Aftermath

  It was a welcomed distraction. I glanced at Claire and Bianca, hoping they understood my idea. Without waiting for response or reaction, I lunged at Victor and my team followed suit.

  We had him surrounded and overpowered physically. Tackling him to the ground, I rested my weight on his chest, while Bianca and Claire held down each arm. He flung his hands and kicked his legs, as agents descended in an attempt to keep him pinned down.

  Mentally, we severed his thoughts from outside transmission, but not before he was able to signal to Abe and his hybrids. Our combined energy was tested as Victor struggled to get free.

  Agents flooded the woods from nearby portals and battled the hybrids standing on guard. One by one, the hybrids were subdued, but Victor’s willpower was still strong. Despite our barrier blocking his communication to outsiders, Victor’s thoughts were loudly transmitted among us. He pleaded with Molly again, but to his displeasure, she held firm.

  “Victor. Enough,” Molly said. He winced as Molly’s energy level soared and flowed direct to him in the tethered grip we had. “It’s over. You know that.”

  When Molly spoke, Bianca’s hold on Victor lessened. I raised my adrenaline on the mental rope connected to Victor to accommodate her slow release. Bianca’s grip slipped. She glanced at Abe and Kensington; both were restrained by agents nearby.

  Bianca’s weakness was alarming and, for a second, I feared she’d break the link.

  Benjamin, hang on. You can do this. You’re stronger than Victor is. Always have been. Which is why I trust you. Commander E’s voice filtered in.

  “Bianca!” I called aloud.

  Thunder rumbled in the sky above us, as shards of lightning exploded and struck trees nearby. The sudden outburst snapped Bianca’s attention back to the team and the task at hand. Her eyes refocused on me, and she regained her strength. Together, our powers surged and Victor’s energy subsided, weakening him in place.

  A blue glow hovered around us. Its thick aura thinned to a series of wires woven in a crisscross pattern as intricate as a spider’s web. Once Victor was covered from head to toe, Commander E stepped out from the portal. His voice was deep and stern when he addressed Victor.

  “You disappoint me,” Commander E said.

  “Why is that, Ezekiel?” Victor answered in a cocky tone. “Or, do you still go by Zeke?”

  Commander E removed his fedora and shook his head. “You had so much potential.” He spun his hat in his hand. “You excelled at The Farm. You were top of your class.” He looked to the ground, continuing to shake his head. “Very disappointing… you threw all that away, didn’t you? And, for what?”

  Victor’s eyes narrowed, and anger built inside of him. Our combined unit’s shield strengthened, as his powers fought for freedom. “You’re jealous of me. You always have been, Zeke.”

  “Well, Nicky. That is what the commander called you back then, didn’t he?”

  Victor was silent.

  No further explanation was needed. Images of an inexperienced Victor in training at The Farm with Commander E as a fellow recruit, filtered through all agents on site. Victor was indeed top of his class. He fell from grace shortly after his first solo field assignment. A dispute with a commanding officer escalated until Victor began a plan of revenge, despite Commander E’s pleas not to. Learning the two were partners in the early years made the animosity between them understandable.

  “We can continue our discussion on the other side. No need for everyone here to watch as we reminisce the good ol’ days,” Commander E said.

  Victor shook his head. He wanted to fight it out here, where he had a chance to escape.

  After one last glare, Commander E said, in a gentlemanly, polite tone, “I have some place to be. So, shall we?”

  Commander E gave the nod, and I lifted Victor to his feet.

  The blue wires grew, surrounding Victor’s back and securing his arms tight to his sides. He groaned. His legs were strapped together. The glow from the netting pulsed as it tightened. The brightness illuminated the woods and the dozens of agents on guard. Victor’s will broke when he realized there was no escape. The web around him compressed, and the wires thickened to an almost-solid shell.

  My eyes met Molly’s briefly before she glanced away. In one swift movement, I pushed Victor into the portal, into custody.

  Bianca and Claire followed him through, while Molly ran to TJ, lying still on the ground. Only a few agents remained. The others returned to our world. Hybrid bodies turned to dust where they stood, as their souls returned home to our world. They were now free of Victor’s control.

  Abe stared at me. He was suddenly alone, without his security team of hybrids.

  His thoughts were difficult to read. Years of practice with barrier blockers was evident. An obvious sign he worked with Victor for a very long time. I took a step closer, ready to react should Abe become a threat.

  “I’m not here to hurt anyone. I came here to warn you,” Abe said, raising his hands up, palm facing outward, in a surrendering gesture. Once I unraveled his weakened shield, I knew he was telling the truth.

  “I understand that. Except your existence is not up to me,” I answered.

  “Ben, let him go,” Molly piped in. “Abe’s not like Victor. I know that.”

  I glanced in Molly’s direction. TJ was alive, but groggy. Tears streaked her cheeks, and I felt her emotions. She pleaded for Abe’s safety, while she held TJ’s hand in hers, draining her energy to strengthen his weak body. He would survive with little to no memory of this incident. Molly, on the other hand, would need time to recoup. And time to get to know Abe.

  I looked back at Victor’s spawn and nodded in agreement. Before words came to mind, Abe was gone. I sent a few immortals to follow.

  Keep a distance, I said. Surveillance work until we formulate a strategy for his existence.

  Molly thanked me, as I darted back to the portal where I left Emma. Jorgenson pushed her back to earth, to a bed of crushed leaves.

  Emma wasn’t breathing.

  Chapter 116

  Emma's Story

  I sat on the swing in the park alone.

  It was eerily quiet and within seconds, the sky darkened. Wind swept up fallen leaves and swirled them around my feet. A garbage can tipped over in the distance. Papers were carried high in the air with the breeze, like helium balloons on a summer day.

  The hem of my favorite sundress lifted, and I struggled to keep it in place.

  Instead of seeking shelter, I stayed on the swing. The storm’s anger rocked me back and forth. I wasn’t afraid. I knew he would come.

  I remembered him now. The memories were as vivid as if they happened yesterday. We’d met several times before. The first time, he pulled me from chilly water and dried me off. The second time, he lowered me from the noose hanging from the loft in my cousin’s barn.

  He scolded me both times for breaking the rules. “It’s irresponsible,” he said.

  I knew he was right. It was a breach a contract, he told me, though I barely saw his lips move when he spoke to me.

  Gusts of wind pushed the empty swings beside me and spun the merry-go-round. Trees swayed and bowed in respect of Mother Nature. The charcoal sky rumbled as if in warning, or to announce his arrival. I couldn’t be sure.

  Years passed since I last saw him. I mean, really saw him. He showed up in my dreams, I knew. That wasn’t real. This is, I thought, as I sat on the swing, waiting. Where was he? What was taking him so long? I never had to wait like this. Before.

  A fedora was his signature.

  The temperature dropped, and I almost felt the wetness on my face from that first time he saved me. The day I chose to dive into the white-capped waters of Lake Michigan. Closing my eyes, I tipped my nose to the sky. I remembered catching the mist in the air, as waves crashed against the rocky shore.

  I knew it wasn’t graceful—plunging into the depths of the great lake, but it was what I wanted. I was pulled, tugged, and swe
pt under the current, into the deep reservoir that held me captive until I met him. Until he lifted me to shore.

  “Call me Zeke,” he said that day we stood on the boulder, lakeside.

  “I’m Emaline.”

  “I know,” he answered, to my surprise. He was pleasant and well dressed.

  It dawned on me then that I was in my nightgown when I dove in. When I looked down at my clothing, I realized I was wearing my best Sunday dress. It was clean and crisp, as if just pressed.

  Zeke looked away. I knew it was him.

  I glanced up the hillside to my house on top of the cliff. My sister, Catherine, was on the second-story balcony overlooking the lake. I waved to her. Why didn’t she wave back? I didn’t expect her visit. Why was she there?

  “Because she grieves for you,” Zeke said. I didn’t recall asking him a question.

  “Grieves?” Bewilderment filled my thoughts. “Why?”

  “Because you left her. Unexpectedly, Emaline.”

  I nodded, and he said no more. I understood. It was a breach of contract.

  Silence disrupted my daydream, as I sat on the swing. When I opened my eyes, Zeke was standing before me. Angry thunder diminished, and birds chirped. Gray clouds vanished, and the sky blued.

  “I’m ecstatic you’ve found one another again,” Zeke said. He was in a brown pinstriped suit with wide lapels.

  I smiled. I understood. Again.

  “Emma, dear, it is not your time,” he continued.

  I stalled. “They don’t call you Zeke anymore. Do they?”

  He was silent and unhappy with me. I didn’t want to go back. After a moment, he shook his head.

  “What do they call you now? Commander Ezekiel?” I pursued.

  “Emma, it’s not your time,” he repeated.

  I ignored him and stared at his shiny, wingtip shoes. “Why is it that you don’t dress in the fashion of the current day? I mean, I’d love to see you in a sweater and slacks,” I said. “Or… what about jeans? Yes. A dark denim. You would look really nice in dark jeans and a gray sweater. What do you think?”

  He was getting impatient.

  “Emma, you must go back.”

  No! I said in my head, but the words didn’t verbalize aloud. He didn’t want to hear them.

  Zeke raised his hand to hush me. I’d been a problem for him for years. He didn’t understand. I wanted to go home. I didn’t want another life. It was selected for me.

  The silence was compelling, and I knew I could never win against Ezekiel Cain.

  When I finally conceded, he lowered his hand and stared off into the distance. He pulled a matchbook out of his pocket and began tapping his forefinger against it in an almost nervous twitch. The pastel pink cover had brown writing on it, though I couldn’t read the imprint.

  Children came from nowhere and filled the playground. The grass greened, and flowers bloomed. It was summer again. Laughter filled the air and for a slight second, I forgot.

  He turned quickly in my direction. “You mustn’t forget, Emaline,” he said, tossing the matchbook at me.

  I caught it and whispered, “I’m ready.”

  “Emma, this is not up for debate.”

  I shrugged.

  “You must go back.”

  He was right. It wasn’t up for discussion.

  Staring off into the distance again, he pulled a small, waxed paper bag from his coat pocket, unfolded the flap, and shook out the contents into the palm of his hand.

  “Rock candy?” he asked, helping himself to one and extending his hand to me.

  I stared at the white, crystal nuggets and reached for a piece. The sugary goodness made my mouth water.

  “There’s more to do, and I have many things planned for you,” he said.

  I glanced at the matchbook in my hand.

  “And for Benjamin,” he continued.

  Benjamin. My Benjamin.

  “Will I see you again?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Only if you need guidance.”

  I looked into his eyes. They were dark like his skin. Yet, they were warm and sensitive.

  “I don’t suspect you will. Everything should be clearer now.” He turned away from me, ready to leave.

  “Do you have any last words of advice?” I asked, hoping to stall him.

  He turned back to face me. “Steer careful on the road.”

  “I… I don’t understand.”

  A grin crossed his face. “Don’t worry. You will.”

  I didn’t know why, but I felt peace with his words.

  Pressure suddenly hit my chest. I winced with the pain, closing my eyes momentarily. When I opened them again, Zeke was gone.

  The brown letters on the matchbook cover read, Danny’s Bait Shop.

  Chapter 117

  Ben's Story

  Emma’s lifeless body lay still with her skin already cool to the touch.

  “Come on!” I yelled and began chest compressions. I kissed her lips and blew air into her lungs, though she didn’t respond. It wasn’t her time. Her life contract was far from over, and a premature termination like this would mean a year or more of rehabilitation and immediate reassignment.

  In other words, I would lose her again, even in my world.

  “Benjamin, take it easy,” Jorgenson said, putting his hand atop my clenched fist. I was showing human emotions I had difficulty controlling.

  Jorgenson slowed the compression rhythm and counted to five. He signaled to me, and I blew air into Emma’s purplish lips. Reviving a human wasn’t usually this difficult. Our ability to heal with a simple touch was a skill I used thousands of times before. Emma’s untimely death in a portal was not the typical rescue I was used to, and the length of time she was unconscious was longer than most I resuscitated.

  Compressions began again, as Jorgenson counted aloud, “One-two-three—”

  “Stop!” I said. “She’s back. She’s breathing.” Emma opened her eyes and stared up at the sky. “Emmie, you’re back!” Tears welled in my eyes. I blinked them away. Her eyes fluttered and closed. She mumbled something I didn’t understand.

  “What?” I asked, leaning closer to her mouth. “Em, what did you say?” She remained silent with her eyes shut tight.

  “Emma, can you hear me?” Jorgenson asked, with no response.

  I peered into her mind and stared at Jorgenson.

  He shrugged.

  She whispered, “Danny.”

  Chapter 118

  Emma's Story

  “Emma?” a calm voice broke through my dream.

  I was drowsy, and my head ached. Memories jumbled in my mind. I wasn’t sure if I was asleep or awake. I recalled the dance and Ben’s kisses. I swore I saw Ben’s friend, Pete, in the woods, and TJ lying against a tree. But even though fishing with Ben in a silver rowboat seemed incredibly real, I didn’t remember it actually happening.

  All I wanted was sleep.

  The motion of being lifted, carried, and placed on a hard surface disrupted my rest. A bright light flashed into each eye, despite how hard I fought to keep them closed. A gray-haired man leaned over me and away. He repeated it again, as he pried open my other eye.

  I didn’t understand what was going on.

  “No,” I whispered, shaking my head.

  “Shh,” a woman’s voice answered. “It’s okay. You’ll be alright.” Someone held my hand, and people talked around me.

  I was too tired to listen and wished myself back to sleep.

  ***

  The honk of an old-fashioned car caught my attention. I stood on the sidewalk in front of Father’s store. Julia’s brother parked the truck down the street and waved for me to join them.

  Julia Kensington was my best friend.

  I climbed in and we headed to Lake Bell, where her brother’s friend lived. Julia and her family lived on a farm outside of Riverside. She was the oldest girl, and the first Kensington to attend high school. Her four older brothers dropp
ed out after eighth grade to work the farm.

  It was summer.

  Julia nudged me when we got to the island party. The cutest boy I’d ever seen was tying a silver rowboat to a tree nearby. He had dark hair and defined muscles in his arms. I blushed when I looked at him and quickly turned to Julia.

  When the sun set and the fire crackled, Walt Crandon started telling ghost stories. Julia and I sat with a few other girls across from Walt and next to Benjamin Holmes, the cute boy I admired all evening.

  Walt told a story about some boy that drowned in the lake and haunted the island. The other boys booed him, as he lowered his voice. When he jumped up and flung his arms around to spook us, I turned into Benjamin and buried my face in his chest.

  My Benjamin.

  Chapter 119

  Ben's Story

  Emma stirred as she slept.

  She gasped and giggled a few times—even mumbled my name once. Her mind was working overtime. Random thoughts interrupted functional normalcy. They bounced from an image of Molly to a rowboat and back to the woods and TJ, before wondering where Claire was. Scenes rolled out in Emma’s head faster than she could absorb them or understand their meaning. Past recollections played out in short spurts that even I had a hard time following.

  When Emma’s memories included our past lives together, I shielded her from outside readings. No need for Molly or Claire to hear Emma’s thoughts. I monitored her vitals, checking Emma’s heart rate and blood pressure with the touch of my hand. Our ability to heal humans in times like this was incredibly convenient. Of course, Grant Preston had to pretend to use medications in the hospital. Humans relied on them. Here, in the confines of my safe house, a simple touch to Emma’s temple would minimize her headache. A gentle jolt of electricity to her chest would restart her heart, giving it sufficient energy to run at full capacity. The only thing I couldn’t do was give her body the rest it needed after a predicament like she just endured.

  That she’d have to do herself.

  Sleep was vital for her full human recovery. Our house, the home I shared with Claire and Aunt Marty, was a perfect setting for Emma to heal. Jumpstarting Emma’s heart wouldn’t have happened without our immortal powers. She was dead too long for conventional medicine to have worked or for medical experts to continue to try.