Eternity (16 page)

“How is your daughter feeling?” I asked gently.

“The cloths we wear over our faces frighten her.” He swallowed. “I’m-I’m afraid…that Catherine’s time is near.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Mrs. Snowdon…She’s not accepting this well. With Beverly having already been taken from us…”

My chest swelled then at the pity I felt for them. It wasn’t fair for any family to endure what they had.

Mr. Snowdon appeared to overcome the undisclosed thoughts afflicting him and lifted his eyes back to us. “Thank you for coming.”

“Certainly…of course…”

“I understand you’ve been making other house calls…delivering messages for my neighbors as well,” he surmised.

“Yes, we have.”

“I’m sure they appreciate your help,” he said weakly.

“I do hope so. Did you want to send another message to Beverly?” I proposed.

“No…” He turned his head back to the fire, his eyes again glossing over in a daze. “No, I called you here for another reason.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Eran bristle.

Then the hair on the back of my neck stood up, pulling vigorously at my skin. “William…” my voice said, addressing him by his name in this lifetime, sounding distracted and in terror.

He was already on his feet, his wings were extended, and Mr. Snowdon was bowing back over the arm of his chair in fear of Eran.

My own fear had rapidly turned to panic but was now intentionally being submersed by a wave of calm. I had closed my eyes against it, drawing in a deep breath, allowing my body to relax. Instantly, my senses came alive. I smelled the alcohol used for sterilization drift through the room. I felt a cool breeze making its way into the house from a crack in the wall. Most of all, I heard the wings of those coming for us beating the air, fast and rhythmic, and rapidly approaching. When I reopened my eyes, I found Campion now hovering above us, his wings also extended, facing the windows in preparation.

“They’re here,” my voice stated with absolute composure.

Then the windows exploded inward, spraying shards of glass at us, shredding the drapery and destroying the wall tapestries.

Only Mr. Snowdon ducked.

The rest of us faced our enemies.

The three attackers entered the room and lingered, wings outstretched, each one teaming up with Eran, Campion, and myself.

Although they were familiar to me, it was Eran who addressed them.

“Abaddon,” he said, almost cordially, to the one directly in front of him.

The man responded with a brush of his long, oily hair from his shoulder, his scowl never wavering and his narrowed eyes never widening.

“I see you’ve convinced Sarai to follow you,” said Eran nodding towards the Indian girl with flowing hair the color of coffee and exquisitely smooth swarthy skin. “Did you inform your daughter that she’d be living an eternity of retribution?”

Sarai opened her mouth to speak but Eran didn’t allow for it. “Elam, however, I’m not surprised by.” He glanced towards the genteel, older man who was facing Campion. “You always were a follower.”

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Snowdon unexpectedly screamed in dread. “They-They promised to help save my daughter.” His repentance complete, he returned to cringing in the outer corner of the stone hearth.

Without turning away, Eran informed him, “The only help they can offer your daughter, Mr. Snowdon, is to kill her and condemn her to the same fate as they face…incarceration in the worst kind of prison or absolute and eternal death. By agreeing to this deception you have affectively ensured your daughter never visits heaven again.”

“No…no,” he demanded but a fleeting look at Abaddon told him the truth.

The comprehension spreading across Mr. Snowdon’s face was clear just before he released a horrified whimper and ran from the room.

Someone moved then although I couldn’t tell you who and the room became a battleground. My own actions, unrestrained by the limitations of being a human, again were so fast I nearly became a blur. In this body, with its powerful wings and extraordinary abilities, it was hard to see how I could be defeated.

These Fallen Ones, however, helped me understand my susceptibility.

Sarai and I met in midair, colliding with such force that we spun several times before I ended up against the opposite wall.

She grinned wickedly, as if she’d gotten the best of me. That, I was not going to allow happen.

I shoved back from the wall and across the room, barely missing Eran who was expertly inflicting his own harm on Abaddon.

I had Sarai by the shoulders, her wings positioned outward in an attempt to slow her backward thrust. It didn’t help and she collided with the fireplace mantle, crumbling it in to pieces.

Her body shook violently as if it had gone into a spasm and I could hear popping coming from inside her. Her body straightened and I realized that she had just repaired the bones she’d broken against the mantle. She rolled her shoulders then, opened her eyes, and smirked at me from beneath her lashes.

“My turn,” she seethed.

Suddenly I was spinning backwards, hitting the ceiling and then the floor. They came in rotating thumps as she flip flopped me back across the room. Again, I ended up against the wall but this time my right arm dangled awkwardly at my side. I lifted it directly outward, smiled tauntingly at Sarai, and snapped it back in place without feeling any pain whatsoever.

“That felt good,” I told her. “But this will feel better.”

I drew back the same arm, closed my hand in to a fist, and flew forward, propelling my entire being towards her. I connected with her face a second later and watched her slide back through the air, limbs outstretched.

Elam caught her from the side, scooped her up, and fled out the window. Campion followed closely behind until they had disappeared from the room.

What happened next I never saw coming.

My body stiffened, refusing to move. It was as if I’d been placed in cement. As I was realizing this something moved passed me, inches away, and was gone. It twisted at the corner of the room and ducked out the nearest broken window and into the night. Eran stayed close behind it, repeatedly reaching for its feet and narrowly missing it until it was no longer in sight.

Eran floated at the broken window, ensuring that none would return, and then spun around.

His eyes searched for me, landing seconds later at my torso. What I saw in him next shook me to my core.

Terror crossed his face only to swiftly be replaced with rage.

He released a roar that vibrated the room, rattling the fireplace pokers and knocking books against one another.

Then he was at my side, gentle and consoling.

I couldn’t understand his sudden change in behavior until I was overtaken by an incredible, pulsating pain.

It came from my abdomen but, being unable to control my head movement, I had no ability to look down in search of the cause. Instead, I heard Eran talking to me.

“Look at me, Magdalene. Look at me,” he commanded.

I did and found his eyes wide, apprehensive.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, anxiously. “We’ll get you to a doctor…the one in the city…the one you informed about the rats…”

Campion came up behind him with the same dreaded expression. “There isn’t enough time.”

“There is,” Eran snarled.

I wanted to believe Eran but the pain told me that Campion was correct.

“Lay me down,” I murmured, unable to raise my voice, the pain sapping my energy.

My wings retracted and he carried me to the middle of the room that was now in shambles, using one hand to flip a couch right-side up.

“Mr. Snowdon will be shocked at our redecorating,” I commented, hoping to conjure a smile.

Eran simply stared at my torso. I knew he was using his innate ability, one that he had brought with him to earth, to view inside me and assess the damage Abaddon had done. Judging from his expression, it was significant. I could already feel the warmth of my blood covering me, running down my legs.

“He froze my movement,” I whispered, referring to one of the traits Abaddon had brought with him to earth. “He got to me, Eran.”

Eran nodded, frantically moving his eyes along my body in search of an answer to heal me. “I know…I know…”

“You understand what that means,” I stated as tenderly as I could.

He hadn’t considered it. He had been focused on my wound, on the pain I was enduring. He hadn’t yet considered the consequences of what had just happened.

Campion gasped. “Eternal death.”

I gave Eran a wavering smile, gathered my strength and reached for his hand. He took and squeezed it, holding it against his chest in agony.

“No,” he said fiercely. “No, I won’t allow it.”
“It’s not up to you,” I said gently.

In return, Eran trembled, refusing to believe what was happening. He was always in control, could foresee nearly any outcome. This…my impending eternal death…he could not accept.

“I can do something,” he assured. “There must be something…”

Then our eyes met and we came to the same conclusion at once but it was Campion who voiced it.

“You can take her life so she can avoid eternal death at the hands of a Fallen One…” he reflected. “It’s the only way to save her existence…”

“I’m sor-sorry,” I gasped. The abject horror lingering in Eran’s face impacted me far worse than the pain Abaddon had inflicted. There was nothing in the world more sickening.

He released a ragged breath and for the first time since I’d known Eran I saw absolute fear in him. “I just never thought it would come…that I would ever need…” his voice trailed off.

“I’ll understand if you’re…” I cringed against the throbbing, “…if you’re unable-”

His face tightened then and I saw the confident, motivated Eran that I knew so well return. “Campion, your sword,” he ordered.

The weapon landed firmly in Eran’s hand a second later.

Our gaze never broke as he took the handle and raised the sword above my chest, the tip of the blade pointing down.

I wheezed against the blood now filling my lungs, unable to speak my thoughts. Neither was Eran capable of speech. Knowing this, our eyes conveyed our thoughts.

Both shaking, flooded with emotion, we said the very same silent words, “I love you…”

The blade then drove down into my chest, disappearing from my sight. I never felt it enter my body. I was limited only to the pain of witnessing the absolute despair Eran endured taking my life.

Then I was wrenched away, flung down the tunnel, and out of my past life.

CHAPTER ELEVEN: ELSIC

I awoke the next day more tired than when I had gone to sleep, something I attributed to the devastation of watching Eran slay me.

Lying in bed, I realized that while these visits to my past lives had given me a better understanding of what to expect from the Fallen Ones, I was also learning more than I ever thought possible about Eran. I couldn’t calculate all that he had sacrificed for me. It was immeasurable. More than simply being caught here, without access to the familiarity or comforts of the afterlife, Eran had given up his innocence to protect me. Last night, when he had plunged the sword into my chest, told me so.

Beneath the covers, I still quivered at the realization.

“Chilly?” Eran’s voice came to me from across the room. It was coddling and comforting in comparison to the horror of just a few minutes earlier.

He was already drawing another blanket from the closet, his expression blank, having no idea what I’d just experienced.

As he reached the bed, he paused. “No…you’re not chilly,” he stated apprehensive.

I sat up and sighed heavily.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked sincerely, sitting at the edge of the bed.

I shook my head. Talking about it would mean reliving it in my mind and I was already working on blocking those images. “School today…” I muttered. “We need to get ready.”

He evaluated me without moving, knowing something was wrong and that I was keeping it from him. Yet, I reasoned that there was no sense in recounting the horrific memory to him.

He’d already lived it.

I stood up to begin my morning routine, Eran’s eyes following me around my room until I left to start the shower.

When I returned, he was gone making the room feel vacant. The floorboards squeaked across the hall and I knew he was also getting ready for school.

Without much thought to it, I left my room and pushed open his door. He turned in the middle of the room and I was momentarily distracted. His windblown hair had been brushed now and his clothes were changed. Wearing a tight white t-shirt and blue jeans he looked like a young James Dean, just as wild and unpredictable.

I crossed the floor and lifted my arms around him, pulling myself into him. He welcomed me, the firmness of his body pressing against mine.

I laid my head on his chest and breathed in his fresh, earthy scent. “How can I repay you for all you do for me?”

“Repay me?” he asked bewildered. “Where is this coming from?”

I shrugged against his body, having no answer for him.

Inhaling deeply, he laid his chin lightly on my head. “You feel guilty but I’m not sure why. Everything I’ve done…ever…has been by my decision, by my judgment alone. Don’t take on the burden of my choices, Magdalene. They aren’t for you to resolve.”

He pulled me away from him, grasping me by the shoulders and ducking to view my downturned face.

“I regret nothing, Magdalene. Nothing. Because all of it…every decision I’ve made has led me to you and kept me with you…and that is all that matters to me.” He paused. “Please look up.”

I followed his request, slowly, and noticed he was just as handsome puzzled.

“I don’t think you’re taking in to account what you’ve done for me…”

I frowned. “Run you ragged…test your resolve…leave you frustrated…”

“Yes, all those,” he said joking, his mouth tilting in a half-smile. “You give me life, Magdalene. Every moment I am with you I feel alive. Without you there is no color, no humor, absolutely no joy in existing. Life…is what you give me. Staying…is what you do for me.”