Elizabeth Miles - Eternity

Smoke was all around her, trapping her, flames lit by JD—just as Crow had seen it.

But he’d misunderstood.

They had all misunderstood.

As she shoved Melissa’s body just outside the flames, she stumbled. The heat ripped at her; now she could feel it everywhere, in her skin and teeth and hair. It was like a fist of pain gripped her from all sides.

Burning flowers. The smell was horrible, intense, searing her nose, making her feel as though her whole mind were on fire. Maybe it was.

And then, suddenly, the pain stopped. There was a high-pitched but very faint ringing in her ears, almost like a hum. Almost like a song. The darkness began to swallow her. But it was different from before. This sensation was strangely soothing, like rocking on a gentle wave. A rowboat swaying ever so slightly. In its embrace, Em felt peaceful. And in an instant, she understood.

I love you, JD, she thought. It was you all along, but I didn’t see it until too late.

I love you, Gabby. I love you for forgiving me. For showing me what real justice and real forgiveness is.

And Crow . . . Thank you for teaching me what sacrifice means.

I love you, Mom and Dad, and Melissa, and Drea. God, Drea, I’m so sorry. We should have known all along—the Furies are evil, and to defeat them, we needed pure love. Not tricks and books and rituals.

You know why the Furies left last time?

Not because of a banishment. And not because of a flower.

Because Edie was willing to give up her own life for yours.

Love. It’s why they kept me from JD.

Because love is the only thing that can kill them.

A scream. A piercing scream that ripped through time, thoughts, space, reality. A silvery scream.

A strong wind began to blow, sucking her out of this world and into another. Stronger and stronger, like a hurricane. A shrieking darkness spiraled around her. The cloudy vapors contained Meg’s and Ali’s leering faces. Their eyes were glass; their bones showed through their perfect skin. She couldn’t look away—she was being sucked into their vortex. Time seemed to be collapsing in on her, heavy and charged.

The dark ocean around her turned to bright, bright white.

She heard voices.

You’ll never be rid of us.

We tried to teach you a lesson.

The words were a patchwork of sinister sounds, a dissonant chord of desperation.

Em could practically hear them scraping against the dirt, trying to keep their footing.

She watched from outside herself—from nowhere, or everywhere—as Ty started screaming. Her precious white flower began to shrivel. In an instant, the petals withered to a papery brown. And Ty began to transform. Her eyes smoldered, dark red and black, like coals. She wavered, twisting in the breeze. Em saw it but also felt it, as intimately as if her own body were disintegrating into thin air.

“She didn’t get what she wanted,” she heard Crow say.

Then there was a huge burst of flame, rocketing them all off their feet. An explosion. The orchids. The Furies’ faces. The silhouette of a tree—black against a charcoal sky. An icicle, melting rapidly into a pool of dirty water.

She kissed eternity.

And then, with a final howl, everything went silent.

There was the smell of fresh flowers. But not orchids. No, something lovely, and calming, and right.

A quiet beeping went on in the background . . . It was the sound of eternity, patiently waiting for her, waiting for her, waiting . . .

Em’s eyes fluttered open.

The house was gone. There was no garden.

Ty, Meg, and Ali were gone too. A ripple of relief washed over her, tickling her toes. She didn’t know whether to trust the feeling.

Groggily, she lifted her head and blinked several times.

She was in a hospital room. A bouquet of yellow roses, sprays of lavender, and big, bobbing gerbera daisies lay on a table by her head.

And then, seemingly from nowhere, JD was standing over her, holding out a hand. “You’re awake,” he said with gruff relief. “You’re okay.”

“What—what happened?” Her throat was hoarse.

“They’re gone,” JD said.

“Are you sure? What about Crow? And Melissa?” Em said, struggling to sit up. She wanted them all to be okay.

“They’re fine. You’re at the hospital. Your parents are just downstairs getting coffee—you’ve been out for a while.”

The words made Em’s heart soar and her stomach drop simultaneously, leaving an airy, empty space in the middle of her body. “JD,” she whispered. “Am I okay? Are you okay?”

He leaned down to wrap her in a bear hug, and her queries were muffled in his jacket.

“We’re okay,” he said. “All of us. Thanks to you.”

Thank god. And then he let Em go, but not too far. Cupped her dirt-streaked face in his hands and then put two fingers against her throat, feeling for a pulse. Em felt it beating softly against the pads of his fingers.

“You’re alive,” he said.

He was so close.

A burning sob lodged in her throat. Please, let it be true.

“Is it . . . Is it really over?” The words floated out of her, as though spoken by someone else.

His face broke into an uncontrollable smile and his hands tightened around her. “Em,” he said. “It’s really over.”

“How . . . ?” she asked.

“I’m honestly not sure,” he admitted. “But you did it, somehow, when you saved Melissa.”

“JD, all that stuff that happened this winter . . . I never meant . . . ” She faltered. How would she ever be able to say how sorry she was?

“I know,” he said, cutting her off by placing a finger on her lips. “You don’t need to apologize anymore.”

They stayed that way for a few seconds, centimeters apart.

And then he leaned in even closer and replaced his finger with his mouth, kissing her the way she’d always wanted him to. Slowly, carefully. She drank him in and kissed him back. Can you feel this? How right this is? She knew he could. She melted into him, reaching one hand around the back of his neck and hungrily pulling him closer.

He smelled like dew in the morning, like new growth.

As he pulled away, grinning stupidly, Em squeezed his hand and tugged him back. She put her mouth close to his ear—close enough for her lips to brush against the tiny hairs on his cheek.

“I love you, JD,” she said. Finally. The words felt so natural, so easy to say.

“I love you too, Emily,” he said.

And they kissed again—a kiss better, deeper, and sweeter than revenge.

The bell on Emily’s windowsill issues a tiny ding . She looks up at it, smiling, and scribbles a note on a scrap of paper. Drops it into the basket on her end and pulls it over to JD’s house. She watches him come to the window, pluck the paper from the basket, and read it.

“You’re on, Winters!” he shouts from less than a hundred feet away. “I accept your challenge. What time?”

“After dinner! My mom is making pizza.”

He holds up a finger and moves from the window. When he returns, he is holding a pen, with which he writes a response. The basket creaks its way back over to Em’s side of the line. She feels like giggling the entire time.

Save room for popcorn, JD’s note says. It’ll be your consolation prize after I beat you in Scrabble.

“You wish!” she yells.

He flashes her a grin before disappearing; Em turns back to her laptop, where Crow’s demo album is playing. He’s moved to Boston, into an apartment with a few musicians he knows from Berklee. She and Crow text sometimes.