transfer- but on Arcadia. You can have a second chance at life.”

“Well, um, what about the baby’s own soul? I won’t be, um, I don’t know, interfering with it, or something?”

“I can ensure that that does not happen. I will preserve an empty vessel just for you. So, what do you say, Samuel? Do you find this arrangement satisfactory as recompense?”

“Um, and Doug and Stacy-”

“They’re fine.”

“Well then, okay, I guess. Let’s go ahead with this reincarnation thing.”

The goddess nods, and with a snap of her fingers, I find my body suddenly surrounded by orbs of light. The heat grows, burning, and through the brightness, I can barely make out the goddess’ lingering form. I see her lips move. It says, “Farewell, young one, and may fortune be on your side this time around.” Her face smiles, and I’m suddenly struck by a feeling of deep nostalgia. Tears stream from my eyes, and I cry out, reach with my hands.

But there is no answer.

****

Tears stream from my eyes, and I cry out, reach with my hands.

I’m met with a much bigger pair, which cradles me, lifting me up, bringing me to eye level, and into the softness of two blue orbs I look, the face of a young woman in her mid twenties. Her long brown hair captures her delicate face, her plump red lips curling into a smile. With gentle voice, she calls out to me, soothing, playful. “There, there, Sammy. Mommy’s here. Don’t cry.”

My reincarnation has begun.