The Reaping of Norah Bentley (34 page)

“Edenton…” he said, his neck still craned back towards the sign. “Did it say five miles?”

I was so surprised he was actually talking directly to me again, that it took me a second to answer, “Yeah, that sounds about right. It’s been a while since I’ve been there, though. I don’t remember exactly.”

“You used to go there a lot.” It wasn’t a question.

“…I’ve got a lot of memories of Edenton,” I said, slowly understanding. “My grandparents used to live there—my mom’s parents. But even after mom took off, I still spent a lot of summers there...” I trailed off, because something told me I didn’t need to elaborate in the first place. Eli was nodding along with my words, like he’d expected every one.

“There’s a feeling of you about this place,” he said. “It’s getting stronger every mile we drive.”

“I haven’t been there in a really long time, though. I’m surprised you feel anything.”

A quick flash of moonlight through the window illuminated his tired smile. “I feel everything about you here lately,” he said, drumming his fingers against the vinyl armrest in the door.

I frowned, trying to remember everything he’d told me about the way reapers connected to the souls they were assigned to. “They’re getting clearer, you mean? My memories?”

“…Yes.”

“Isn’t that what normally happens toward the end?” A strange tingling sensation started creeping up my arm. “The other morning. That’s what you said. Sometimes things get clearer towards the end.”

It was a long time before he answered me.

“It’s why I’ve been able to hold this physical form for so long here lately, I think— I’ve been holding on to those feelings, to you. You’ve been keeping me here. You’re the only one that could, now.”

I was blushing before I could help myself. “There must be others,” I said. “I can’t be the only one.”

He shook his head. “There’s no one else. You—your soul—it’s the only one whose pull is stronger than the forces trying to drag me back to the Afterworld.”

There was something almost unbearably romantic about his words, the way he said them so softly; I felt like this was the part where I should have been swooning. There was no one else but me. He was staying because of me, the only thing keeping him whole.

Well, sort of whole. Minus the whole possibly-fading-away-forever thing.

I glanced over at him; I wasn’t brave enough to stare any harder than that, to try and see just how solid his body still looked. His still
sounded
solid, his voice as clear as ever. But for how much longer?

“So I guess the feelings are wearing off, now?” I said, turning back and making a concentrated effort to keep my eyes on the road. “That’s why you were fading earlier.”
And still fading now?

Suddenly my thoughts were traveling down roads I didn’t want them anywhere near, and I could see a clear image of the last time I’d visited Edenton: the way Dad and Grandma and Grandpa had all sat so stiffly, with nothing left to say to each other. Mom had been gone for almost two years by then. After that visit, my grandparents left too. We’d gotten maybe one phone call since, just Grandma telling us they were happily settled in Aruba, or Cuba— maybe some other place that rhymed with “uba”. Someplace far away from us, where there was no chance of our dropping in for another awkward visit.

So I was used to people leaving. If Eli disappeared right then and there from that passenger seat, I wouldn’t have been all that surprised. I’m not sure what I would have been. I didn’t want to think about it.

“It’s nothing like that,” Eli said. “The feelings are as strong as they ever were. But there’s so much more to this, to me, it’s—”

“If you give me the whole “it’s not you, it’s me” line, I’m going to reach over there and smack you.”

He shrugged. “Well it is.”

“So does this mean you’re breaking up with me?”

“If I say yes, will you turn the car around and go back to Sutton? To someplace safe?”

“Someplace safe…?” I frowned again, braced my arms against the steering wheel. “What, like with Luke?” I couldn’t keep the irritation out of my voice. Distance had given me perspective, and the more I thought about Luke, the angrier I got. Why hadn’t he helped me? He knew what was happening. Everything I was going through. And he’d purposely made it worse.

He was safe now, and I was glad. But he was in
so
much trouble when I saw him again.

“…Luke would probably be the best person, yes.” Eli’s voice didn’t have the same irritation as mine, but I could tell the suggestion wasn’t easy for him to make.

“You don’t want me to go back to Luke,” I said, voice absolutely deadpan.

“I didn’t want a lot of things that have happened tonight,” he said. “But what I
do
want is for you to be safe. And right now, you’d be safer with Luke.”

“Are you forgetting that he’s the one who
betrayed
us? Betrayed me. His best friend.”

“…I think I understand why he did it.”

My gaze snapped to him for a second.

“Oh, I’d love to hear this.”

“And I’m sure he’d be more than happy to tell you himself.” He sounded almost smug.

“Well, it’ll have to wait,” I said with a frustrated growl. “I’m not turning the car around.”

He sighed, and was quiet for another minute—until we passed the sign telling us the Edenton exit was a half a mile away.

“Can we at least stop here then?” he asked, motioning to the upcoming exit ramp.

“Why?”

“I already told you. This place has you all over it.”

I let my gaze flicker to the ramp, trying to process what he meant as quickly as I could in my fried brain. When I looked back at him, he had his fingers spread out on the dashboard in front of him, studying them. I told myself it was the moonlight that was making them look so pale, so ghost-like. But deep down, I understood why he wanted to stop.

“…Enough of me to help keep you here, you think?”

He nodded, closing his eyes again. “It might help.”

I bit my lip, torn between not wanting to stop and being afraid to push him any further. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t deny how sick he was starting to look, how tired his voice sounded. Guilt jolted my chest. Was I being selfish, forcing him to run away like this? The answer seemed like an obvious, resounding “yes”—until I thought about the alternative he was facing. He might have been ready to face Sam, but I couldn’t let him.

I could do this for him though, I thought as I flipped on my right turn signal and let the car drift into the exit lane. I don’t know why I bothered to signal; you could—and we pretty much had—drive this road for a hundred miles without passing another car. But flipping on the signal almost made it seem like I knew what I was doing, where I was going.

Like a lot of the towns in the Inner Banks region, Edenton was poised between its colonial heritage and the modern world pressing steadily in toward its center; timeless and fleeting at the same time. Century-old houses were nestled in-between real estate businesses, chic coffeehouses and expensive-looking restaurants, and there were towering condos in the distance that hadn’t been here the last time I visited. The streets were lined with trees, their trunks so thick they had to have been at least as old as the houses. Their branches were already bare, and through them I could see water sparkling in the moonlight, and the dark outline of the docks.

We drove right by my grandparents old house. I didn’t look at it though; I kept my eyes on the deserted streets, on the shadows of boats bobbing up and down in the gentle wake of the river. My mind was still on escaping, and each of the boats seemed like their own invitation to emancipation, getaway cars that would take us at least as far as the open ocean.

But then where?

Out of the corner of my vision, I kept watching Eli. He almost looked like he was sleeping, except that every few seconds he would wince, and his hand would reach automatically for his bicep, his fingers wrapping over it and squeezing until his knuckles turned white. The same shade of white I’m guessing my face was turning.

“You going to be okay?”

“Yes,” he said without opening his eyes.

I pulled into the first parking spot I could find. With a sick feeling in my stomach, I reached over with shaking fingers and pushed the sleeve of his shirt up. He barely flinched. I don’t think he even felt my touch. His mark was burning with the red-hot intensity of a fresh scar; it looked almost like some sick sort of brand. The two side-by-side circles suddenly didn’t look like an infinity symbol. They were more like of a pair of handcuffs.

“It’s getting worse for you,” I said. I wasn’t asking, but he nodded anyway.

“We’re right on the edge, I think. If we haven’t already passed the boundary.”

Already? Had we really driven that far?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I demanded.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s hurting you.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Eli…”

His hand rested lightly over mine in the center console. “It’s better now that we’ve stopped here. Don’t worry about it.”

I shook my head and reached for the door lock. I needed to get out of this car—right then it felt like just one more thing imprisoning us.

“Maybe you should get some fresh air?” I suggested, opening the door. That annoying
ding ding ding
reminded me that my keys were still in the ignition, but I didn’t bother to grab them. I needed some fresh air myself, and the quicker the better. I closed the door without looking back, and Eli followed me outside a second later.

“I’m sorry,” I said, before he could speak, before he was even in my line of vision.

“Why?”

“For this. For being stubborn.”
For hurting you. For not telling you how much I love you. For needing you to stay.
For so many things, really.

“You’ve always been stubborn,” he said.

“I didn’t mean to cause you any pain.”

He looked thoughtful for a second. “Well, if we’re apologizing for that, then I’m sorry too. Sorry times infinity.”

“I thought we could get away.”

“It was worth a try.”

“It was stupid.”

The cool breeze prickled my skin, and the musty smell of brackish water mixed with the stench of fish made the sick feeling in my stomach even worse. Eli took the hand I hadn’t cupped over my mouth and led me down the sidewalk, out onto one of the small docks. His hand was trembling. I held it as tight as I could, trying to get it to stop. If only I could make this stop.

We reached the end of the dock and sat down, our feet dangling just a few inches above the water.

“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?” I asked after a minute, my voice barely audible over the clanging of church bells in the distance. I stretched my legs, straightened my feet until the very tips of my shoes touched the still water and sent it rippling outwards. “There’s nothing I can do.”

He smiled; a small, broken smile reflected in the wobbly surface of the river. Even distorted, even in the dim light of the half-hidden moon, it still made me shiver. Then I saw him nod and move a little closer to me, felt his arm slip around my waist.

“It’s peaceful here,” he said.

He didn’t want to talk about what was coming. Fine. I settled into the crook of his arm, nodding.

“Yeah, it is.” There was another toll of bells. “Except for those bells,” I said. “What time is it, anyway?”

Eli stiffened, pulled away just a little. “What bells?” he asked calmly.

I gave him a strange look. How was I supposed to know where they were coming from? I hadn’t been here in forever.

“I dunno,” I said. “I think there used to be this huge Baptist church downtown, maybe it’s ringing them. Seems awfully late, though.”

Eli shook his head, his expression suddenly serious.

Another bell rang. I brought my hands half-way up to cover my ears, but the look on Eli’s face stopped me. The fear came quick, tightening in my throat and making it hard to ask:

“You…you don’t hear them, do you?”

He shook his head again.

“No…?” Not again. Not now.

Why now?

In zombie-like slow-motion, I buried my head into his chest and shut my eyes tightly. My fingers dug into his shirt, clenching fistfuls of it and pulling him closer to me—as close as I could while still leaving me space to breathe.

Something was wrong. His touch, his nearness—it was supposed to bring silence. The clarity, the peaceful veil of death. So why did the world around me stay so alive, filled with the sounds of the bells getting louder and louder?

“Why aren’t they going away?” I practically shouted it, trying to make sure he could hear me. They were so
loud
. He had to hear them—I couldn’t have been the only one. Why was he lying to me?

I shoved him away and tried to stand. But my dizzying thoughts made my step just as unsure, and when my foot tried to find the solid wood of the dock, it found thin air instead. I felt my body start to fall. The memory of my death, of cold water and waves crashing and shoving me under, brought me back to my senses for a moment— just long enough to recognize the familiar touch on my arm pulling me back.