The Eternal

by Bianca Hunter

  We walked into the church together, and I nudged Blake toward the first seats available at the back of the church. I wanted to stay unseen today. I hadn’t been out of the house since that day at the town square, and I was afraid that people were going to stare at me, something I wanted to avoid at all costs.

  I looked around the old church and wondered if anyone in the town ever used it. It was an old building, probably one of the oldest in Greyhaven. The people sitting in the pews stared up at John, who probably hadn’t been an active priest since he turned immortal. He was talking, but I wasn’t paying attention to the words. My eyes darted around the church, trying to catch a glimpse of Gwenn, but she didn’t seem to be there.

  Odd that she would miss Bastian’s funeral.

  I kept my eyes on the coffin behind him and the photo frame that rested on it. Bastian smiled at me. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, willing the pain to go away.

  I took Blake’s hand and felt overwhelming gratitude to him; if it weren’t for him, I would be all alone right now. The service ended as quickly as it began, and I leapt out of the aisle before anyone had even started rising from their seats. Blake followed me out of the church with the open umbrella.

  “Evelyn?” Blake said in an undertone. “Do you want to stay for the burial?”

  “Um,” I answered, unsure of whether to leave or stay.

  “You’re going to have to forgive yourself for what happened; it wasn’t your fault,” Blake said, standing behind me, sheltering me from the rain.

  I nodded and sighed, not really wanting to talk about this and go over everything again.

  “I know, maybe I just need to get away,” I replied, thinking that leaving Greyhaven for a while wasn’t such a bad idea.

  “We just need to get away,” I corrected, turning to face him and taking his hand.

  Tristan walked toward us without an umbrella. I suddenly remembered the first time I had met him on a rainy day just as this one, trapped outside Greyhaven and questioning my sanity.

  “Ravenna didn’t want to stay for the burial. I think she’s taking Bastian’s death harder than I thought,” he mumbled.

  It’s the guilt.

  The three of us walked toward the cemetery, and I noticed that they were already carrying Bastian’s black lacquered coffin toward the open grave. I had the overwhelming urge to just say goodbye to him and apologize for everything, although I knew he couldn’t hear me. I started making my way to where they had set the coffin down next to the open grave. I touched it gently with my hand.

  “Please come back,” I whispered. “Please let this all be a mistake so you can come back.”

  “Please, you can’t be here,” one of the ushers said, gently touching my arm.

  I let go of the coffin, stood back, and watched them begin to move it toward the hole in the ground. As I looked up, I saw a woman who looked like Bastian crying silently. His mother. I stared down at my feet, not wanting to look into her accusative eyes. Pain and guilt tugged at my heart, and I could feel my own chest tightening, my eyes burning. Blake took my hand.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered into my ear. Tristan stood on my other side, and I reached out my hand to take his. For a split-second, I thought he would pull away from me as his eyes narrowed.

  The three of us just stood there watching the burial, separated from everyone else who had remained and now stood on the opposite side. I didn’t feel comfortable enough to move closer to the others, and I sensed that Blake and Tristan didn’t mind standing farther away from them either. When the prayers were over, and the casket had been lowered into the ground, I looked up at Blake.

  “I’d like to go now if that’s okay?” I whispered, wanting to leave before everyone passed our way. He nodded but kept staring at the people. I looked back to see what he was watching, and I noticed Bastian’s mother walking toward us. A small part of me had the urge to turn and run, but I stood my ground, readying myself for whatever she would have to say to me when she reached us.

  “Evelyn?” she asked, looking at me more curiously than upset. I nodded slowly, not knowing what else to say or do. Her eyes looked exactly like her son’s. She ignored Blake and Tristan, who stood like iron posts, refusing to let go of my hands.

  “I just wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to Bastian. He spoke of you often,” she said through the tears.

  I just stood there; the lump in my throat returned, and I tried my best to fight back the oncoming tears.

  “I am so sorry,” I said, my voice sounding constricted as I fought the tears when I realized she was waiting patiently for my response. She moved forward and lifted her arms, ready to embrace me. Blake and Tristan let go of my hands and took a step back as she put her arms around me and held tight.

  “Bastian wouldn’t want you to go through your life feeling guilty about this. I know he wouldn’t,” she whispered, standing back, still holding my shoulders. “He saved your life, and he would want you to live it.” The tears still streamed down her face.

  I nodded. I couldn’t help it. Between Bastian’s death and his mother’s kindness, her ease of forgiveness, large tear droplets began to make their fateful descent from my eyes. People passed us, offering their last condolences to Bastian’s mother and giving me brief nods.

  “I should go,” she said, looking toward the parking lot.

  I nodded again. “I really am sorry,” I mumbled as she walked past me. Blake took my hand again, and a second later, Tristan was at my side too.

  “Let’s go home,” Blake suggested, pulling me toward the car.

  Tristan put his arm around my waist. “Don’t worry, America, they say time heals everything, and you’ve got more than enough of that,” he asserted as kindly as Tristan could muster.

  I nodded, not really listening to anyone’s words.

  “Maybe the four of us should go to the villa in Spain for a while,” Tristan said from the front passenger seat as we reached the bottom of the hill. “Greyhaven is miserable at the moment.”

  Suddenly, the idea of leaving Greyhaven behind seemed like the best idea in the world.

  “That would be nice,” I mumbled, looking out at the rain.

  “We can go wherever we want to,” Blake said, turning to me and smiling, probably relieved that I finally wanted to do something.

  “Maybe we can go to Crete?” I said, glancing at Blake now. The chances of Mirena still being there were slim, but I could still see where my family was from.

  Blake parked the car, and we found Ravenna having a drink in the lounge, staring at the fire.

  Tristan sat next to her as Blake made his way to the bar. Before I could sit down, there was a loud knock at the door.

  We heard Nelly make her way to the door and open it. Before Nelly could say anything, a woman’s hysterical voice began crying. My stomach dropped. Had Bastian’s mother followed us here?

  Tristan and Blake, hearing what was being said, shot up and walked toward the entrance hall.

  “What’s happening?” I said, looking at Ravenna, who was staring intently in the direction of the entrance hall. She shook her head.

  “All I hear is crying,” she replied.

  I wanted to follow Blake and Tristan but wasn’t certain that I should. Finally, after a few excruciating moments of waiting for one of them to get back, I heard footsteps in the hallway and turned to watch Blake and Tristan lead Gwenn’s grandmother into the lounge.

  I couldn’t remember standing up, but the moment I laid my eyes on her face, the sickening feeling that something was very wrong broke over me. Blake and Tristan led her carefully to one of the couches and helped her sit down. She was shaking, and I could see she had been crying for a while. Blake came back over to where I was standing, took my hand, and pulled me down to sit next to him. Tristan handed Rebecca a glass of water, which she took sil
ently.

  “She never came back,” Rebecca said, her voice quivering in pain. “She came to me and told me that if I told anyone anything before the day of the funeral, she would kill Gwenn.” She finished the glass of water, now shaking in her hand.

  My heart accelerated. I had dropped Gwenn off at the bridge and took for granted that she had made her way back to her grandmother. “Gwenn?” I enquired, forgetting that anyone else was in the room.

  Rebecca looked into my eyes and nodded slowly.

  “Who, who came to you?” I stammered, unable to believe that I had heard correctly.

  “The one with the fire hair, Serena,” Rebecca sobbed, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

  “Oh God,” I said, falling into the seat behind me. My stomach clenched, and I wanted to throw up. I had been so consumed with my own sorrow and guilt that I hadn’t even thought that Gwenn hadn’t made it.

  The panic built in my chest, and my hands shook.

  I could see Blake’s rage starting to lift to the surface. Serena was the enemy that just wouldn’t be defeated, always one step ahead of us.

  “Rebecca,” Blake said. “Do you have any idea where Serena may have taken Gwenn? Did she say anything at all?” He let go of my hand and moved closer to her.

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and shook her head. “No, I don’t know where she is,” Rebecca replied slowly, her voice still shaking.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

  Before anyone could say anything else, Tristan’s phone rang. He checked the screen and frowned.

  “It’s Troy,” he muttered.

  I remembered that Troy was Victoria’s brother and wondered what he could be calling for. Tristan left the room to answer it, and Blake turned to me and then back to Rebecca. But before anyone could say anything, Blake shot up and walked to where Tristan stood. I heard the tension in Tristan’s voice as he said something to Blake. I got up and walked over to them, ready to ask what had happened.

  “We have to go now,” Tristan hissed as soon as I got closer to them.

  “Let’s go, Evelyn. Come on,” Blake said, holding out his hand without looking at me.

  “She’s not actually coming?” Tristan asked, shocked.

  “I’m not leaving her here,” Blake said, frowning. Tristan nodded and swung open the front door. “Evelyn, let’s go.” He waited.

  “What about Rebecca?” I asked, looking back toward the lounge.

  “Ravenna, will you stay here?” Blake whispered, although he wasn’t in earshot of his sister.

  “Go, I’ll stay,” I heard Ravenna’s faint whisper.

  “What’s happening?” I asked, following Blake and Tristan out the door.

  “We’re not sure, but something is apparently going on in the town square,” Blake said as he got into the car. Tristan was already in the front seat, so I slid into the back.

  “What do you think it could be?” Tristan asked Blake as he started the car. I could see the frown etched into his forehead. I had never seen Tristan look so worried before, so I knew it must be something significant. Blake didn’t reply and sped down the winding road toward the town center.

  As we got closer to the town square, I started feeling intensely odd. It felt like my soul wanted to leave my body, almost like an invisible rope was pulling every nerve forward. I snapped my fingers in irritation and crossed and uncrossed my legs.

  “You okay, Evelyn?” Blake asked, noticing me shifting around in the backseat.

  “Um.” I patted my chest and tried to get rid of the feeling. “I don’t know. I have this weird feeling like something is pulling me forward,” I admitted, not being able to shake it. I moved closer to him and put my hand on his arm, which relieved the tension a bit.

  Blake stopped the car and turned to face me. “What do you mean?” he asked, taking my hand now.

  “We don’t really have time for this,” Tristan hissed.

  “Then get out of the car and go,” Blake said, not taking his eyes off me.

  Tristan immediately opened his door, and the moment the cold breeze hit my skin, the feeling that something was tugging at every inch of my body intensified. I couldn’t take it anymore. It was as if something had started scratching under my skin. Without thinking, I moved to the side of the passenger door and threw it open.

  “Evelyn?” Blake asked, getting out of the car and following me as I ran on the cobblestone road toward the town center.

  Just go. Just go. Just go. Just go. This is the right way. Keep going.

  I reached the square and noticed a group of people that seemed to be crowded around something.

  Blake appeared next to me. “Evelyn,” he said shortly, clearly confused.

  He reached out to me, but before he was able to take my hand, it felt like my soul was desperately trying to escape my body again. I hurtled forward, desperate for the itch to stop. I moved through the group of people, unable to stop myself, as if an ocean current had taken me.

  Blake followed me, calling my name, but I couldn’t stop my legs. I pushed through the crowd, moving swiftly toward the middle, and as suddenly as the pull had come, it was gone; I looked up toward what everyone was watching in such horror. My gaze widened, and my knees gave way as I collapsed onto the cobbled street.

  Bastian was kneeling in the center of the circle, covered in mud and dirt and staring right at me. His hands were bleeding and his nails torn off.

  “I’m here for you,” he whispered and reached out his hand to take mine.

  THE END