The Reaping of Norah Bentley (37 page)

“…Do you have any idea what it’s like to spend an eternity alone?”

I looked back at him, but didn’t say anything.

“When there’s no point in getting attached to somebody—because it means you’ll just have to watch them die?” His voice was more urgent all of a sudden, his eyes staring straight ahead as he spoke. “You know, I’ve been in this body for almost seven years now. That’s the longest I’ve spent
anywhere.
And you want to know why?”

I had a feeling I already knew what he was going to say, and I didn’t want to hear it. I just wanted him to stop, because he was only making me feel worse. But he didn’t stop.

“Because somehow the thought of leaving you behind was a million times worse than knowing I’d have to eventually say goodbye.” He stood taller as he finished saying it, like he’d literally just shed fifty pounds of extra weight from his back. “And I was starting to think I could spend a normal—well, relatively normal—life with you.”

“Luke…”

“Which was awesome in itself—but then an even better option came along.”

“You mean Eli.” I felt a painful jolt in my gut as Luke nodded.

“I knew what he was, of course—I can see one of those reaper jerks from a mile away—and then I realized he was
your
reaper. Do you know what that meant to me? The only thing that could take you away from me. Right there. All I had to do was get rid of him, and my best friend’s soul would be immortal, just like mine, and neither of us would have to face eternity alone. Don’t you get it? It’s the only thing that made sense.”

“It made sense for you. But what about Eli? He was innocent—did you even think about what was going to happen to him?”

“What part of ‘I don’t give a shit about Eli’ do you not understand?” he asked. “The reapers, the angels—they’re all the same, all caught up in following the so-called plan of the universe.” He shook his head. “I told you, Eli wouldn’t last. He would’ve become a mindless drone just like the rest of them eventually, once he got tired of you. And then guess what would have happened?”

“You’re wrong.”

“I don’t think so.”

But he
was
wrong. More wrong than he could ever understand, than I could ever explain—because I don’t even know if I understood it myself. It was just a feeling, more than I could put into words.

“I don’t have time to argue with you about this,” I said. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Before he could answer, my phone rang. Helen. I think this was call number nine tonight.

“Who is it?”

I told him, and Luke picked up his own phone from the stand beside his bed. “She left a voicemail on mine earlier,” he said, his voice even again. “She was freaking out, trying to figure out where you were. I didn’t call her back. I didn’t know what to tell her.”

I stared at my phone until the ringing stopped, and the little ‘missed call’ icon showed up in the corner. I probably wasn’t going to call her back, either. What would
I
tell her?

“She knows something’s up,” Luke said. “She’s heard about what happened at the park.”

Not surprising. This was Sutton Springs, after all.

“Fisher probably called her.”

I nodded silently. Something very strange, very painful was going through my mind; I couldn’t see my usual image of Helen— her strict posture, those eyes I’d always seen as so harsh, so judgmental. Instead, another picture was forcing its way in: her panic-stricken face, lined with years of our stupid fighting, of all the other times I’d given her a reason to worry about me. I didn’t know which face was really hers anymore. But suddenly the thought of never seeing it again was a lot harder to take than I wanted to admit.

Luke must have realized what I was thinking, because he broke the silence and asked, “And what am I supposed to tell her when you go after Eli and don’t come back?”

“I’m coming back.” I didn’t hesitate. For him, for Helen—no matter what happened with Sam, I was coming back. That much I knew. And I was bringing Eli with me.

“You have no idea what Sam could do to you.
I
have no idea.”

“I’m coming back,” I said again. Like repeating it enough times would help it come true. And before all the doubts— all the impossibilities of what I was facing— could overwhelm me completely, I turned and started toward the door. In my mind, I repeated my words over and over:
I’m coming back, I’m coming back, I’m coming ba—

“Well, give me a second to get changed, will you? As fashionable as this hospital gown is, it’s a little drafty.”

Luke’s voice was so quiet that at first I thought it was just in my head, just my thoughts trying to trick me into false hope. But when I turned around, he was actually jerking the IV out of his wrist.

“Luke, what are you—”

He got it loose and dropped it to the floor. Blood poured from the exposed vein and into his upturned hand, dripped through the spaces between his fingers.

“
What the hell are you doing?”
I scrambled to the cabinets beside his bed, threw open compartment after compartment looking for gauze, or bandages, or
something;
finally, I gave up and jerked the case off his pillow, leapt back to him and started wrapping the thin cotton as tightly as I could around his wrist. It didn’t take long for the blood to soak right through, to leave a moist stain on my own hand.

“Are you
crazy?”

“That actually hurt a lot more than I’d anticipated.”

“Did you expect it to feel good?”

He looked down at me, a dazed sort of expression on his face. For a second I was afraid he was going to pass out. Then he took a deep breath and pulled his arm away, stumbled a few steps back.

“Will you hand me my bag?” he asked, pointing to a pile of stuff crowded against the bed. I walked over and picked it up, but kept my distance from him.

“You’re not planning on just leaving?”

“Well I’m not going to let you go alone.”

“But you can’t just—”

“But I’m going to.”

He took a few shaky steps toward me, snatched the bag from my hands, turned and headed towards the bathroom. The door creaked loudly as he shut it behind him, drowning out the protest I started to utter.

I stared at the closed door. I thought about leaving, about running to my car and driving off before he could finish changing. But I needed his help, and part of me felt like I owed it to him to stay. So instead, I just went over to the sink in the corner of the room, and pumped a blob of soap into my palm. Then I turned the water on as hot as it would go, and started to scrub his blood from my hands.

#

It started the same way it had before: I felt that strange weight, and the pull on my chest just below the ribcage.

I tried to shake it off. Tried to focus on what was happening here and now. But the pull was stronger this time, and when I closed my eyes I suddenly found myself back in Edenton, back at the dock, watching myself walk to the end of it. Then I heard Eli’s voice.

We’re out of time. I have to tell her goodbye.

He was so loud, so clear and real-sounding that I was sure I’d see him when I opened my eyes. But there was no one but Luke standing beside me on the dunes.

“…I have a question.”

Luke glanced down at me, looking wary. “More questions?”

It’s all I’d been doing the whole ride here—asking questions. And he’d been answering most of them, which was why we’d ended up here at Kure: he’d finally told me how to find Sam. In Luke’s case, at least, his connection to the Afterworld was strongest where he died; it was the first place he’d seen glimpses of the otherside, and the first place he’d caught Sam’s attention. And I was hoping I’d be able to do the same thing.

“Well?”

“There’s that connection, right?” I asked. “Between reapers and the souls they’re assigned to.”

“Sure.”

“Have you…have you ever heard of it working both ways?”

“No,” he said quickly. But then he gave me a strange look. “Why? What do you mean, exactly?”

“I mean, I know he got my feelings, and my memories—but I…I think I’ve been getting his, too.”

“The whole time?” Luke started to walk before I could answer, his footsteps stirring up the dry sand and sending clouds of it drifting into the wind.

“Mostly just these past couple days.”

Luke still looked like he didn’t believe me.

“It makes sense,” I insisted, trying to convince myself too. “I mean,
I
think it does—he’s been getting stronger, clearer memories of me lately. He always does, the closer it gets to…” I hesitated for half a step, and Luke glanced over his shoulder and said,

“The end?”

I nodded, and hurried after him. “And we’re way past what was supposed to be ‘the end’, so it only makes sense that our soul connection would be stronger than usual. That it could work both ways, be more complex.”

“Soul connection?” Luke repeated. “That sounds like the title of a bad 70s album.”

“That’s helpful, thanks.”

He gave me a sharp look. “Hey, I brought you here, didn’t I? I’ve been way more helpful than I wanted to be already.”

The snap in his voice caught me off guard, made me hesitate. But I managed to grab his arm and stop him mid-step before he could turn back around. “I’m sorry,” I said.

He half-heartedly tried to pull away, but I held tight.

“And thanks.”

He just stared at the fingers I’d tangled in the folds of his shirtsleeve

“I’m serious. Thank you.”

“I just can’t believe I’m even letting you anywhere near this place,” Luke finally said, his gaze dropping to the pile of driftwood scraps at our feet.

I slowly loosened my grip on his arm, let both of my hands fall to my sides. I stepped closer to the ocean, stopping at the line of foam running across the shore. It was bright white, almost glowing in the moonlight. “I don’t know that it’s going to make a difference, anyway,” I said. “I don’t feel any sort of connection now… I can’t even remember where it happened exactly. And Sam’s definitely not here.”

I was standing alone, staring out over the choppy dark water for a long time before I felt Luke’s body behind me. “Well maybe it’s a sign,” he said, taking both of my hands in his and pulling me back against him, just out of reach of the breaking waves.

“A sign?”

“That you should just let this go.”

I jerked away, took a deep breath and spun to face him.

“No. I shouldn’t.”

“Norah—”

“
No.
”

“What if—”

“Is that’s the only reason you came? So you could try and talk me out of this some more?” He tried to step toward me again, but I put both my hands on his chest and shoved him away as hard as I could. “You don’t want to help me. Were you even telling me the truth about coming here? Or are you just leading me in circles?”

Luke’s jaw clenched. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

My body shook, heat and resentment flooding through me. Luke reached for me, and I staggered back. The cold water sloshed over my ankles, soaking my shoes, sending a freezing numbness crawling up my body—just as a familiar scream broke out over the roaring waves.

The scream sounded too vivid to be a memory.

But what else could it be?

Luke was gone. The sun was burning overhead, and the ghost of me was in the water, my screams getting weaker, mixing with sounds of choking and sputtering. It was painfully loud. Almost loud enough to drown out Eli’s thoughts, the echo of his voice, the familiar words—

I have to save her. I don’t care what Sam says. I have to save her.

Then there were people. A woman with bright red hair that caught the sunlight and bounced like flames behind her. An older man following close at her heels, steadying his step with a knobby walking stick. At least a half dozen more fanning out on either side, their figures blurry. None of them noticed Eli. There was a strange, faint pressure in his side as a young woman in a fashionable sarong went flying by—she’d ran right through him.

“Somebody get the lifeguard!”

There is no lifeguard,
Eli thought.
This is a private beach.

“The closest watch stand is miles down the beach,” someone shouted. “Someone’s going to have to go in after her.” One man was already in the water, but Eli knew he would be too late. They would all be too late. They were supposed to be too late.

I’ll go. I have to go. I can’t just stand here and watch her die.

My soul was already slipping though, and Eli knew that too. My body had stopped struggling in the water, and soon I would be waiting for him in the in-between. Waiting for him to come finish the job, like he was supposed to. He closed his eyes, and there was a familiar pain his chest—like a hook wiggling its way in, curving deeper and deeper and then starting to pull…