Anathema (Sojourner Series Book 4)

  A hollow laugh escapes me, and he gapes at me like I’ve gone insane. I shake my head. “Are you the same angel whose disdain for humans forced God to teach him a lesson about love and sacrifice?”

  He flinches, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. “I haven’t been that angel in decades, Elizabeth. And you wouldn’t have liked him. At all.”

  I swallow hard and try to budge the door. No go. “Maybe. But that angel would have realized sometimes things happen that we never mean to happen, and sometimes we don’t have any choices about how things are going to play out.”

  He takes my hand and grips it tightly. “These aren’t just choices. This is your life. If I don’t do something, you could die. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes.” I can’t seem to look away from his haunted blue eyes. “But maybe this means you never should have saved me to begin with, Lev. Maybe all of it was a mistake.”

  His grip slackens, and he reels back a step, his face ashen. He keeps blinking at me like I’ve spoken in a foreign language.

  “There was no other choice but to save you, Elizabeth. In not saving you, I would have damned myself.” His quiet voice resonates like a slap on my face, and I inhale sharply, unprepared. And those blue eyes refuse to leave me alone.

  All I know to do is rush out the door and take sanctuary in the bathroom. All I have to do is breathe and let the hot water wash over me, and as the steam rises, I know Evan is right. This isn’t Lev’s battle, no matter how much he’s willing to step into the middle of it.

  Although I try to keep from thinking, thoughts overwhelm me until I sink to the shower floor. The spray of hot water blisters my skin, but at least it gives me something to focus on besides the frantic drum of my heart and the pain radiating through me.

  I know I shouldn’t get the bandage wet, but I really don’t care. The dressing will probably have to be changed soon, not that I’m looking forward to that. I chew my lip and stay in the shower until the water runs cold, forcing me to hurriedly shut off the water and shiver into a towel.

  I squeeze the water from my hair and brush through it before braiding it and getting dressed, no more sure what to say to Lev than when I left. I guess what we’re all hoping is that the training I’ll be starting today will make all the difference; if it doesn’t, Evan is out of options, and when an angel is out of options, it’s probably not a good thing.

  I give my reflection in the steam-distorted mirror one last glance before heading out of the bathroom and getting dressed. Edging down the hall, I stop by Griffin’s room and gently knock. I should’ve checked on him last night, but there was so much going on, and after Evan’s delightful news about the Triune, I just wanted to be alone. I knew Griffin was in good hands with Celia.

  “Come in,” Griffin calls.

  As I open the door, I spot him on the bed. He’s wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, not the rumpled clothing which has draped his body since Jayzee first disappeared, and as the door swings wider, I see Celia sitting in the chair across from his bed. She’s straddled it backwards and leans her head on the back rest.

  For a moment, I just stare at Griffin, trying to come to grips with how much different he looks now that Jayzee is dead. I wonder if he knows. Surely he must.

  Despite the fact that I should be comfortable here, everything that has been piling up has put me at odds with the world, and I can’t seem to look at anything logically anymore. I creep into the room, looking from Griffin to Celia and back again.

  “Hey, Lizzie.” Griffin sits up, and for the first time in months, I realize the haze has vanished from his eyes, and he seems to see me clearly again.

  “I just wanted to see how you were.” I fold my arms across my abdomen and stand near the door, not sure why the edginess inside me won’t leave.

  “I feel a whole lot better,” he says, offering a smile. “Last night was the first night I haven’t dreamed about Jayzee and I feel like I actually got some sleep.”

  “That’s good,” I say, not about to tell him there’s a reason he’s not dreaming about Jayzee anymore. Although he seems pretty calm, I’m not sure if he’ll be okay with the idea Jayzee is dead, considering how she forced him to fall in love with her. I mean, the last time I talked to him, he still seemed very much under her spell.

  “How are you?” He pats the bed for me to come and sit. Again I look between he and Celia, still feeling as though I could be interrupting something important. I step gingerly to the bed and sit.

  Celia smiles at both of us and unstraddles the chair, heading for the door. “Hey, why don’t I wait outside and give you two a few minutes to talk things over, okay?”

  “That would be great,” Griffin says, nodding.

  “Cool.” Celia shuffles through the doorway and closes the door behind.

  Even as I sit here, I feel Griffin’s gaze settle on my face. I honestly don’t know what to say to him. I feel like a completely different person than the one he knew from last year. That girl is never coming back; I can promise that.

  “So, everybody seems pretty hush-hush around here. What’s going on?”

  I shrug. “What makes you think it’s anything important?”

  He leans back against the headboard and takes a deep, relaxing breath. “Put it this way, Lizzie—they aren’t talking about you, and they aren’t talking about Jayzee. I know something went down; I just wish somebody would be honest with me.”

  Gritting my teeth, I try not to shiver as a chill sweeps up my spine. “You sure you want to know? Sometimes, finding things out isn’t as good as you thought, and by that point, nobody can take it back anymore.”

  “Yeah, I want to know.” He stiffens a little bit, probably in anticipation of whatever I’m going to tell him. Funny that he’s prepared because I’m sure as hell not. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the fear in my trembling hands. I’m having trouble even looking him in the eye, and I shouldn’t.

  I try to think of any way I can to start this, but there’s no small talk that will make it any easier, so I just take a deep breath and plunge in. “Jayzee is dead, Griffin.”

  Once the words are out, I find myself watching his face, trying to sift through his emotions and find whatever might be buried in them. Part of me wonders if he will be angry or if he will even miss Jayzee.

  He looks down, and a painful grimace crosses his face but doesn’t linger. “I kind of thought she might be; I don’t feel her anymore.”

  He closes his eyes. “I guess that’s why everyone is treading on tiptoes around me. The last thing they want to do is make it any more difficult than it already is.”

  I shrug. “Probably.”

  “Were you there…when it happened?” he asks softly.

  “Yes.” I see a stray hair at the end of my braid and tug it loose--anything to keep my mind off the conversation I’m having.

  “Tell me.” He swallows hard, and his Adam’s apple bobs slightly. “I want to know.”

  “Did you still love her?” I know I shouldn’t ask, especially if I’m going to go through telling him the whole story. If he says yes, I’m not sure I can. The last thing I want is to hurt Griffin any more than he’s already been.

  “I…I don’t really know what I feel.” He shrugs and lifts a hand to his neck to massage away a kink. “It’s all jumbled up.”

  I’d like to say I believe him, but the way he’s shifting positions and not making eye contact tells me he’s hiding something, probably the fact that even though Jayzee did so much to hurt him, he still had feelings for her and didn’t want her to die. Telling him her death was his only road to freedom probably won’t help, either.

  I chew my bottom lip as the grandfather clock down the hall chimes twelve. I wait for the last one before taking a deep breath and telling Griffin about the nightmares, waking in the cemetery, and killing Jayzee. I want to believe he’s okay with what I’m saying, but he keeps stiffening up and looking away. Usually, I’m good at reading him, but now I’m lost in the dar
k.

  When I finish, I try to meet his gaze, but he stares vacuously ahead as though nothing here exists. I reach for his hand, seeking to comfort him. He flinches at my touch but then gradually relaxes.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean for any of this to hurt you.”

  “It’s not your fault, Lizzie. Part of me wishes I could undo everything Jayzee did to me and forget, but there’s this other stupid side that somehow can’t get her out of my mind. I know she never loved me, but that doesn’t seem to change how I feel. Stupid, really.” He laughs hollowly and shakes his head.

  “If she hadn’t died, you’d still be connected to her, Griffin. I didn’t want to kill her, but maybe it’s still better I did.”

  “Maybe.” He nods and adjusts his watch band. For the first time, he looks at me and sees the pain in my eyes. “Look, Lizzie, don’t listen to me, okay? I’m screwed in the head, and probably most of what I say doesn’t make much sense, anyway.” He nervously rakes his fingers through is hair, and as his hand moves, I see the trembling he’s trying to hide.

  The silence abruptly blooms between us, and I force myself to stand, wondering how long it’s going to be like this. I never expected things to feel so strained between my best friend and me, and wonder if he holds me responsible for Jayzee’s death. If he does, will things ever return to normal?

  “I guess I should go and get some breakfast. Can I get you anything?”

  He shakes his head and stares off into space. “No, I’m not all that hungry, Lizzie.”

  “Okay.” I edge towards the door. “If you need something, let me know.”

  “Will do.”

  I take a last look at him, hoping he’ll meet my gaze and in it I’ll find absolution from this pain. But he doesn’t look at me, and I force myself to open the door and steal outside, where Celia waits.

  “You okay?” she asks, touching my arm.

  “I’ll be fine,” I say, starting down the hall.

  “None of this is your fault, Lizzie. You couldn’t have known what would happen when you made that sacrifice. None of us could.”

  “I know.” I gently pull from her grasp. I could tell her knowing doesn’t make it any easier. There’re so many things happening I never intended, and I don’t know what to do with any of it.

  As I walk away, I see Celia slip back into the room, and I hope with everything inside of me she can heal the broken places in his heart as well as in his mind. I hate seeing him like this.

  I round the corner to the kitchen. I see Jimmie, Lev, and Evan sitting around the table, and even though they converse in low, hushed tones, I have a feeling whatever they say is about me somehow, and it’s probably not good.

  As I enter, the three of them look up, confirming my suspicions. Although Lev first glances at my face, he quickly shifts to my hand and latches onto it.

  “The bandage is wet, Lizzie.”

  “I did take a shower.”

  “Do you want me to take a look at it?” Evan offers, pushing the chair back, but I quickly raise my hand to stop all the fuss.

  “Look, I’m fine. Lev can help me with the bandages. It’s no big deal.” They keep staring at me like there’s a third eye right in the middle of my forehead. I could start speaking in Swahili, and it probably wouldn’t make them blink. Now if I start screaming that my hand is killing me, that’ll definitely get some attention. I just don’t want it.

  Sighing, I grab Lev’s hand and lead him back down the hall. Together we head into the bathroom, and I sit on the counter, offering him my bandaged hand.

  “You’re acting way too casually about this, Lizzie. It could get infected.”

  “And it could heal just fine without everyone having a bird over it,” I mutter, watching him carefully unwind the gauze and throw it away. He pulls back the damp antibiotic square that keeps the gauze from sticking.

  Although I hate gory stuff, I force myself to look this time, which, of course, reminds me I should be in pain. That causes my hand to start throbbing. I swallow hard, and the unpleasant clenching of my stomach begins.

  “Maybe you should look at something else?” Lev suggests when I take an unsteady breath and he sees my pale face.

  I shift my gaze to Lev’s face, watching how the sunlight pouring through the window trickles through his golden hair. Around him, I see his aura, and part of me wants to laugh at the thought of him trying to spread his wings in here.

  “Gee, I didn’t think blood made you laugh. So what’s up?” He grabs the bottle of peroxide and begins pouring it over the stitches. I brace for pain, but there’s only a coldness as the liquid hits and starts fizzing.

  “I imagined your wings materializing in here and knocking everything off.”

  “You are easily amused, aren’t you?” He shakes his head in bewilderment.

  “Everyone needs a hobby.”

  “I could have sworn yours was finding trouble,” Lev murmurs, drying my hand and putting more of the antibiotic ointment on, followed by a new patch and gauze.

  “Does that make you my guardian angel?”

  Lev laughs. “Elizabeth, what do you think?” He finishes wrapping my hand, but his fingers linger, and I find myself lost in the ocean of his eyes.

  “I think I love you.” It’s only a moment I feel the fear stirring in me. I want a future with Lev more than anything, but I want him to be safe even more, and I keep thinking about what happened with Jayzee. I could never bear that happening to Lev.

  “And I love you.”

  Lev leans close and kisses my cheek, lingering there so I feel his soft breath on my face. After a moment, he backs up, but one hand rests atop mine. “I could stay here all day, but we need to talk about your training. It needs to start as soon as possible—just in case.”

  “Yeah, the Triune. I remember.” An image from the dream flashes into my head, a jarring reminder of what the future holds.

  “Are you ready to talk to Evan?”

  I want to tell him that I’ll never be ready, but it’s pointless to fight the inevitable. “Let’s do this.” My tone comes out caustic and brittle, earning me a worried glance from Lev, but before he can ask, I wave him off. “I’m fine. Really. Let’s go.”

  Without waiting for a response, I start toward the kitchen, aware he follows closely. As I sit in the chair beside Jimmie, Lev takes the seat next to Evan. Jimmie glances at me and nudges a plate of eggs and bacon in my direction.

  “Thought you might be hungry.”

  I glare at the table in front of them. “Am I the only one eating?”

  “Right now, yeah,” Jimmie says, leaning back in his chair. Probably the only reason he isn’t smoking is that Evan and Lev are here with us; he never has liked smoking in front of guests in the house. Yeah that’s got to be it, considering how high-strung he is. Otherwise, his nerves would already have gotten the better of him. “We all had breakfast already.”

  We all stare at one another in the growing silence. Nobody wants to be the first to breech the topic we know has to be discussed, and we definitely don’t want to speak our minds. But I can’t stand this silence in which everybody seems to be watching me. I haven’t any clue what they expect.

  I clear my throat. “So what happens now?” Chills run through me, and I rub my good hand over my arm, trying to drive them away.

  “How’s your hand?” Jimmie asks, leveling his gaze at the gauze. I grit my teeth, wondering if this is just another stall to divert my attention from the stress ahead.

  “It’s still attached and still looks like a hand,” I mutter, shaking my head.

  “Do you feel well enough to begin?” Evan asks, leaning his forearms on the table and offering me a serious frown.

  “There’s not much choice,” I reply, leaning back in my chair and hiding my bandaged hand under the table in my lap.

  “I think he means to ask if you feel okay,” Lev clarifies dryly, staring straight ahead. He clenches his jaw, the only sign of how much he hates being he
re and doing this.

  “Yeah.” Strange how often I find myself telling other people that when I don’t feel it. Then again, I don’t feel much these days except panic over a future I have no control over. My gaze meets Jimmie’s, and his feelings definitely show in his eyes. The worry has no place to go.

  “Does she have to do this?” Jimmie asks; all the emotions he’s trying so hard to bury give his voice a raspy edge. He takes a sip of water and sets the glass back down.

  “Yes,” Evan confirms, nodding.

  “If the Triune is already here, won’t they sense me using the power when I’m training?” I toy with the end of my braid so I don’t have to meet his gaze.

  Evan shakes his head. “Not necessarily. It’s not really all that huge of a surge as it is when you attack and kill someone. The surge happens when someone is close to death. The power senses it. Otherwise, the flow will barely register, and they will have to be really close to pick it up. At that point, they would already be close to finding you, anyway, so it wouldn’t matter.”

  I swallow hard, tempted to tell him about the dreams I’ve been hiding. Then I think about the last disagreement between Lev and Evan and realize that probably isn’t the best idea. Maybe Evan would understand why I had kept a secret, but that didn’t mean I wanted to tell him.

  “How will you train me?” My nervous fingers pluck absently at the gauze wrap below the table.

  “First I’ll teach you how to detect the power inside, then teach you how to channel it so there won’t be any more accidents.” He keeps staring at me like he’s expecting something. I’m just not sure what.

  “How’s that going to help against the angels in the Triune?” Jimmie asks, shift in the chair. The wooden joins groan in protest.

  “Because we can show that Elizabeth has been trained to use the power rightfully and knows how much respect goes with that responsibility. If she is trained, there will be no more accidental attacks, and the members of the Triune will be more likely to allow her to survive.”

  Lev clenches his jaw and shakes his head. “It’s not about what they decree or what they will or won’t allow,” he snaps angrily. “They’re no more perfect than we are. How dare they judge Elizabeth for a selfless act of sacrifice? She didn’t ask for any of this!” He stands and paces away from the table. His posture is rigid, and he jams his hands deep into his pockets.