Heather Terrell - Eternity (v5)

“Dearest, why are you stil in your pajamas? You have to leave for school in five minutes.”

I stared around the kitchen, as if I hadn’t seen it in months. The kettle sat in its typical place, and the magnets on the fridge held up the normal pictures and reminders. Everything looked the same as when I left. But I felt entirely different.

My mom marched over to me and placed her hand on my forehead. “Do you feel sick, El ie? You look a little peaked, but you don’t feel warm.”

I was afraid to speak. Almost any sentence that came out of my mouth could be real y out of place. Even crazy.

“Dearest, is everything al right?”

Words final y croaked out of my mouth. “I’m okay, Mom. I just woke up from a real y weird dream.”

Her eyebrows rose in alarm, but her voice sounded calm. Very, very calm. “What was the dream, dearest?”

“Nothing. Just a dream. I’d better get ready.”

I walked back upstairs and opened my closet to pick out an outfit. Hanging on the rack were some of the more daring clothes I’d bought since I started seeing Michael. And the red dress I’d worn to the Fal Dance. That wasn’t a dream, at least. Maybe Michael wasn’t either.

I grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweater and headed into the bathroom. Standing against the closed bathroom door for a long moment, I final y went over to the sink and turned on the hot water. As the steam rose up, I stared at myself in the foggy mirror. How could I look like the same old El ie when so much had happened? Or had it?

But what choice did I have but to go through the motions of normalcy? I washed my face with my favorite lemony soap. I brushed out al the knots in my hair. I put on some blush and mascara, and I got dressed. Al the while trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Dreading the uncertainty of school, I trudged back downstairs. “I’m ready to go, Mom.”

She looked at me curiously. “But Michael’s picking you up today.”

“I’m not grounded anymore?” Michael hadn’t been al owed to drive me to school since the Fal Dance. We were only al owed to see each other in supervised settings, like school or home.

“No, dearest. Your grounding was over this weekend.” She paused and then asked, “Are you sure that you’re al right, El ie?”

“I’m fine, Mom.” I hoped I sounded more convincing than I felt. I didn’t want her to be worrying about me; I had enough troubles. “I’l just go wait by the front window for Michael.”

“Do you want me to wait with you?”

“No thanks, Mom. I need to review my homework anyway.” I needed a moment alone. And she seemed pleased that I mentioned something as normal as homework.

Staring out at the driveway, I tried to make sense of things. The list of questions that I’d written on the train to Boston kept coming back to me. If the past couple of months had been real—instead of some bizarre dream—then I might have a few answers to those questions.

What was I? The mil ion-dol ar question. Assuming the flying and the blood and Ezekiel and Boston had actual y happened, I was pretty sure that I was a Nephilim. But aside from the powers it brought me, I wasn’t certain what that meant. What was the purpose of a Nephilim? If I believed Ezekiel, then I was the “Elect One” with some special role in the “end days,” whatever that entailed. Even my parents had said something about me being different and preparing for “war,” and Tamiel had mentioned “end days.” What was this war, and who would I be fighting against?

I stil had more questions than answers. Like what had happened to my birth parents. Like whether I could count on Michael while I tried to figure this al out.

Just then, I heard the crunch of gravel. Michael’s car pul ed into our roundabout. My anxiety—already sky-high—mounted. What would I say to him? I stil wasn’t certain what was real and what was a dream.

“Bye, Mom,” I cal ed out, and walked to his car. The day was cool and drizzly, chil y but not cold enough for snow.

Michael turned off the ignition and opened the door for me from the inside. I slid in and closed it tightly behind me. Then I sat silently, uncertain what words were appropriate.

He reached over and kissed me on the cheek. “How was your night?”

“Fine,” I answered warily. “Yours?”

“Good. I finished that awful calculus assignment,” he said as he turned the key in the ignition.

“That’s great.” I didn’t know what to say next. I couldn’t even remember what homework I’d been working on before I fled to Boston. So I stayed quiet.

The car started, and music flooded the car. The song was Coldplay, “Cemeteries of London.” It was one of my favorites, as Michael knew. It reminded me of our nighttime flying and exploring. If those things real y happened, that was.

“Feels like London out today, doesn’t it?” Michael said.

I looked over at him in surprise. Had he just said what I thought he had? We had been heading to London to see Professor Barr the day before—

from Boston. Or was he just referring to the song?

A smile spread across his face. A knowing smile.

“So . . . ?” My mind raced. It hadn’t been a dream.

As if reading my thoughts, Michael said, “Ignorance is the only thing that has protected you so far.”

In that instant, I realized what had happened. In the conversation among our parents that Michael had overheard, my dad had said the same thing.

Our parents wanted so badly to keep us in the dark about our identities—for our protection and to prevent the ticking of the end days clock—that they’d attempted to have our memories erased. About flying and Ezekiel and Boston and the Nephilim and the Elect One. They knew better than to try to make us forget each other; they had tried it after Guatemala, and it hadn’t ful y worked.

It had failed again here. We remembered everything.

I started to talk excitedly. Al the pieces were fal ing into place. But Michael shook his head and put a finger over my lips.

So I just smiled back at Michael. I knew that this wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning.

Turn the page for an exclusive excerpt of

Eternity

The captivating sequel to Fallen Angel !

Stepping into the hal ways of Til inghast High School was actual y weirder than acknowledging that I was an otherworldly creature.

I watched as girls chatted about their lip gloss, and guys shared apps on their iPhones. I noticed friends giggling about other friends’ outfits, and teammates thumping each other on the backs for games wel -played. I walked past kids furiously copying their friends’ homework assignments, and others fumbling with the towers of books in their lockers.

I couldn’t stop from staring at my classmates in amazement, like they were exotic creatures in the zoo. They had no idea that some kind of Armageddon was heading their way and that I was selected to play some special role at the end. Maybe even stop it.

I felt the simultaneous urge to sob and giggle. Because the whole notion of El speth Faneuil as savior to the world was both overwhelming and ridiculous.

The only thing keeping me sane while I walked down the hal way was Michael. The link of his fingers in mine was like a tether to our new reality. I believed I could navigate through our conflicting worlds—the frivolous Til inghast High School and the looming otherworldly battle—with him beside me.

But once I said good-bye to Michael before heading into English class, I lost my anchor. I felt like I’d been cast unmoored into an unreal sea.

English class brought me near to the brink. The minute I entered the classroom, Miss Taunton launched into me. Like a hawk circling a wounded animal, she bombarded me with questions about our latest assigned novel, which I could barely remember amid the more vivid recol ections of my days in Boston and my encounter with Ezekiel. I wanted to scream at her that none of this mattered.