Covenant (4 page)

Evan steps nearer. I can
feel him lingering by me, acting more like a human father than
ever—a ludicrous thought, under the circumstances. Or not. But,
then, Evan is an angel. What does he know about being a father?
What do
I
know?
This is madness, all of it. The truth can’t be hidden. So why try?
So human, this new Evan. So….weak. Perhaps Evan has spent too much
time in the Lower Realm. But then again, so, too, it seems, have
I.

Evan clears his throat.
“We’ll have to cross that bridge when it comes, Celia.”

Chapter Four

I don’t know whether it is
hours or minutes later when I stir from a nightmare. Nor do I
remember exactly what it is about, only that the girl is in it.
Sweat dapples my body, and I sit up, trying to push the dream away;
whatever it might have been about, I don’t want to know.

The world is dark, and I
slough away the confusion of the dream and force myself to get up.
The dream has left me restless, and I know I should just let it
drift from my thoughts, but I can’t. Elizabeth is ever there,
waiting…for me, and I don’t even know why. She isn’t supposed to
know I exist, and if she does know, she should be afraid of
me.

But she isn’t. And whatever
it is I don’t remember, she is the key to everything. Until I
understand that, I’m groundless and grounded. No one will tell me
anything. Still, the truth often lies in the unsaid. Words, all too
often, confound it.

For a moment, I stand there,
trying to figure out what to do next. The ocean shimmers in
moonlight and I walk to its shore, well aware I’ve come here many
times to think. For all of my existence, all I remember, I have
been a sojourner, and yet I mistook that call with Elizabeth and
would have taken her soul without realizing it was a mistake. If I
can’t sojourn, how can I do anything? What is it, then, that I
should do?

Why do I feel this way—this
connection I can’t shake? And how could I have ever have loved a
human enough to forge a covenant between us? Why?

I look out at the stars amid
the blackness, and I struggle to understand how this universe seems
to spin without control, and the only way I know to right this is
to go to Elizabeth.

One moment I am standing
there, and the next I am diving into the water toward the Lower
Realm. Part of me wonders if I can find her, but surely if I am
anywhere close, I will sense her. She is unmistakable.

The darkness blurs past as I
fall through the clouds, and the moment I get near land, I feel her
inside me, calling. I focus on the beacon, wondering how I could
ever have mistaken it for a call to sojourn. Now that I study it, I
feel the subtle nuances that make it distinct. As I head toward her
calling, I make myself one with the world around me, blending so no
human will see me. The question is, can I blend well enough so
Elizabeth won’t be able to detect me?

The calling leads me to a
hospital, and I enter behind a couple rushing into the ER. The
woman is crying, and I sense that a sojourner will be called soon
for her. That feeling takes me back as I try to distinguish between
the two different beacons and what they mean. Were I not in the
middle of one task, I could answer that call, but my last attempt
to sojourn was anything but stellar, and I can’t focus, not with so
much I don’t know hanging over me.

The closer I get, the
stronger I feel the draw. My heart races even despite the mental
wall there, holding back all the things Evan doesn’t want me to
discover. I step into the dark room and see the human lying there,
her slight form lost in the bed, her long, dark hair splayed across
the pillow like strands of black silk. She rests on her back, one
hand propped on her abdomen. An IV tube snakes from the post to her
wrist.

Although the room is dark,
when I look at her, I see a light emanating from within her,
casting a glow around Elizabeth’s prone form. Unable to fight the
draw, I keep moving until I stop at her bedside. From this
perspective, I see her body shiver. She feels a coldness I can’t,
yet the sweat glossing her face paints a different
picture.

Staring at her, I realize
that for a human, she is beautiful, and it troubles me to see a
pain-ravaged expression, and without realizing I’m doing so, I
reach for her hand. Although she shouldn’t be able to see me, she
moans, and her fingers twitch, taking me aback.

What is this covenant
between us?

I do not know why I am
tempted to speak her name or why the word feels so familiar, and I
shake it off, wondering why I am here, what I hope this will
accomplish. Or is it just enough to see her, to validate the
missing moments of my life?

She shudders, her body
shifting in sleep. “Lev,” she whispers. “Where are you?”

The thought of answering
tempts me, but I know better. Suddenly I wonder if Evan is wiser
than I in what he hides. Surely he has a reason for this, and I
can’t see the path nearly so well as he can because I travel
it.

Her eyelashes flutter
slightly, and her eyes open. The glow within her dims as she
startles into wakefulness, and a look of torment crosses her face.
A louder moan that sounds like my name escapes her lips, and hot
tears quickly pool in her eyes. In that instant, I feel my control
on blending snap. I am right in front of her, and she can see
me.

I’ve witnessed every
expression on a human’s face. Somehow death brings them out. But
this—this is completely new, and I feel her pain in a way I’ve
never felt another’s in my existence. She reaches for me, clutching
desperately at my arm, and I don’t have the courage to back out of
her reach because I honestly don’t know what it will do to her. I
feel the covenant between us, but I also feel the beacon which
wasn’t there before I came this close. Is this what Evan
fears?

“
Lev?” she whispers, tears
spilling down her face in thick runnels that glow in the remaining
light of her beacon. “Is it really you?”

That’s when I guess I can
escape. Perhaps if she really doesn’t believe it is me, there is a
way for her to feel what she has seen is a trick, a manifestation
of what she really wants. So I blend again. I should never have
come.

“
Lev?” Her voice is
shriller, and inside of it, I hear the panic; the beacon is louder.
“I know you’re here,” she says, sitting up. “I can feel you no
matter what you do.” Her gaze happens down at the IV. “Are you
waiting to carry my soul? Is that how the next round is supposed to
go? Well, if it is, then come. If that’s what it takes, I don’t
care.” She glances at the IV, and begins clawing at the tape. Once
the tape has been ripped away, she pulls out the cannula and tosses
it on the bed, ignoring the sudden gout of blood on her hospital
gown.

“
Don’t you hear me?” she
says. “Lev?” She stands and whirls, looking for me, but the
blending holds. She doesn’t realize I am with her. The beacon is
even stronger, and that’s when I realize perhaps the lure I sense
of wanting to sojourn with her soul is based on how strong her tie
is to this world.

That thought staggers me,
and I finally realize perhaps my presence in her life is damaging,
and maybe Evan has been trying to keep us apart for her own good
because her soul is nowhere near ready to be taken, even though she
may be willing to part company with her body.

The question is why my
presence hurts her so greatly. What have I done to her?

“
Lev?” Her voice is louder,
and I sense any moment she will only up the volume. “Where are
you?” She turns so fast her hair spins wildly, and she runs into
the rolling table, knocking both her and it to the floor. Just
before she hits the ground, I start to catch her. But then she will
find me again, and I know that’s a mistake; it will only prolong
the brokenness inside her, and even though I do not understand it,
I feel that same brokenness stirring within me, responding to her
pain as if it were my own.

Instead of reacting, I watch
the slow descent of her body. Her knees hit the linoleum first,
followed by her palms. Her long hair flies around her face and
waves in the air for a moment before stilling. She draws one long
breath and many shorter ones, her gaze constant on the floor. Then
she looks up.

“
Lev?” Her voice is
desperate now, and tears stream down her face. “Please?” She
screams, and I know what is comes next.

The door bursts open, and a
nurse comes in and flips on the light. She strides to Elizabeth and
kneels. “What happened?”

Elizabeth doesn’t answer.
She just keeps staring ahead to where I am, even though I know she
can’t see me. I’ve made sure of that. But it’s hard to tell,
considering her expression. Does she know I’m here? How could
she?

How, indeed?

The nurse looks at her IV
site. “You pulled your IV loose, baby. We need to get you back to
bed.” She tries to grab Elizabeth’s arm, but she jerks away and a
low, keening sound comes out, more like an animal than a human, and
I recognize it; I’ve heard it enough from the people who are dying
when their bodies and their minds and their souls reach a breaking
point at which they can no longer take the pain.

“
Take it easy.” The nurse
glances toward the doorway and then gets to her feet. She reaches
over and pushes the nurses’ button for back-up before returning to
Elizabeth’s side.

“
He’s here,” Elizabeth
says, her eyes meeting mine. “I can feel him.”

“
Who?” The nurse, too,
turns her attention toward me, but I can tell she doesn’t sense me.
Instead, she just keeps looking, seeking to find whatever Elizabeth
is so focused on.

Concern creases the woman’s
forehead, and she turns back to Elizabeth as a couple of male
orderlies appears in the doorway. She nods for them to come closer
before speaking to Elizabeth again. “Elizabeth, we need to get you
off the floor and look at your IV site. Your arm is bleeding.” With
a deep breath, the nurse reaches out but Elizabeth jerks
away.

“
Leave me alone!” she
snaps, still staring. “I don’t want to get back in the
bed.”

The nurse looks at an
orderly and nods. He withdraws a syringe and prepares it before
nodding back to her. The nurse reaches for Elizabeth again, her
fingers cinching her forearm.

This time, Elizabeth doesn’t
say anything. She tries to jerk away so savagely it knocks the
nurse off-balance. Elizabeth is struggling to her feet when she
feels one of the orderlies grab her arm. More struggling.
Elizabeth’s whole body tenses with it, and she’s pulling so hard
that when she does break free, her body crashes against the wall
before the other orderly intercepts her. In that instant, the two
men immobilize her.

Now she screams and watches
in horror as the one with the syringe draws up her sleeve and slips
the needle deep in her arm. For just a few seconds, it seems as
though the drugs have no effect, and Elizabeth keeps wailing. I
stagger backwards, horrified by the way they are handling her. Her
expression has the disbelief of an assault victim, and part of me
wants—no needs—to save her. I step toward them, my reaction almost
instinctive. It’s then the drug glosses her eyes, and all the
tension bulging in her body seeps away as she drifts into
unconsciousness. The orderly holding the syringe nods to his
partner as if to say, “Have you got her?” He waits until his
partner nods back before releasing Elizabeth. As his hands fall
away, her body slumps, and the orderly lifts her into
bed.

The beacon has quieted,
leaving a disturbingly foreign void. Once again, that is how I know
Celia was right. If she were dying, the beacon wouldn’t weaken or
stop; it would remain constant. It is in that moment of watching
the nurse restart Elizabeth’s IV I realize I’m witnessing the
difference between the body dying and the spirit seeking
death.

I stiffen.
Why should it matter what I have to do with it?
I’m an angel, and she’s human. If she wants to die….
At that thought, I feel my wings slip from my
control and flutter slightly. Sometimes, it’s like they have a mind
of their own, and I can’t control them.

My shoulders sag under the
weight of that bravado. Such arrogance is
misplaced
,
and
part of me aches with guilt over things I still don’t
remember.

“
Lev, what are you doing
here?”

I turn to find Evan standing
nearby, his arms dangling useless at his sides. Although his wings
are extended, they are only half-materialized, giving that part of
his being a ghostly impression. It’s always strange to see humans
scurrying about their business as though we don’t exist. Then
again, to them, we don’t. Except Elizabeth.

“
How does she sense me?” I
point at Elizabeth, watching as the nurse struggles to get a fresh
IV going.

“
She’s really dehydrated,”
I hear the woman say, shaking her head. “Good thing she isn’t awake
for this. She’d be a little upset with all the jabs.”

Evan, too, looks at
Elizabeth. His face is full of sadness, and even though I know he
has a soft spot for humans, this goes beyond that. I can sense it
with both Celia and Evan. They genuinely care for Elizabeth, and I
know there are feelings there that go beyond the empathy a
sojourner should have. Troubling, I know, because I used to be able
to sojourn without mixing it up with humans, really. It’s called
compartmentalizing. Now, there’s something going on. I just don’t
have a clue what.