“Elizabeth.” He said her name like a prayer and leaned close, basking in her warmth.
Her eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if his edging closer had caused the reaction or his voice. Really, he didn’t think it mattered.
Her body suddenly tensed, which caused his shoulders and stomach to stiffen. Another waiting game. It shouldn’t be like this.
“Are you feeling all right?” He pulled back slightly just in case she needed room.
“I…don’t know.” She slowly faced him until he felt her dark eyes on him. Her expression seemed so…neutral—something he’d never expected. It was like he was starting all over with her. He sat up, and suddenly, for some reason, facing this new situation seemed more tolerable from an upright position than it had lying on his back. Maybe it was just another of his human instincts taking over, which would hardly surprise him. He was definitely becoming more and more familiar with his sudden humanity than he’d ever thought possible.
“Where…are we?” she asked, her voice suddenly soft and shy as she glanced around. “I don’t remember any of this.”
“Miles from where the dybbuks held you captive, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She slowly sat up, all the while carefully avoiding Lev’s gaze. He reached out to help her up, but she ignored him, which wasn’t like Elizabeth. She could be as furious as a tornado ripping through a town and she’d never not acknowledge him.
“You might want to take it easy. You’ve been unconscious for a while,” Lev offered, frowning as he hovered close, just in case.
“I’ll be fine,” she argued.
Now that does sound like the old Elizabeth, Lev told himself, allowing a surge of hope to flood through him. Of course that didn’t make him feel much better as she stood, seemingly without any problems, something he didn’t understand. Shouldn’t her body have been less forgiving, considering what she’d been through?
As he struggled to get his feet beneath him, he felt muscles he didn’t even realize he had. Everything ached.
He licked his lips, wondering if he should call for his father. Evan would definitely want to know Elizabeth was awake, but Lev wasn’t sure he was ready to share her, not until he’d figured out what exactly was going on and made some kind of sense from it.
“Elizabeth, what’s the last thing you remember?”
She blinked and cocked her head to one side—a very Elizabeth thing to do when she wanted to remember something specific, and he wondered what she would say. How much had the dybbuks erased, and could those memories ever be regained?
“I was with you at the house.” She pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “We were watching a movie. Then everything just sort of goes black.” Swallowing hard, she risked a direct look at his face, and in that moment, he saw something in her eyes that disturbed him. Normally there was an expressiveness to her that she couldn’t hide. No, he might not be able to tell exactly what she was thinking, but he would sense all the emotions cartwheeling through her.
But these eyes seemed different-devoid of that—and what seemed worse was that he’d always recognized himself when he’d stared into those eyes. Suddenly, though, even that was changed. She was different, and he didn’t yet know the parameters of this new identity and what it meant to Elizabeth, only that it lacked the warmth which had always been there.
He swallowed hard, knowing he should’ve been comforted by the fact that her memory still seemed intact but knowing that didn’t change the fact that something was still very wrong. Once again, he felt helpless and more than a bit foolish.
“I don’t understand what you mean by dybbuks. What are they?” Elizabeth asked, her gaze furtively shooting around. What was she looking for, and why wasn’t it him? She seemed to simply tolerated his presence when once she would’ve collapsed into his arms. Besides, she seemed more panicked than previously.
“The creatures that took you from me.” Unable to stand the distance anymore, Lev stepped into her path, stopping her. He would’ve settled his hands on her shoulders—a gesture meant to calm her when little else worked—but she suddenly jerked back, almost as though she expected him to strike her.
The motion was so out of place and character that Lev found himself at a loss, trying to understand what had caused such a reaction. He’d never so much as touched her out of anger, and he never would, so where was this coming from? And why now?
What exactly had the dybbuks done to her?
“I’m sorry,” he said, fumbling the words. When had he lost the power of speaking fluently, he wondered. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Instead of acknowledging his apology, she stepped back, again averting her eyes.
“I just don’t want to be touched.” She swallowed hard, her body stilling. She waited for him to make the next move. Suddenly he felt he was in the middle of a dance and didn’t know what the next step was supposed to be. Part of him wondered if it really was that she didn’t long to be touched or if it possibly had to do with the fact that she didn’t want him to touch her. Perhaps the thought was crazy, but she wasn’t acting even remotely close to the person he’d expected to find on waking, and until he knew what was driving those changes, all bets were off.
“It’s just that I’m really glad to see you. You gave me quite a scare.” He shoved his hands into his pockets just to give them something to do.
“Can you take me home?” she whispered, her body trembling. He’d have to be blind to think she was well. She might be standing and talking coherently, but that didn’t mean anything.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. The dybbuks will be looking for you.”
She sucked air in with a hiss and shook her head. “Of course they will. Because of you and the connection that binds us.” Tears pricked her eyes and deepened her voice.
“Calm, down, Elizabeth,” he tried to keep his voice even while reflecting on what she’d just said, but his heart was racing. He found himself reaching for her, and as his hand collided with hers, she jerked away.
“I don’t want to be calm. I want my life back—the life I had before you and all the other angels, the life I had with Jimmie and some kind of normal that I’ll never have again because you ruined it. It’s your fault!”
She narrowed her eyes disapprovingly at him, leaving him grappling with the storm of words she’d just hurled at him. She might as well have used knives. The blood wasn’t invisible, but it was there.
Lev wanted to say something, but words failed him as she took off running. He knew he should try to catch her, but his feet wouldn’t move. He was doing well just to keep breathing.
Tears blurred his vision, but even so he could clearly make out her form as she vanished from sight behind trees, leaving him bearing the weight of love—a weight he’d hadn’t asked for and now couldn’t struggle from beneath.
He was no longer an angel, and no longer loved—no longer Elizabeth’s. What purpose did he serve now?
As the blood thundered in Lev’s temples, he felt his shoulders cave and the beat of his heart speed up until he couldn’t stand its thrumming anymore. He had to find something to drown it out.
Knowing she wasn’t going to come back, he broke into a run. He didn’t know where he was going, and he really didn’t care. He just had to get out of where he was before Evan and the others got up to tell him, “I told you so.”
He didn’t think about the danger facing him or Elizabeth. In his fragmented mind, he somehow felt that the damage inflicted was far worse than anything else they could do, so why worry about it? Time had already destroyed something he felt had been unbreakable. What else could it shatter?
Running was as close to flying as he could ever get again, so he pushed his body as fast as he could, avoiding running along the highway because he knew the others would try to find him. Only Evan would take the path leading away from easy tracking; then again, there probably wasn’t a place Lev could go where Evan couldn’t find him if he suddenly went on a m
anhunt for him. Most mortals thought they had it bad with fathers who saw and knew everything, but those teens didn’t have a clue how bad it could be living with someone who really did see and know everything—or pretty much everything, or at least a whole lot more than mortal dads did.
Despite Lev’s aching body, he kept running, ignoring the way the tall grass tangled about his calves. It was only when he found himself faced with a deep, narrow gorge that he stopped. Lev bent low, struggling to catch his breath, aching from everything he’d been through the last few days. Part of him wanted to fall down, but he knew if he did that, he might never get up, and that wasn’t an option. He had to keep going because going back simply wasn’t possible, not now.
Sweat dripped down his face, and he used the back of his hand to try to wipe it away, not that it helped. His shirt stuck to him like a second layer of skin. He didn’t expect the tears which came mingled with it.
As an angel, Lev had experienced many emotions, but he wasn’t prepared for how much more intense they suddenly became when he was human, and this gut-wrenching sadness was no exception. It clawed at his very being where the bond with Elizabeth had once been. It was still there and always would be.
Not knowing what else to do, Lev took a deep breath and finally took a good look at the massive opening in the earth before him. Surprisingly, no guardrails stood sentry around the rim of the gorge to protect the innocent or stupid from falling into it, and at a depth of approximately a fourth of a mile, such falling would hardly be a good thing.
Lev didn’t know why, but at that moment, he looked up and mentally asked why—why let him become human after all this if things were going to ultimately end up as they had? Why push so hard for him to learn to love humans if this were the end result? And why let him feel so helpless and useless when everything came down?
He thrust his arms wide, grappling for understanding, something to combat this pain. Tears streamed down his face as he watched clouds overtake the sky in a slow, rolling motion. Then, even as he still stared skyward, it began to sprinkle—just a few drops at first, but then the heavens opened up, pummeling him with hard, driving rain.
The rawness in Lev’s heart would not be denied. Lev slowly lowered his arms and gazed down into the abyss, the bottom of which was no longer visible. At one time, Lev could’ve soared across; now, the most he’d ever be able to manage was a single, meager leap.
“So be it.” He stepped off the edge.
Maria Rachel Hooley, Conduit
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