by Laury Falter
Then I was yanked back through the tunnel to once again stand in the Hall of Records.
I stood, quietly amazed, enjoying the solitude of the moment.
Eran continued to amaze me, even in death.
My lips trembled against the hint of a smile and then it was gone, replaced with an incredibly strong desire to hold him again just once.
It actually made the void in me widen.
In an effort to end the feeling of emptiness, I swiped my finger over his name in his next life, carrying me back to him during his life in France.
Sadness invaded that void momentarily when I recognized that this was the lifetime when Eran had finally admitted his love for me. A commanding, confident man who was so drawn in by our love that it had been one of only two times when I witnessed him behaving nervously, the other being in his next life while proposing to me. The memory of both almost made a smile surface.
The scroll, however, didn’t show these. It took me to another part of his life, this one when he was younger.
Being only ten years old and with a memory that told him there were better things to wear, he squirmed against the insistent buttoning up of the shirt collar he was being forced to wear.
The man knelt in front of him, glowered, and said, “Stop fidgeting,” in French.
Eran did, allowing the man to finish, before responding politely in French, “Thank you, Papa.”
“Now…eat,” his father commanded and Eran did.
I was shocked, having never seen Eran follow orders before. He always gave them.
He bent and took a piece of meat from a basket only to stroll to the chairs set out directly next to them. Another family was sitting beside them, and as he walked by the ladies he gave them each a tip of his hat, causing them to giggle and making it clear that Eran knew how to impress women at any age.
But when he reached the last and youngest one, he stopped.
She looked directly at him and oddly enough I knew it was me because I recalled this very moment.
He and I grew up together as family friends and on this particular occasion we were taking advantage of the warm weather to have an outing together.
But as we stared at each other, we knew something they didn’t. Having come to earth as Alterums, we remembered each other.
He nodded towards the small space at the end of the bench, which I conceded to give up.
Then, as he slipped up beside me, only a brief moment passed before his hand slipped underneath mine to take hold.
This I could never forget because it was the first time, ever, Eran had touched me with evident interest, beyond compassion a guardian would feel for their ward. And it caused my stomach to burn with excitement.
I had never known it until now but his reaction was the exact opposite. Touching me soothed him, like a salve to an open wound, immediately calming him and putting everything around him in perspective. It made him feel powerful, like a lion calmly surveying his territory.
He turned his head ever so slightly then to peek from the corner of his eye at my reaction.
This, I couldn’t forget either.
I was smiling.
Then, far too quickly, I was pulled from this life, through the tunnel, and dropped back to the Hall of Records, only taking a second to realize why.
I was running out of time. Daylight was approaching in the other dimension.
It’s too fast, I thought. I haven’t had enough. I haven’t felt him enough…
Quickly, I swiped my finger across his next life, landing in his body again. This time he wore clothes that fit him, loose and rugged, breathable. As he strolled the street I noticed we were back in Pennsylvania. Thick green trees towering over dusty storefronts leading to a dirt avenue overrun by horses and carriages told me so.
He shifted something heavy lying across his right shoulder to a better position on just as he came across one store in particular and entered the darkly lit room. Inside the street sounds dulled but the smell of freshly cut lumber still hung in the air. At the back, stood a man leaning forward on a bar that ran the length of the room. He was trim with a beard that covered most of his face. Clear green eyes shined out from above, lucid, catching every movement Eran made.
Eran approached, his face lifting to a grin, telling me this man was familiar.
“I see you have them,” said the man.
Eran nodded and dragged the weight off his shoulder to the bar in front of the man.
They were furs, I found as Eran placed a hand on them, the tips of the hair prickling his palm.
The man grinned and pulled money from a satchel, handing it to Eran.
“But I don’t think that’s what you really came for,” suggested the man, which prompted a loud laugh from Eran.
“I was thinking you might have something else for me…” Eran ventured with a smile, which faded as the man withdrew a ring and placed it on the bar.
It was stunning, taking even Eran’s breath away.
Cut on six sides and resting in a white gold setting, even in the dim light, it was spectacular.
Fighting to restrain a proud smile, he reached across the bar and clapped the man hardily on the shoulder.
“Thank you. It’s perfect, Mr. Beedinwigg. Perfect.”
I almost missed the name and then jolted inside when I did.
As Eran spun around he took a final glance at the man, in which I rapidly absorbed every detail I could.
Yes, he had the same mischievous grin as Ms. Beedinwigg.
I released a sigh from inside Eran, pondering the surreal reality of it. Ms. Beedinwigg’s ancestor had sold Eran my engagement ring…
The familiar tug of the scroll pulled me back to the hall. There, I felt a sudden wave of panic, my internal timer telling me that my time was up.
Refusing to believe it, I moved my finger over the final entry next to Eran’s name, the one with the words ‘Eternal Death’, and was rapidly sent through the tunnel.
When I stopped, the pain was excruciating. It was as if Eran’s body had been lit on fire. He hadn’t, however. I knew with sickening truth that it was the result of the Elsics.
They were feeding on him.
Through the blur of Eran’s eyes, I found that Eran had been held captive underground, surrounded by piles of bones, and Elsics salivating for another piece of him.
Abaddon held them back, not with chains or leashes but with the gift he’d brought when he fell…He’d frozen their ability to move only to ensure Eran’s punishment wouldn’t end too abruptly.
Despite the hurt I felt pulsing through Eran, I lunged for Abaddon, wishing with every part of me that he would suffer the same fate.
Still, Eran’s body remained in place, unchained and unleashed as well, but held against his will nonetheless. He kept his head high, unwilling to give Abaddon any satisfaction, the anger in him feeding the energy needed.
“So you see, Eran…” Abaddon said, curling up the side of his lip in disgust as he said Eran’s name. “I’ve allowed your friend, the big one, to escape. Christianson, correct?” He paused not for a response but to draw in a languid, carefree breath. “You see he is going to be my messenger, informing your lover that we are coming, if he doesn’t die before he gets there…”
Abaddon waltzed across the room, as much to taunt Eran as to enjoy himself. Reaching the wall where Eran was pinned, he twirled and allowed the blade he held to swing out, drawing across Eran’s chest and spilling blood from a fresh wound.
The Elsics went in to frenzy, screaming, clawing for Eran, only to be restrained by Abaddon.
“They do like the smell of you…It’s like a beacon telling them that human flesh is nearby, like a…radar, in fact. Speaking of radars, I have a special plan for you and your lover.” His voice was joyfully mocking now as he slanted towards Eran to whisper. “I think you’re going to hate it…” He giggled. “No Fallen One will ever touch her again…or, to be fair, at least they won’t take her life. Now this may seem like a
good thing on the surface but especially you would expect nothing from me but the worst so I won’t play with your emotions. Instead, I’ll tell you the really interesting part. I’ve made certain no one will touch her for one very specific, very significant reason…Do you know what that might be?”
Eran simply glared back, trying to contain the anger boiling in his belly.
“It’s so she can’t join you in eternal death…You will never see your precious Magdalene again. She will remain in this dimension, or the afterlife, but she will remain here…separated from you for eternity. So you see, she won’t be dying by our hands at least. I’ve made certain of it.”
The irony to Abaddon’s message was that it was intended to antagonize Eran and yet it did the opposite. On that news, Eran went limp, relief enveloping him.
I didn’t understand at first, certain that I would have had the same blank stare that Abaddon now held had I been in my own body. And then it dawned on me.
Keeping me out of eternal death wasn’t a curse for Eran. It was a blessing. It meant I would forever be safe, never harmed by the Fallen Ones or Elsics.
It was exactly what Eran wished for the most.
Abaddon, however, couldn’t understand. Every one of his actions was designed to please him, so much that while Eran had tried to keep me safe, Abaddon had delivered his own family to eternal deaths.
It was clear that none of this occurred to Abaddon as he suddenly released the Elsics from their hold and watched with a vengeful grin as they landed on Eran.
Flesh began tearing back, falling away as Eran held on to the scream building in his throat.
From inside, I felt every shake, every rip, every bite. And I wept.
It went on until the darkness began surrounding Eran, starting from the edges of the room and closing in. And just before it swallowed Eran entirely, he released the scream that had been building, an effort to cross space and time in one final attempt to warn me what was coming.
“MAGDALEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeee…”
It had reached me, I remembered, the jolt of it vibrating across land and water. I’d heard him by way of feeling him, our bond conveying his warning far greater than any other way could.
I watched then, terrified, helpless, as Eran became engulfed in total blackness.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: THE SEIGE
I awoke with a start back in my bed at the stronghold, shaking uncontrollably. Without conscious effort, I fell to the floor, crawling towards the window, although it was for no reason in particular.
I believe I was simply trying to get away from the horror of what I’d just seen and felt, but I couldn’t be sure.
My true love was dead and I had just watched him die. Where I went didn’t matter.
Tears fell to the stone floor as I crawled across it, its ruts tearing at my skin, leaving behind a bloody trail.
I didn’t care.
Nothing mattered at that moment but the crushing pain I felt in my chest.
“Pick ‘er up!” a voice bellowed nervously.
Then hands were beneath me, lifting me. I was hauled against someone’s shoulder, sobbing, unaware and without care as to who it was.
The shaking continued and the pained emptiness grew to reach every part of my body. I became immersed in it, leaving behind time, motivation, anything that might have gotten me moving on any given day.
I stayed that way, immobile, for a very long time…moving only when I felt the hair stand on the back of my neck.
It made me react like nothing else could.
Adrenaline suddenly surged through my body, driving my energy level back to and far beyond its normal level. My senses too heightened and with them everything came back in focus.
I found it was Ezra whose chest I leaned against without having to look. I recognized the beating of her heart, which had an extra beat to it. Rufus had left the room, probably unable to handle seeing me in pain. The big ones fall hardest. Felix, however, stood by the door, chewing nervously on his finger nails, taking short, impatient breaths.
Downstairs, I could hear footsteps moving casually through the hallways and the smell of rabbit stew starting to come to a boil in the kitchen.
Most of all, I could hear the wings approaching. Hundreds of them.
I pulled away from Ezra, who was pleasantly surprised to see my movement.
“We need to assemble the Alterums at the front of the stronghold.” Her eyes widened as I continued. “He’s almost here.”
And judging from the pain at back of my neck, he’d brought every last one of the Fallen Ones with him.
From that point, the stronghold became organized chaos. Alterums took their positions, weapons readied and waiting without the typical rush for them.
The day before, while waiting for Eran to return from his final mission, Ms. Beedinwigg, Ms. Barrett, my housemates, and I had arranged the defense and given instructions to the Alterums on what to expect. After countless hours of training and the finishing efforts to secure us, the Alterums were as ready as they could be.
Interestingly, the pounding of their feet as they moved to their positions were different than during previous attacks. They were hurried but less heavy, less panicked. There were no grunts as they accidentally slammed in to each other in their haste either.
It was dawn again, I noted. Abaddon hadn’t had the patience to wait the day.
As the wings grew louder and the hair at the back of my neck spiked farther, I slipped in my black leather combat suit and attached my weapons to it.
It felt odd, different. I hadn’t worn it since I’d learned of Eran’s death and now it seemed uncharacteristic of me.
More unnerving was the reason I’d had it made. When I had walked into the small Cuban accessories store advertising a seamstress in the front window, the question never occurred to me.
Was I really this person? Did I have the bloodlust in me that my enemies had? Did it make me any different from them?
As I stared at my reflection in the window, I knew the answer. Had I asked these same questions a few months ago the answer would have been absolutely not. But as I recalled the last months leading to this point, I realized that I had acted very much the same as my enemies. Hunting them as they had hunted us. But there was a distinct difference that comforted me as I looked at the warrior girl in the reflection and found a woman staring back.
I fought to protect others from harm. My enemies fought to inflict it.
That, was exactly what I was about to do.
The woman in the reflection tilted her mouth up in a side grin, cocky…like Eran’s. There was a burning in her eyes that sent out a signal: Pick a fight…I dare you.
No, I was not like my enemies. I was a messenger on my way to send a powerful message that was long overdue.
Minutes later, I entered the courtyard, my appendages already out. Thumping them once, I sprang to the overlook at the front of the stronghold.
A space had been left for me. On one side stood my housemates. On the other…the Alterums who had once imprisoned me. Those motivations gone, they now watched me closely for guidance.
I scanned them, their faces, their stances, and found that the Alterums had transformed. Their expressions were expectant, alert. Their postures were ready. Their attitudes were unshakeable, challenging. In the short time we had been here, they had become warriors.
Someone, my guess would be Ms. Barrett, had stitched bands for each of their arms, a swirl of blue on white fabric. It was the only unifying element and it made them stand a bit straighter.
Then, just as the first rays of sun streamed over the horizon, the hair at the back of my neck, the same ones that had been pulling angrily for my attention for so long whenever an enemy was nearby, stopped. There was no more prickle, no strain, no yank or twitch. They were silent.
It may have alarmed me…before Eran died. Now I noted it with remote complacency, knowing that I could only discern this as a sign of finality.
Even my radar kn
ew I wouldn’t survive this battle.
The land stretching from the edges of the stronghold out over the countryside was undulating, rolling hills of deep green. They were in stark contrast to what was currently coming over the tops of them.
Along the horizon slowly but with unity the Fallen Ones emerged, lining up in rows to appear dark and foreboding, a mass of dark colors other than their prominent grey wings. Those on the ground walked shoulder to shoulder, not a sliver of light between them, while those in the air nearly touched the tips of the wings next to them as they flew in.
Spilling over the hillside and down towards the Alterum stronghold, they approached as an organized horde, weapons in hand, roars of fervor rising from places within their ranks.
A slice through the middle of their collective army showed a line of inky black creatures swaying in unison, their mouths opened and screeching, revealing long, jagged teeth. The Elsics. The Fallen Ones greatest weapon. A fatal injury by any one of them resulted in eternal death. They, I knew, would be strategically used against us at the most opportune time.
Then the horde stopped, halting as one, as if a finger had been snapped.
Unmoving, unhurried, they watched us, observing their enemies from afar.
We had aligned the Alterums across the front and top of the stronghold, also shoulder to shoulder. It was meant to be imposing and may have been…had it not been for the overwhelming number of Fallen Ones now standing before us.
Outnumbered, ran through my mind but I pushed it back.
Surveying them, I recognized quite a few, but only one drew my attention.
Elam stood out front.
He hadn’t changed much since I’d last seen him in the hallway of my school back in New Orleans. In fact, the only variation was that his artificial likability was gone, a hard, aged expression in its place. One hand held a spear and the other clutched a satchel, which I knew was filled with mysterious concoctions designed to maim and render us ineffective.
I, however, was going to make sure that didn’t happen.
Taking a dagger from my suit in each hand, I bent forward and stabbed them in both of my legs, cutting downward, tearing the leather from my thighs until I saw blood beginning to seep from the wounds.
