Eran suddenly turned towards me, appearing restless, clearing his throat and straightening the jacket he wore. He then began to speak, hesitantly. “I-I have something to tell you. Admittedly, it may not be the best time but…that point…that point may never come.” I was now facing him, drawn to him as he anxiously struggled through his words. I had never seen him in such emotional turmoil before. In an attempt to make it easier for him I intentionally kept my expression impassive as he continued. “When we met long ago in Germany I had a sense of the kind of person you were…a remedial sense. I can…I can liken it to spotting a rainbow but only seeing one color of the spectrum while knowing there are more. And then…then as I spent time with you, acting as your unwarranted guardian, I learned who you were and my respect for you grew. By the end of that brief life on earth, I had developed devotion…” He thought for a moment. “Not devotion, it is too pale a word. Honestly, I’m-I’m not sure I can sum it up in a single word. But what I felt for you then grew stronger in London when I became your appointed guardian. From then, I-I recognized that my feelings for you…” He appeared more uncertain now, nervous as to how I might react. “I knew my feelings for you had gone beyond that of a guardian.” He swallowed hard, glanced out the window without seeing anything, and then refocused on me. “I’m not sure how it happened. I tried to prevent it; ignored myself, for the most part; dedicated myself to the single objective of protecting you. That dedication gave me purpose and…and alleviated some guilt in being your guardian while feeling the way I do…And still…” His gaze fell and for a moment he appeared defeated. “And still it is not enough. What I feel for you is not dissipating. It is growing, intensifying.” He drew in a shuttered breath and ran his fingers through his hair. When he spoke again, it was quiet and tender. “What I’m trying to tell you, Magdalene, is that I am in love with you.”
The tension that slowly built in me as he spoke exploded at his final words. A burning sensation coursed through my body, my breath caught, my skin prickled with excitement. The realization of what had just happened swept over me.
Eran had confessed his love for me. Against all rules, despite all obstacles, unforeseen by either of us, love had developed.
From this body, I knew that all I wanted was to throw my arms around him, pull him against me, and confess my love in return. But, this body of mine was unable to react because something or someone, more precisely, had activated my radar.
“I understand,” he uttered mournfully, turning away to stare out the window. “You-You don’t feel the same.”
“No, it’s-” I began but never had the chance to finish.
The hairs on the back of my neck had bristled and I shifted to watch the door. My senses were suddenly engorged, drawing in every part of my surroundings. The chants from the townspeople in the city below reached my ears. The fires from burning structures enflamed my nose. Most of all, I heard the footsteps approaching down the hallway outside and stopping at the door.
It blew open a second later.
Eran spun to face it, drawing his sword, his demeanor returning to vigilant defense.
Marco strolled into the room, his boyish mannerisms gone and now replaced with sinister arrogance. Wings now protruded behind his back, long enough to drag along the floor.
Annie and Charlie barked ferociously and sprinted towards the intruder.
“Come,” Eran shouted, his voice reflecting the nervousness in allowing them too close to Marco. To my relief, they obeyed.
Behaving as if he owned the estate he’d now trespassed, Marco stopped in the center of the room, gripping the handles of two scythe-shaped kama weapons.
“Draw them and I will attack,” Eran cautioned.
“Reserve your words. I am not here to speak with you,” he said. His tone was defiant as he switched his concentrated interest to me. “It’s good to see you again, my love.”
“I am not your love,” I seethed.
“That is not the welcome I deserve, not after giving my life to protect you…” Initially he seemed hurt but he quickly returned to leering.
“I did not ask that of you.”
He shrugged, carelessly. “What is done…is done. I no longer fault you.”
“Fault
me
?” I scoffed, offended at the insinuation.
Eran’s hand moved to rest on my hip, intending to calm me.
Marco appeared not to care that he had insulted me, instead altering the course of discussion to center on him. “These years that have passed, I traveled far – the Orient, the colonies in America, throughout the Muslim territories – and I experienced many women. Some willing…others not as much. But, what I found was that my affection for you has not subdued. I still long for you, Mademoiselle. And with my new-found…abilities…Eran will need to step aside.”
Now Eran was offended. He scoffed loudly which rolled in to mocking laughter. “That is not going to happen, Marco.”
“Then I will kill you and she will come with me,” he stated without any acknowledgment that he’d just iterated an absurd belief.
I opened my mouth to tell him just that but Eran beat me to it.
“Marco…she doesn’t love you,” he said sarcastically.
“That’s right. I don’t,” I confirmed in a rush of words, which continued without any cognitive thought by me. “I’m in love with Jacques.”
Eran turned to me and blinked. “But that’s my name.”
Clearly, I had no plan to speak those words. They came from the heart, uninhibited and honest. They had been waiting there all long until I had the courage to confess them. When I did, there was a release in admitting them, a burden that had lifted confirming that I too had been fighting the truth.
Still, I could not allow myself to validate that Eran was the one. Doing this would put Eran in far more jeopardy as the Fallen Ones would use him to get to me. That, I would not allow. Attempting to camouflage who my heart belong to, I reinforced my statement in a more imprecise way.
“I could never love you, Marco. My heart does not belong to you. It belongs to another.”
None of this mattered to Marco, however. This became clear when he impatiently stated, “Simply having you by my side will do just as well.”
As if he’d had enough of the delay, he drew both kamas from his waistband.
“I warned you,” said Eran, unforgiving.
Before this body could react, Eran and Marco met in the air, their wings keeping them aloft, their weapons clashing, the dogs leaping to snatch at Marco’s feet.
I shrugged the coat I wore to the ground and lifted into the air, the specially-designed petticoat opening in the back to allow my wings their freedom. I then closed in on them, my sword also drawn.
Eran grunted, deflecting Marco’s sword.
The maneuver flung them apart.
Grinning wickedly, Marco informed us, “If I can’t have her, no one will.”
“Wishful thinking, Marco,” said Eran before re-engaging.
They fought ferociously for several minutes, my body floating from side to side, looking for a way in, an opening to inflict Marco harm before he could harm Eran.
Eran’s combat skills were evident as he moved effortlessly around Marco, often leaving him clueless as to where Eran had gone. It would have been comical to watch if Eran’s life weren’t in danger.
Minutes later, cut, bruised, and in disarray, Marco was visibly tiring. Knowing this, he ended the fight in one swift movement; oddly it did not come from the end of his sword.
He positioned himself in front of the windows, gestured to someone outside, and then fled out the door in which he’d come.
The moment he escaped the room, glass shattered behind me and my leading thought was that another Fallen One had come through it.
My body turned in flight to face the next attacker but it was a haphazard, lopsided turn.
Something was throwing off my balance.
With effort, I steadied myself and then Eran was at my side.
“Down,” he was shouting.
Everything moved in slow motion then.
Something hit my torso, and then again, and then again.
As Eran forced me to the ground and just before the window ledge obstructed my view to the outside, I caught sight of a young man, immaculately dressed, hovering just beyond the edge of the property. I knew him instantly. Not only because of his clothing but because he held a bow, which had just released an arrow.
“Achan…” I breathed.
As Eran laid me gentle down, my eyes drifted across the floor where Annie and Charlie lay, both with arrows lodged just under their shoulder blades.
Fury raged in me and I released a scream that I was certain reached Achan’s ears.
“Shhh, save your strength,” Eran consoled me.
Strength? I thought. For what?
My head dropped farther and I found my answer. The stems of seven arrows protruded from my own body.
I was riddled with them.
He was bending over me now, his eyes running the course of my body to evaluate my injuries.
“They’re-They’re fatal,” I verified softly.
Then the pain hit.
It felt as if my abdomen had been lit on fire.
I cringed against it, my teeth grinding, my breath coming in short gasps.
Unable to bear seeing me in pain, he took hold of the tip of one arrow, intending to break it off.
“No…” I rejected. “Leave them. There isn’t much time.”
Eran’s head was shaking now, refusing to believe reality. Yet, the evidence was clear.
I was dying.
Cradling my head in his lap, he stared down at me, helpless.
“This can’t be happening again,” he muttered, subduing a sob.
I brought my hand up to his pressed against my cheek. I had something to tell him and I needed his full attention.
“The Jacques I was referring to…” I whispered.
“Yes,” he muttered, confused and hopeless at the same time.
“That Jacques is you…”
The feelings that came across Eran’s handsome features took my breath away. They were an evolution of shock, pride, relief, thrill, and ultimately fulfillment.
“Are you telling me that you love me?” he asked, astonished.
“Yes…” I breathed, able to release a laugh at his silliness. He should have known all along.
As if reading my thoughts, he said, “I was waiting for you to declare it.”
“I’m-I’m sorry you had to wait…to wait centuries,” I said, pushing back against the slowing pulsations rattling my body.
Eran smiled gently. “It was worth it.”
“I’m…close…” I informed him.
He nodded and took hold of his sword, raising it over his head as he had done in London so many years ago.
A sob escaped. He choked back the rest of it and recovered. Then, in case didn’t convey it already through the intensity of his expression, he declared, “My love does not end here.”
Unable to watch his next action, his eyes closed and he brought the sword down on me, sinking it deep within my chest.
I kept my eyes open, calling out to him though my lips would not move. I too had final words for him and I was desperate to convey them. They were simple and direct, just as his had been.
“Neither does mine.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: GETTYSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA
The following morning I awoke to a surreal reality.
Eran was slumped in the chair with his head dipped forward and his clothes disheveled. His chest moved slowly, habitually, a clear sign that he was dozing.
Strangely, only moments ago, it was me who appeared feeble.
Of course, Eran was not feeble. Far from it. It was his days of staying awake and alert to protect me and nights flying around the world to perform reconnaissance had caught up to him.
I couldn’t blame him.
Realizing this was the first time I had seen Eran asleep – ever – I remained sitting in bed, studying him.
Gone was the horror at facing the taking of my life. In replace of it, was the calm, peaceful countenance that Eran traditionally exuded. His nose was chiseled to perfection, his jaw line was defined and powerful, his lips were swollen from sleep.
He was breathtaking.
Giving in to the urge of a closer look, I slipped my legs off the side of the bed and carefully placed my feet on the floor. Once standing, I turned and found him awake and staring at me.
He tilted his head to the side and, fighting an awkward smile, he asked, “Still trying to sneak out?”
Sneak out? I thought. Of course, he’d expect that. I had a history of it and I was currently in the motions of silently standing up.
I opened my mouth to respond but no words came out. How could I admit that I was about to approach him for a better stare? After all that I had seen of our past lives, after our confession of love, after the taking of my life, it felt trivial.
“I see,” he said, deducing that he was correct. Standing also, he approached me to divulge, “Even when it may appear that I am sleeping…I am not. I hear every sound. You have little hope of escaping.”
He was within arm’s reach, which as usual caused my heart to quicken and pleasant exhilaration to build in me. I opened my mouth again to answer and closed it when I realized that I had chosen no words to speak.
“I’ll see you in the kitchen,” he said, and left my room.
He was still smirking at me as I gulped down a cup of coffee and eggs made by Rufus. Felix was busy preparing a special dinner tonight – Pickled Pig’s Snout – so he didn’t acknowledge us much. Ezra and Campion were both reading the newspaper, heads bowed deep inside the fold. Eran and I agreed to be back in time for dinner and left for school, where I actively fought the reaction I had to Fallen Ones hidden throughout the streets. Nearly exhausted by that exercise I was thankful when we were able to take our seats in Biochemistry.
Again, Ms. Beedinwigg treated Eran and I like any other student, engaging us in conversation when the situation arose. It was a refreshing change considering that the students and remaining faculty either glared at us or snubbed us entirely.
Homework was becoming a problem for both of us – with nightly responsibilities consuming our time - so we spent much of the lunch hour in the library cramming in answers to questions and racing through required reading chapters.