Heather Terrell - Eternity (v5)

Stretching out his hand, he said, “Come with me.”

So it was me. The Elect One. This was insane. And why did Ezekiel think I would go anywhere with him? Better than anyone, I knew his darkness; I had seen it firsthand through his own eyes.

I spun around and looked at Tamiel and Michael for help. Michael’s face stil bore that glazed expression. And Tamiel hadn’t left, but she had averted her eyes and stepped away from me and Michael and Ezekiel. Almost as if she was forbidden to join us in this battle.

Only Ezekiel met my gaze. “El speth, you have a choice. You can come with me and save Michael. Or you can choose Tamiel and her kind, and I wil destroy Michael.”

So that’s how Ezekiel thought he could get me to go with him. He believed that I would never, ever risk Michael’s life. Even for a greater good.

And Ezekiel could be right. How could I choose to destroy Michael?

“You cannot have her!” Michael suddenly awoke with a scream.

Inexplicably, Ezekiel cast an amused look in Michael’s direction. “I’ve heard those words before. I think Hananel and Daniel said them to me the day you were born, El speth.”

Michael lifted off the ground and flew at the surprised Ezekiel, who stil stood on the stage. He landed on him with such force that Ezekiel fel off the stage with a crash, narrowly missing an exposed iron rod that supported the platform. But the rod must have grazed Ezekiel’s face, as blood trickled down his cheek. It was unsettling to see the immortal Ezekiel bleed.

Ezekiel stood up, wiped away the blood with his finger, and then licked it. “You would kil me instead, son?”

“Son? I’m no son of yours,” Michael yel ed.

“That is precisely who you are,” Ezekiel answered calmly.

Michael then flew off the stage toward Ezekiel. This time, Ezekiel was ready. He propel ed himself upward, into the rafters high in the ceiling of the hal . As Michael fol owed him, I started to lift off in pursuit. I couldn’t let Michael fight Ezekiel alone.

Tamiel pul ed me down to the ground. “Michael must combat Ezekiel unaided.”

I struggled to free myself from her grasp, but she was incredibly strong. “Michael is trying to protect me from Ezekiel. I can’t let him do that by himself. He needs me.”

Tamiel took me by the shoulders and stared into my face. “El speth, only the child can kil the parent. Let Michael fulfil his destiny, if he can.”

“Ezekiel is real y his father?” I was shocked, although it explained the link between them. I thought Ezekiel had been speaking metaphorical y.

“Yes, he is. Only one with Ezekiel’s blood in his veins can destroy him.”

The news tore my attention from the battle raging overhead. “But I thought angels couldn’t procreate?”

“They usual y can’t. But you and Michael are unique.”

“So we real y are Nephilim?”

“Yes.”

“Where are our mothers? Our human mothers?” I felt a sudden, deep yearning for mine.

Tamiel stared at the floor. “Your birth mothers are no longer with us.”

“They’re dead?” I wanted to cry, but knew I couldn’t. I had to keep my focus.

She nodded slowly, stil not meeting my eye.

“What about my father? Where is he?”

A crash sounded out above us. Ezekiel had flung Michael into the metal scaffolding bolstering the ceiling, and I screamed despite myself. I twisted and turned, trying to get out of Tamiel’s grip so I could help him.

“Stay here, or you wil only complicate matters for Michael,” she ordered.

Tamiel’s hold was unbreakable, leaving me no choice but to stare at the war above us. Michael and Ezekiel dove up and over and around the massive rafters reinforcing the ceiling. Each took equal turns harming the other, and for a time, I felt heartened that Michael might actual y win the battle. But then Ezekiel caught Michael by the foot and swung his head into a huge beam. Michael flew away, but I knew he was badly hurt. I could smel the blood flowing from his wounds, and I could sense him weakening.

Suddenly, I knew how I could help. Somehow I wrenched Tamiel’s hands off my shoulders and raced to the side of the stage. I looked up. Michael and Ezekiel were hovering directly above me. It was my moment.

I forced a sob and cried out, “Ezekiel, stop. I can’t watch you hurt Michael any longer. Stop. I’l go with you. But only if you deliver him to me—

unharmed and flying of his own accord—right here.”

“No, El ie!” Michael yel ed back.

“Yes, Michael.” I pointedly looked down at the exposed iron rod, hoping desperately that Ezekiel didn’t catch my meaning as wel . “It is the only way.”

“You have made the right choice, El speth,” Ezekiel cal ed out.

Side by side, they began their descent. Ezekiel was careful not to touch Michael, but he didn’t let him out of his sight either. I stood near—but not next to—the iron rod, and watched as they neared the floor. Just before they touched down, I stretched out my arms to Ezekiel, to distract him.

“It is almost time,” I said. As if to Ezekiel.

Ezekiel reached out his arms for me. With an expression of triumph, he looked away from Michael and smiled at me. Just then, Michael flew at Ezekiel’s back and shoved him into the iron rod with al his strength.

We raced to Ezekiel’s side to make sure the deed was done. But we needn’t have. Within seconds, the smel of the blood pouring from his body was overpowering. He seemed weak—even near death—but his eyes were stil open and blinking.

“I am not alone. There are others. Others even more powerful than me. Like your father,” Ezekiel whispered, and smiled his sick smile out at the crowd. And then the blinking stopped.

I looked out at Quincy Market, in the direction of Ezekiel’s final gaze. There, in the throngs, I spotted a man with black hair and bright blue eyes staring right at us. As if he saw us. Then he disappeared.

Tamiel raced to our sides. She nodded in agreement with Ezekiel’s last words. It was over, but only for the moment.

I didn’t care. I stood up and hugged Michael as hard as I could. Even if we had only a short time of peacefulness together, even if I was this other, elect, strange creature, I wanted this moment, this moment of peace.

We looked into each other’s eyes and smiled. I closed my eyes and surrendered into the warmth of Michael’s arms.

Chapter Forty-seven

I opened my eyes. I was in my bedroom.

My bedroom.

I had no memory of returning to Til inghast from Boston.

How had I gotten here? The last thing I remembered was holding on to Michael in Quincy Market, after we looked down at the body of Ezekiel. Oh my God, Ezekiel.

I sat up in my bed. I lifted up my quilt, blanket, and sheets. I was in my flannel pajamas. Who had dressed me in these? I looked at the clock. It said seven A.M., but I had no idea what day it was.

Pushing off my quilt, blanket, and sheets, I stood up, a little unsteady on my feet. I tottered over to my desk, where my bag sat. I picked it up, looking for any scrap of evidence that I’d been to Boston. I found my notebook fil ed with the usual scribbles, my wal et with my identification and money, and my toiletry bag stocked as always. There were no ticket stubs or receipts or even any of the lists of questions I’d made on the train to Boston or during that long night in the Harvard Square coffee shop. But my cel was there. The cel phone I’d thrown into the garbage can at the Til inghast train station.

Had it al been a dream? The flying and the blood? Ezekiel and the trip to Boston? Al that stuff about the Nephilim and the Elect One? Was Michael a dream too?

I ran downstairs, not sure what to hope for. My mom stood at the kitchen counter buttering toast and pouring orange juice, like she did every morning. She looked up at me, unsurprised that I stood in the kitchen. But she was surprised at my state, given the hour.