Eternity (12 page)

She and Mr. Hamilton glanced at each other, sending an unspoken message between them. I would discover what this message was a few minutes later.

“Eran wasn’t able to make it to dinner?” she asked, changing the subject and addressing Campion.

I introduced her and Campion, explaining, “He’s my escort for the night.”

She seemed surprised by this but replied, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She then clapped her hands lightly and offered, “Shall we eat before it gets cold?” She was already taking her seat before anyone could answer.

I noticed that the covers had been removed and that on each plate the meal was different. Ms. Beedinwigg had a traditional jambalaya while Mr. Hamilton chose a pair of Cornish hens. Campion had been given Eran’s meal which was prepared as a succulent steak. My meal was a hamburger and fries and it was perfect. It made me realize that somehow, Alfred had known what we’d each prefer.

At that point, I began to feel as if Mr. Hamilton and Ms. Beedinwigg knew more about me than I assumed.

Despite my feelings, dinner conversation was casual, centering on school and whether I enjoyed it. While giving them an honest answer, I refrained from elaborating on my feelings for Mr. Warden and Bridgette Madison.

Towards the end of dinner, I began to question whether Mr. Hamilton had actually called me here to deliver messages to someone on the other side. In an effort to imply this, I asked, “Mr. Hamilton…I’m curious…Did you learn of my ability to deliver messages to those who have passed on through Ms. Beedinwigg or by passing me in Jackson Square.”

Again, a glance was shared between Mr. Hamilton and Ms. Beedinwigg before he answered, “I’m glad you asked the question, Magdalene.” He dabbed the corners of his mouth with his cloth napkin and set it at the side of his plate before leaning back in his chair and continuing. “I too have just arrived in New Orleans. Previously, I traveled, alongside Ms. Beedinwigg. In fact, it wasn’t until I purchased a necklace…a very rare necklace…in a black market antiquities trade did I consider making myself a more permanent resident. The necklace is renowned, diamond, and had been missing since the American Revolution.”

He paused, waiting for my reaction.

“Eran’s necklace?” I asked more to myself than to him…and suddenly I was standing and my guard was up.

Campion, who had been listening intently, was standing too, positioning himself between me and Mr. Hamilton and Ms. Beedinwigg. His back was arched, ready to release his wings. I deduced that the only reason his wings remained hidden was because our hosts stayed seated and calm, despite our reaction.

“The necklace, Maggie,” Mr. Hamilton hinted. “A necklace like that does not go unnoticed. When I found it on the antiquities market I knew where to find you. It’s probably how everyone else is finding you.”

“Who are you?” I demanded.

While my question was to both of them, Mr. Hamilton answered. “We aren’t here to harm you. Quite the opposite, in fact. Allow me the chance to explain and you can decide for yourself.”

I then focused in on my body’s reaction, sensing whether the hair on the back of my neck was standing up.

Recognizing this, Mr. Hamilton confirmed, “You’ll find no Fallen Ones here.” He seemed almost insulted at the idea.

More than anything else, it was his choice of words that made me consider staying to listen. He had used the words Fallen Ones and he should have no knowledge that Fallen Ones even existed. “All right…but I’m edgy so you’ll need to make it quick.” I knew I was being uncouth but it wasn’t as if they had been entirely honest with me.

“We’ve been looking for you for quite some time,” said Mr. Hamilton. “Your traveling with your aunt for her photography business made it challenging. We’ve always seemed to be a bit late in catching up to you. It wasn’t until Eran’s necklace landed on the black market here in New Orleans did we know where you could be found.”

“Why were you trying to find me?” I asked pensive.

“Well, to put a fine point on it…to train you.”

My eyebrows rose in astonishment.

“That’s correct…” he confirmed, noting my surprise. “We would like to train you in your pursuit against the Fallen Ones.”

“We?”

“Myself and Ms. Beedinwigg. I have the financial resources needed to do so. Ms. Beedinwigg is an expert in all forms of combat and weaponry. She hails from a line of experienced trainers. Our families have dedicated themselves to these purposes for many centuries.”

It dawned on me then who these people were. They were descendants of the families I had trained to teach messengers how to defend themselves against Fallen Ones.

Mystified, I asked, “So you knew who Eran and I were all along, didn’t you?”

Ms. Beedinwigg grinned mischievously, stood, and pulled a photo album from one of the bookshelves lining the walls. Carrying it to us, she opened it to an archive of newspaper articles. Some were written in English, some in French, but each one had a drawing encircled by the text. Looking closely, I found myself and Eran in each of these articles. The resemblance was striking, with the same face and body structure as we did today. The only difference was our clothes and hairstyles, which reflected the fashion of that period.

“You…You collected all the articles throughout each of our lifetimes on earth?”

“My family did. I simply try to preserve them now.”

“The articles were published without your permission and often times without your participation,” Mr. Hamilton explained. “You’ve done a fairly adequate job staying hidden and thus out of the sights of Fallen Ones over the centuries. However, your unique ability hasn’t gone unnoticed and the printed records of you have always been against your will and were commonly fabricated.”

I stood there, unable to speak. Gershom had mentioned that I’d been revealed in articles and other documents throughout my lifetimes. It just never occurred to me that I would have the chance to run across them.

“You know, no one but the high school editor has approached me for a news article…” I reflected.

“She’ll be the last,” Mr. Hamilton reassured me. “I keep myself well informed of the media’s intentions and have been successful in diverting the attention of news organizations.”

I stared blankly at him, having had no idea.

“And you’ve done a fine job of it,” commended Ms. Beedinwigg. “Keeping Maggie’s ability hidden is no small feat.”

“Yes.” I was compelled to agree with her. Then it unexpectedly dawned on me that I made a spectacle of myself in The Square offering my service to complete strangers. “I won’t stop my work in Jackson Square,” I informed him.

“On the contrary, I recommend you maintain your usual routine,” said Mr. Hamilton. “Any change from your typical behavior will only draw attention to yourself. I will keep your name out of the news.”

I smiled my thanks and returned to flipping through the pages, scanning the articles. My eyes couldn’t seem to be drawn away from Eran’s likeness in each of the depictions. His handsome features never diminished or changed. Looking at him made me wonder where he was at that very moment and I felt a pang deep in my chest at his absence.

I gave no attention to Campion up until now but then I noticed that his stance had relaxed. He stood straight, a proud expression on his face. It looked like he wanted to throw his arms around Ms. Beedinwigg.

“Campion?” I asked baffled.

As if I’d given him a cue, he drew in a deep breath, his chest expanding out proudly, as he took two long steps to cover the distance between himself and Ms. Beedinwigg. “I’ve wanted to meet you…your family…since I witnessed your family in battle. Fantastic fighters…”

“Thank you,” said Ms. Beedinwigg demurely.

I felt my mouth fall open. “Campion, you know about them?”

He turned to me, as if his grin were plastered on. “From afar…Only from afar until now.”

Watching him admire Ms. Beedinwigg, I knew I couldn’t have gotten a better testimonial than Campion’s reaction.

Still, I was curious about their motivations and I wanted reassurance that their faith and dedication wouldn’t lapse. “What’s in this for you?”

“A sensible question,” said Mr. Hamilton with a single shoulder shrug. “Some people volunteer for Greenpeace…Some build houses for Habitat for Humanity…We eliminate Fallen Ones.”

“It is our act of service to humanity,” added Ms. Beedinwigg, “and we’ve been performing the service since before you were born. You can trust us, Maggie.”

In case her declaration weren’t enough, Mr. Hamilton hinted, “Ms. Beedinwigg was, in fact, present in the training of your parents.”

My breath caught in my throat. “You knew my parents?”

She flipped the pages of the photo album until it landed on a collection of old photographs and then she pointed to one in the middle. Standing between my mother and father was Ms. Beedinwigg in her early teens. They were smiling, with arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, squinting against the sun.

I released my breath then, not knowing I’d still been holding it.

“I’ve never met them you know…On the day of my birth, we all died. I was the only one to be revived.”

“We know,” Ms. Beedinwigg confirmed gently. “They were two of the best messengers I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting.” She laughed quietly through her nose, recalling them during a moment of nostalgia.

“So you know they have the ability too…”

“It’s why we trained them, Maggie.”

“Of course…Of course,” I muttered, still dumbfounded at all that I had learned. “I tried to find my parents, to locate them on the other side, but I saw in the scrolls…the scrolls that record each soul’s history of their lifetimes on earth…”

“In the Hall of Records,” Ms. Beedinwigg offered.

“Yes…I learned that they died exactly where I was told and yet they aren’t there…They never returned to the other side.”

Ms. Beedinwigg and Mr. Hamilton glanced at each other and I could actually feel the tension rise in the room.

“Maggie…” replied Ms. Beedinwigg. She seemed to be searching for the words to explain her thoughts. Whatever they were it was clear by her apprehension that they weren’t good. “Messengers are different. When they die at the hands of a Fallen One…they perish. They suffer the ultimate fate…eternal death.”

It took a few seconds for me to absorb what she was telling me. “They don’t return to the afterlife like everyone else?”

“No…they don’t,” she said, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “We thought you knew.”

I shook my head. “All I knew was that they died protecting me. They died…” I repeated and then began to piece the puzzle together. “And I died with them…at the hands of the same Fallen One…on the same night…in the same place…and yet I am here.” My eyes met hers, demanding, questioning the truth to her statements.

It was Campion, however, that stepped forward to answer. “No Fallen One has ever taken your life, Magdalene…in any of your lifetimes,” he countered. “Whenever they came close enough to reaching that goal… Eran followed a protocol, one that you mutually established. He would initiate the end of your life…to protect you from eternal death.”

I released my breath in a rush then, the realization hitting with such power it felt as if someone had knocked the air out of me. When I inhaled, it was raspy and inefficient.

“I understand now…why Eran is so serious about his responsibilities as my guardian…why he preserves his guilt when he is unable to protect me. I can’t imagine the pain he’s endured having to…do what he’s done…How unfair to him.” As the realization continued, I felt anger, deep and driven, well up in me. I had to actively contain it. “My parents died protecting me…Eran has had to endure the anguish of causing me pain…Everyone near me is in danger by the Fallen Ones. How do I end this?” By this point, I was so determined that my question came out as a demand and remained that way when I insisted, “Tell me how to end it.”

“It is the same with Fallen Ones,” Mr. Hamilton revealed. “They suffer eternal death when they die at the hands of a messenger.”

“It’s why we wish to train you,” Ms. Beedinwigg added earnestly.

I suddenly felt focused, determined. “We’re wasting time. When can we begin?” I asked.

Smiles immediately rose up on the faces of Mr. Hamilton and Ms. Beedinwigg but it was she who said, “Follow me.”

She led us out of the library, towards the back of the house and down a long hallway, stopping abruptly in the middle of it to place her hand on the wall and push. The wall spun on a pivot so that part of the hidden door swung out into the hallway. The other half opened to reveal a staircase winding down to another concealed level.

“A hideaway,” Ms. Beedinwigg explained. “Watch your step. The ground is saturated so, despite our efforts, water seepage makes the stairs a bit risky.”

She wasn’t understating that warning. All of us were saved at least once by a firm grip to the railing as we descended almost two stories underground.

When we’d reached the bottom, she flicked a set of switches and the room was illuminated.

“This was a hideaway?” I asked. “It looks like an entire town could fit down here.”

“We’ve expanded it some,” she replied indifferently, moving into the room.

I followed, slowly, astonished at what I was seeing.

The room was vast, built in sections with each seeming to be dedicated to one purpose of study whether it were agility, endurance, reflex, or skill. I couldn’t count the number of contraptions, pulleys and levers, platforms, and sandbags, all designed to create the optimal training ground.

“When were you able to build this?” I asked, still in awe. “I mean…you’ve only been in town for a week…”

“She is attentive,” Mr. Hamilton pointed out.

“I told you…” Ms. Beedinwigg gave him a look of satisfaction.

I realized then while Ms. Beedinwigg had been posing as my teacher, she’d also been evaluating me and relaying her assessments back to Mr. Hamilton. I had never been one to care what others said about me, yet I was left wondering what had been relayed. From their brief discussion it seemed to be positive.

“In answer to your question, we completed it last night,” Mr. Hamilton replied proudly. “Just before I sent Alfred to deliver your invitation. You may have noticed the new shrubbery around the house? It was meant to hide the construction damage.”