Covenant (Sojourner Book 2)
“I struggled with it,” I finally say, aware I have to be delicate in how I put this.
“Well, what does that mean? Did the soul make it?”
“Of course.” I stiffen, knowing it’s not a lie. It’s just an… omission. “The soul got to where it was supposed to.” This doesn’t tell her I failed; it simply reveals that the mission was accomplished, and the way Celia works is that if it is accomplished, it becomes just an item on a checklist. Not that she doesn’t care about the soul. She does. But she’s consummate about making sure things get done, and they get done right. That’s what’s important.
“You know, you could have called for help.” She gives up on trying to look me in the eye and stares out at the vast black blanket ahead. “The last thing Evan and I want is for you to struggle. We just want things to get back to the way they were.” She reaches to take my hand, but I refuse, angered. I can feel the chaos building, the violence of it reckless, and I need to get a grip.
I laugh, but it’s hollow as I face her. “The way they were? That’s what you want? If that were it, you would never have blocked my memory in the first place. I know better.”
“Don’t you trust Evan anymore? He’s only doing this to protect you.” Her blue eyes are hurt, and she quickly withdraws her hand.
“I don’t know what to trust or believe, Celia.” I try to gather my thoughts, but even if I close my eyes for the briefest seconds, I see Elizabeth’s face, her waiting eyes and yearning expression.
“Where is this coming from?” she asks softly and her gaze falls as she seems to sort through her thoughts, trying to find something she’s misplaced. Then her gaze slowly lifts. “Let me guess; you’ve been approached by other, more ‘helpful’ angels, right? They have been helping you with sojourns and stuff?”
I take a step back, anything to put distance between us. “Of course not,” I snap.
“Really?” She impatiently shifts her weight to the other foot. “’Cause I can tell you aren’t acting like yourself, Lev—not by a long shot.”
“Well, maybe that’s because I don’t know who I am, Celia. And whose fault is that?”
“Levying blame isn’t going to help. You know how that works with mortals.” She takes a deep breath, and I can tell she’s trying to keep calm amid all the chaos within us both.
I know she’s right, but that doesn’t help. It doesn’t make me feel any better. “I don’t understand why my past requires such secrecy. Why can’t you just tell me what it is I don’t remember? Maybe then I’ll understand.
“No, you won’t. I know you won’t.”
I’d argue with her, but the way her gaze is turned toward the ground, staring at something—anything—except for me, tells me this point isn’t up for debate. Then again, I don’t think she’s the one who decided for things to go this way. That was Evan’s doing, so I’m probably trying to persuade the wrong person.
“So are you going to call for me on the next sojourn or what?” she asks, and I can tell it’s the “or what” that troubles her. The way she opens and closes her mouth suggests there are things she wants to say but can’t.
“I don’t know.” I swallow hard. “I think I’ll probably try to handle things myself. It’s easier that way.”
She rubs her hands up and down her arms. She acts like she’s cold, but I know that can’t be because, really, there is no temperature here. It’s just stillness and quiet, and both of those give me way too much time and opportunity to think.
“That’s part of your problem, Lev. You seem to think you need to do anything and everything alone, but you can’t accomplish what you need to by yourself all the time.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “And how else am I supposed to handle it when you both keep things from me I should know? All I’m asking is why is Elizabeth Moon so significant. She’s a human. I should not feel this way.”
Celia’s eyes soften, and, if I’m not mistaken, I see tears in them, which is a really bad sign because if Celia’s crying, something has gone drastically wrong—something that she can’t control and Evan can’t fix.
“You want the truth?” she finally asks. “But at what cost? Don’t you see that’s what we are hiding from you? There are things you can’t imagine—or couldn’t until Elizabeth. One day, you’ll know the truth. When you are ready for it. But right now, you’ve just started to recover, and that’s important. Try to focus on that for now.”
A hard laugh escapes me even before I feel the anger cut through me. “Recover from what? I overheard Evan say I suffered no real physical wounds.”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Lev. I can’t help you with this. One day you will understand.”
She doesn’t wait for my response but instead walks to the water’s edge and flies away, leaving me to the night and images of Elizabeth Moon which refuse to go away.
* * *
For a few days, there is only this sense that things are spinning out of control. Every night, I end up flying down to the Lower Realm and slipping into Elizabeth’s room, watching her replay the same nightmare. Every day, I realize I’m no nearer to answers than before. All I know is any time I am in the Upper Realm, I feel Evan and Celia watching me expectantly, not that I know what they expect.
And when I’m alone, I still get these flashes of memory—images of Elizabeth I can’t explain. Just as angels have a certain glow to them as they get older, the images have a dusting of light to indicate how long I’ve had them, and that is one of the things which troubles me about my amnesia. Some of these memories of Elizabeth are much older than the teenage girl I can’t seem to stay away from.
Nothing like being protected from yourself, now is there?
Amid all this chaos, I can’t help but wonder what my purpose is, considering I feel broken beyond repair. I don’t even know how I managed to carry souls before; I can’t seem to manage the chaos within when I try, so there really is no point.
But if there is no point to sojourning, what is there a point to? And if it is locked away in my memory, surely there has to be a way to break it free. I’ve almost given up on Theresa and Roberto’s attention to my problem when Jayzee suddenly appears in front of the ocean one afternoon when I’m just about to fly to the Lower Realm and check on Elizabeth. I try not to be affected by her, but I am, and the chaos gathering within her only makes me that much more worried.
For a moment, we just look at each other, and the world is filled with the awkward silence flourishing between us. She waits for me to speak, but I’m not sure what she wants me to say or even if I want to speak at all.
When I don’t, she finally steps toward me. “Theresa sent me to give you a message.”
“You always cut right to it,” I say. “That’s one thing I like about you, Jayzee.”
She laughs loudly. “You think you like me? Right. You have lost your mind? We don’t have a great history together, you realize that right.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word.” I slowly sink to the ground, staring at the nothingness just ahead of me. “What’s the message.”
Jayzee steps toward me. “Theresa seems to think she’s figured out how to break the warding Evan has set up so your memory will be free.”
“How?” I ask, for the first time meeting her gaze head-on.
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.” She peers out into the gathering darkness like she would definitely rather be flying through it than standing here, talking to me.
“Okay.” I realize she’s got a good point about not asking. After all, it’s never really wise to ask a question you don’t want the answer to; you just might get it. “What do I need to do?”
“Show up at our place around midnight and she’ll get your memory back, just like you wanted.” She turns to leave, but I stand and quickly catch her by the arm.
“So what’s the catch, Jayzee?” There is an edge to my voice, but even that doesn’t seem to bother her.
She glares down at my hand . “What
catch? I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Why would you help do this when you can’t stand me?”
She jerks free. “I didn’t help you, Lev. That’s Theresa. I’m just the messenger, nothing more. So you don’t have to worry about owing me one or any other stupid thought. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.” She exhales loudly in relief. “And remember, midnight. Don’t be late, or the deal is off.”
She dives into the ocean below, her body diving into the nothingness spread below, disappearing amid the darkness.
What are you doing, Lev? I ask myself, wondering if I should be trusting someone who is connected to Jayzee when it’s obvious she’s one angry angel with a definite grudge. Then again, what choice to I have in any of this except to sit back and trust Evan. Somehow I just don’t believe that.
Chapter Ten
Moonlight pours into Elizabeth’s bedroom when I slip inside. It’s about eleven, and she’s already lying there, her gaze tilted toward the ceiling. Her body lies so still that except for the blinking and chaos I feel swirling within her, I’d wonder if she were even conscious. One arm lies snuggled under her blue-and-white comforter. The other rests atop, and every so often I see her fingers twitch.
Part of me wonders if she can feel me in this room like I can feel her. I can’t explain the connection. It’s almost supernatural and something that almost seems like I’ve had with other angels. I’d like to say I’ve never experienced it with a human before, but since I don’t have my memory, that’s definitely making a leap of faith. I can’t begin to tell anyone what I’ve experience.
I glance at the clock above Elizabeth’s bed and think, Well, that’s about to change. No more secrets about what my life has been like and what role Elizabeth has played in it.
Elizabeth abruptly rises and flips on the small table lamp next to her bed. Although the bulb isn’t much, it is enough so that if my concentration isn’t strong enough, the blending won’t take, and Elizabeth will see me, which, until I know exactly what has transpired, isn’t the best course of action. I focus harder, determined not to be seen.
For a second, Elizabeth peers around the room, searching. Her nostrils flare slightly and she seems to latch onto me with her gaze. Our eyes lock, and I wait, wondering whether I have been able to do enough to conceal my presence or if she senses me just as I sense her in a way there is no blocking.
I’m pretty much convinced I’ve failed at blocking just as effectively as I’ve failed at sojourning when Elizabeth finally turns to a small notebook and pen beside her. She flips the spiral open and starts writing. Relieved she can’t see me, I edge to the bed to I can read the words she inks on to the page in a beautiful, painful script. Her long hair cascades over her shoulder toward the page, and I have to decipher through it to read all the words.
No one understands this. Not Jimmie. Not Griffin. No one. They think Lev has died, and yet he was never human to begin with. This isn’t grief, not like what they believe. It’s a different kind of loss, and it eats at me every waking moment. I’ll never be able to do this without him. Never. I thought after…he’d come back to me, but the days have turned into weeks and the weeks into months, and he’s still gone. Doesn’t he want to be with me? Has he forgotten the moments we shared? I hate the emptiness that has become my life, and it all hurts too much. Perhaps I should have taken the bullet and let him carry my soul away. Then it wouldn’t be like this.
Tears stream down her face and I gasp, jarred by the words. They should not be there. They should be different, not words of death and pain, specifically pain that has something to do with me.
Had I fallen in love with a human?
That concept staggers me, and I stand, trying to adjust to a thought that doesn’t make sense to me. Then again, neither does the connection between us.
The spiral and pen drop from her hand, and she draws her knees to her chest as the sobs rack her body. The sound of grief is buried deep, and even though I know I shouldn’t, I can’t seem to stop myself from drifting back to her side and setting my hand on her shoulder. I want to comfort her, but I don’t know how, and I still am trying to figure out how all this happened. How could I have fallen in love with a spirit I was meant to carry? How?
“Lev?” Her voice trembles, and I shoot off the bed, aware that perhaps I have not been as guarded about my blending as I should have. Still, she has not seen me since I entered, so why would she know I was here now?
Because it matters to her.
“Lev?” Her tone is more desperate, and that’s when I realize she probably hasn’t sensed anything. It’s just something that she wants so badly she can’t help but hope for it.
I stare at her tear-streaked face, and I feel enough pain for us both. Seeing her like this makes me wish I had all the answers she wants, but I don’t even have my own answers, let alone hers. My memory is a colander—all the details have fallen through the holes Evan set in place, which I guess is easy enough for him. He doesn’t have to look into Elizabeth’s eyes and know he has failed somehow. No, that’s my job.
“You weren’t supposed to die, Lev. That bullet was meant for me, and now all I can do is think about all the ways I miss you. I’ll never be whole again, and it doesn’t even matter. Nothing matters without you.”
Her gaze turns glassy-eyed, and she lies back down, turns onto her side, and flips off the light even though her spiral still lies where it has fallen open on the bed, the pen resting atop the paper.
I stand in the shadows and watch stillness collect on her as grief runs its course, and it’s only when she’s finally stopped crying and her glassy eyes are blinking for longer and longer periods. I look at the clock. I know I should head off to find Theresa and get my memory back, but I am unwilling to leave, at least until I know Elizabeth has finally found the bliss of unconsciousness and has slipped into its dark stream. Moonlight shines on the long hair that splays around her head in wild tendrils. Even though her eyes are getting heavy, I can tell she is fighting sleep, unwilling to submit to the night and dreams she can’t control.
The chaos swirls around her, and I feel the beacon rising within her, the one that does seem to want a sojourner, and that thought sends a panic through me. I have to find a way to ease this brokenness, especially until I can remember what happened between us—I realize I have only one choice.
I walk back to her and kneel where she lies so our faces are only inches apart. I reach out and gently set my hand on her chest just under her throat. The minute my hand touches her, she jumps as though she feels the contact, but she doesn’t react in any other way, which is really a good thing. I jump, too, but that’s only because I feel both the connection we have and the raging turmoil inside her. At that moment, I realize how good a thing it is I am doing this. She’ll never be able to get control of her emotions alone. They are wild and frightening to her, and they have taken her to depths she’s never anticipated falling into. She needs my help to guide her through this moment of darkness, and while I typically don’t take the guardian role, I’ll do it tonight in a heartbeat if it will ease the pain blossoming inside of her.
“All is well,” I whisper, more for her than me. “Rest.” I focus on quieting the chaos within her and absorbing some of the pain she can’t shed. It only takes a few seconds, and then I see that her eyes have indeed grown heavy and she is drifting toward the blue-black jet of unconsciousness. I can only hope that since I have eased some of her anguish her dreams will be kind. It’s the least I can do since it would seem so much of her pain stems from something I did or did not do.
I wait until her eyes have finally closed and she is still and peaceful before I lift my hand and stroke her cheek. Perhaps it’s unwise to touch her, considering the connection between us, but I just can’t seem to help myself. Even though I don’t remember, my thoughts are still cluttered with images of her, and each time I see her that pain grows.
Her breath stutters. She seems to
know I am here, watching over her, and for the thousandth time, I wonder what my actions have done to her and what they have done to me. The sensation of stroking her skin seems to calm the chaos roiling within me, and somehow this human brings me peace. Such a strange reversal.
One last glance at the clock reveals my time is short, and despite the pleasure I derive from taking Elizabeth’s company, I force myself to stand and slip into the night, focusing on finding my way back to Theresa’s house.
The world has dwindled to stars and moonlight, and I let myself bask in the warmth instead of completely shielding myself from it, and once I finally drop off into Theresa’s back yard, a sheen of sweat covers my being and soaks into my shirt. Touching down in the backyard, I see lights blazing through the sliding glass doors, and I walk to them. The same assortment of angels seems to be present as I slide open the door. Theresa stands next to Colin, talking in low tones, while Jayzee and Sarah sit next to each other, both of them staring off into space with bored transfixed expressions. Bob and Kane stand in the kitchen, both of them holding glasses. It appears a normal-enough scene; no one would ever suspect any of them of being angels. Then again, we are taught to blend very early because humans aren’t supposed to recognize our presence, and while there are a lot of reasons for having duties switched, revelations can be one of the biggies. Then again, that could be another reason Evan bleached my memory—perhaps I had revealed too much to Elizabeth. Even so, just taking my memories out of the equation wouldn’t solve the problem, would it?
Steeling myself, I step inside and try not to stiffen as all of them, and I do mean all, turn toward me. The wall clock says I’m about five minutes early, so I know they must have been expecting me, but I’m not sure why they keep staring at me as though this is a surprise.
“Jayzee said you’d found a way to help me get my memory back,” I finally say, leveling a gaze a Theresa.