Ether

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Ether Page 13

by Dana Michelle Belle


  What did I do? I’d done all kinds of stupid, reckless, out of character things and almost been killed in the process but I just say, “Defended myself.” It was violent and awful but it is the truth.

  Ephraim sets me down on the edge of Justin’s bed. For the second time in one night I am at the mercy Justin’s first aid training. He gets scissors and cuts away the sleeves of his sweatshirt, peeling them slowly away from the skin of my arms.

  His hands are steady and careful but he can’t help but brush my skin as he works. And each time he touches me, my head feels a little clearer. He’s brushing away Ephraim’s fogging calm. Ephraim stands a few feet away watching. His voice is gentle and lilting, reminding me of the tone one uses to loll a child to sleep. As he speaks the world became misty again. It’s a strange balancing act, a pinch of clarity and a brush of dreaming. “You didn’t kill them Becks, the hosts. If there had been anything left to save, you would have.”

  “You weren’t there. I killed them Ephraim.” I try to challenge him, locking my eyes on his, but the fight goes out of my voice as soon as I meet his eyes.

  “You didn’t kill those kids because there was nothing left to kill.”

  I jerk upright, inadvertently jarring Justin and my arms, which I’m not going to look at, “You saw? And you just left me out there by myself?” I blurt out.

  “Absolutely not. Never. I was frantic to reach you but I couldn’t. I told you, the Numina repel Ethereals. ” His voice is hot and ragged. Full of emotions I’ve never heard from him before.

  Justin finally peels the last of his sweater away from my arms. He is trying to clean the wounds with a cold cloth that sends icy swells of agony through me. I look down at his hands, before I can stop myself. My arms look like burned meat. They’re red, bloodied and skinless. A lump of bile rises in my throat. It’s totally the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen, and it’s my body. Gross.

  I look quickly away and catch Justin’s look. A mixture of horror and sympathy. He gives me a quick, reassuring grimace. “It’s not as bad as it looks. It’s just the top layers of skin, plus you’ve still got that super human healing thing working for you, right?”

  I nod, gritting my teeth. “What exactly does nothing left to kill mean Ephraim?” I ask, looking over Justin’s shoulder.

  “It means that it doesn’t take long for the Numina to subsume a human’s consciousness and once they have control, the human’s personality dissipates. It can’t be returned once the Numina is driven out; the body is just an empty shell.”

  I’m not sure I understood his answer but Justin must because he goes very still and turns to face Ephraim slowly. “Are you saying that the Numina don’t just possess their hosts, they destroy them?” There’s a nasty edge to his voice, making him sound dangerous and angry.

  Ephraim dips his head. “It isn’t possible for two souls to share one body for long. That’s why Becka can drive them out. At first, while they’re struggling with the human consciousness, their power is totally occupied with that internal battle.”

  “And just how long does this take? Is Matt already dead then? Does he have a few more hours, or days? Were you even going to tell us that time was running out for him?” Justin snaps.

  Ephraim shakes his head, “I wasn’t going to tell you. There wasn’t anything to tell, I really don’t know how long he has. It varies depending on the strength of an individual’s will. The Numina tend to target weak minded followers who fall within hours. After that point, dispelling them is futile and reckless. The human’s spirit is gone and the Numina simply take another body. It’s probably already too late for Matt. But it’s not too late for you. I can still protect you.”

  He says the last few words directly to me. The amber of his eyes making me strain towards him. I hear Justin growl softly, under his breath. His hands move gently around my arms, wrapping a thin, light layer of gauze over them. I sigh with relief. The pain is still there, but it’s infinitely better not to be able to see the carnage. With the gore covered it’s easy to let myself think the skin is starting to grow back and heal already. After all, what had Matt said? I’m not really human anymore.

  I take a deep breath. “Matt’s not weak. He’s not dead; he wouldn’t just give in like that. He’ll fight like hell, I know it; which is why we’re going to find him and drive that thing out. And then we’re going to end all this at the source.” I try to stand but Justin immediately puts his hands on my shoulders. He holds me down with only the lightest of touches, but it’s more than I can press against. I sag back down.

  “Hey hero, we tried that already. He’s nowhere to be found. He’s not home, not at school and Ephraim can’t seem to track him. I’m all for the dramatic rescue but he’s not exactly a damsel in distress waiting around to be saved.”

  Ephraim watches stoically, as Justin and I lock horns. “You need to rest Becks. Your injuries will heal, but they won’t heal here. I have to take you into the Ether, which means sleep.” His voice is steady and soft, growing softer and heavier with every word. His eyes are huge golden disks that blaze against my eyes like the sun shining against closed eyelids on a bright summer day. Before I even realize I have closed my eyes, his light is filling my world. The light becomes brighter and brighter until all I see is whiteness.

  And I sleep, but it’s an artificial peace. I have the sensation of being held in this bright white void without feeling the peace, or the surrender that comes with sleep. From the emptiness beyond I can hear voices, Ephraim and Justin speaking over me. I strain toward them, brushing away milky strands, like I’m pushing curtains back from a window. I press against the invisible glass, trying to make out what they’re saying.

  “I’m grateful that you saved her, but I don’t buy any of that soul mate crap you’re feeding her. She’s not your soul mate. She’s not yours at all.” Justin’s voice is tense, jealous even.

  Ephraim’s voice is kinder when he answers. “Your belief is not in question. She and I are linked. We are one. There’s nothing you can do to change that.”

  “That doesn’t mean you get to have her. What kind of life can you offer her? A lifetime of phantom stalking?”

  “You’re offering her a lifetime? Really? How many relationships begun at sixteen last a lifetime? Even if she loves you now, how long can that last? You and I are not competing for her. Ultimately, we belong to each other. I have the luxury of time. You love her? Good, feel free to make her as happy as can. I doubt it will be enough.”

  I try to push myself through the remaining mist. I want to call out to them, to stop them from bickering over me. I strain towards them. Abruptly the last tendrils of mist part and I am standing inside Justin’s room. But the room looks different, it’s faded and indistinct. I can’t make out the details of the furniture, or even Justin’s face. My own body is lying on Justin’s bed. I seem smaller and more delicate than I think of myself, and childlike. Only Ephraim is vivid. I see him with burning clarity like he is a light shining in the dimness. Every fleck of colour in his eyes stands out, every rustle of his hair, every breath. It isn’t that I can see nothing else, just that nothing else holds the same engrossing pull. Is this how Ephraim sees me? A bright spark in an indistinct world?

  I squint at Justin. He’s washed out and distant so it’s difficult to really see him but he seems defensive. His feet are wide apart, his hands are balled into fists and tension runs along every line of his body. Ephraim, beautiful bright Ephraim, is leaning casually against Justin’s desk, hands in his pockets, looking relaxed and peaceful except for the stubborn set of his jaw. Abruptly he turns his head, looking directly into my eyes. “Becks,” he chides, “You need the rest, please try to stay in the ether.”

  When I push closer towards him, trying to step into the scene and be with him. Ephraim just shakes his head and smiles. He holds out a hand and steps towards me, “Fine, I’ll come and keep you company,” he steps into the whiteness around me and the image of Justin’s room fades away entirely. The
moment his fingers touch mine I feel a surge of warmth. The whiteness starts to fill in with colour and the scent of spring flowers waft in on a breeze as it tickles across my nose. “You’re learning quickly, but since you’re in no condition for astral projection,” he says sweetly, “I have a nice, restful dream setting we can visit. How about it?” It’s a question but he already knows my answer. The truth is when I’m this close to him, I just can’t say no. There’s no resisting him.

  That was the last thought I remember, and the first. There is no resisting him. I’m under his sway, which is fine because Ephraim is sweet and gentle and well meaning, but not all the ethereals are like Ephraim. The question that’s been bothering me over and over again since the accident is why. Not why we crashed, but why I got into a car with a boy I barely knew for a ride home from a party when I was supposed to go home with Matt and Justin? It was crazy and reckless and totally not like me. Which reminds me not just a little of heading out to the bluff by myself, and taking off on my own when I first got the car. There’s only one sickening, horrifying answer; I’m under Derrick’s sway too. He has me, just like he said he did. Maybe he can even summon me right now, just call me and I’ll slip out of the house and make way to him, all eagerness to be sacrificed. How’s that for terrifying?

  When I finally open my eyes the light filtering into Justin’s room is the pale blue of predawn. His room is bathed in cool light. Justin’s lying slung out on the floor, his limbs sprawled wide, a blanket knotted around his legs. The outward signs of a restless night. Instinctively I reach for him, and then grunt with the soreness of my body. The muscles along my stomach ache; my arms are stiff and tender. I grunt again in surprise. Is that it? Stiff and sore? After the night I had yesterday? Slowly I peel away the edge of the bandage on my arm; the skin underneath looks delicate. It’s all shiny and pink, like a newly healed scar, but there isn’t a trace of blood left.

  I lift my shirt and check where the evil purple bruises had outlined my entire abdomen, and they’re faded to yellow. A little ghost of a smile plays across my mouth. So what if a whole host of incorporeal evil are trying to kill me? At least I’m a lot harder to kill now.

  A little play of elation, left over from Ephraim’s dreams, lifts my spirits. I lean over the bed, peering down at Justin. In the old days I would have shaken him roughly awake, or tapped his shoulder, or something normal, but so much has changed. His pale eyelashes flutter as he sleeps, his sweetly pale pink his lips are softly parted. His hair is wildly tousled and his face is serene and open. Sleep makes him at once more approachable and more vulnerable. It would be easy, so easy just to lean down and kiss him awake.

  I imagine myself doing it and the faint smile on my lips broadens. And why not? Didn’t he save my life yesterday? I’m pretty sure that entitles him to a kiss.

  And before I can think myself out of it, I lean down and let my lips lightly trace over his, just the barest of pressures. His lips are soft and warm and I can smell the slightly damp, chlorine scent that clings to him all the time.

  He stirs and I pull back quickly, “Mmmmm, that was a nice way to wake up.” His eyes are twinkling and full of light, the way I like them, joyful. He props himself up on his elbow so he’s closer to my perch on the edge of the bed. “I guess that means you’re feeling better?”

  “Super human healing to the rescue.” I grin at him, the horror of the bleak night slipping away with the morning.

  “Glad to hear it.” He tilts his head toward me and kisses me quickly. He rolls to his knees and hold my hand cupped in his, looking into my eyes. I’ve known him so long I can almost hear the tumble of things he wants to say; at least I imagine I can. It must be something like my list of things to say to him. We hold the pose a few breaths, overcome by the things we want to say, and then his fingers are running up my arm, gently lifting the bandage, just as I did.

  He whistles softly when he sees the new, perfect skin forming underneath. “I’m not sure I really believed him until now,” he murmurs.

  I catch his hand again, squeezing it. “I’m not as human as I used to be, but I’m still me.”

  “Oh, no doubt.” He grins, a big lop sided grin, “Only now you can fry other worldly spectres and heal from the brink of death. Same old, same old.” He stands, pulling me gently to my feet. “A shower and pancakes for two?” He says a little suggestive ring to his voice. It sends a tiny shock through me before my brain adjusts. Right, we’re doing this now. Flirting.

  I give him a little playful push away from me. “A shower for one and pancakes for two.” I amend.

  He lets his face fall into mock disappointment. “Aww... and after I saved your life and everything. There’s gratitude for you.”

  I laugh and give him another little push, mouthing the word ‘go’ at him.

  We keep up light banter all through breakfast. Freshly showered and dressed in my own, laundered clothes, a blessing from his mom, I feel better all over. The hot water washed a lot of the stiffness away and a lot of the smell. I wrinkle up my nose. I actually kissed Justin smelling like that!

  Justin doesn’t talk about last night, or incorporeal evil, or incorporeal soul mates, he doesn’t even bring up ‘us’. He keeps everything light and friendly, letting me get my bearings. When I finally set down my fork on a syrupy plate he nods and looks at me expectantly, “So?”

  “So,” I pause, “so we go to school. We know we’ll find him there, he’s still pretending to be human, and it may be our last chance to save him. There’s just one problem.”

  “Oh?” Justin asks his voice quiet.

  “There’s a pretty good chance he’s just going to try to kill me again.”

  I look him in the eyes, holding it. We’ve known each other our entire lives. He has never, ever failed me. I have never failed him. And as I look at him, he smiles a slow, steady smile. “That’s how we’re going to stop him. We know exactly what he’ll do.”

  Chapter 11: Defeat

  The world changed on me over night. The last time the sun rose, I thought of myself as a fragile, human teenage girl, what else could I be? Now I know differently. I’m powerful, resilient, and getting farther and farther from human. So sure, everything looks a little different to me. The car, the school and even Justin. They’re all becoming things that aren’t just in my orbit, they’re mine to protect.

  Justin slides his eyes over to me as I take a deep breath, trying to ground myself. “You’ll be okay. I’m not taking my eyes off you, not for a second.” He winks, “not that I was going to anyway.”

  I give his shoulder a little shove. “Not that you ever did,” I tease. It feels good to joke like this, even though I know what I’m about to do is sheer craziness. I swing the door open before I can have any more second thoughts. Every second I waste here is one more second that Matt’s fighting for his life.

  Justin walks me to the doors, but I can feel the difference in him already. He’s tense, alert, wary, very much my protector. I shudder. The hallway smells different. The odours are sharper, stronger and make my stomach squeeze and turn in place. And the noise, hundreds of voices chatting and laughing burns into my ears. I can hear maybe six or seven distinct conversations, but can’t pin point the speakers. The floor lurches up at me. Instantly Justin’s arms are around me, concern in his eyes. “I’m okay,” I choke out, but I’m not, not really. Is it like this for Ephraim? Seeing everything, hearing everything, smelling everything? No it can’t be. He says I’m the only really vivid thing to him. I feel like I’ve never really seen anything before. The whole world is sharper and clearer and it’s making made my brain hurt trying to take it all it. I can’t make sense of it, or see any pattern at all. It’s a chaos of experience; with no understanding to give it meaning.

  Justin’s fingers twine into mine, giving my hand a squeeze. I focus my attention on the sensation. There, that’s one real thing to hold onto. I squeeze his hand back, feeling the touch of his skin as I never have before. A blush springs up in my cheeks
as I try not to wonder what other experiences will feel like now.

  Bouncing, spaniel curls bob before my eyes and a stream of words snap out at me. Mandy prattle, but I can’t sort her words in the deafening roar of lock dials being spun, books being dropped onto desks.

  I step past her, only dimly aware of her protest, barely realizing when Justin’s hand tugs mine and he leads me away, and then it’s really dim and the sounds around me are muted. Justin has my face between his hands and is looking intently into my eyes.

  I try to look around. I’ve never been in this room before. It’s musty and dark, the janitor’s closest. Justin is speaking to me but I still can’t focus. Beyond the door I hear voices. Dozens and dozens of conversations and among them, some truly disturbing sounds. Moaning, cursing, muttering, crazy sounds and the clear coldness of Matt’s voice. “End them.” His voice booms out. “They’re drawing too much attention.” The sound of his voice rings back against my ears and sends me shivering. He’s here, he’s definitely here.

  The room is stuffy and warm. Way too warm, sweat trickles down my arms and stings my eyes. “Becks. Becks.” A soft voice is saying insistently. I want to answer, but I can’t tear myself away from the stream of voices. If only I could hear them a little more clearly, I might be able to find Matt. Then this would all be over. “She’s spent too much time in the Ether. Her mind is expanding and scattering.” The warm voice says.

  “You said it would heal her. You didn’t tell us she’d loose her mind.” Justin bites back at him.

  “She hasn’t lost her mind. She’s lost her focus. The ether is everything, it’s always and everywhere. Your perceptions expand. It’s natural for an ethereal but difficult for a human to process. Fortunately,” he pauses, placing two gentle fingers under my chin and turning my head toward him, “she’s not entirely human anymore. Becks, focus on me.”

 

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