Fallen Angel Page 14

  “You’re lying.”

  He sighed, as if it pained him to bring me such distressing news. “I wish I were lying, my dear Ellspeth. But you see, I was there on the day of your birth. And neither Hananel nor Daniel are your parents.”

  I needed to know for certain if he was telling the truth. Even though I shivered at the thought of getting close to Ezekiel, I needed to touch him. I needed to see inside his mind.

  I wondered if he would allow it. Then I remembered my dad’s description of the fallen angels’ powers of persuasion and realized that Ezekiel was probably trying to gain control over my mind. Just as he’d seemingly done to Michael. Ezekiel was continuing to use that sing-song voice, certain that he was influencing me.

  I saw my opportunity. Acting as if he swayed me, I approached him.

  “There have always been inconsistencies in their stories of my birth, discrepancies that never made sense,” I said.

  “I am not surprised.”

  “They are not my parents? Really?” As if convinced by his words, I allowed my eyes to well up with very real tears. Tears I’d been holding back from Michael’s betrayal.

  “Really, dear.”

  “So I can’t trust what they’ve told me about myself?”

  “No, Ellspeth. I am sorry to tell you that you cannot trust the representations of Hananel and Daniel.”

  “But you will become a parent to us? Michael and I will not be alone? You will show us the way?”

  He smiled; this was the reaction he sought. “I will indeed, Ellspeth.”

  I smiled back at him and drew even closer to his blond hair and blue eyes and his unusual, incense-like scent. “I’m so pleased,” I whispered.

  “As am I, my dear,” he whispered back. Then I touched him.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  The hatred I witnessed in the hearts and minds of my classmates after the Facebook incident was kindergarten stuff in comparison to the darkness of Ezekiel’s spirit. Even the malice I’d seen in Missy could not compare. Through his eyes, I watched scene after scene of dominance and degradation, where he’d concocted ingenious and sickening ways to ensnare the attention—and then the souls—of mankind. He was relentless in reaching his nefarious tentacles into human beings’ lives—births, marriages, illnesses, deaths, educations, businesses, governments, technology, warfare, money, you name it. Ezekiel would not rest until mankind’s thoughts and desires were his own.

  He delighted at each conquest, no matter how small or large. For each victory turned another soul away from any hint of goodness. Ezekiel was a fallen angel, and if you bought into the biblical tale, he was punishing God for casting him out. And he would never, ever stop.

  His was the darkness that had crept into my soul and mind after the Fall Dance. I wondered if it had crept in through my tasting of Missy’s blood. Had she sampled Ezekiel’s, and did she carry his blood in her veins?

  I did not think I could tolerate the malevolence of Ezekiel’s thoughts or, worse, his deeds anymore. He’d performed and arranged countless acts of betrayal, deception, seduction, even murder—some with his own hands, some using the hands of others. I couldn’t survive the onslaught a second longer. Then suddenly it stopped. Ezekiel realized what I was doing and shut down his mind.

  I opened my eyes and looked directly into his. In that moment, he understood that I saw him—as no one had every truly seen him before. Why couldn’t Michael see Ezekiel’s evil? Had Ezekiel corrupted him before he had a chance? If Ezekiel had frightened me before, he now terrified me.

  But the flash had given me a moment of clarity and freedom, and I flew.

  I had never flown as fast or as high. Propelling upward, I sped past the boulders that comprised the sheltering cove, the sharp rock face into which the path was cut, and spiky precipice that made up the cliff top. I desperately needed to make it to the level rock overlooking Ransom Beach before Ezekiel or Michael. Otherwise, the vantage point of the Ransom Beach cliff top would provide them with the precise direction of my route. Once I figured it out.

  I touched down on the top of the cliff. For a moment, I saw nothing but gray skies and grayer rocks and the black asphalt of the highway. No silvery-white of Michael’s or Ezekiel’s hair. I exhaled in relief.

  Too soon. I felt the earth shudder beneath my feet, and suddenly Ezekiel was there.

  “Ellspeth,” he said with his awful smile; it was like seeing the skeleton under his skin. “Where do you think you are going, dear?”

  When Ezekiel walked toward me, I realized that he wasn’t alone. Michael stood to his right.

  They were converging on me. Slowly but deliberately. As I backed away, I realized just how much they looked alike. It clouded my thinking for a minute, but then I refocused. My choices were limited: move backward to the cliff edge from which I’d just alighted, or head out onto the deserted highway. I opted for the road and the slim chance that a car would appear. Not that a vehicle and driver could stop this duo.

  “Ellspeth, there’s nowhere else to go. Nowhere else will you be understood and appreciated for who you are,” Ezekiel said.

  “We are your true family,” Michael echoed Ezekiel. What was happening to him?

  “You belong with us, Ellspeth. You were born to rule, with Michael and me at your side.” Ezekiel kept using that lulling tone, despite my read of him. I bet it lured a lot of people to him, but just now it wasn’t working. Not that I’d point that out. I’d hate to see what tactic he’d try instead.

  “Please, Ellie. You know that you and I were meant to be together,” Michael piped in. How could he have joined up with this monster? Did he not see what I saw?

  I kept retreating as they continued their slow advance toward me. I didn’t know how to fend them off or where to go. Unfortunately, comforting thoughts of home kept penetrating my consciousness before I could lock them out. I longed to be with my parents, and Ezekiel must have read the yearning on my face.

  “Do you think of returning to Hananel and Daniel, Ellspeth? They can no longer protect you. And your presence will only bring them harm.”

  “What do you mean?” I stopped.

  “Didn’t they tell you their little secret while they were divulging yours?”

  I shook my head, sick at the thought of what he was about to say.

  “No? Hananel and Daniel surrendered their immortality when they agreed to raise you as their child.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “Ruth, you said I could call if I needed you. I really, really need you.”

  To her credit, Ruth didn’t ask what happened or why I needed help. She just asked where I was, and said she’d pick me up in twenty minutes.

  Twenty minutes? Twenty minutes sounded like an eternity when I knew how fast Ezekiel and Michael could travel if they wanted. I prayed that Ezekiel meant what he said just before I took off: “Let her go, Michael. She will return to us when she is ready.”

  Rainwater pooled at my feet as I slid my cell back into my bag. I wiped off my face and hair as best I could with a dry T-shirt from my bag, and looked around the kitschy general store, The Maine Event. In summertime, when the tourists flocked to the beaches and even the locals became regulars at the seaside hangouts, this place swarmed with visitors. Now, manned by a single attendant, it didn’t exactly have the comfort of crowds. But I didn’t spot a lot of other options as I skirted this isolated stretch of highway, especially once it started to storm.

  Trying to look occupied, I strolled around the store. I spun carousels of postcards and examined shelves with seashells and local preserves. The attendant gave me a curious once-over, so I hoped that I looked more appropriate—and interested—than I felt. My mind whirred with the horrors I’d seen through Ezekiel’s eyes and the narrowness of my escape.

  After exactly twenty minutes, I heard the bell over the front door ring. My stomach lurched. I wasn’t sure whether it was my savior Ruth or my persecutors.

  Thank God it was Ruth.

  She raced ov
er. “Are you okay? You look terrible.”

  “I’m fine. Really I am.”

  “Did Michael do something to you?”

  I knew that would be her presumption; after all, she’d looked reluctant to drop me off with Michael at Ransom Beach less than two hours ago. In formulating my reason for the emergency pickup, I had decided to play on that assumption. “We just had a fight. And I didn’t trust him to bring me home straightaway.”

  “I understand.” She gave me a hug and pulled me toward the door. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

  Home. I wished I could go home, but I couldn’t. I would have to enlist Ruth’s unwitting aid once more—to protect myself and my parents. And her, for that matter.

  We drove in silence until I asked her about Jamie. Her face lit up as she described how smart he was and how helpful with her homework. I kept her talking until we neared the Tillinghast town green. When we pulled alongside the whitewashed town church, I asked her to stop the car for a minute.

  “Ruth, I’m going to ask for an enormous favor. The biggest favor I’ve ever asked of you. And I’m not going to be able to tell you why.”

  “Okay,” she said hesitantly.

  “Can you please take me to the train station? And not tell my parents or Michael. Or anyone else who might ask.”

  She paused, weighing very carefully whether or not to utter her next words. “Ellie, I know.”

  “Know what?”

  “I know about you and Michael—and the flying.”

  I was stunned into speechlessness.

  Ruth looked down at her hands, almost embarrassed by what she’d said and how she knew. “I told you earlier that I just didn’t understand the whole Facebook thing. It seemed totally out of character for you, and you acted so different afterward. So I started eavesdropping here and there. I overheard you saying to Michael that you’d see him later that night—even though you were grounded. It got me wondering whether you two were sneaking out, and whether Michael was the reason you changed so much. So I began to follow you—at night. That’s when I saw you fly for the first time.”

  “You saw us.” I couldn’t believe my ears.

  “Yes.” She smiled despite herself. “It was really amazing to watch.”

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  “Ellie, does the trip to the train station have something to do with your flying?”

  “Yes, in a way.”

  She paused again. It was strange for me to watch my best friend of seven years acting so uncomfortable around me. “What are you, Ellie?”

  I didn’t have an answer, although I wished desperately that I did. “Would you believe me if I told you that I honestly don’t know?”

  Reaching out toward me, she clasped my hand. “After seeing you two fly, I’d believe anything.”

  I didn’t want to push her along, but I knew I was running out of time. “So you’ll take me to the train station?”

  “Do you really need to go? I don’t know what I’ll do without you, Ellie. Especially now that you are back. The real you, I mean.”

  Tears started welling up in my eyes at the idea of leaving my poor parents behind. And Ruth. And Tillinghast. But I knew I couldn’t stay. Ezekiel had warned me.

  “I have to go. It’s in everyone’s best interest,” I said, knowing that Ruth couldn’t possibly comprehend—or believe—the danger I’d be thrusting upon Tillinghast if I didn’t leave.

  “Take me with you, Ellie,” she said suddenly. Although I could tell she’d been mustering up the courage to make her request.

  “You don’t want to be a part of this. I promise you.”

  “Ellie, I don’t know what you are, but I know you are more than human.” She started to cry too. “I’ve seen up close what it means to be human. With my mom’s death. And I don’t want to end up like that. I’d rather be like you.”

  Watching Ruth cry made me cry harder. “Oh, Ruth, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t turn you into whatever I am. And anyway, I don’t think my differences make me immune from dying.”

  We hugged each other for a long time. Ruth broke away first, and turned the car back on. “I guess I should take you to the train station.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  I walked into the back entrance of the sleepy Tillinghast train station feeling more alone than ever before. It wasn’t because the station was empty except for a lone ticket agent or because I was uncertain about my destination. It was because I was truly on my own.

  I didn’t know when—or how—my solitude would end. I couldn’t see or even contact my parents until I could be certain I wouldn’t cause them harm. The same applied to Ruth. As for Michael, well, he had chosen Ezekiel over me; he was gone. And there was no one else.

  As I stared up at the train destination board, a tear ran down my cheek. For a split second, I was glad to be alone. I didn’t want anyone to see my weakness. I needed to be strong to face the coming days.

  Wiping the tear away, I concentrated on the board. I scanned the list of trains slated to leave the station in the morning, but immediately rejected those as departing too late. I couldn’t chance staying overnight in the station. I didn’t doubt that Ezekiel could descend upon me if he so chose, but I did not want my parents to find me and suffer Ezekiel’s wrath.

  Then I noticed that one last train was due into the station that night, just after eight P.M. Called the Downeaster, the train stopped at the Tillinghast station in fifteen minutes. It would arrive in Boston in about three hours—Boston. I had my destination; it couldn’t have been more perfect if I’d planned it.

  I waited until the station agent stepped away from his post to buy my ticket from the ticket machine with cash. Purchasing it from the automated teller rather than the agent seemed wiser. I’d gain some lead time if Ezekiel and Michael changed their collective minds and followed me, instead of waiting as Ezekiel initially instructed.

  Ticket in hand, I headed into the ladies’ room to wait until I heard the train pull into the station. I didn’t want to give the agent any additional time to identify me. I paced around restlessly, listening intently for the train and making a few critical internet searches before I tossed my cell phone. I didn’t want anyone to trace me that way either.

  As I jotted down the vital pieces of information from my research, I heard the chug of the train. Then I threw my cell into the trash.

  Peering out the bathroom door, I didn’t see the agent anywhere. I darted from the bathroom into the train, quickly grabbed a seat, and buried myself in a book I snatched from my bag. I didn’t want to look as if I’d just boarded, in case the Tillinghast agent peeked in.

  I didn’t really exhale until the train pulled away from the Tillinghast station. Only then, and only surreptitiously, did I assess my fellow travelers. In the rear of the car sat two businessmen talking about a meeting they had the next morning with a prospective client. In the occupied seats closest to mine were a few kids that looked like they were headed back to college. I kept an eye on them. Their sweatshirts, backpacks, and other paraphernalia bore the Harvard logo, and I thought they might prove useful.

  The door separating the cars suddenly slid open, and I jumped. It was only the conductor ready to take my ticket. As I pretended to rifle through my bag so I wouldn’t have to look directly at him, I handed it over. He punched it and then placed the stub in the slot above my head. His business completed, he left the car.

  I had three hours until we reached Boston. Three hours to prepare. Three hours to map out a game plan.

  I decided to start by assessing my resources—whatever was in my bag. I hadn’t exactly planned my departure in advance, so I was limited to what I carried. When we traveled, my parents always insisted that I carry on my person all the necessities should I ever be separated from them—a couple hundred dollars, identification, a toiletry bag with essentials, credit cards, and an ATM card that now I’d have to avoid using except when absolutely necessary. I’d gotten into the habit of carrying th
ese things. Lucky that I did. It made me prepared for a day like this. Maybe that was their intention all along; maybe they knew a day like this would come.

  Thinking about my parents—and I would always consider them my mom and dad, birth parents or not—made my eyes start to well up again. I wasn’t mad at them anymore for keeping secrets; I understood that they were just trying to protect me. They’d even given up their immortality to shield me. And even though Ezekiel couldn’t be trusted, I believed what he said about their sacrificed immortality when I thought how my parents had aged in the past sixteen years after staying youthful for over a hundred years of pictures.

  But if they weren’t my real parents, who were? Were my real parents still alive? Why did Hananel and Daniel have to raise me? Who did they make that arrangement with?

  They would be worried sick about me by now. I wondered if they would file a police report or conduct a search for me on their own. I hoped they still had some residual powers on which they could draw.

  But I didn’t have the luxury of emotions, and I certainly didn’t want to draw attention to myself by crying. So I took a pad of paper and pen from my bag and scribbled down all my questions.

  The train rocked back and forth and stopped from time to time during the three hours to Boston. But I was so engrossed, these events hardly registered with me. By the time the train screeched into Boston’s North Station, I had made a list of the questions I had about my nature and future.

  I looked down at my notes:

  1. What was I? My gifts sounded a lot like the ones Dad had described for angels. Did that mean I was an angel, fallen or good? Or was I some other kind of supernatural being? Mom had said I was “somewhat different” from the angels.

  2. What was my purpose? Dad said that the angels were meant to use their gifts—flying, flashes, and persuasive powers—to guide souls to God. Was that what I was supposed to be doing with mine? After all, before the whole Facebook thing, I’d experienced that intense compulsion to help others. But Mom and Dad had hinted that I had some kind of special role. What was that role?