Eternity (2 page)

Still, it was Rufus who saved me by changing the subject.

“Was a good mornin’ till ya look at what Felix’s makin’,” Rufus muttered.

Felix sighed heavily. “There’s no need for that type of comment.”

Rufus ignored him and countered with a far more appetizing side as he slid sausage patties on to my plate.

Ezra peered at me over the edge of her cup, the words "Today is the last day of some of your life" glaring back at me. If I didn't know Ezra better, I would have wondered if she'd positioned her mug so that those words sent a silent warning to be extra diligent.

The kitchen grew quiet with the exception of Rufus, whose fork clanked against his plate while hungrily shoveling his breakfast into his mouth, and a frequent, disgusted sigh by Felix. Neither one of them noted the silent communication sent between Ezra and myself.

I quickly ate what was on my plate – licorice mayonnaise included because it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought and it gave Felix his pride back – and then laced up my biker boots.

Leaving the three of them at the table, I said a hushed goodbye, glanced down the hallway to make sure Eran wouldn’t see me leaving through the back door, and snuck out.

My bike was in its usual place, inside the back shed, but I didn’t bother starting it. Given that it was a big and beautiful Harley Davidson Sportster, the exhaust noise would definitely alert Eran. Instead, I pushed it out of the shed and along the driveway towards the street.

The morning was unusually warm for a January, with the sun already beating rays of light through the shadows of the trees surrounding the yard, and I was looking forward to a peaceful ride to Jacksons Square. That, unfortunately, would be delayed.

I was just beyond the backyard when Eran’s voice came up behind me.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” he called out with his English accent that, despite my efforts, still charmed me.

I ignored the excitement burning in my stomach, a reaction I always seemed to have when he was around, and looked for something to do so I didn’t have to turn and face him. Strapping my book bag to my bike was a good enough diversion.

“Avoiding me again? Really, Magdalene?” His voice was laced with disappointment.

Get used to it, I thought.

“We’ve discussed this,” he reminded me, though I didn’t need any reminding.

“No, you discussed it.” I leaned my bike back on its kickstand and spun around, staggering a bit at the sight of him.

He stood before me handsome, arrogant, and charismatic. Beneath his wavy brown hair, he smirked with clear aqua eyes teasing me. Long, powerfully built arms crossed his chest and his legs, covered in jeans and accentuated with muscles, stood apart.

I struggled to regain my composure and was successful - a little.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he stated, unsympathetically, his haughty grin remaining. “Sneaking away is not going to help. I’ll simply come find you.”

“Look, Eran,” I hated the way my tone was whiny. I paused and began again more declaratively. “I won’t abide rules that I had no input or agreement in establishing. That is just the way it is.”

His grin faltered slightly but his tone remained cajoling. “It is one rule and it is for your benefit. And there is no denying it…You need me.”

“I do not,” I said a little too briskly.

He tilted his head down, looking up at me through his lashes, waiting for me to assess that statement.

“Well…” I stuttered. “Not in that way. I need you in other ways…Oh, you know what I mean.”

Eran approached me, stopping just outside my reach, which didn’t feel fair. His voice was quieter, kind this time. “I understand why you’re avoiding me. I don’t blame you. This is just the way it has to be until…”

He didn’t finish his sentence but he didn’t need to. We both knew what he meant. Not until I was safe, until my enemies were eradicated, until his job as my guardian was no longer his primary objective. Until then, everything else, including me, was a distraction.

“Fine,” I said, disliking myself for surrendering. “Fine. This is the last day of holiday break so…let’s get on with it. I have work to do.”

Silently, and with a good amount of tension, we slipped on our helmets, got on my bike, and rode to Jackson Square.

The Square, as I call it, is a famous New Orleans landmark surrounded by historical buildings. Because it is a treasured site by both tourists and locals, street vendors congregate there to sell their talents. I have a regular spot just outside the St. Louis Cathedral, which is where Eran parked the bike.

The remaining street vendors had already set up their areas with colorful artwork hanging from makeshift wooden walls and tables piled with New Orleans trinkets. The stores and restaurants bordering the square had thrown open their weathered wooden shutters and doors too, beckoning in regular patrons and sightseers. Since a mist had rolled in over night from Lake Pontchartrain to blanket the city the day looked a little dim but the sun seemed to be successfully baking the dullness away. Today, as mentioned, would be unusually warm for January so the trees encircling The Square would offer relief to both the vendors and the sightseers.

Felix arrived with Rufus in his lime green Camero and began setting up their tables. Felix, being a tarot card reader, was often times quicker than Rufus in setting up, who was a talented caricature artist and needed various drawing instruments laid out. My area consisted of two chairs and a sign that read simply:

Send & Receive Messages

to Dead Loved Ones

Payment Due on Proof of Delivery

Eran helped us, which made it faster. He then stood in front of me as I took a seat in one of my chairs.

“I’ll be close by.”

“Yes, I know,” I said. My anger had dissipated by then.

Eran recognized it and knelt down in front of me. He then waited until our eyes were locked so that he could convey what he wanted me to know: That he was equally as disappointed we were put in this position.

As quickly as he’d knelt, he stood and moved through the crowd; far enough that I could perform my work undistracted, close enough to keep me in sight.

New Orleans tourists were beginning to filter into the brick-paved area around Jackson’s Square now. It was mid-morning and yet most of them appeared blurry-eyed, in need of caffeine, and interested mostly in making a beeline for Café du Monde. However, my sign did catch the attention of a few college girls who gave me an inquisitive stare.

The time passed quickly with most of those stopping by being regular customers. I’d been performing this service for several months and had acquired ‘regulars’ who kept up ongoing conversations with family members and friends on the other side.

When the daylight began to fade and The Square emptied, I collected my sign and folding chairs, giving them to Felix to drive home. Watching Felix’s lime green Camaro disappear around the corner, I turned and found Eran leaning against the gate behind me. His arms were crossed over his chest again highlighting the curves of his muscles, making my breath catch.

He broke his typical arrogant grin to ask, “Good day?”

“Fairly good.” I shrugged. “Most of the messages were about family gossip. Only one is holding a heated argument that doesn’t look like it will end any time soon…about whether their dog should be groomed. ”

Eran stifled a chuckle and then turned serious. “I have an errand to make before we get you home.”

“You do?” I was a little suspicious. “Okay, should we use my bike?”

“We should,” Eran confirmed, handing my helmet to me.

As we headed through the streets of the French Quarter, I couldn’t deny its magnificence. Passing colorful, weather-beaten buildings decorated with black wrought iron balustrades, neighbors chatting on the sidewalk, and restaurants with lines spilling from their open doorways, I realized that my enamor with this city hadn’t weakened since I’d arrived a few months back. Before that point, I had traveled across the country, staying in each place no longer than three months at a time while my aunt worked on her photography collection. No place before had captivated me like New Orleans.

Eran took us to a quieter part of town and a narrow street alongside Lake Pontchartrain. I’d never been to this area of the city and could quickly see why. It was made of warehouse stores and I’d never been very interested in shopping.

By the time we reached our destination, it was nearly dark and the buildings were mostly hidden in shadows. The shopkeepers in this area had long since closed their doors and gone home for the evening.

Only one window was illuminated.

We removed our helmets and I followed Eran towards that window. We stopped at the door next to it where a simple wooden sign had been nailed at eye-level.

“Phillip Howell…Antiquities Dealer…” I read it aloud.

The door opened then and a quiet, gruff voice replied, “At your service.”

The voice belonged to a man who looked old enough to be in his nineties. He stooped over a gnarled cane that looked about the same age. His eyes were kind and gleaming as if he had a secret to tell.

“Mr. Howell,” Eran said, extending his hand.

“Pish,” was the reply. “I’m an old man and have no time for pleasantries. Come in.”

We followed him through a small room which may have been a pleasant storefront at one point. Now it was cluttered with statues, paintings, and boxes. Aisles had been cleared to allow us to reach Mr. Howell’s office in the back.

“Sit.” He pointed to a brown leather couch across from his desk and we did.

Mr. Howell continued on behind his desk but didn’t sit down. He instead hobbled to a scuffed but sturdy safe in the back corner of his office. After a few brief dials, he opened the door and removed a thin envelope.

Returning to his desk, he sat down and shoved the envelope toward Eran.

Eran reached for it, opened the flap, and peered inside. A quick glance told me inside was a cashier’s check from Mr. Howell and written for four million dollars. I gasped. Unfazed, Eran winked confidently at me and closed the flap. He tucked the envelope in his jeans pocket before addressing Mr. Howell.

Speculatively, he said, “I’m surprised at how quickly it sold. Who bought it?”

“A new collector…here in town.”

Eran nodded.

“Beautiful piece. And with the history behind it…” Mr. Howell exhaled a reflective chuckle. “Bids flew in from around the world once I set up the silent auction. But don’t worry. It’s confidential, just as you wanted. No one knows the name of the seller but me.”

“Ah…” I mumbled to myself, drawing their interest. “That’s why the check came from Mr. Howell.”

Mr. Howell smiled, his skin folding over itself as his face lifted. “She’s quick.”

“You have no idea,” said Eran, and then asked again, “Who was the collector?”

Mr. Howell appeared slightly perturbed at the question. “Just as you had, he asked to remain anonymous. In fact, he sent an assistant to pick it up.”

Realizing I was missing much of the story, I asked, “What was the
it
you are referring to?”

Mr. Howell smiled like a child in a candy store. “A renowned diamond necklace missing since the American Revolution. I was asked by several bid submitters where it was found but your boyfriend here won’t give that up.”

Eran grinned and stood up as if on cue. “Mr. Howell, thank you for mediating the sale.”

“For that piece? My pleasure.” Mr. Howell stood also and escorted us to the door. With a quick, courteous nod, he closed and locked the door behind us. The office went dark a moment later.

“Renowned necklace missing since the American Revolution?” I said with a curious lift of my eyebrows.

Eran nodded. “Thought I should store it for a rainy day…That rainy day arrived.”

“But where did you store it?” I didn’t bother to hide my amazement.

“There’s a little place in the Appalachians.”

The realization hit me quickly. “The cabin…”

Eran nodded again. He didn’t seem interested in sharing information so I figured it was up to me to ask.

“But how did you get it? You’ve always been here with me. When did you find the time?”

“Magdalene,” he said, subduing a smile. “Have you forgotten how fast I can move?”

I rolled my eyes and replied, “Not in the least.” I knew full well that Eran could make it around the world in a single day. A trip to the Appalachian Mountains would be a quick jaunt for him.

“Still, I had a friend watch over you as you slept.” He paused briefly, struggling to decide whether to disclose more. In the end, he allowed himself a brief reprieve from his typical aloof behavior. “I would never leave you alone. You are far too important to me.” He struggled with those words, releasing them gruffly. Listening to them made me feel an overwhelming sense of compassion for him. Our distance was challenging him too.

Only a second passed before his expression changed and he grew concerned. “What, Magdalene? What’s wrong?”

He saw the reaction in me before I recognized it myself. Suddenly my hands were shaking, perspiration broke out across my forehead, and – most distinctly – the hair at the back of my neck stood up as if I’d been shot with electricity.

A moment later I heard a young, male voice state, “Ah…now isn’t this sweet, boys? Ill-fated lovers meeting again.”

Eran moved to face the street, his expression changing to stone. I did the same while desperately trying to calm my reaction to those who now stood in front of us.

A ripping sound began, drawing my awareness towards Eran where I watched as his T-shirt tore away from his body. From the back of his shoulder blades, two gashes opened and from them grew a pair of brilliantly white wings. They expanded until they could easily have surrounded us but remained outstretched and ready for flight.

A single line of eight men scowled back at us, their stances much like ours – ready for attack. Each one looked to be just older than teenagers, each one was shirtless, and each one had massive grey wings spanning from their thick, brawny backs.