The man at the gravesite finished and Abaddon and Sarai watched from a distance while the group slowly dispersed, leaving only the speaker and another man.
With their backs to us their faces were obscured. Yet, the shape of one triggered something in me, and I nearly ran to him before remembering that I did not control the actions of the body I was in.
His voice low, the speaker placed a comforting hand on the other man’s broad shoulder, and said, “She will stay with you in spirit now. You may not see her but she is here.”
He then turned and followed the path of the others, leaving the despondent man alone at the graveside, unable to comfort him further.
The sadness I felt in watching this scene was overwhelming and yet I felt nothing but apathy, a dark void, from Abaddon.
Sarai made a movement to step forward but Abaddon’s hand came down and stopped her.
Abaddon appeared to be waiting for something.
Then, his head rotated to find the path the others had taken was now vacant. Only then did he drop his arm.
By this point, however, the man in front of the grave had dropped to his knees, sobbing, crippled over in agony.
While my sorrow for him deepened, again I felt only emptiness from Abaddon. Only when the man’s cloak slid to the ground did I sense a change in Abaddon.
The man was naked from the waist up, shirtless despite the frosty afternoon air. As his shoulders shook uncontrollably, something began to sprout from between his shoulder blades.
Instantly, I knew what they were but Abaddon, having never seen them before, was overcome with intrigue. His entire body seemed to come alive then, that sickening tickle in the bottom of his stomach rising up again. He was exhilarated, amazed, and he coveted what he saw.
The man’s appendages unfolded and lay against his back’s natural contours. Stark white and nearly the size of the man himself, they were glorious, breathtaking.
Several things happened at once then, so fast that I nearly lost track of them all.
First, Sarai spoke and broke the silence around us. It wasn’t a statement so much as a demand. She lifted her small hand and pointed at the man. “Wings.”
Her voice disrupted the despair of the man at the graveside and he rotated at his waist, looking behind him.
Second and at the very same time, Abaddon’s hand came under the breast of his jacket where his fingers found a piece of cold metal. He tucked it underneath the sleeve of his arm, keeping it hidden from sight.
Third, the speaker returned, coming up the path, his overcoat removed and folded over his shoulder. Without having to be told, I knew this man had returned to offer the additional warmth to the man on his knees.
But none of this shocked me. What did was the face of the man in sorrow staring back at me.
His hair was gray now and his skin was defined by wrinkles and my heart opened at the sight of him.
“
Eran,” I whispered from inside Abaddon’s body.
Then, without warning, Abaddon’s hand slipped the metal piece from his sleeve, unfolded it, and launched it at the man who had returned.
The metal landed squarely in the man’s chest, redness instantly spreading below the protruding metal piece. The man blinked but his eyes were empty, not staring at Abaddon but through him.
Eran ran to the man, his wings withdrawing by the time he’d reached him. Kneeling beside him, he scanned the body as he’d done mine on so many occasions since this scene took place, surveying the injury and the possibility of survival.
There was none, the man’s last breath wheezing from him confirming it.
Abaddon started across the frozen ground, passing the grave marker on the way. As if the scene unfolding wasn’t enough to unnerve me, I caught sight of the wooden cross as Abaddon passed it. While it meant nothing to Abaddon, at this point having never heard of the person they’d buried, it made me constrict.
Chiseled in the wood was a single word:
Magdalene
This had been my grave. Eran had been grieving for me. And Abaddon had intended to hurt him in the midst of his sorrow.
Rage swelled in me then and while I was cognizant of the fact I couldn’t move on my own volition, I hoped that somehow my emotions would transcend time and bring Abaddon to his knees.
Despite my most unrelenting push for it, Abaddon continued his stroll to the side of the man he’d just killed, stopping to stare down at what he’d done.
“
He…He startled me,” Abaddon muttered. “It had been a reaction.”
And it had been. Abaddon was just as shocked as the rest of us. He’d only wanted the wings, Eran’s wings, and he’d been distracted in that endeavor.
But something moved in Abaddon then. A door had been opened. Whereas before, Abaddon had assisted in the killings, watching from afar, this time he participated, and the reaction I felt in his body, the exhilaration that ran through him, told me that he enjoyed it.
Abaddon bent down and took hold of the knife still protruding from the man’s chest, pulling it out.
Then he spoke again, words that didn’t make sense at first, not until his actions followed.
“
But now that I’ve done it…” he muttered.
Still holding the knife, he stood up, moving his wrist so that the blade was elongated. Using his upward motion, Abaddon’s arm moved under Eran’s neck and slid across it, making certain the knife connected with the skin as he pulled it towards him.
I knew what had happened though I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. My mind would not process the understanding of it. I refused to believe it.
But when Eran’s chin lifted to follow the knife from his neck, it made visible the devastation it had left behind.
The cut opened and blood spilled from Eran, coursing down his chest and on to the man lying below him.
“
No…No!” I screamed and my limbs began moving, throwing punches, kicking, hitting, attempting to inflict every bit of harm to Abaddon possible.
Of course, none of it was possible. I was reliving something that had already taken place, the very occurrence that Eran had been trying to warn me about.
Abaddon kicked Eran in the shoulder then, sending his body to the hard ground. From there, he knelt and began sawing at the apex of Eran’s appendages, each slice causing me to weaken, sickening me.
The first appendage fell to the ground and Abaddon went to work on the second, hands bloodied, grunting with his efforts.
When the second one was severed, he leaned forward over Eran who was taking his final breath.
“
Thank you. These will look perfect mounted on my wall.”
Then Eran was gone. Killed by Abaddon’s hands.
It was my greatest fear come true, one that I would have done absolutely anything to prevent. And I had watched it unfold in front of me, had felt the movements that brought Eran pain.
I opened my mouth and released the emotions that had been building up, tightening within me, clawing to come out.
The scream raged through my being, from every part of it, a roar of such magnitude it shook me to my core.
It continued on until I was no longer in Abaddon’s body, restricted by his movements, his motives, his destruction.
Suddenly it was my chest caving in, my hands gripping the edge of the cover laying over me, my face contorting against the anxiety of what I’d experienced.
“
Magdalene! Magdalene!”
The voice came through from a distance, growing louder and more urgent with each attempt to lure with my name.
“
Magdalene! MAGDALENE!”
Arms surrounded me, holding me against a chest firm and strong. They held me there, until I had no breath left in me and my scream came to an end.
But it was Eran’s fragrance that broke through the horror, his gentle earthy scent that brought me to awareness. As it were my very first breath, I drew him in, filling my lungs as deep as they would allow.
“
I couldn’t stop him…” my voice mumbled. “I couldn’t…”
“
It’s all right, Magdalene…” he stated softly. “It’s all right.”
“
I couldn’t stop him…”
Then the weeping began and through the sobs I said the words again.
Eran pulled me away, his hands on my shoulders, dipping his head so that our eyes were level. “You couldn’t have stopped him…
You weren’t there
.”
“
I know but I…”
“
If you had been there, I have no doubt you would have tried to stop him…and I would have fought you on it…and you would have ignored me and interfered…and I would have had to fight while keeping an eye on you…and then…”
Eran continued on, his charming English accent melodic to me, pacifying the turmoil inside me until my emotions had ebbed. Even if he were describing the frustration in keeping me from engaging in conflict, it helped.
In the end, I was again leaning against him, my tears streaking down the mass of muscles protruding from his chest and stomach. His hand ran gently up and down my arm, soothing away the tension that had built up since I was dropped inside Abaddon’s body.
“
You tried to warn me…to prepare me but I…I had no idea…”
He shushed me quietly. “I never expected you to listen…though I did try.”
“
I wish I had.”
“
You wouldn’t be you if you’d listened.” He laughed quietly, causing my head to roll with it.
“
The worst part…” I swallowed, hating to admit defeat. “The worst part is that it was for nothing. I didn’t find a single clue that we could use.”
My jaw clenched together. “All for nothing.”
“
I wouldn’t necessarily say that…”
This voice wasn’t Eran’s and came from across the room, near the door.
We weren’t alone, we realized.
“
She’s fine, Gershom. You can go back to bed,” said Eran, still holding me.
“
No,” I said pulling away slightly, though keeping my hands on Eran’s forearm, wanting to remain close. “What do you mean, Gershom? You said it wasn’t all for nothing but I didn’t…I didn’t find anything we could use.”
He sighed and turned on the lights, bringing a groan from both Eran and me. Ignoring it, Gershom walked to a chair across the room and facing the foot of the bed. He sat down, bent forward, his elbows leaning on his knees and his hands clasped together in front of him.
“
I’m sorry to intrude,” he said, genuinely apologetic. “But I…I knew what Maggie had seen when I heard the scream.”
“
She doesn’t need to relive it,” Eran replied curtly.
“
I’m fine,” I insisted but when Eran tilted his head at me with a knowing lift of his eyebrows I corrected myself. “I will be fine. Go on, Gershom.”
“
Umm…Maybe I should explain it in the morning.”
Eran and I both groaned at his suggestion and Gershom’s hands flew up in defense. “Okay…okay…”
He collected his thoughts and then continued on gaining confidence as he spoke. “I know Abaddon better than anyone here. Maybe, if you tell me what you saw, I can identify a clue on where he is hiding. Just…something.”
“
No,” Eran said with evident disgust of the idea.
“
Just a second,” I said. “Maybe Gershom has a point…”
“
Recounting what you saw means remembering it,” Eran warned.
“
I know…” I said and repeated it when Eran gave me a doubtful face. “I know.”
Before he could oppose further, I went on to describe what I’d seen of Abaddon’s past. Gershom listened intently, nodding at times, his eyes narrowed in thought. Occasionally, my body would shudder at a specific memory, chilling me entirely when I reviewed Eran’s death. When I finished, Gershom considered what I’d told him and then began to speak.
“
At the time that Abaddon took the life of the pastor overseeing Maggie’s memorial service and then took Eran’s life immediately after, he wasn’t aware of the repercussions of his actions. I know this because he told me. Only when Abaddon passed on some five years after did it become clear. He was met in the afterlife immediately after arriving and told of his new fate. Then, he was escorted to earth by those who later joined Eran’s army. They dropped him unceremoniously in the cold of winter in the middle of nowhere. And that sealed your fate.”
Eran’s eyebrows furrowed together. “So those who weren’t in my army at the time left him in the middle of nowhere and now he wants vengeance on Magdalene?”
Gershom sighed in frustration. “No…no. I don’t think that’s it exactly. I don’t think this is about Maggie. I’m wondering…if his vengeance might be related to your death. It was your death that was the cause for his fall, Eran. Even though he is the one who committed the act, he blames you for the fall.”
“
Wait…” Eran shook his head, attempting to clear it. “Magdalene had nothing to do with my death or the fall.”
Gershom appeared slightly exasperated so he considered how best to clarify his explanation. Then, he stared across the room not at me but at Eran. “I don’t think Abaddon is after Maggie. He never has been. He’s after you, Eran. You are his focus.”