Ether

by Dana Michelle Belle

  “So you’re some kind of energy being, I get that, I think. But that doesn’t tell me who you are or why you’re involved with Becka, with us.” Justin snaps. I feel a guilty little pang; I’ve made things hard for everyone.

  “My involvement with Becks,” Ephraim says thoughtfully, “Began when I first saw her on the Ethereal plane.” He’s speaking very slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Her spirit was brighter, clearer and more vivid than anything I’d ever experienced.” His eyes hold mine dancing with liquid gold light that makes my stomach knot in the most thrilling way. “I felt something for the first time in my existence. She was so precious, so beautiful, so alive. I had to be near her. And then I realized her life energy was streaming away from her. She was dying. There was only one way for me to save her; I combined some of my essence with hers and brought her back to her world. I would have done anything to save her.” He pauses, now he’s talking directly to me, rather than narrating a story I already know, “and then you saw me, spoke to me and dreamt with me. And you started to perceive other, darker things as well. It was only then that I realized we could never be apart, and that I’d changed your life forever.” His voice sends intense little shivers up my body. There’s a mixture of pleading and longing in his voice.

  I try for cool and calm, not easy considering, “But I’m alive. That’s all that matters. Alive.” I lay back on my pillow. It’s not enough. Ephraim’s basically telling me he devoted his entire existence to me, and apologizing for it. For the second time today I’m searching for just the right thing to say, and failing. But unlike Justin, Ephraim didn’t crumble at my words.

  He nods, smiling at me, like I’m the only light in his world. It makes my head spin even more and I start to feel warm for the first time since Matt tried to drown me. “You’re right. Alive is all that matters. We can have any life you choose, as long as you’re safe.”

  Justin makes a disgusted noise. “That’s just great. No, I’m glad you saved her life, I’m just not incredibly keen on sharing every single private moment with Becka with some other worldly, creature.”

  “Justin,” I start, not sure I have the energy to smooth this out.

  “Save it,” he says coolly, “I’m over it. It’s fine. Alive is what matters. So how do we keep her alive?” His words are clipped and angry. Maybe he has a right to be angry, but not with Ephraim. Of course, right now, just thirty or so minutes after I nearly died, he can’t very well yell at me.

  Inwardly I berate myself. I call myself all kinds of ugly names, the best of which is tease. Ephraim’s eyes never leave me and they softened as Justin speaks, reacting to me, not Justin. He moves and kneels by the bed, taking my hand. Justin bristles at his proximity. Warmth rushes through me and I felt warm, sleepy and safe. It’s like being tucked in by my mother when I was young, when she used to sing to me and the lights would be dim and I’d feel all snugly and warm. He leans in and kisses my forehead and I smell spring fields and rays of sunshine. At the back of my mind an old, half hazy memory pings with recognition but sleep has me, so it slips away.

  Half dreaming, half aware I hear some of their conversation. I can hear Ephraim’s voice deep and steady, never becoming angry, never wavering. There are blank spots between, soundless pauses in which Justin must be speaking, but his voice doesn’t penetrate into my dream.

  When I open my eyes again the room is hushed and dim. Only the low desk light is on and Justin sits with his back to me, bent over his books. Just like him, to be studying at a time like this. Time? What time is it anyway? My mom will be freaking by now.

  “Justin?” My throat is dry and cracks on the word, making me sound feeble and helpless. He’s at my side instantly, all worry and anxiety.

  “Becka? You’re awake. How do you feel?”

  I run down a mental check list; Head: achy, stomach: sore, leg: tolerable. “Actually a lot better than I thought I’d feel. My leg feels pretty messed up still, but my head isn’t pounding anymore.”

  Justin eases the bandaged away from my head wound. His fingers brush against my skin, sending little quivers down my body. I try to concentrate on right now, and not let my thoughts drift. Justin whistles softly. “He said you’d heal quickly, but I didn’t expect- Becks, there’s nothing but a little scratch here.” His hands skim down my leg, rolling up the sweat pants. “You’re leg still looks pretty raw, but it’s more of a bad scrape than anything else.” His eyes move to my stomach and he hesitates.

  I sigh, lifting the shirt enough for him to check. My stomach’s a mess of blue tinted bruises. But it barely hurts, which means the bruising is only superficial. “Ephraim said I’d heal quickly?”

  “This is how you survived the accident, and how you’ve been healing so miraculously quickly. It wasn’t ever luck, was it?” Justin’s voice is hushed but I can hear the strangling emotion underneath it. “So he’s telling the truth about being part of you, changing you.”

  “I guess. The doctors all expected me to be in the hospital for months. Then they warned my parents about all kinds of complications, and then they just told us we were incredibly lucky. Speaking of my parents?”

  “My mom called your mom. I told her you weren’t feeling great and just wanted to lie down and rest.”

  I snort. There isn’t much need for pretence. My mother would have agreed to just about anything Justin proposed. Her fondness for him is as irrational as most mothers’ hatred of their daughter’s boyfriends. “So, what now?”

  “What now?” Justin raises an eyebrow and gives me his best stern stare. “What now is that you rest and heal until you’re completely, one hundred percent better.”

  I shake my head, tensing for a wave of pain, and when it doesn’t come I go on, “Oh right, because it’s best to be completely healed before someone tries to kill you again. Really adds to the drama that way. I’m not just going to sit around and wait for them to find a way to me. Besides, they have Matt and we have to get him back.”

  The bed shifts with Ephraim’s weight. I turn my head to see him outlined in the dim room. “I thought you might feel that way.”

  I smile at him. I feel my whole body shift toward him, as though pulled by a source of gravity. “Good, then I hope you’ve been working on a plan.”

  He smiles back at me, and the whole world melts into a haze with just him and me in its bright center. “I have.”

  * * *

  Ephraim’s plan is complicated and involves something he calls misdirection. Honestly, I don’t really understand it, but Justin and Ephraim are in agreement. As far as I can gather there are supposed to be two phases to the plan. And for the first part of the plan my big contribution is staying out of danger. I’m not sure what I had in mind when I said I wanted to save Matt but definitely I had at least a vague impression that I’d be the hero and it would be my life I was risking. Instead I’m coasting around in my car, waiting for a text, while Justin goes out there and takes all my risks for me.

  Ephraim says it’s almost impossible to track and ambush a moving target. So the best way for me to stay safe is just to drive around aimlessly. As long as I stay away from my house or the school or anywhere else they might expect me, I should be alright. Kind of faint comfort, especially when I’m leaving it up to Justin to actually find Matt and bring him to me. I keep imagining Justin ringing Matt’s bell, standing in his hallway, talking to that thing inside him. Ephraim promised Matt wouldn’t try to take Justin, but this terrible what if game is playing in my head. What if there is another Numina looking for a body? What if Matt just decides to kill him? What if Ephraim can’t keep him safe?

  I’m driving in circles and even though I’m trying to make random decisions and avoid places I frequent, I find myself closer and closer to the bluff where Ephraim and I almost kissed. My head is throbbing and I rub my temples with one hand. It feels like my ears are buzzing and I’m having trouble thinking clearly. I keep hearing Derrick’s voice telling me over and over that we should be friends. That he’
s trying to make things better. The throbbing in my head gets worse and worse the more I think about it. I need some air to help clear my head. So even though I know better, and even though it is not the plan, I pull the car over and put it in park.

  It’s dark here, the kind of pitch darkness that makes your eyes ache for the light. I stand by the car, listening to the crashing boom of the surf against the rocks, one hand curled around the door handle ready to spring into motion if anything moves. Even when my eyes adjust I can only really see layers of darkness. The deeper, purer black is the ocean, the shimmering black the sand, and the paler darkness overhead is the sky. I feel all alone out here but anyone could be watching me. Someone could stand a few feet from me, and as long as they stood still I’d never see them.

  That thought makes my hand spasm on the door handle. I force myself to take a deep breath in and let it out slowly. I’m as safe here as I am anywhere. I try to open my mind up, the way I did when I was trying to sense Ephraim. I take another deep breath, feeling the coolness of the night burn into my lungs with a quick cold sting.

  On the edges of my awareness there’s a tingling pull. It feels like afternoon sunlight. I smile, momentarily reassured. Ephraim’s out there. I feel the connection between us. It’s a cable stretching between us, binding us together. If I give even the slightest tug on it, I have a feeling he’ll appear before me. Was I able to sense him like this all along, or is this new? Right now he feels distant. Maybe he’s aware of me but I doubt he can see or hear my surroundings. I’m alone out here.

  I move so my back is resting against the solid metal of the car, and let my mind drift away from Ephraim’s brightness. The coldness of the metal seeps through my pants and into my skin. It’s chilly but I felt safer with something against my back. At least no one can sneak up behind me.

  I let my mind wander, trying to sense the world around me. The surf is impossibly loud, louder than it has ever sounded before. The wind screeches and howls through the sea grass with terrible force. I shiver. My eyes tell me there is no tempest swirling around me, but my ears pick up every thread of noise and magnify it a thousand times. I start to pull back into myself; shrinking away from the barrage of sounds when I hear a voice; clear, cold and all too close.

  “She’s near. I can feel her.” A shock of recognition surges through me, Derrick. My stomach twists and glass shatters around me. The world is spinning out of control. I can smell blood and burning. Through a haze of dark memories I hear his voice again, “Never mind, I have her. Remember, we need her alive.”

  He has me? This wildly surging memory, reliving this horror is him, attacking me? No way! I fight against the memory, invoking the one shining element of the crash, Ephraim’s kind bright eyes. The roaring in my ears fades taking with it the smell of blood. Slowly, too slowly, the world steadies and I can see clearly into the dark again. Only now I know that there really are things lurking in the shadows beyond my vision. How close are they now?

  My instincts are screaming at me to get in the car and drive away but fear has made my legs loose and spindly under me. Running probably isn’t going to be an option.

  So I let my body do what it’s doing naturally. I freeze. I slow my breathing and calm the urgent banging of my heart so I can hear into the night. I hear the shift of gravel crunching under someone’s weight behind the car. A subtle change in the air to my left announces another, and in the darkness, farther off, a third body moves. There are three of them, not excellent odds but I do have some things working in my favour; they think I’m frozen and helpless and they probably can’t touch me without pain. No matter what; I’m going to put up one hell of a fight.

  I hear a foot grind heavily into the path and hold myself still, all my muscles tense. A dark shape lunges out of the darkness. The blank whiteness of his face and the round darkness of his eyes fill my vision. His hands stretch towards me. I duck to the side and shoot my arm out, catching him around the throat.

  Power roars down my arm, burning through my fingers with a bright blue light, like the hottest part of a flame. I let the energy pour into him and push with it. His eyes roll up in his head and his body goes limp.

  Two more Numina are closing in on me. And these ones are huge. I spin away from the first set of hands, digging my hands into his back as he barrels past me. A spurt of energy arcs into him and takes out his knees.

  I try to move quickly, dancing on my feet and trying for manoeuvrability but my abs scream and my leg is stiff. I step just a second too slowly and arms close around me, constricting.

  He crushes my lungs until they feel like they’re going to pop like bubble wrap. The world goes misty around the edges. I struggle in his arms, fighting to breathe and a red hot burning terror tightens around me.

  Ephraim. I gasp feebly into the night. But there is only blackness, closing in on me. And the panic starts to drift away leaving behind it calmness. So this is it, third time’s the charm. I’m going to die, this time for sure.

  Which is when I hear him laughing, out there in the darkness. Not evil, villain laughter, but delighted, childlike laughter. Rich, sincere and chilling, since it’s was my death that’s brought it on. A rage replaces the calm I’ve almost given myself to. I’m not powerless. Ephraim’s power is still a part of me. I’m damned if I’m let them take me.

  I grab onto the center of the power inside me, the part I’ve come to think of as Ephraim and let it surge through me, pushing with everything I have. My arms burn with it, then a scalding heat sizzles against my skin and still I push. I hear a howl of pain and realize I’m screaming as energy engulfs my arms and fries my skin. The Numina drops to the ground, rigid and smoking. His body gives off an acrid burned meat and singed hair smell.

  I step over him, in the direction of the laughter I hear in the darkness. “That all you got?” I scream. “I roasted your little pets. I’m coming for you next Derrick. You hear me? I’m coming for you!” It’s crazy to taunt him. Crazy to call him out like this, but I’m done running and hiding. My eyes shift to the charred remains of the Numina I just- killed? Did I kill it? And if I’ve killed it, does that mean I also killed an innocent boy? All the fire goes out of. I kneel next to the two I dropped. They both have a pulse and their skin is warm and pink but their eyes are open, staring into the night as empty as death. I haven’t saved them at all; I’ve as good as killed them. The horror of it starts to close in on me.

  I bolt to my feet, fumbling with the car handle. I fling the door open and leap inside, locking it quickly behind me. And then I do what I should have done in the first place; I drive.

  I don’t get far before the shaking starts. The trembling starts in my fingers and races along my body until it feels like I will shake myself apart. The sobs take my breath away and fog my vision up, but I force myself to keep driving. I drive until the car is skimming through warm pools of street light, along the friendly neighbourhood roads I know and then I pull the car over again. When I open the door, I practically fall out into the road. I half walk, half crawl over to the grass. On my knees in the grass I retch, a warm tumble of squishy liquid pouring out of my mouth. I thought I’d be a hero tonight, and instead, I am a killer.

  The thought brings on more heaving. “Ephraim,” I whimper. I’m sick with what I’ve done, sick with everything that’s happened, and needing him all the more because of it. “Ephraim. Ephraim. Ephraim.” I keep saying the words over and over to myself, a soft little chant. It’s lost all meaning and just became a soothing jumble of sounds. Something to say along with my sobs. “Ephraim, Ephraim, Ephraim…”

  Chapter 10: Recovery

  “Becks.”

  And then he’s there. Warm, real, kneeling over me. The whole night shimmers with his warmth, and the darkness brightens around him. “Ephraim. Ephraim. Ephraim.” I keep whispering. I can’t stop. The tears and his name are all tangled together.

  “I’m here Becks. I’m here,” he says softly, tenderly. His arms wrap around me, lifting me off my kne
es and swinging me up into his arms. Warmth settles around me, it’s like being tucked under a heavy blanket near a crackling fire.

  Even tucked against his chest, a hiccupy sob shudders out of me. “I ki-killed them,” I cry.

  Ephraim shushes me. His arms hold me a little more tightly against him, as if that can chase away the pain of what I’ve done.

  But as good as it is to be in his arms, I don’t want to be consoled. “I killed them.” My voice is edged with hysteria.

  “Shh, Becks,” he soothes. He tilts my head, so I meet his eyes. His eyes are all golden sunlight and steadiness. He smiles down at me. “Everything’s alright. I’ve got you.”

  “Everything’s alright,” I repeat numbly. And then that anaesthetizing comfort settles over me. I am floating and warm again.

  His smile deepens. “Good Becks.”

  I’m pretty sure he drives me back to Justin’s, although something about that doesn’t really make sense to me. I’ve never seen Ephraim do something as mundane as driving a car. As I push at the memory another one ripples beneath it. Maybe I also remember struggling to my feet and climbing back into the car. I was too out of it to drive myself. Could Ephraim have driven through me? It’s a confusing blur of partial memories. And then I’m in his arms again, even more helplessly dazed. The world around me is just a swirl of muted colours and sounds. Is it shock, or is Ephraim doing this?

  Justin meets us at the door. If Ephraim is an oasis of calm, Justin is a turmoil of emotions. Fear, concern and anger rolls across his face like rapidly changing seasons. He settles into a mixture of concern and stormy anger, the spring of emotional seasons. Tempest and tenderness. He fires off questions at Ephraim, who deflects them. And then Justin bends over me.

  His fingers brush across my face and a little cool shiver races down my body. Some of the haze clears away and my vision sharpens. And with that sharper sense, the first shocking sense of pain rips up my arms. I give a little gasp. He looks down at my arms, I haven’t really looked at them yet, but judging from the pain, I don’t want to. “Oh Becka, what did you do?”