Eternity (23 page)

At the end of the day, we made it home without incident involving any Fallen Ones, though I sensed them along the way.

Entering the house, our noses were assaulted with the smell of Pickled Pig’s Snout which emitted the aroma of vinegar and rubber, a particularly unappetizing combination.

To our surprise, Felix agreed with the rest of us in our reluctance to dine on this newly-inspired dish and ordered pizzas instead. Someone turned on the transistor radio on a shelf in the kitchen to a melodic jazz station, another poured the drinks and we spent the next hour sitting around the table talking.

Eran and Campion were astonished to learn that Felix had grown up in foster care in Indianapolis and ended up studying with some of the world’s most renowned chefs. In fact, it was one of these chefs that introduced him to his love for tarot cards and he joined the psychic circuit quickly after. He met Ezra on the circuit almost immediately and traveled with her from that point.

They were also intrigued to hear that Ezra had come from a wealthy family on the east coast and was handed off from one relative to the next when her parents died. As a teenager, she befriended juvenile delinquents and ran unchecked until she began to realize that she could change their lives for the better. From that point forward, she educated herself, earning multiple doctorate degrees while working the psychic circuit as well. She then dedicated her life to guiding those who needed it and counseling juveniles in trouble.

Rufus also grew up without parents. He had lived his life in an orphanage in Ireland until his teenage years. The tattoos he bore reflected something special and unique about each of his former orphanage mates. Alone and without much proper education, he had come to America, drawing sketches on the streets for dimes. He met Ezra not long after and began traveling the psychic circuit with her, picking up Felix sometime thereafter.

They had considered themselves a family from then on.

Then it came time for Eran to leave and we stepped out on to the back porch together.

“Germany again?” I asked nervously.

He nodded his head, sympathetic to my fear for him. Without me having to say so, he knew that my mind was more often on him than the dinner conversation. “I intend to find out more about Sarai and Achan’s plan.”

“All right,” I muttered. “Just be-”

“Careful. I will…” he confirmed, drawing his shirt over his head and handing it to me. Then, with a powerful thrust of his wings, he spun and lifted into the inky black sky.

I waited, noting the elegant contours of his muscular back, until he was out of sight.

As always, Campion gave us our time and waited until Eran had gone before opening the door. He pulled my bike from the shed and we left for another session with Ms. Beedinwigg.

Just as the night before, I raced the obstacle courses and we practiced weaponry with multiple attackers. Although, this time Ms. Beedinwigg took each piece of artillery, described it, gave a brief history on which Fallen Ones were known to use it (recounting many names I’d never heard before), and finally showed me how to use it.

I memorized them and their uses on the way home and until my head met the pillow.

Seconds later, I was back in the Hall of Records.

Pulling my scroll from the wall, I unrolled it and moved my finger over my fourth and final past life:

Previously Margaret Talor – Died Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, July 3, 1863

I was dropped into my body sometime during my teenage years. I became aware of this after glancing at my reflection in a window across from me. My hair and face remained the same but my clothing was now a tight, itchy, sweltering dress and petticoat. My shoes were without cushion so my feet ached a little as I stood on a rutted dirt road.

Directly in front of me was Eran, also in his teenage years and wearing trousers, a cotton shirt, and an eagle feather behind his ear. A necklace dangled around his neck, lined with the teeth of different animals, ones that I figured he had killed as a test of courage and strength.

A line had been created in front of him of six boys, each restlessly shifting around as if they were itching for a fight.

“Injun lover,” said one boy of the six standing before Eran.

He contemplated that and then nodded. “Yes, that would be accurate.”

Another boy scoffed, “See…he doesn’t even try to deny it.”

A few others snickered.

One of Eran’s shoulders shrugged and from the look on his face he couldn’t have cared less. He then turned to leave.

Suddenly, the boy closest to him reached out and pulled him back by the shoulder.

To me, from my stance on the side of the road, that looked like a challenge. I stepped forward.

Noticing my movement, Eran put his hand up in my direction. “No.”

Against my wishes, I stopped.

That gave the boys all the fodder they needed and the haranguing began.

“Letting a girl fight for you, eh Eran?”

“Scared? He’s scared, boys!”

“Need a girl to do your dirty work?”

“Ignore them, Eran!”

Those last words came from my mouth, I realized.

A few of Eran’s attackers glanced in my direction; the ones who didn’t saw the first strike.

The boy closest to Eran pulled his arm back, curled his fist, and flung it forward.

The only problem for the boy was that Eran had seen it too.

As the fist came forward, Eran deftly stepped out of the way, sending the boy flying through the air, floundering to keep himself from falling forward.

Then a round of fists flew forward, all aimed at Eran.

He sidestepped them all, spinning, ducking and maneuvering himself away from contact.

I heard a commotion behind me and twisted to find a group of boys and girls of varying ages running towards us, clumps of dirt kicking up behind them. Most of them were yelling the same word: Fight!

Surrounding Eran and the other six boys, they watched with concentrated interest as the fists were hurled, none of which were Eran’s.

“Isn’t he heavenly?” said one girl beside me, not bothering to hide her wistfulness.

The girls next to her sighed, tilting their heads dreamily.

Who, I wondered, could these girls be stupid enough to be infatuated over when clearly none of them were able to defend themselves?

“His name is Eran, right?” asked one and the other shushed her, eyeing me warily.

Pride swelled in me then, coursing through my entire being. There was not a hint of jealousy with it. There shouldn’t have been. Eran had already professed his love for me in Paris and, judging from this body’s reaction to the girls, he’d already reinforced it in this life.

Eran pranced through the storm of attacks with ease, skillfully avoiding any injury. One by one the boys fell or tired and stepped to the side. In the end only one remained in the circle.

“Aren’t you…” he huffed, “going to try to hit just once?”

“Why?” Eran asked confused. “You’re doing a fine enough job beating yourself.”

That spurred a brief rage in the boy and he took a swing, missed yet again, and, without the energy to keep himself up, fell to the ground in a puff of dust.

Eran waltzed to my side, took my hand, and led me through the crowd. But before leaving, he did land one jab. Glancing over his shoulder, he called out, his voice edged in sarcasm, “Thanks for the practice…boys.”

We left the crowd at the roadside watching us walk into the forest surrounding us. We walked for several minutes with Eran courteously helping me over fallen logs and small boulders. We talked, though I didn’t understand much of it as it dealt with people that I didn’t recall in this life time.

Then we reached a cliff overlooking an awe-inspiring gorge and I wondered where we intended to go now.

Eran removed his shirt, his muscles still steaming from the fight and glinting off the sun, and tucked one end into his pants. Shockingly, I was removing my own clothing now. The stiff, tight dress I’d worn slipped down my body to my ankles and I stepped out. Beneath it was a pair of loose fitting cotton pants tightened around the waist and ankles. My torso was covered in a custom shirt with a gaping hole at my shoulder blades. The reason for it became clear to me when my wings sprouted from the hole and stretched admirably long. Eran also had his wings extended. They tucked under him, sprang out to their full length, and caught the air just as Eran tipped over the cliff’s edge. He soared out into the gorge, the wind rippling the feathers along the base of his wings. Standing out in contrast against the green and blue backdrop of the gorge, his pale body and stark white wings carried him through the cool air with grace and agility.

I followed shortly behind him; tipping over the edge and allowing my wings to lift me back into the air. The wind caught under my wings and carried me effortlessly, whistling in my ears and carrying the smell of fresh earth across the breeze. My clothes fluttered wildly against my body and my hair, long and untied, snapped loudly behind me.

As I reached Eran, our wings just inches apart, he grinned and I knew he felt the very same way I did…absolutely free. Then his grin changed to a smirk just before he twirled and darted for the ground. I followed and we reached the treetops in seconds.

Eran came to a sharp stop just behind a boulder, where he pulled the shirt from his pants and slipped it on. I reached him and followed the same process, dropping the dress I’d worn over my head.

His grin returned as he took my hand and we walked around the boulder where a large cluster of teepees lay. Native Americans walked between them, carrying children, bowls, and clothing, going about their daily chores.

He led me to a larger but otherwise unremarkable teepee towards the edge of the village. Drawing back the animal skin doorway, he stepped inside, releasing my hand then so I could enter too.

An elderly man with graying, waist-length hair, braided and decorated with feathers sat inside. I assumed immediately that he was their chief.

He beckoned us.

In the Iroquoian language of the Susquehannock people, Eran stated, “I brought what you asked.”

As in other past lives, I listened and, though I did not know the language, I understood the words.

The chief nodded and waited patiently as Eran drew a sack from his pocket and handed it to the chief.

The chief opened it, tilted the bag, and coins fell in to his hands.

“Was it a good trade?”

“Yes it was,” replied Eran.

The chief nodded.

The entire process was extraordinarily unhurried and serene as if both men had the entire day to complete their business. I reasoned that the trade involving those coins must have been the purpose behind our trip in to the town where Eran had met his six rivals.

“When you came,” said the chief, “to us as a child I saw courage in you. The teeth of animals you have collected hanging from your neck shows this. As our trade man, you have been good. Courageous and good. Your parents are happy too of your history. Now…it is time. Search out your own path.”

Eran nodded once, showing respect and appreciation to the chief, and I deduced that this arrangement had been in process for some time.

Their discussion continued then but on less significant topics and when the meeting ended we left the tent. Stepping out, Eran looked up towards the sky. “Nearly dusk…Good,” he muttered. Then he turned to me and with a glimmer in his eyes, he asked, “Will you fly with me?”

I agreed, we found our boulder, stripped down, ran through the forest and launched ourselves in to flight. Heading away from the village, we rose into the sky, lifting ourselves above the mountain range. There, in a spectrum of yellow, orange, and peach, Eran paused and I came to his side, as we watched the sunset together.

Just before the last of the sun’s rays sunk below the horizon, Eran turned to me. His lips were pursed together as if he were trying not to smile, to hold back an influx of emotions. Then, a wave of peace came over him, his shoulders dropped, his expression grew quietly confident, and his eyes – his gorgeous blue-green eyes – radiated warmth and purpose.

“Magdalene,” he said, using my eternal name. “I became your guardian in an effort to protect your life, your existence. I have done so to the very best of my ability and will continue to do so regardless of your answer tonight.”

My brow creased and I asked suspiciously, “My answer?”

Without addressing it further, he continued on, unshaken and determined. “When I fell to earth and met you the first time…in Germany…I did so with the intention of finding you and learning about the messenger who had saved her kind from extinction by training them to defeat their enemies. But I learned so much more than I knew possible. I learned not about the messenger but the woman…who gave courage new meaning, who devoted her existence to saving everyone but herself, who defied the odds and endured agony beyond description at the hands of her enemies all to deliver messages for the distraught on earth to those in the afterlife. But it wasn’t until London did I witness the awakening of your love for me. It was there in your eyes in your final moments…and it was undeniable…But you still hadn’t spoken the words. Not until Paris did you confess your love for me. That was over two and a half centuries, Magdalene. Two and a half centuries is a long time to wait.” He paused to chuckle at the understatement and I, recognizing the truth to those words, joined him. Then he grew serious again, though I noticed that the gleam in his handsome face never wavered. “I hope it won’t take you as long to answer my question tonight…I promise to remain your loyal protector no matter how often you return to earth; I promise to remain dedicated to you beyond the realm of a protector; and I promise you that what I feel for you…this feeling that defies description and makes the word ‘love’ pale in comparison…what I feel for you will never end…” He paused briefly to emphasize his message, “…ever, Magdalene.”

His head dipped then as he pulled something from his pocket. Holding it in a way that kept it hidden from my sight, he spoke again. Only then did he express any hint of awkwardness. “I’m aware that by custom, I should be bent on one knee. Given that there is no ground here to do so, please don’t fear that my chivalry is at risk. I chose the sky for this proposal because it gave us privacy and peace.”