Eternity

by Heather Terrell

  From wherever—or whoever—the images came, I understood the message. As if he knew what I’d seen, Rafe immediately withdrew.

  “I must go, Ellspeth. My presence here is now doing more harm than good. You must repair your relationship with Michael. And together, you must fulfill the prophecy.”

  He was right. From the moment Rafe’s lips touched mine, I knew it was wrong. No matter how furious I was with Michael, that anger was a blip. He and I belonged together.

  Still, I didn’t want to say good-bye. I closed my eyes, and said, “No, Rafe.”

  “Ellspeth, more than anything on earth or heaven, I want to stay with you. But you and Michael—it has been foretold since the beginning.”

  “What about free will, Rafe? What if I want you to stay?” Despite what I’d seen and what I felt, a part of me still wanted Rafe by my side.

  His dark eyes bored into mine. “Ellspeth, God granted you free will, as he did to the rest of his creations. Yet I know you. I know that you would only exercise that free will to do what is right and good. And you know that means staying with Michael and fulfilling your destiny.”

  “You are right, Rafe. I know you are,” I whispered with a sigh.

  I opened my eyes to take one last look into his. But he was gone.

  Yet in the sound of the wind whipping across Ransom Beach, I swore I heard Rafe’s voice. “I’ll be watching you, Ellspeth.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  I was alone.

  Never mind that my mom and dad waited for me anxiously on the stoop of our little Victorian house when I landed after my solitary flight home from Ransom Beach. Never mind that the cell phone on my desk showed that Ruth had left countless texts and voice mails agonizing about the volcano and the fulfillment of her predictions. Never mind that Rafe was out there—somewhere—watching me.

  I needed Michael. Not my parents, not Ruth, not even Rafe. Without Michael, my world felt empty. The vision showed me that we belonged together, no matter how we’d grown apart and no matter the distraction of Rafe. The vision showed me the emptiness of a life when Michael and I didn’t stand hand in hand. He was my destiny, he was my soul mate. The only one who fully understood and loved the entire Ellie—human and divine.

  No matter. It seemed like I’d have to stare evil in the face and defeat it by myself. Unlike the last time I felt utterly isolated from the rest of humanity—in the Tillinghast train station on my way to Boston—I now knew who I was and what I had to do in excruciating detail. That knowledge made my solitude all the more terrifying.

  I wanted to crawl under my warm, cozy quilt. Even if it was only for a few minutes. But, after a round of relieved hugs that followed my tale of escape from two fallen angels, my parents explained that it was not to be.

  “I’m so sorry, my dearest,” my dad muttered into the mess of my hair. “I know this is hard. The other fallen striving for grace—the ones you and Raphael have taken to calling the Light Fallen—believe that you are best hidden by going about your normal day.”

  I guessed that the others also believed that—to the extent that the remaining fallen hadn’t yet tracked me down—hiding in plain teenage sight seemed to be the best vantage point from which I could strike. Still, I couldn’t say that to my dad. He was already upset enough.

  My mom needed to be certain that I’d gotten the message that I would go to school. She added, “The others also think that they can best guard me and your dad by keeping us separate from you, Ellie.”

  Apparently, proximity to me would expose my parents to unnecessary danger and prove a liability for me if the fallen used my mom and dad as weapons against me. I didn’t say that either. It would only make them more upset. I simply nodded my acquiescence and headed upstairs to take a shower, while they stood by helplessly.

  I’d have to go to school like any other day. It seemed surreal and pointless that I’d have to go through the motions at Tillinghast High. Innocent, teenage Ellie was so far gone that I had no confidence I could summon her up convincingly even for one more day. There was no sense protesting. If one more day of playacting offered my parents fortification from the fate of The Last Judgment figure I’d seen—the terrified man ensnared by demons—I would do it. I would do anything to shelter them from the coming storm.

  I called upon my courage. I reminded myself that I was the Elect One, that He—whoever, whatever He was—believed in me. Even if I didn’t always believe in myself.

  After I showered in the hottest water I could tolerate, trying to scrub off the lingering scent of Barakel, I went into my bedroom and pulled on some jeans, a gray T-shirt and sweater, and my favorite boots. It was my most practical outfit, complete with layers for any situation or weather I might face. With care, I packed my black bag, trying to anticipate everything I might need for battle or survival. Then I picked up a Swiss Army knife from the drawer, where I’d tossed a bunch of stuff from our summer trip, and placed it in my bag.

  Trying my best at a brave showing, I marched over to my bedroom door to say farewell to my old life. Without an audience, my self-assurance faltered a bit when I put my hand on the doorknob. Before I ventured out into the unknown, I needed one last moment looking at my childhood bedroom, the place where I’d dreamed about college and boys and future careers. I needed to say good-bye to the teenage Ellie and all she might have been.

  I memorized the crumple of my worn-in, flannel bedsheets and the stripes of weak sunlight filtering through my blinds onto the floor in front of my window. I ran my finger along the window seat where I’d spent so many hours reading. I touched the spines of my beloved childhood books, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe chief among them.

  I was awash in the memories and the loss, until I heard the beep of my cell phone. I fished it out of my bag, and saw a string of texts from Ruth. The most recent was from 5:30 a.m. I wondered if she’d been up all night worrying about me, about everyone.

  I clicked the text open. It said, “What’s going on? Please contact me. I’m worried sick.”

  How could I begin to answer her question? So much was going on, where could I even begin? With the confirmation that two more signs had been unsealed, with the destruction of two fallen angels, with a major rift in my relationship with Michael, or with Rafe’s confession and departure? Though I toyed with the idea of sharing everything with Ruth, I knew that I couldn’t tell her any of these things. All I could do was appease her.

  I wrote a simple note. “All’s well. I’ll see you at school.”

  My phone beeped back immediately. “What? What does that mean?”

  “Trust me,” I typed.

  With a heavy heart, I left my bedroom and trudged down the stairs. My mom and dad stood at the bottom, waiting to walk me to the family car. My car now. Our hands linked together, and without speaking a word, we walked through the foyer and out the front door.

  “We’ll be waiting for you, dearest. After,” my dad said, as he squeezed me tighter than any normal human should be able to squeeze.

  My mom joined in the hug. Then she reached around her neck and unfastened the locket she always wore, the one that held the key to the safe containing proof of my parents’ unnaturally long existence. She strung it around my neck, and said, “After.”

  I couldn’t look at either of them. The timbre of their voices told me that they were restraining tears. I couldn’t allow myself to weaken.

  After I unlocked the front door, I settled into the driver’s seat. I suddenly felt guilty for not being brave enough to meet their eyes in farewell. Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I craned my neck for one last glimpse of them. As I did, I spotted a new landscaper working on Piper’s yard. I didn’t know why he caught my attention amid the emotional turmoil. I realized that I recognized him from the town green the night before. He was one of the Light Fallen, here to guard my parents. It gave me comfort that they would be safe.

  Off I went. To protect humankind.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Tha
nk God for Ruth.

  She was waiting for me at my locker the minute I walked into school. I knew she was desperate to talk. She’d left me countless texts and voice mails with questions about the news coverage of the volcano off the Greenland coast. Travel had been completely suspended indefinitely and the networks were already reporting the scarcity of produce in European markets and the fear of the rapid spread of a deadly lung disease called silicosis from inhaling the ash. It was all happening precisely as Ruth predicted. And she was understandably freaking out.

  “Do you know how worried I’ve been? First, the news reports the volcano exactly as I predicted. As I’m bombarded with those broadcasts, I start to read accounts about the onset of famine and disease. It’s all exactly as I forecast. Then, you and Michael disappear. Poof. You’re not at school, and you don’t answer your phone other than a single, cryptic text. I thought the worst: that you and Michael had died trying the stop the volcano.”

  Ruth paused only to take a breath. It gave her enough time to notice my solemn face. She packed away the rest of her questions and the remainder of her commentary like so much luggage. Instead of voicing her concerns, she grabbed me and hugged me.

  Loyal friend that she was, Ruth asked, “What can I do?”

  “Walk with me to English?” I pleaded with her.

  I knew that Michael was somewhere in this building, roaming the hallways without me, ruminating on some imagined relationship between me and Rafe. I couldn’t stand the thought of running into him all by myself. What would I say? Where did we stand with each other? I knew where I wanted to stand with him, but what about him? Funny, how I thought of myself as battle ready to destroy fallen angels, yet couldn’t bear the notion of encountering Michael in the hallways of Tillinghast High School.

  “That I can handle,” she said amiably and painted on a smile, despite the angst I knew she felt.

  Ruth linked her arm in mine, and together we made our way down the crowded hallway. We got some stares, even more than the normal glares that I still received daily. I didn’t care; this could be the last time that any of us walked these halls. The knowledge left me unmoored—especially without Michael—and I needed Ruth to be my anchor to the real world. For a few minutes, anyway, before I dropped off into the abyss of the apocalypse.

  Ruth could suppress her questions only for so long. She knew what was at stake. She whispered, “So I was right?”

  “About the volcano triggering a couple of signs?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered back.

  “You were right.” Even though I wanted to tell her more, I hesitated. I needed to weigh very carefully how much to tell the already frightened Ruth. “We don’t need to whisper anymore.”

  Ruth looked at me with alarm. “Why not? We don’t want to alert you-know-who to your powers.”

  “Pretending won’t mask my knowledge. They’ll come for me when they’re ready. In fact, a couple of them have already tried,” I admitted.

  “What do you mean?” Ruth’s alarm rapidly transformed into terror.

  “I learned that the seven signs are activated by specific fallen angels. Before the fallen set a sign off, they will each approach me. They will try to lure me in. It’s my job to destroy them before they can do so. That’s what the prophecy says anyway.”

  “How did you learn this stuff? I didn’t read anything like this in the Books of Enoch or Jubilees or Revelation.”

  “It’s a long story.” I knew better than to get into the whole narrative about Rafe. And Ruth knew better than to push me.

  “You said that a couple of the fallen found you. If they know where you are, why don’t they all come for you right now?”

  “It’s complicated. It isn’t the easiest task in the world to track me, even when I’m utilizing my powers, although that does seem to help them. It’s kind of like chasing a shadow. And the fallen don’t exactly work together, even though they have a common goal. They each want me for themselves.”

  She paused. “How did you get away from the ones that found you, Ellie?”

  “How do you think?”

  Ruth got quiet as she put the puzzle pieces together. “Isn’t Michael supposed to help you?”

  “He helped me with the fallen who already attacked. We’ll see if he comes to my aid with the ones who will follow. Things aren’t exactly great between us right now.”

  Our conversation delayed us. Ruth and I were the last to arrive to English, and Miss Taunton herself greeted us at the door. Her welcome didn’t consist of a warm salutation or a grin. Instead, we got an outstretched palm and a brusque demand. Ruth hastily unzipped her bag, and handed something to her.

  “What about your paper, Miss Faneuil?”

  Paper? What on earth was she talking about? I’d been kind of preoccupied lately with fending off attacks by fallen angels and trying to stop the apocalypse. This whole high school student ruse was ridiculous and enraging. Confusion and irritation must have been written all over my face.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your paper on Charlotte Brontë?” Miss Taunton asked with unmistakable glee in her voice. For whatever reason, she didn’t like me.

  The classroom got quiet, and I swear I heard some of the other kids snicker. Miss Taunton didn’t lower her hand. In fact, she reached out and touched mine again.

  “I am waiting for your paper, Miss Faneuil.”

  Her fingers vibrated under my touch. If Miss Taunton spoke another word, I couldn’t hear it. If my classmates continued their derision, I was deaf to their laughter. A flash of overwhelming intensity washed over me. All I could see and hear were the images from Miss Taunton’s mind.

  “Don’t go, George. I’m begging you,” her voice pleaded pathetically. From the timbre of her voice, I could tell she was young, maybe college age.

  I watched as her youthful, manicured fingers clawed at the shirt of a bookish young man. He had unremarkable light brown hair and sloping shoulders, and surprisingly soulful brown eyes. Even though he looked sad, he seemed determined.

  “Eleanor, I cannot live with your jealousies and negativity. I am going to take this opportunity to study with Professor Liebsher in Germany. We need to move on. This is the best way.”

  “Please, George, I will change. I know I can.”

  George peeled her fingers off the lapel of his shirt, and said, “Good-bye, Eleanor. I wish you well.”

  A series of images followed. I could see that after this George person left, Eleanor Taunton had cut off the hopeful, youthful part of herself. Over the long, lonely years that followed, her resentment grew, almost like an addiction. She fed that addiction with her loathing of the freshness and promise of her young students. Like me, apparently.

  When I opened my eyes, I felt that old, Good Samaritan sensation—the one I thought I’d lost—descend upon me. Maybe I could help Miss Taunton seek redemption before it was too late. Before the end. Anyway, what did I have to lose?

  I drew very close to her. Uncomfortably close. And then, so that the other kids couldn’t hear what I was about to say, I whispered to her.

  “Eleanor.” It felt very natural to use her first name, after witnessing her at her most vulnerable moment. “I know you have suffered, and I understand your pain. But clinging to the past and holding on to your animosity won’t give you the peace you seek. Or the life you desperately want.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise and then filled with tears of vulnerability. Out of long habit, Miss Taunton—Eleanor—took refuge in her bitterness. Very quietly, she said, “I cannot imagine what you are talking about, Miss Faneuil. If you believe that this little game will buy you an extension for your paper, you are sorely mistaken. And my name is Miss Taunton, not Eleanor.”

  I clasped her hand tighter and whispered back. “Oh, Eleanor, I don’t care about the paper. Surely you know that? Feel free to give me an F. I want to help you.”

  Even though she scoffed, she kept her voice down. “Help me? That’s rich. Miss Faneuil,
you are the one in need of assistance.”

  “Look at me, Eleanor. You have to forget about George and start fresh. He’ll never come back for you. It’s been decades. There is hope for a new life for you.”

  The room was so quiet I could hear the other kids breathe, as they watched us. Still, I was pretty sure they couldn’t hear what we were saying.

  “How did you know?” she asked, her voice breaking. The tears that welled in her eyes began to run down her face.

  “I saw it in your soul.”

  Miss Eleanor Taunton put her head down and silently walked out of the room.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  So much for hiding in plain sight. Word about my encounter with Miss Taunton spread through the school like wildfire. No one knew what I had said to her, but the kids from my English class definitely saw the tears streaming down her face as she left the room. By the end of second period, the other kids didn’t know what to think of me, except that I’d seemingly subjugated the most loathed teacher in school. And they liked that.

  The softening in my classmates’ attitude toward me made my presence at Tillinghast High School even harder. As I watched the kids take notes in class or laugh with their friends in the hallways or share a cookie over lunch, it reminded me that this could be the last day they did any of these things. That none of us could be here tomorrow if I failed. The frivolities that I’d loathed upon my return from Boston now seemed like innocent indulgences, ones that I’d been charged with protecting.

  It was all too much. As the school day came to a close, I needed to rest. I had planned on waiting in the school library for Ruth to finish her yearbook meeting, before we headed together to Michael’s championship football game. But I knew that the library—chock-full of flirting kids and studious teens—was like a minefield of sentiment that I could ill afford. In order to protect the kids, I had to be resolute, not emotional, on their behalf.