Eternity (v5) Page 18

  But for now, it was enough that Michael was back. And that I was no longer entirely alone.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Hand in hand, we raced across the Harvard campus toward the square. The lights from the stores and restaurants and theater blinded my sensitive eyes after the dimness of the campus pathways. In the few seconds it took for them to adjust, Michael led me down into the murky tunnels of the T; the strange disorientation I’d experienced on the Harvard campus must have been an Ezekiel trick. I bristled at the thought of being underground—

  trapped—but with Ezekiel so near, we had no choice.

  I had told Michael where we needed to go and how fast we needed to get there. To his credit, he didn’t ask why. He just asked how he could help us reach Professor Barr.

  At Michael’s suggestion, I had tried to reach Professor Barr by phone first, without success. The time difference was working against us, so we decided the quickest—and perhaps only—way to reach him under the circumstances was to fly to London.

  After quickly mapping out the necessary connections to get from the Harvard Square Station to Logan Airport, we stood on the train platform.

  Using Michael’s cel , we booked seats on the British Airways flight to London. And then we waited. An ancient clock loomed over our heads and tapped out the minutes, as if reminding us how little time we had before the gate would close. I wished that we ourselves could fly to London, but neither of us knew whether we had the ability to fly such far distances.

  Final y, final y, in the far distance, I heard the rumbling of the train. I thanked God. I didn’t think my nerves could stand one more second of delay.

  One more second for Ezekiel to find us.

  The crowds started to converge on the cramped platform as the train slowed down. As the doors opened, people jostled for spots in the already packed train car. I reached for Michael’s hand to make sure we didn’t lose each other. Before his hand gripped mine, I saw a familiar head of blond hair in the crowd pouring into the train.

  I stopped. Was it Ezekiel?

  I felt the warmth of Michael’s hand in mine, and yet I stil couldn’t move. The man looked like he was about to hop on board, but was hesitating.

  Should we stay here—and risk missing our flight—or get on an enclosed subway car with Ezekiel for company?

  Michael pul ed me toward the open train doors. They had started to beep in anticipation of closing. “Come on, El ie. The doors are about to shut.”

  My body was rigid. Michael spun around and saw my expression. He fol owed my gaze and understood immediately the source of my fear.

  “El ie, it’s not Ezekiel.”

  The man was facing the other way, so I couldn’t see his features. But his hair so resembled Ezekiel’s distinctive color and style, I didn’t trust Michael. “How do you know?”

  Rather than wasting precious time explaining, Michael released my hand, ran over to the man, and tapped him on the shoulder. When the man turned around, I saw the ruddy face of a young col ege student. Not Ezekiel.

  Just before the doors slid shut, Michael dragged me on board. Col ege students jammed the car, so we clutched onto the metal rings for support as the train lurched forward. I exhaled in relief and wil ed my heart to stop racing.

  At the next stop, the Central Square Station, most of the students got off. A bench opened up. We grabbed it and settled in for the fifteen-minute ride to South Station, where we’d transfer to the bus for Logan.

  We rode in silence. I became acutely aware of al that we hadn’t talked about: the overheard conversations of our parents, my discussions with Professor McMaster, Michael’s time alone with Ezekiel. The unspoken words hung between us, like a screen separating us. I didn’t want to feel so detached from Michael, but I didn’t know where to start. Or how to break through the divide.

  Final y, Michael tried. He looked at me, with a serious and sad expression, and asked, “El ie, what are we?”

  I hesitated. I wasn’t certain of my conclusion at al , but he deserved to know the most logical assumption. “I think we’re something cal ed Nephilim.

  But I’m not real y sure what that means.”

  Michael’s lips formed the first of many questions, but my eyes suddenly grew heavy. I hadn’t slept for nearly two days. He whispered, “It’s al right, El ie. Go to sleep. We have plenty of time to figure this al out. I’l stay awake so we don’t miss our stop.”

  His arms enfolded me, and I returned the gesture. I hadn’t hugged him since he returned to himself. And it felt good.

  For the first time since I met Michael on Ransom Beach, I relaxed and closed my eyes. His arms and his reassurances that we would uncover the mysteries of our beings together soothed me. I wanted to thank him, so I forced my eyes open a little.

  My drowsy vision settled on a sweet-faced blond girl wearing a Harvard sweatshirt walking down the train car aisle. She resembled the helpful girl from the peaceful brick courtyard, the one who advised me to think about the questions. I thought she smiled at me. I started to smile back, but then a disturbing question crossed my mind. It wiped away al thoughts of sleep. With al the thousands of col ege students in Cambridge, what were the odds that I’d run into the same person twice within a few hours? Slim, very slim.

  Chapter Forty-three

  My eyes flew open, and I looked at her a little closer. It was the girl from the Harvard courtyard. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

  I nudged Michael to watch the girl as she continued down the aisle in our direction. The train hurtled down the tracks, plunging the car deeper and deeper into the warren of underground T tunnels and making any immediate escape impossible. But the girl seemed impervious to the jolting of the train; she just walked serenely toward us.

  As she approached our seat, the older man on the bench facing us got up. Even though the train hadn’t slowed and we were nowhere near a station. She settled into the vacated seat and beamed that sweet smile at me.

  “Hel o, El speth.”

  I didn’t think I’d told her my name during our brief discussion in the courtyard. And I certainly wouldn’t have cal ed myself El speth even if I had.

  “How do you know my name?”

  “Your parents sent me.” From the conversation Michael had overheard, I knew that my parents had mentioned sending a “friend” to watch over me. But how did I know she wasn’t a “friend” of Ezekiel’s instead?

  As if she knew I needed reassurance, the girl said, “Your mother asked me to give you this, as a sign of my loyalty to you. And to Michael, of course.” Although she referred to Michael as if he was an afterthought.

  She put an object in my hand, and then closed my fist around it. I opened my fingers one by one, and discovered my mother’s locket inside. I had never seen my mom without it. How had this girl gotten it from her? I guessed she could have taken it from my mom by force, even though my intuition told me otherwise.

  To answer my unspoken question, the girl placed her hand over mine. I received a precise, vivid flash, as if she explicitly sent the image to me. It was a very different sensation than retrieving information from people’s minds.

  In the image, my mom and the girl stood in the entryway of our house. My mom unfastened her locket and gingerly placed it in the girl’s waiting palm.

  “Take care of El speth for me, and bring her home. Give her this for me if she resists your good intentions.” My mom smiled, and continued. “And knowing my strong-wil ed daughter, she may wel resist.”

  “I wil , Hananel.”

  The girl turned to leave, but my mom grabbed her by the arm before she went out the door. My mom gazed into the girl’s eyes, as if she was speaking through them to me. “Please make El speth understand that, by not rushing to her side, I’m not abandoning her. I’m trying to help her. And please tel her that there were reasons—vital reasons—why we didn’t tel her who she is, or prepare her for what’s to come.”

  “I promise, Hananel.”

  The image fad
ed. I found myself back in the train car, clutching on to Michael’s arm and staring into the face of an angel. For surely that is what she was. Her face had the same exquisite, timeless quality as did my parents. Or as my parents used to have, anyway.

  I placed the locket around my neck. Sensing that her message was successful y received, the girl stretched out her hand to me. “Please come with me. We wil get off at the next stop and fly somewhere safe.”

  I looked to Michael for agreement. He gave me a quick nod, so I took her hand and stood up. As did Michael. “Who are you?” I asked.

  “I am Tamiel,” she answered as we started walking through the car. “I am also one of the fal en, trying for grace. Like both sets of your parents.”

  We fol owed Tamiel to the closed train doors. As we listened to the train hurtle down the tracks, I whispered, “I have so many questions.”

  She smiled that sweet, calming smile I’d seen in the Harvard courtyard. “I know, El speth. I sensed that when we met earlier. So I guided you to a place where you could have certain questions answered without any harm befal ing you. But I was tasked to bring you to safety. Not to il uminate you ful y. It isn’t time yet.”

  “Please, Tamiel. What are we?”

  A crash sounded in the adjoining car, and we al jumped. Tamiel grabbed our arms and said, “We need to get out of here.”

  “Why?”

  “Someone is coming for you.”

  “Ezekiel?” I asked.

  Tamiel stopped and spun around. “How did you know that? I just discovered today that he had surfaced.”

  So our parents didn’t know about the Ezekiel factor yet. I was kind of glad they’d been spared that considerable worry. Especial y since they didn’t have any internal weaponry left with which to fight him. “He’s been in contact with us.”

  “Yes, it’s Ezekiel. And I don’t think he wil show any mercy.”

  “I don’t think he’l hurt me, Tamiel.”

  Her bright blue eyes widened in astonishment. “Why do you say that?”

  “I just sensed it. For some reason, I think Ezekiel needs me. I think he needs me to choose him.”

  “Wel , you’re right. But there are many ways to make you choose him. Especial y since you care about mankind.”

  “Like?”

  “Like threatening Michael, who is susceptible to his cal . Like holding this entire train of innocent people hostage, until you come to his side.” Her expression no longer appeared surprised, but angry at my delay. “Should I continue?”

  “No.” I remembered al too wel the horrors I had seen through Ezekiel’s eyes, and shuddered at the thought of being the reason for him to inflict more suffering on others.

  “Then let’s go.” We linked hands and exited our train car. I felt the warm rush of the underground air, as the doors closed behind us and we stepped onto the rickety outdoor platform connecting the two train cars.

  Tamiel crossed over first, holding on to my hand the entire time. I hesitantly stepped over the divide, when I heard a huge thud in the train car we’d just left.

  “I hope we aren’t too late,” Tamiel said, as she pul ed me and Michael over to the other side. And we ran into the next car.

  Chapter Forty-four

  The train car was packed. With Tamiel in the lead, we pushed and elbowed our way through the crowd to reach the next set of doors. But not before we heard a deafening smash on the opposite side of the car.

  “Don’t turn around,” Tamiel yel ed, and shoved me and Michael through the doors onto the connecting platform.

  She propel ed us into the next car and the next, staying at our backs as a shield against an obviously angry Ezekiel. As we raced through the speeding train, we heard thuds and crashes in our wake. But we couldn’t stop to look or speculate; we had to keep moving. Even when we heard screams from other passengers.

  We reached the doors of the last car. I wondered what Tamiel had planned, as the sounds of Ezekiel’s rampage hadn’t stopped. In fact, they had only increased. And I knew enough to be terrified.

  Tamiel pried the last set of train doors open, and pushed us onto the platform. It swerved back and forth as the train sped down the track, and I didn’t think we’d be able to keep our footing. But then, I realized that Tamiel didn’t intend for us to use our feet at al .

  We linked hands, and our bodies geared up for flight. I felt my shoulders broaden and the familiar warmth spread across them. I looked over at Michael to see if he was prepared. He nodded at me, and I squeezed his hand in reply. I was ready—as ready as I’d ever be to fly down the treacherous, underground tunnels of the T.

  Just as our feet began to lift, the platform shook violently. I nearly fel off, but Tamiel pul ed me back before I tumbled down onto the electrified tracks. As I steadied myself so we could take off, I said a silent word of thanks to my mom for sending Tamiel, and looked over at her in gratitude for saving me.

  But then I felt the earth shift hard under the tracks, and I screamed. Ezekiel was standing right next to Tamiel.

  In the split second that Tamiel spun around to look at him, I second-guessed her. Perhaps the locket and the image of my mom and the chase through the train were just part of a trap to lead us to Ezekiel. But then I saw the expression on her face—a mix of astonishment and fear—and I knew that I was wrong. She was on our side.

  The only one smiling was Ezekiel.

  “That scream was not much of a welcome, El speth. And here I’ve been searching everywhere for you and Michael.”

  Ezekiel reached for me, and I recoiled. I started backing up. Flight was the only way I could escape him, but my body wasn’t prepared yet. Just as his fingers grazed my arm, I felt Tamiel swoop me up into the air.

  Within moments, I was able to soar on my own, and fol ow Tamiel down the warm, dank tunnels. The space was disorienting and narrow, so narrow that my arm brushed against a slimy tile wal . I reminded myself of the torture I’d seen in Ezekiel’s vision—torture that would be visited upon me, and God knew who else, if he caught us. So I held my tongue and flew.

  As Tamiel raced down the passageways, Michael and I flanked her as best we could. She was incredibly fast and made sharp turns down the labyrinthine passageways of the T as if she’d memorized the entire system. Maybe she had; maybe she knew it would come to this.

  The wal tiles turned from red to green signaling the switch in train lines, and we veered left down a tight tunnel. I felt a sudden whoosh behind me, and I pivoted in midair to see what caused it. Ezekiel’s shiny hair and pale face loomed in the distance.

  “He’s gaining on us,” I cal ed up to Tamiel.

  She didn’t respond. Instead she sped up and made a quick, unexpected right turn. Michael and I raced to fol ow her. A roar and a blinding light greeted us in the mouth of the tunnel she’d just entered. We found ourselves facing an oncoming train.

  Michael and I nearly spun back around—into the advancing arms of Ezekiel—but we saw Tamiel propel herself up and over the moving train.

  Mirroring her actions, we trailed her as she shot straight up through a tiny shaft in the ceiling of the tunnel.

  The shaft was so constricted that Michael and I could barely fit through the opening. But once we squeezed ourselves through, it broadened, al owing us to regain speed. We fol owed Tamiel through the pitch-blackness as she climbed upward to the surface.

  The air grew colder, and a glimmer of light appeared above us. Within seconds, Tamiel shoved aside a metal grate covering the shaft and peered upward. She motioned for us to fol ow her as she flew up and out.

  We stood at the far, dark corner of a T stop—Government Center. A train must have just left, because the stop was merciful y empty. Without a word of explanation, Tamiel sprinted down the long platform toward the exit, and we chased after her. After tearing up two flights of stairs, we stood outside in the frigid nighttime of downtown Boston. The fresh air was a relief after the fetid underground, but I was reluctant to trade flying for running. I felt lik
e I could hold my own a bit better against Ezekiel if I flew.

  We could see and hear the lights and noise of the nearby tourist attraction Faneuil Hal . I assumed that we’d head in the opposite direction, and started walking the other way. But Tamiel pul ed me toward Faneuil Hal instead.

  “I thought you wanted us to stay away from crowds. You said that Ezekiel could use them as a weapon against us,” I said, as we began running toward the busy eighteenth-century marketplace built around a cobblestone promenade where street performers entertained tourists while they shopped and ate.

  “He can. But the crowds also limit his powers and provide us with a means of escape.”

  “Why is he doing this, Tamiel? He’s had the chance to take us by force before, but he never tried.”

  “He’s furious with Michael for deceiving him outside Professor McMaster’s office, to start. And—” Tamiel stopped herself. As if she’d said too much already.

  “Tel me, Tamiel.”

  “He believes that you are dangerously close to understanding who you are. Once you ful y comprehend your nature and purpose, the end days wil begin. And Ezekiel can no longer wait. He wil want you at his side.”

  Chapter Forty-five

  I sensed—rather than saw or heard—Ezekiel fol owing us toward Faneuil Hal . I knew that Michael and Tamiel did too because each time my instinct told me to veer left or right to avoid him, they did the same—without speaking.

  We moved like this—in unison—and entered Faneuil Hal . Despite the cold, the place was packed. We weaved through vendors hawking wares and tourists sipping hot drinks and jugglers entertaining them. Tamiel was right; the crowds provided a shield for us and compromised Ezekiel’s ability to lash out. For the moment.

  After several minutes hurrying through the crowds as a unit, Tamiel suddenly broke and took the lead. She led us into an impressive building with huge colonnades and a brass sign that read QUINCY MARKET. Inside was an enormous indoor food court, jammed with tables, stal s, and even more people.