Through half-lidded slits, I see the man lift the gun, aiming for her. His hand quivers with the weight of it as he perfects his aim. As his finger starts to pull the trigger, another teenager appears in the doorway with a large shovel he raises over his head and quickly slams down. The gun falls from the man’s hand, and he collapses.
Then darkness melts around me.
“Lev? Can you hear me?”
The voice is male and sounds familiar, but right now it is distant. The darkness and pain collect around me so everything swirls together in possessive blackness.
“Lev?”
Hands jostle me. Whoever it is isn’t going to just let me lie here. I’m actually going to have to respond whether I want to or not.
I open my eyes, the pain seizing me even as the bright colors swirl about in a blur.
“He’s coming around,” a woman says. I blink even harder, trying to pull myself back from the vortex of confusion claiming me. I’m not even sure what I just experienced, but the weight of it still covers me like a wool blanket, stifling me.
Every time I blink I find myself lost back in that classroom, staring at a gun and feeling Elizabeth Moon cradling me against her body as the blood leaves the mortal shell.
“Can you hear me?”
I shake my head at the stupidity of the question and shoot off, “Yeah, I’m not deaf.” I keep trying to bring the faces around me into focus, but I can’t.
“I told you he wasn’t ready,” the male voice says, a hint of frustration coloring it.
“At this rate, he’s never going to be ready, and you know it,” the female retorts in kind.
I lift my hand to remind them I’m still lying there. “Can you two take it outside? My head can’t take the screaming.” Granted, I started out telling them that in hopes doing so would cut off the fight, but actually, now that I’m trying to sit up, I’m also finding it to be true. One of them bends low to help me, and I wave them away.
“I’ve got this,” I mutter, drawing my knees up and resting my arms on them so I can clutch my head. The other one, most likely Evan by the height, reaches for my head, but I block him, instantly recognizing his intention. The last thing I want is him tinkering with anything in there, even if it means pain. “No, I’m fine,” I tell him.
“You said your head hurts.” He tries again, but I push his hands away.
“It’s tolerable.”
After so much blinking, my vision is finally starting to clear, and I can definitely see the outlines of Evan and Celia standing there. We’re still in the hospital room, but the chaos has vanished, leaving only the woman lying in the bed, all the machines disconnected from her body. There’s a calm to a place after death has come. Most mortals consider it eerie, but really it’s the perfect place to think, especially for angels.
Granted, I’ve never really liked mortals, but there is something about the body that humans leave behind that is imprinted with lingering impressions of the life once lived. No, the human doesn’t have access to this anymore. The soul takes the important part of it—the lessons and love experienced. That’s what other living humans sense that make them afraid of the dead—the responsibility of the living.
I struggle to my feet, sensing Celia must have already carried the soul and returned, which makes me wonder how long I was unconscious. My vision is now clear, and I see that both Evan and Celia watch me, waiting for something else to happen, but I’m going to do my best not to give into that.
I turn to them. “May I have a moment with her?”
They look at each other as though they didn’t really expect this but then drift away. I know they won’t be far. Apparently based on their earlier exchange, I have become too big of a liability for that. But at least for the moment I have my space to try to make sense of all of this.
I step toward the body and stare at her face. At first, all I can see is the chaos and pain that I remember when she first started dying. I remember the screams and how they seemed to echo inside me, tearing at every fiber of my existence. Now, I see a calm has slipped over the corpse, a sheath to guard the connections left behind. Whatever struggles she faced no longer wrap themselves in her frame or infuse themselves in her thoughts. This world does not encumber her any longer and, she is free. That is where the peace comes in, if you ask me.
“So how did it feel for you?”
I turn and find Sarah there, her whole body rigid with pain. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” I finally say, swallowing hard.
“Of course you do. I watched you try to sojourn, and the strangest thing happened. You seemed to forget how to shield yourself from the dead.” While there is a slight smile playing at her lips, her expression is far too cold to call friendly. In fact, it’s more like she wishes I hadn’t come back.
“It’s just a glitch,” I say, looking away. “I’m sure it won’t happen again.” My entire being is rigid, and yet I don’t understand why.
“You think not?” She laughs at me. “I hope it does. I hope one of the souls tears you apart, Lev. I hope Evan and Celia let the dead feed on you. Just like you let them feed on me!” She narrows her eyes at me violently.
Evan must sense the chaos within us both because he seems to appear out of nowhere. He stops in front of Sarah and places his body between us. “Sarah, what are you doing here?”
“Just talking to Lev.” She refuses to look at him. Instead, she keeps staring venomously at me.
“Lev isn’t exactly up to another round.” Although Evan keeps his tone civil, he’s also giving her a warning; she’d have to be stupid not to know that, and I’m pretty sure Sarah is anything but stupid.
“And why is that, Evan? What could possibly be weakening him considering how skilled a sojourner he is? Can you tell me that?” She stands there, waiting for his response, and I can feel the chaos within ever stronger as I wonder what Evan will say on my behalf. It’s not like there is a reasonable explanation he can give her. There’s no truthful explanation that doesn’t involve Elizabeth.
“It doesn’t matter why,” he finally manages. “Besides, I’m sure there are duties you must attend to. Celia and I can take care of Lev.” He doesn’t wait for her response but turns instead to me and levels a knowing glance as he mouths the words, “Say nothing.”
I realize Sarah is watching me, so I give an imperceptible nod I’m sure Evan will pick up on. It goes without saying, considering how long we have been close.
“Of course you can,” Sarah agrees. “And you always do, even when it’s not the right thing to do.”
Although Evan is pretty good at keeping his expression neutral, when he has to, I can see he’s clenching his jaw. It’s hard to tell really. The only reason I pick up on it again is that I know him so well.
“Is there something you would like to say to me, Sarah?” His tone is slow and deliberate as he turns to her, giving her plenty of time to back down.
“Do I need to say it, Evan? Really? Because I know you’re smart and you see the obvious.” All the forced pleasantness has drifted from her tone, leaving a much harsher edge.
“Perhaps whatever you are insinuating isn’t nearly as obvious as you believe.”
Celia watches the two of them, and even though I’m pretty used to her being able to do the whole” neutral expression” thing, too, right now there’s a sort of worry playing at her lips, and that’s pretty much a clue that whatever is transpiring between Evan and Sarah has been building for some time, and even though I can’t remember the crux of it, somehow it has something to do with me.
“All right, then. We’ll just leave it at that. After all, Lev isn’t quite his old self. With any luck, the new one will be an improvement.” She gives me one last glare before walking out, and suddenly it occurs to me that Evan placing his body between us probably wasn’t just because of the argument. There’s some seriously bad blood between me and Sarah. I just don’t have a clue what happened that caused this kind of a rift, not that I’m going to g
et a chance to hear the other side of the story. Evan has made sure whatever lies in the past stays there, and even though Celia could probably tell me just as easily, she’s going to take Evan’s side. I have absolutely no doubt of that whatsoever. That’s how she has played every hand since I first woke up.
“You all right?” Evan asks, his forehead furrowed with worry.
“Just peachy.” I look at both him and Celia, trying to figure out all the missing pieces, but I can’t find them. “You wouldn’t by chance like to fill in the blanks on what that was all about, would you?”
“That’s an old rift between you and Sarah. Nothing good will come by talking it over, and she hasn’t seen you since you were…hurt. More than likely, she wanted to stick her nose where it didn’t belong and figure out what’s going on.”
All three of us look at the place where she stood. “But that doesn’t tell me why she was so angry.”
“That’s another story for another day,” Evan says, patting my shoulder. We’re all about to leave when I see the door open and a middle-aged woman enters. She clutches a handbag which, considering her slumped posture, seems to be weighted with rocks, and it’s easy to see the tears spilling down her face. More of them pool in her eyes and flow over, but she doesn’t even bother trying to wipe them away. Obviously, right now, there is no end to them.
There’s a stoop to her shoulder as though she carries the weight of the world, and her steps are slow like she isn’t sure she can make it to the bed. Celia frowns, and I can feel the old woman’s chaos. She’s never been one able to watch someone else in pain. Before I know it, she stands next to the woman and takes her hand to help guide her toward the body. No, the woman won’t realize that an angel has helped her take those impossible steps. All she’ll know is what’s in front of her—a younger woman, probably her daughter, who wasn’t supposed to die.
“Amy.” The word is more of a breath as she reaches the bed, her trembling hand reaching to touch the dead woman’s face. In that moment, I see all the love wrapped up in her, a slight caress of fingers against her hair so sweet in pausing I feel her chaos stirring within me, and part of me aches in a way I’m not sure I ever have.
It is in that moment of grief I really see things from the human side and know that what I do for them means something to them, even if they do not realize it because they can’t see us. But I also realize I can’t stay in this limbo forever. I have to unravel this mystery of my forgetting. If Evan and Celia won’t tell me the truth, there is only one other angel I can go to who probably knows the truth—Jayzee.
Chapter Seven
Flying over the ocean, I find myself heading toward the mountain where a massive waterfall looms in the distance. Even from here I can hear the rumble and crash of the falls against the ocean. The world is distorted in rising mist as I fly directly toward the falls, heading for the Central Gathering Place, the location all angels go, especially sojourners and guardians. The sojourners take their souls there. The guardians take breaks from the human world there so they can recharge their spirits.
The waterfall is rather intimidating even for angels, but I zoom through it and land on the invisible floor, watching as the ocean rushes beneath my feet. Then, I look up and see all the images of humans flashing on the backside of the water fall. This pictures are mostly for the guardians, not the sojourners so I ignore them and try searching for Jayzee amid so many angels I don’t recognize, and that’s pretty uncomfortable. It’s like being a foreigner without landmarks to guide me.
Amid the group, there are three angel who are just a little disturbing—they tower over all the rest, and they appear so foreign I feel unsettled. The three turn toward me and give me these looks that say I should recognize them, but I don’t. It only makes me wonder how Evan accomplished putting up the wall, and how certain things transcend his efforts. Those things I’m pretty sure are deliberate.
Scanning the crowd, I realize that Jayzee must be on a mission, and since she and Sarah seem to know me well, and I had something to do with their training to become sojourners, I might be able to sense them. I should know where they are because I should be working the same area. Usually, it’s only the guardians who shift from the initial groupings. There are those who have functioned as both sojourners and guardians; it’s rare but not unheard of.
So, before I run into Celia or Evan, I fly to the Lower Realm, trying to keep myself open to the presence of those who have served with me. At first, I feel nothing, so I force myself to focus harder, searching for even the smallest inkling that will lead me in their direction. For a moment I think I might be sensing something, but it occurs to me I am going about this all wrong. It’s probably not so much about sense as it is instinct. It’s not like the calling I usually notice with those who are near death. No, it’s more of an intuitive thing I shouldn’t have to try so hard to find.
Frowning, I know perhaps parts of my memory are still intact or I wouldn’t have realized this. Once more with selective holes, thanks to Evan. Isn’t that the reason I’m trying to find Jayzee?
As I wing toward the Lower Realm, I feel the sun’s warmth, at least until I need to blend with the sky. All during the flight, I focus on the sense of familiarity I feel with Evan, hoping that will guide me.
Of course, where it leads me is a cemetery. Part of me wants to laugh at the irony as I land right next to a statue of a cherub. Shaking my head, I stare at it, well aware just how wrong humans get things and why they don’t get to see the big picture most of the time. You don’t trust a Da Vinci to just anybody, if you get my drift.
I look at the statue for a moment longer, taking in the small wings and vacant eyes, wondering what the sculptor was thinking in creating this fantasy. Is it the wings that bring humans comfort, or the feeling that angels have powers they will never possess?
I close my eyes and think of Elizabeth, and even in my memory, I feel her reaching for me. It’s like I’m the only one who can save her. Trouble is, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be saving her from, and why her salvation depends on me. A million whys that I never get answers to. Until now. Jayzee is bound to be around here somewhere. I just have to find her.
As I look around, I realize this probably isn’t the best day to be looking for someone in a cemetery. There’s at least two grave-side ceremonies going on at different ends of a very large area, and while I am looking to the inner guide that will tell me which way to go, I feel myself tugged in both directions, which is no help at all. And the really ridiculous thing is that no one appears to be needing any sojourners. Whomever is being buried is far past that point, so why is my internal sensory system acting up?
In fact, this whole place seems familiar, but for the life of me, I can’t fathom why. Beyond all the statues and graves, there is a small house nestled at the back of the cemetery. Of course, there’s this old wooden bridge that spans a river, and even before I realize it, I’m already heading that way. It’s pretty safe to say something is luring me toward it, but I don’t think it is a connection to the other angels. It’s something else entirely, something I’m not sure I can name. Stepping forward, I hear the sound of a pastor giving a eulogy at one of the services. Looking back, I see there are about twenty people standing before the open grave, and although I allow my attention to wander that way, I feel the chaos within the humans gathered there. It’s normal, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect me. It shouldn’t, but it does. On the contrary, it almost bowls me over, and I reach to clutch the rail of the bridge as I struggle to shield from misery I am not set up to handle.
Despite the shield, the pain keeps coming like spikes of agony, and I don’t realize I’m slipping to my knees until I drop hard on the rough planks.
Block it, I tell myself. You know how to do that. Yet it would appear knowing and doing are two different things, and right now the “knowing” is useless. The pain sucks at me, draining my energy, and I feel lost as my form sinks lower and lower until I lie on the hard wood, un
able to do anything except curl up into a ball like a human infant.
* * *
“Hey, you all right?”
The voice is distant, and at first I think it’s coming from a human. I start to open my eyes, bracing for the onslaught of pain, but only the bright sunlight haloing another angel’s face greets me.
“What happened?” he asks, offering me a hand up.
I blink and try to sense whether I know him. Probably not. I do pick up on a sort of bond, but it is distant, suggesting perhaps we have worked in the same areas but it has not been a close bond, not like that shared with Evan or Celia; I feel his spirit is much older than mine.
“I don’t know,” I finally manage, sitting up. “One moment everything was fine; the next, there was this overwhelming sense of loss.”
“You’re in a cemetery,” he says, offering his hand. Once upright, I realize just how much taller my current corporeal form is than his. He comes to my shoulders, and he appears as an old man with a receding silver hairline. While his spirit is old, it’s hardly that old. Likely, he’s just using that form because it is currently the most useful.
“Yeah, I guess I am,” I say, looking around. Of course, all the people have gone, so that pretty much explains why the emotional overload has finally vanished.
“How long you been sojourning, anyway?” His blue eyes stare expectantly, awaiting an answer
“Centuries.”
“Then I would have figured you might have mastered shielding just a little better than that.”
I frown and think back to my training with Evan. The fact that this isn’t the first time I’ve been overwhelmed doesn’t make me feel very confident in my abilities, yet when I think of Evan, I know he is a consummate sojourner. While I might not have known about shielding, I’m pretty sure he would have thought about it, and, when the time came, he would have taught me. Evan would not have left out such an important aspect of my training; he would leave nothing to chance, I’m quite sure.
Covenant (Sojourner Book 2) Page 6