Undertow (17 page)

“Evolve? From what?”

“Humans. Everyday, normal, mortal humans,” said Raef. “Humans that become Mortis
do so when they are infected with the disease that destroys the soul. The disease was the result of a fallen angel who tried to ‘recruit,’ shall we say, a human army. The resulting genetic reaction caused the disease.”

“So they are . . . fallen angels?”

“No. The are the genetic remnants of one fallen angel,” said Raef. “And the Lunaterra are descended from the Archangel who attempted to stop the Fallen one. The two races are perfectly matched, genetic enemies. They are humans with unique DNA.”

My mouth had nearly hit the floor. Two races, descended from warring angels, locked in a genetic loathing for centuries. I had a hard time wrapping my head around it. I was so floored I couldn’t even respond.

Raef touched my hand to get my attention. “Eila. Listen to me. You need to understand what we are up against. The Mortis are fast and strong. They are also immortal, living forever off the life-force, the essence, of others unless they are
killed.
And they can only be killed by a broken neck, fire, or at the hands of a Lunaterra,” said Raef.

“That’s it?” I asked, alarmed. “No sunshine? No garlic? No crosses?  Three things and that’s it?”

MJ laughed, “Girl, they are not vampires. Sheesh.”

Raef let me sit, looking around the room, my thoughts racing. He let me mull this information over for a minute. I looked back down at the paper and tapped my finger above the pyramid, “Okay, so who are these people? These Lunaterra?”

“Like the Mortis, their line also goes back thousands of years. We also know that their ability to channel power can be handed down through generations. Unlike the Mortis, the Lunaterra are born, not infected. Their ability is a birthright,” said Raef, watching my face.

“Why do these Mortis fear them?” I asked, absorbed with the story.

“A Lunaterra can channel the Web of Souls. It is the energy that humans give off to one another and links each human soul together. A highly skilled Lunaterra can invoke their will on the Web, wherever they are, and use its force to incinerate any soulless creature. Like Kian said: glow-stick, but on steroids.”

I sat there, absorbing all this information. The death of my grandmother, the burn on my leg, the vague dreams, the mark on my back. Connections were starting to form in my mind. All eyes were on me, especially Raef’s.

I turned to him. “You said ‘gifted.’ That you thought I was gifted,” I said to him slowly. He nodded.

I added the idea that I had some sort of ability into what I had learned that morning. Then I thought about being knocked down in the hall and shoved off a bridge. I thought about the fact that I didn’t have the strength to carry some of the moving boxes up the stairs before school started, or lift the door off my Jeep.

I realized what they were thinking and I was sure they were wrong.

Very, very wrong.

“Wait just one minute,” I said, my face incredulous. “You believe I am one of these Lunaterra
people, don’t you? You think my radiator burn is some sort of sign?”

“It’s a mark of your kind. A rare mark, even within your race, but it only belongs to the Lunaterra,” said Raef.

“Oh yeah? Well, tell that to the Birmingham company that built the darn radiator. It’s their emblem.”

Raef still shook his head, “No it’s not. It’s the mark of talent.”

“Talent within an already powerful race?  Go ahead then, Mr. Know-it-all. What’s it mean?”

Raef didn’t speak for a moment, then seemed to actually stiffen. “It is a lethality mark. A sign of the most deadly. A gifted killer’s badge.”

The room looked serious, no one cracked a smile. They obviously didn’t see the ridiculousness of their logic.

“Oh please,” I laughed. “That is absurd. I have the worst luck and no talent whatsoever.” I was trying to educate them on their faulty ideas, but the burn on my leg and fiery edge hidden within my eyes was nagging me. Still I refused to believe it. 

“Seriously, there is no way. I mean, come on, if I’m one of the Lunaterra, what does that make you? Some sort of superhero?” I asked, smiling at Raef.

He looked at me, but he wasn’t smiling. His face was like stone.

“Mortis,” was all he replied.

Oh, hell.

12

I looked at Raef, his beautiful fac
e
lined with trepidation.  His was supposedly the face of a true demon. A hunter of humankind who had irrationally decided to protect me, his brilliant enemy, or so it seemed.

Like any sane human, I would have predicted that I would run screaming from the room. But then again, we humans are full of surprises, even to ourselves. And I, for one, have always questioned my sanity.

I looked at him, a fury of emotions bouncing off one another inside me. Betrayal, Passion, Hate, Love, Trust.  A million emotions, yet fear was not one of them. 

I looked forcefully into his eyes. “Prove it. Prove you are what you say you are,” I said in a solid but determined voice, the image of his black eyes returning to my mind.

Confusion and surprise briefly raced across Raef’s face.   He could have easily hurt me. Snapped my neck in one sickening yank and ended my existence.

My world was so fantastically twisted that, at this point, I could have readily believed any horror story. Most likely it was true.  Perhaps I was
. . . what? Fearless? Suicidal? Generally nuts? 

Or maybe I already knew in my heart that he was different. Maybe my confidence was because they
were
right. Maybe it wasn’t that I should fear him, but that
he
should fear me. 

Maybe I was the true killer in the room.

              He got to his feet and looked down at me, rumpled in a poor-taste top and sweats. He took a deep breath and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a chiseled, smooth chest and well-toned arms. He looked like any other human. Well, an exceedingly handsome, athletic one, but nothing that denoted soulless immortal.

I raised my eyebrows, impatient. My heart was racing, no doubt due to the view and to what I knew to be true.

He turned his back to me. Running along his rib was a barely noticeable light pink line. Last night it had been a deep, weeping slash mark. This morning, he was nearly healed.

“How?” I asked him plainly, as he looked over his shoulder at me.

He nodded toward Ana. “Show her,” he said in the same, smooth voice I had come to wrap myself in. She sighed, and reluctantly held out her left arm, displaying the bandage on her forearm.

As sore as I was, I launched to my feet remarkably fast. Raef spun around, alarmed that I was going to keel over. 

“What the? Did you . . . cut her? Bite her?” I yelled at him. Somewhere in the more sane and repressed part of my mind, I was being reminded that I was yelling at a member of a murderous race. I stomped on the voice and shoved Raef in the chest, furious.

“How could you?” I yelled, incensed that he had done something terrible to my friend. That he had lied to me. That he had made me love him and in doing so, had betrayed me.

I kept hitting him and he let me. I was so angry, for so many reasons, none of which, however, was fear.

I must have struck him 20 times before he reached up and softly held my wrists, preventing me from hitting him anymore.  I struggled in his iron grasp, but I was becoming exhausted, both mentally and physically.

“Eila! Stop!” demanded Ana. “It isn’t his fault.  I offered, and for crying out loud, he didn’t bite me. I cut myself so he could drink my blood.” 

She got up and came around the table to face me. “It was the only way to heal the wound quickly and I wasn’t about to let him tap my
life-force. Blood carries a similar essence of the soul. It was a quick fix and you need his protection!”

“Oh please,” I spat back, still angry and unbelieving.

“No, it’s true!” said Ana, looking from me to Raef. He was still holding onto my arms and looked heartbroken and guilt-ridden. “His blood, no matter how small the amount, is lethal to a Lunaterra. You found that out last night! He couldn’t be bleeding around you. He could have killed you by accident.”         

The new world I was now part of had simply become too much to understand.  I dropped my head, my heart in pieces. Tears soaked my face as Raef released my wrists and cautiously wrapped his strong arms around me. He held me to his smooth, warm chest as my adrenaline high faded and the burden of last night’s near death experience made me heavy with exhaustion.

I could feel the room fade to darkness as I slipped into unconsciousness, Raef’s arms still holding me securely.

An hour later, I woke to find myself on Dalca’s bed. This time, however, I had a clear head and a new reality. As I stared at the ceiling, I heard the chair in the corner creak and looked over to it.

Raef was sitting there, the heavy leather book from earlier open in his lap. He looked absorbed in what he was reading. The window next to him was open and his dirty blonde hair was moving slightly in the sun-sparkled breeze.

I studied him, trying to see the darkness of his kind, but he looked human. If anything, he really did look like an angel’s descendant.

As he sat there reading, I made the greatest leap of faith I had ever made in my life – to trust my most deadly enemy. To trust that he would not deceive me, and that his intentions were in my best interest.

Some strange instinct told me I was supposed to trust him. It felt like the same instinct that brought me here in the first place.

He had told me he would be my sentinel and that he would not fail me. I believed him with all my soul. But, I needed to know why an enemy so ingrained in history, even in our bloodlines, would choose to protect me. I was sure there were volumes more I needed to understand.

I slowly sat up in bed and my movement caught Raef’s attention. He looked up from his book, his sapphire eyes calm but focused.

I smoothed back my tangled bed head of hair the best I could, and gave him a weak smile, but he didn’t mirror my face. Instead he closed the book, laying it on the
windowsill, and walked over to the bed. He reached out his hand to mine, gesturing for me to take it.

“I think you co
uld use some fresh air,” he offered.

I looked at his hand for a few seconds and I knew I was about to officially cross a line that could never be redrawn. What would my ancestors think? Would they be turning in their graves to know I was falling hard for the deadliest of soul assassins?

But then again, Raef was also betraying his own. Protecting me meant potentially killing his kind. And though I had no understanding or command of my supposed “abilities,” guarding me was to defend a potential mass-murderer. I tensed at the thought that I could be such a violent person deep down.

I flexed my ankle and found it completely, miraculously pain free. Deciding that I could stand on my own two feet, I finally reached out for his hand and he pulled
me up, steadying me with his strong hands.

I looked at his beautiful face. “Yeah, I think some fresh air is a great idea,” I said, and this time he gave me a slight smile.

On our way out of the house, I noticed that everyone had disappeared. Raef led me out to the back stoop, the same granite step that saw me almost throw up after sniffing Dalca’s vial. 

The vial. Dalca must have used it to see if I was one of Elizabeth’s kind, though what exactly it was still remained a mystery. A stomach-churning mystery.

Thankfully, the need to vomit was nowhere near and the fragrant vine climbing the back of the house was intense. The warmth of the day was retreating, shooed away by a cool, late afternoon breeze riding in from the ocean.

Dalca owned several acres of land at the back of her home, most of which was a large field of late season wildflowers, with the grandest weeping beech tree standing alone in the center of the field. It was a magnificent tree laden with abundant, oval leaves. Its lower branches curved toward the ground, creating its own crisp and cool secret garden. 

The field drifted down a slopin
g hill towards a thicket of pines and beyond where the waters of the Atlantic glistened. The fairy-tale tree swayed lazily in unison with the flowers, tickled by the salty air.

It would have been a destination postcard, except for the two of us, who substantially decreased the allure of the area.

I walked out through the meadow, Raef following a few steps behind. He was always there, whether in my head or by my side, he designated himself my keeper.

I, however, saw him as far more than a simple protection detail.  He was more to me than a way to survive. Every last molecule of my design pulled me toward him, illogically, like an undertow, towards salvation . . . or potential death.

As my hand grazed lazily over the tops of the flowers, I let my mind wander and, for one moment, I was not on Cape Cod. Not caught up in the frenzy of desperation that had begun to define and consume my life here.  For just one moment I was your average teen in love with the boy who was following me.

In love. It was true.

I was IN LOVE with Raef, as absurd as it seemed. I dreamed that he wanted me as much as I desired him, and that this field was where he would kiss me, declare his love for me and pull me down gently into the tall grass . . .

             
“It’s nice to escape, isn’t it?” asked Raef, breaking me from my illusion. I turned and realized he had been watching me play with the tops of the flowers. My face blushed hot at being caught in my fantasy, now terrified he had another ability known as mind reading. I laughed, a little too nervously.

             
“Uh, yeah,” I confessed. “Though I’m not sure I’m okay with you reading my thoughts.”

             
“I can’t read your mind,” said Raef, sincerely. “But I can read your face. You were far from here for a moment. Peaceful.”

I targeted a daisy and plucked the blossom from the stem. I neurotically started to remove each petal from the yellow center, still wary he knew my thoughts. Whatever momentary lapse from reality I had, it was long gone now.

              “I am so very sorry for bringing all of this on you so suddenly. It must be quite a shock,” said Raef, truly apologetic, though his gaze was off toward the distance. He seemed unable to look at me, ashamed of the nuclear stress he had thrown like a bomb into my life.

             
A shock? A shock to find out that we are descendants of an angelic war? That my grandmother had been murdered and that I command her same devastating talent?  Yeah, “shock” didn’t quite cover my state of mind. But as I ran this news once again through my head, I couldn’t escape one fact: that subconsciously I may have known all along.

I stopped walking, and my lack of movement made Raef stop short too.  He looked at me, that all too common protective worry creeping over his face.

              “It wasn’t a shock,” I managed to whisper, staring at my mangled flower. I heard Raef move closer to me and looked up to his face. The falling sun reflected off the corners of his eyes and revealed chips of bronze in the sea of blue. I took a deep breath and solidified my knowledge. “It wasn’t a shock,” I said again, steadily this time.

Raef was surprised, “I guess that would explain why you didn’t bolt from the house when I
told you what I was. How did you. . . ?” His voice trailed off, as if something was occurring to him. “You mean Elizabeth. Your dreams,” he said, awed. He shook his head and smiled, “Your kind truly is on a different, supernatural plane.”

             
“Baby steps please,” I moaned. “I am still adjusting to the human sparkler aspect of my nature.”

I continued on, walking slowly through the fields and attempting to replay a few of my nightmares. “I should tell Dalca I’ve been having the dreams.”

              Raef grimaced, “I’d rather you not. Not yet anyway. I do not trust people easily and Dalca is someone I have known for a very short period of time. She also dabbles in a weird sort of earth magic and I’m worried she will fry your brain trying to get you to remember your dreams.”

I recalled the vial and me wanting to puke. Yeah – Dalca, though nice, was a bit too experimental for me. I nodded. “You know, I’ve got to tell you. I think I may be defective as a Lunatorra.”

“LunaTERRA,” Raef corrected, one dark eyebrow raised in a curious curve. “Defective? Somehow I doubt you are the least bit defective, Eila.”

“Seriously!” I demanded. “I mean, as one of these LunaTERRA people, don’t you think I should have the scruples to be able to recall a dream clearly? I mean, I barely remember them at all. And they weren’t even the sweet, fuzzy type of dreams that make you all happy inside when you wake up. They were nightmares! I would wake up tangled in the sheets on the floor with the dust bun
nies, and all I can remember are the emotions.  I get snippets. I’m like a stupid radio with poor reception!” I moaned, frustrated. I ended the daisy’s misery and popped the blossom off. I looked at him, aggravated. “I feel like she’s trying to tell me something and I sense it’s so damn important!”

             
Raef looked at me, sympathetic to my thick head, “When we know, we know. Don’t beat yourself up about it.  Maybe she was just trying to tell you about who you are.  Well, who
we
are, I guess. Maybe the house triggered the dreams.”