Eternity

by Heather Terrell

  Michael asked, “Where the hell are we, Rafe?”

  “Doesn’t it look familiar to you, Michael?”

  He loosened his grip on my hand and strolled around. “It looks like we’ve stepped into a page of an art history textbook.”

  “That isn’t too far off the mark. You are in Rome, at the Vatican. This is the—”

  “Sistine Chapel.” Michael got it. “Wow, you were able to transport us here by channeling your energy.”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you teach us to do this projection thing?” Michael wasn’t awed by the locale. He didn’t even seem interested in why Rafe had selected this place. It was all about the new skill for him.

  “Yes. I’ll show you how to do it on our return home to Tillinghast.”

  Maybe Michael didn’t care, but I needed to know why this place, of all the places in the world. For Rafe did nothing without a very clear purpose. “Why did you bring us here, Rafe?”

  “Why the Sistine Chapel?”

  “Yes.”

  “Isn’t it reason enough that it is one of the most sacred places in the world, famous for its architecture and the paintings by Michelangelo?”

  “No, Rafe. I don’t think of you as a tour guide or an art history buff.”

  He laughed. Not a celestial sound but a very human laugh. “You’ve gotten to know me well, Ellspeth. I have my reasons.”

  “Given that the clock is ticking, do you think you might share them with us?” For once, I didn’t care if I sounded acerbic or challenging. The time was at hand, and it demanded answers.

  Rafe pulled us to the very center of the Sistine Chapel. He directed our gaze to the ceiling this time, pointing to the iconic image of God creating Adam through a single touch of His hand. We rose to see it up close. The painting was so powerful—so real—that I could almost feel the current of life passing from God to Adam.

  “This is the God I know well. A loving God. One who can be quick to judge, yet one who is quick to forgive. A God who gives second chances. This is the force that courses through you both. This is the force that should guide the end.”

  Taking me and Michael firmly by the hands, Rafe led us downward. We swooped behind an iron grate guarding an altar in one corner of the room, so we could better see the enormous painting behind the altar.

  “This is Michelangelo’s masterpiece, The Last Judgment. I think it’s the most accurate rendering of the end days by the hand of a human. It shows the souls of humanity rising and descending to their fates—after the end days already happened—as judged by the Elect One, here depicted as Christ.”

  He pulled us closer to the painting. “This painting also contains a hidden message. Michelangelo encoded The Last Judgment with a message explicitly for you, Ellspeth.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Michelangelo hid a message in The Last Judgment for Ellspeth Faneuil? Centuries ago? Come on, Rafe.”

  “The Last Judgment is inspired by visions God sent to Michelangelo. Images that He wanted the Elect One to see, when the time was right. You’re the Elect One. This is the time. Yes, Ellspeth, as impossible as it may seem, Michelangelo hid a message in The Last Judgment for you.”

  I shuddered. Somehow, the notion that the legendary Michelangelo painted an image for me—one imbedded with meaning, no less—made my mission all too overwhelmingly real.

  “What is the message?”

  “The message is for you, Ellspeth. Not me. Only the Elect One can decipher it. Why don’t you see if you can figure it out?”

  “I’m no art historian, Rafe.”

  “I don’t think it’s that kind of message, Ellspeth.”

  Rafe released our hands, and flew off alone to a far corner of the chapel. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, even a bit sad. Or perhaps he simply wanted to leave me to my project, with Michael as my helpmate. Who could discern the thought process of an angel? I was tired of trying.

  With that, Michael and I were left alone. For a long few minutes, we hovered in front of the vast, immensely tall painting, taking in the vivid portraits of angels and demons and everything in between.

  “Amazing, huh?” Michael commented.

  I appreciated his attempt at small talk. It’d been a while since he’d made the effort. “I’ll say. It’s incredible being so close.”

  “Without all the crowds,” Michael added.

  I nodded. Suddenly, a figure toward the bottom of the painting caught my attention. It was the cowering figure of a man, enfolded by three snakelike demons. His face writhed in pain and terror as the demons dragged him downward. The image sent shivers up my spine.

  For some reason, I was seized by an undeniable urge to touch the figure. I flew toward it, with my hand outstretched.

  “What are you doing? You can’t touch that,” Michael nearly shrieked.

  “Why not?” I asked, not bothering to stop.

  “Don’t you think alarms might go off?”

  “If they do, we’ll project away. Michael, please, I have to touch it.”

  My fingers grazed the surprisingly grainy surface of the painting. Without warning, I started to experience a flash, as if my fingers had touched someone’s skin instead of a wall. Something told me that the flash came directly from Michelangelo’s mind. For me.

  After it passed and I regained control of myself, I whispered, “I know what the message is, Michael.”

  “How?”

  “By touching this figure. This is the place where Michelangelo received his vision from God.”

  “Michelangelo imbedded a flash in a painting? And it survived all these centuries? After all the restoration it’s been subjected to?”

  “I know it sounds incredible. But it’s true.”

  “What’s the message?” He still sounded skeptical.

  “This is what the end days will look like if an Elect One controlled by the Dark Fallen judges the end. This is what the end days will look like if we don’t succeed. If we fail, humankind will not be given room for second chances. There will be no forgiveness, no redemption, except for those who agree to serve the Dark Fallen. They are determined to reign here on earth forever, since they know they will never rule in heaven. To do so, they must control the end. By controlling me.”

  Together, we stared at the figure. The man’s agony was so real, so painful, I could almost feel the hellfire upon me. I’d been so focused on me—finding out who I was, developing my skills, figuring out where I stood with the recently mercurial Michael—that I hadn’t stepped back and reflected on the why, the big picture. Michelangelo’s message made the stakes very tangible. Very personal.

  I looked over at Michael. “Michael, we can’t let that happen. We can’t let our parents and Ruth and everyone we have ever loved end up like this poor figure. Given how hard our parents have worked for grace, don’t they deserve a chance at redemption? Don’t we all?”

  Michael stared back at me, his eyes brimming with emotion. For humankind and for me. “Yes, Ellie, they do. So do we.”

  I reached out for his hand, and squeezed it tight. Maybe I wouldn’t have to wait until “after” for us to stand together as the soul mates we were meant to be. “Together, we’ll protect them.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  I awoke with the strongest sensation of peace and happiness. For a decadent minute, I allowed myself to relive the moment in the Sistine Chapel when Michael and I locked eyes and hands. I had felt closer to him than I had in some time. Maybe that had been Rafe’s goal, or one of his goals, anyway.

  I showered and dressed as quickly as possible. Gathering up my homework, phone, and keys and sticking them in my bag, I rushed out into the hallway. I couldn’t wait to see Michael today.

  As I descended the stairs, I swore I heard the television. In our house, we had one small television in the kitchen that my parents permitted me to use for the sole purpose of catching the news, like watching some of the earthquake coverage. My parents never, ever watched it in the morning, though.
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  The second I walked into the kitchen, my mom shut it off. Not before I saw a newscaster making a breaking announcement before the backdrop of a spewing volcano. My heart sank. Had Ruth’s prediction come true?

  “What was that, Mom?”

  “Nothing, dearest,” she answered. Averting my gaze, she returned to buttering my toast.

  “Please put the TV back on for a minute, Mom.”

  Reluctantly, she picked up the remote and flicked the television on. In horror, I listened to the newscaster describe a dormant volcano on an island off the coast of Greenland that had erupted without warning in the night. More startling were the images of its explosion. Lightning streaked across the volcano’s top as ruby-red lava flowed down its side, all against the backdrop of an enormous, billowing ash cloud. The scene left me shaken and speechless.

  Ruth had been absolutely correct, eerily so. Now that I’d seen firsthand the deadly havoc the fallen angels could wreak, my newly restored confidence faltered. I’d failed with Kael, and this catastrophe was the result. How could I do battle against the fallen who possessed such might?

  The path of the volcano’s initial destruction was vast but nothing compared to the worldwide destruction that could be inflicted in the coming hours and days. According to the newscaster, famine and disease could result if the ash plume expanded and blanketed the European skies as top scientists calculated it would. Just as Ruth had forecast.

  Now I knew why Rafe risked using our powers outside the field last night. It no longer mattered if the fallen knew where we were or what we were doing. The second and third seal had been opened, and maybe others. There was no more reason to hide.

  When Michael arrived in his car to pick me up for school, we decided to cut class to find Rafe. We desperately needed to talk to him. Figuring that the field was our best shot at locating him, we raced directly there.

  As we hurtled down the narrow Tillinghast back roads toward the field, I thought of Ruth. She would be worried sick by the reports of the volcanic eruption; better than anyone else in the world, other than me and Michael, she understood the true impact of the news. A huge part of me longed to reassure her in person, although I knew a text would have to suffice.

  I quickly typed into my cell, “You were right. Please don’t worry. We’re going to take care of everything.”

  The words weren’t much, but they were all I could offer.

  The second I stopped typing, my cell beeped. Poor Ruth must have been staring at her phone, waiting for my message. “I can’t stop worrying. So please take care of yourself. And all of us.”

  I started to write her back, when the car suddenly lurched to a stop and Michael cried out, “He’s here.”

  Thank God, Rafe did not disappoint.

  “Did you see the news?” Michael asked the second we were in yelling distance.

  “I didn’t need the news to tell me that more seals have been broken,” Rafe answered more quietly.

  “You knew that this was coming last night, didn’t you?” I asked.

  “Yes. I also knew that we couldn’t stop the breaking of those seals. The decision to launch those events had been made days ago.”

  The import of Rafe’s words settled upon me. Kael. The seals.

  I shook my head and muttered, “Two more seals opened.”

  “Yes, Ellspeth. Famine and disease. Kael had control over those two signs,” Rafe informed me.

  “This is all my fault.”

  “No, Ellie. You can’t possibly be to blame.” Michael tried to comfort me.

  “Michael, the fallen angel from the other night, Kael. He’s the one who released these signs. If I could have stopped him . . .” I couldn’t finish.

  Rafe grabbed me by the shoulders and stared me in the eyes. “Ellspeth, listen to me. I told you before. You couldn’t possibly have prevented Kael’s actions. At the time he made contact with you, you didn’t know how to destroy him. The wheels of his destruction were already in motion. Swaying you would’ve been a bonus prize.”

  “Surely the others will come soon. If Ruth is right and Kael’s volcano triggers two signs, then we still have four more angels to worry about. Wouldn’t Kael have told them where to find me?”

  “The fallen don’t exactly cooperate, except to keep the end-days wheels in motion. Otherwise, it’s every fallen for himself, in terms of persuading you, anyway. You see, Ellspeth, the fallen who secures you is the fallen who wields the most power at the end.”

  “But—”

  “No more buts. We have only limited time left to prepare before your battles will commence. Let’s not spend it on useless regrets.” He gave me a small smile. “Or endless questions.”

  As Rafe spoke, I watched Michael’s fists clench and unclench. He appeared willing to fly off that very minute to fell a battalion of fallen angels. “I’m ready, Rafe. I’ll do anything to protect my Ellie. How will we find them?”

  “My Ellie.” It seemed so long ago that Michael last used those words. Perhaps our evening in the Sistine Chapel really had bridged the strange divide of petty jealousies and football and who knows what else that had formed between us since we returned from Boston.

  “You won’t need to seek them out, Michael.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The fallen need Ellspeth to fulfill their objectives, as you know. They are looking for you. Undoubtedly, they have sensed the powers you exercised last night outside the field. And I’m sure they sensed Kael’s failure to secure Ellspeth. Tracking you and Ellspeth won’t prove particularly challenging.”

  “So?”

  “So Michael, they are coming. The fallen will find you and Ellspeth. We just need to be ready.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  We spent the rest of the day and night practicing aerial maneuvers, mental blocking techniques, and weaponry skills until my limbs begged for relief. For once, I didn’t complain. Rafe had intimated that this was one of our last nights of training, and I could not afford to waste a single piece of Rafe’s celestial wisdom.

  I started to attempt a particularly tricky sword exercise under Michael’s tutelage, when I heard Rafe yell, “Come. We must go.”

  It couldn’t be that close to daybreak. Glancing down at my watch, I saw that it was only two o’clock, too early for breaking up. “Why are we leaving? I want to practice that one last—”

  “They’re waiting, Ellspeth.”

  “Who, Rafe? Who is waiting?” I was getting pretty tired of the mysteries. I knew Rafe had his reasons for doling out information in an enigmatic, molasses-like fashion, but my entire being told me we neared the end. There was no time for his obscurities.

  “Your parents.”

  “Our parents?” Michael sounded as shocked as I felt. I’d asked a couple days ago if we could tell them, and Rafe had categorically denied me. Why would they be coming to meet us now?

  “Yes. I informed Hananel, Daniel, Armaros, and Sariel that we’d meet them tonight. I told you that I would let them know when it was time.”

  Before I could ask any number of questions, Rafe took to the air. Michael and I followed him as he vacated our protected field for the skies over Tillinghast. Funny how quickly and expertly Rafe had schooled us; we no longer flew in his wake.

  I glimpsed the town library and the Daily Grind beneath us, and in the far, far distance, the coast. It had been so long since Michael and I visited Ransom Beach. Would we ever have the luxury of going there again?

  The three of us circled over the town green. I assumed we were making some wide turns before heading to some secluded, coastal spot, until I glanced down. A couple dozen people inhabited the green. What were they doing here at this hour? Why would Rafe have allowed us to fly near a crowd? Even worse, why would he schedule a reunion with our parents in such a populated place?

  Then I looked again. The town green wasn’t occupied by ordinary people at all. From their luminous attractiveness and the faint arcs of light emitting from some backs, I saw
that they were angels. My parents and Michael’s parents stood at the center of their circle.

  As we lowered ourselves to the ground, I asked Rafe, “Who are all those angels? Are they like you?”

  “No, Ellspeth, they are the Light Fallen. Unlike the Dark Fallen, they are striving for redemption and His light. Like your parents.”

  “There’s so many of them. I thought my parents and Michael’s parents were some of a very few.”

  “Twenty-five of the original two hundred are striving for grace. All the Light Fallen are standing on the town green.”

  “Why are they here?”

  He gave me that rakish smile I’d been drawn to since the first day we met. “They wanted to meet the Elect One.”

  Our feet touched down on the soft grass covering the town green. Hesitantly, I walked toward the circle enclosing my waiting parents. Angels parted as I strode through their ranks. I recognized Tamiel from Boston, who smiled at me. Some nodded their heads reverentially, while others reached out to touch me gently, like my skin alone bestowed a blessing. I felt strange, like they thought I was someone I clearly was not.

  My parents stood patiently with their arms outstretched. The angels’ attention made me feel peculiar. I was supposed to be this strong, impervious Elect One, capable of saving them all. I wasn’t sure what to say or how to act.

  Until I collapsed into a sobbing heap in my parents’ arms. There—despite all my strides in confidence in becoming the Elect One—I became regular Ellie. Daniel and Hannah’s awkward teenage daughter.

  My mom spoke first. “I’m so sorry that we had to try and make you forget who you truly are—again. After everything that happened in Boston, everyone thought it would slow down the advance of the end days if you forgot. We thought it would protect you . . and everyone else.”

  “We’re so sorry that it didn’t work. And that you were left all alone to pretend to be a regular teenage girl, when you probably had so many questions and were so scared,” my more-emotional dad sputtered.

  “I know,” I managed to say through my tears. And I did understand. “Rafe explained everything to me. Thank you for everything. You made so many sacrifices to raise me. I know what you gave up.” The thought of their forgone immortality made me cry even harder.