Eternity (v5)

by Heather Terrell

  Witnessing this sick, soul-sucking process, a critical question formed in my mind. Why would Ezekiel go to al this trouble of turning the professor? Why wouldn’t he just persuade me—or, better yet, force me—to join his ranks? Suddenly the words of the girl from the courtyard came to me, and I realized that the answer lay in the question itself. Ezekiel went to al this trouble because he couldn’t force me to align with him. Unlike Michael, I had to choose Ezekiel.

  This compel ed Ezekiel to take desperate measures. He had to close down al avenues of escape—my parents and Ruth—and al pathways to information about my identity. He had to remind me constantly of his presence and power by using the tricks I witnessed over the past day. He had to leave me with one choice only: him.

  Yet Ezekiel unwittingly tipped his hand through these actions. By trying to shut down my access to information about my nature, he told me just how important this information was to my salvation. Why else would he go to such lengths to keep it from me? For about the mil ionth time, I wished that my parents had told me everything.

  But they hadn’t. I would have to keep seeking out answers about my identity and purpose on my own—although I knew that Ezekiel would fol ow me wherever I went. Yet somehow, his actions didn’t scare me off my quest—as he undoubtedly intended—but made me more determined than ever to embark on it. Even if it meant daring to use Ezekiel’s own games against him to gain time and knowledge.

  So I mustered up my courage and said, “Professor McMaster, Mr. Ezekiel, I’m so sorry to interrupt this captivating conversation. But I have to go.”

  “So soon?” Ezekiel asked with that ever-present sneer. As if he knew what I was up to.

  “Unfortunately, yes.” I turned to the professor. “Would you mind walking me to the door? It looks a bit like Fort Knox.”

  Professor McMaster tore his eyes away from Ezekiel reluctantly and said, “Yes, yes, Miss Faneuil.”

  I fol owed the now-spel bound professor to the door. Although I could feel Ezekiel’s eyes boring into my back, I didn’t risk a final glance at him.

  But Ezekiel wouldn’t let me leave without a good-bye. And more. “Farewel , El speth. Give my best to Hananel and Daniel. If you risk a visit home, that is.”

  I needed to get out of that room. I could feel the tentacles of Ezekiel’s evil start to wrap around me.

  Slowly, so slowly I thought I would scream, the professor painstakingly undid each lock. When he finished, I touched him on the hand, seemingly out of gratitude. As I did, I looked at him directly in the eyes, and wil ed him to forget about any information he might have gathered for me.

  Particularly anything he might know about this Professor Barr from Oxford that the Harvard student had mentioned. I prayed that the professor hadn’t told Ezekiel anything already.

  I said, “Thank you so much for your help, Professor McMaster. It’s unfortunate that you didn’t know more about my situation. Or anyone who could assist me.”

  When Professor McMaster answered, his voice sounded dazed from Ezekiel’s efforts. “Yes, it is unfortunate, Miss Faneuil. But you are a smart young woman, and I am certain you wil find your way.”

  Brushing up against his hand one last time, I scanned his thoughts and saw that the professor’s mind was curiously blank. Had Ezekiel wiped it clean? Had I?

  Racing down the hal away from the horror of Ezekiel, I heard Professor McMaster close his office door and then bolt al his locks. I wondered why he bothered. The professor had instal ed al those locks to keep out the malevolent creatures he studied, but now he had locked himself in with evil itself.

  Chapter Forty

  I ran as fast as I could down the two flights of stairs to the building’s exit. Only fear of detection by the remaining students or teachers prevented me from actual y flying down. Once I reached the main floor, I thrust open the heavy wooden doors and breathed the cold nighttime air, as if I’d been saved from drowning.

  The evening sky had turned from dark to pitch-black. The neighboring buildings and businesses had closed, eliminating a major source of light. I couldn’t see a streetlamp anywhere. Even with my unusual y sharp eyesight, I found the odd, shadowy landscape hard to make out.

  Stil , I was pretty sure of the route back to Harvard Square, where I could pick up the T to Logan Airport. It seemed that my next step must be meeting with this Professor Barr in London. I didn’t think I could just phone the scholar up and ask my questions without being considered a kook or a crank. Anyway, where else could I go?

  If my experiment had worked on Professor McMaster, I needed to take advantage of my smal lead on Ezekiel and get the next flight to London. I had checked the schedule already and knew that a British Airways flight took off at eight P.M. If I real y hustled, I might make it.

  I fol owed a serpentine pathway leading away from the professor’s building, then made a sharp left and right. By my calculations, I should have spotted Harvard Square in the distance, but I didn’t. Instead, I found myself in a quadrangle of nearly deserted science buildings. I backtracked a little and tried out another right turn I’d considered. It led me right back to that science quadrangle. How could I be so lost? Desperate, I asked one of the few students I passed, and then diligently fol owed her directions. But I found myself in the science quadrangle once again. Was this another of Ezekiel’s games? Or just another unfortunate turn of events in my nightmarish life?

  I heard footsteps behind me, but didn’t make much of them at first. Then I started to notice that the footsteps were matching my stride. So I took an unexpected sharp left turn as a test. The person fol owed.

  I was scared. What if it was Ezekiel or Michael? I could handle pretty much anyone else. I pivoted and started running in the other direction. I could hear the person gaining on me. I had no choice. I had to fly.

  Almost instantaneously, my back expanded, and my body streamlined for flight. My feet had just started to levitate, when I felt a hand pul at my foot. I struggled to kick it off, but the person was strong. I fel down to the ground on top of my pursuer.

  “El ie, it’s me. It’s Michael,” he said, as if that was supposed to be a comfort.

  I shoved away his outstretched hand, and pushed myself off him and onto the hard concrete of the pathway. “I can see that. Why would I want to see you?”

  “You have every right to be furious with me, El ie. But it’s me—the real Michael.” He looked at me with those familiar green eyes, and it did seem as though my Michael stared out through them. But how could I be sure?

  “I thought I went to Ransom Beach with the real Michael. But unfortunately, it was Ezekiel’s underling.”

  Very, very gently, he reached for me. Even though it seemed a gesture of comfort, I pul ed away. It would take a lot more convincing before I’d let him touch me. “I understand, El ie. I didn’t like what I became either. Do you know how scary it is to watch yourself say and do things you’d never imagine, and be unable to stop?”

  From witnessing the transformation of Professor McMaster, I knew that Michael’s words were entirely possible. I wanted it to be true. But I stil didn’t trust him. After al , he’d seemed like my Michael when we flew down the cliff to Ransom Beach—right into Ezekiel’s waiting arms. Ezekiel must have turned him the night before.

  I crossed my arms, and gave him a thorough once-over. No glazed eyes, no deadened speech, but stil , I wasn’t certain. “How did you change back to yourself?”

  “Last night, your parents came over to my house—to talk to my parents. It was real y late, and they didn’t know I was stil awake. So I eavesdropped on them. For some reason, hearing them talk about you snapped the connection between me and Ezekiel.”

  I wanted to know what my parents had said, but assessing Michael’s truthfulness was far more critical just now.

  “If you aren’t aligned with Ezekiel anymore, why are you here in Boston with him?” I asked the obvious question.

  “I knew Ezekiel would find you. So I snuck out of the house and ca
l ed to him—pretending that I was stil in his sway. Though it was quite a trick making sure I didn’t come into physical contact with him, so he wouldn’t discover the truth. He kept saying we should hold off until you reached out to us, but I knew that he’d try to find you. He just couldn’t stay away from you.”

  “Why aren’t you with him right now?”

  “I knew Ezekiel wanted to meet with that professor you found—to find out what he knew and what he told you. When he went into the professor’s office, I told him that I would meet him outside afterward; Ezekiel didn’t want me in there anyway. That was my opportunity to break from him and track you down.”

  “Why did he let me leave the professor’s office?”

  “Ezekiel probably wanted to finish what he started—either getting information from the professor or turning him into one of his minions. I think he liked the irony of having a vampire scholar in his ranks. Anyway, he can find us again whenever he wants us.”

  “How does he track us?” This question figured prominently on my big list. I needed to know how Ezekiel could find me, so I could figure out to hide from him.

  “Once I started using my powers, I became like a blip on a radar screen to him, as he described it. He and I are somehow linked through our blood. That’s what he told me, anyway.”

  Michael had only answered one-half of my question—the part about him. “But that doesn’t explain how he tracks me.”

  He averted his eyes before responding. “You have my blood in your veins. So he can track you, too.”

  I felt sick. There was nowhere to hide from Ezekiel because I’d tasted Michael’s blood and now it ran in my veins? No wonder Michael didn’t want to look me in the face when he delivered that piece of news. “Great.”

  Michael paused and then pleaded with me. “Please, El ie. Give me another chance.”

  I hesitated. I wanted to believe Michael, and it sickened me to think that Ezekiel had put him up to this little reunion. I didn’t want to go on this crazy, scary journey al by myself. But after everything I’d been through, I couldn’t believe him. Not without proof.

  I tightened my crossed arms. “How can I be sure you’re tel ing the truth, Michael?”

  “There is only one way to know for certain,” he said.

  Michael was right. There was only one way.

  This was no gentle kiss. This was no soft exchange of tongue and teeth. Michael didn’t deserve any tenderness or affection. I was mad at him for his betrayal, whether or not it was consciously done. I leaned over and bit him. Hard. Like a vampire.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Michael’s blood rushed into my mouth. I staggered from the force of its flow and the power of its images. I’d never known his blood to have such strength, but then I’d never procured it by violent means before.

  Looking through Michael’s eyes, I stood on the second floor landing of his house. A tal , elegantly curved grandfather clock stood next to me, and its hands met at twelve. I peered down the curved staircase and caught the tiniest glimpse of my parents and his parents in the entryway. They were talking in hushed tones—presumably so as not to awaken Michael—but I could hear them if I strained and ignored the ticking. Interestingly, though, the scene looked filmy, as if Michael’s vision was hazy.

  “What is it, Hananel? You look distraught,” Michael’s mom asked.

  “El speth is gone.” My own eyes wel ed up with tears at the despair in my usual y unflappable mother’s voice.

  “What do you mean ‘gone’?” She sounded alarmed.

  “I mean that she was supposed to be home by five, after she had coffee with her friend, Ruth. I’d given El speth a special exemption from her grounding to meet with Ruth, since their friendship had been strained lately—” My mom’s voice broke, and I saw my dad put his arm around her shoulder as she cried.

  “It’s al right, Hananel. What happened?” Michael’s mom prompted her.

  “El speth didn’t come home. I waited until six to contact Ruth, who claimed to be confused because she had dropped El speth at our house. But Daniel and I didn’t believe her, so we asked Ruth to come over. She was visibly nervous when she arrived; obviously she knew something. At first, she clung to her original story that she had brought El speth home. We used the vestiges of our skil s to find out more, but al Ruth knew was that El speth had had some kind of fight with Michael. So, at El speth’s insistence, Ruth took her to the train station. Ruth didn’t know where El speth planned to go.” Silently, I cheered on Ruth for keeping quiet about the flying. Even though my parents already knew about it, of course.

  “But you’re afraid that it’s more than a teenage fight? You think that she left for other reasons?” Michael’s mom asked.

  “Yes, Sariel,” my dad answered. “We talked to El speth last night. We read her the passage about the Nephilim and—”

  “What?” Michael’s dad practical y yel ed.

  “Keep your voice down, Armaros,” Michael’s mom warned. Sariel? Armaros? Hadn’t I seen those names in the Book of Enoch? Michael’s parents must be “good” fal en angels too, as I’d suspected.

  “You didn’t tel her who she is, did you?” Armaros asked, his voice incredulous.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Her ignorance is the only thing that has protected her so far. The same goes for Michael. You know that,” my dad said. He was as angry as I’d ever heard him.

  “Then why would you come so dangerously close to revealing the truth to her?”

  “Her powers have started to emerge. The poor thing thought she was a vampire. We needed to give her just enough information to dissuade her of that misconception—and explaining the link between the fal en angels and vampires was the only way. We didn’t tel her anything more.” I knew that this last point wasn’t exactly true, but I was glad Armaros didn’t. He was fierce.

  “Daniel, how could you be so foolish? We were meant to protect them longer, keep them unaware until they were ready. Until it was time.”

  Armaros continued sparring with my dad.

  “What were our choices, Armaros? To let her go on believing she was a vampire? And have Michael believe the same thing too? Such thinking would bring them precariously close to darkness. When Ezekiel or the others emerge, as they undoubtedly wil , it would make El speth and Michael easy prey for their dark purposes.”

  I felt something snap in Michael, almost like he’d woken up. And suddenly I saw the image more clearly, not through some bizarre haze. I guessed that the haze was the residue of Ezekiel’s influence.

  “You’re right, Daniel. But while it is one thing for El speth to be aware of her differences, it is quite another for her to even suspect who she is. You may have opened the door just enough to put El speth and Michael in play, assuming El speth told him what she knows,” Armarmos barked back at my dad. Then he said quietly, “You might have even triggered the end days.”

  “You don’t think I know that, Armaros? Hananel and I tried so hard to make El speth feel like a regular human—to align her with mankind when it’s time and to stave off her powers and the clock. You don’t think I’ve worried myself sick over when to tel her who she is? When to begin preparing her for the battle that rages beneath the surface in this naive world? We have walked a very fine line between keeping her safe and innocent and preparing her for war. How can we possibly know the best course for El speth and Michael when we haven’t seen their kind since—”

  Armaros interrupted. With venom. “Since the beginning.”

  “Enough fighting,” my mom interjected. “We don’t know that either El speth or Michael know anything of significance. We do know that El speth is gone, and we need to find her. We have sent a gifted friend to track her down and bring her home, since obviously we cannot go ourselves—”

  “Obviously,” Michael’s mom interrupted.

  “And we were hoping that you might send one of your friends to do the same,” my mom finished.

  “We would be happy to do so, Hananel.” Mich
ael’s mom paused and then said, “Thank goodness, Michael doesn’t know anything.”

  “Nothing?” My mom sounded skeptical.

  “He senses his powers, of course. But, otherwise, he seemed perfectly normal at dinner tonight. If a little subdued.”

  “He didn’t mention a fight with El speth?”

  “No. But then, you know how teenagers are.”

  “Are you certain that he is uninformed?”

  “Insofar as I can be certain of anything with the limitations of this mortal body.”

  “Perhaps you should check on him.”

  “Perhaps I should.”

  The stairs began to creak as Sariel walked up to Michael’s bedroom. I watched through his eyes as he scurried back to his bedroom and threw himself under the covers. The wooden floorboards squeaked as she approached his bed and hovered over it for several minutes. Then she tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  The image faded. I stood before Michael, staring into his waiting eyes. He looked almost sick as he anticipated my judgment on the image he had summoned up for me.

  “Do you believe me? Do you believe that Ezekiel doesn’t have a hold on me any longer?”

  I did. I knew he was tel ing the truth. In fact, I sensed the very moment when the cord between Michael and Ezekiel was cut—it was when my dad mentioned Ezekiel by name—and I knew that Michael came to Boston of his own volition. Not under Ezekiel’s sway or for Ezekiel’s purposes.

  “I do, Michael.”

  “Thank God.”

  Michael wrapped his arms around me, and I let him. I didn’t return the embrace. I wasn’t ready. But I couldn’t stay mad at him either. Through Ezekiel’s eyes, I’d seen Ezekiel turn powerful, grown men and women into his fol owers. Into monsters. How did I expect Michael to resist?

  “El ie, I promise that I wil never betray you again. We’re in this together, against Ezekiel.”

  “I hope so, Michael.” I real y did. But how could I be certain that Michael wouldn’t fal under Ezekiel’s influence again? I knew Ezekiel would be a constant presence, in one form or another, and Michael seemed to be susceptible to Ezekiel in a way that I wasn’t. I would have to be vigilant, to constantly assess Michael for any changes, by touch or by blood if necessary.