Beloved Evangeline (34 page)

“
My accomplishments have changed me, made me
more
than what you are—that and most of my life has been spent in and out of different mental institutions. That’s why I don’t really blame your mother for killing my father. She couldn’t help herself. Just like... I can’t help myself.”

“
Changed
you...” I tried to form a question, but was immediately reminded of the way the hospital staff tried to make sense of the nonsense espoused by my cellmates back at the hospital. Had I been speaking at the time I would’ve told them to save their breath.

“
The way they explained it to me is that some people are
special
. When you’ve taken as many souls as I have,
things
come looking for you. Them finding me was the best thing that’s ever happened. They’ve made me stronger, better at what I do.” He reached for me cheek—I jerked my head away. “You really should have tried this a long time ago. It would’ve made your pathetic little club so much better. ”

“
These friends of yours have no idea who you really are—but I do.” The knowing look in his eyes pierced through me.

I felt the hopelessness trying to get its hold on me again. My body trembled slightly. Maybe there was a little truth to what he said, but I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let him get the best of me.

“
So once I started following you, I learned frustratingly little. After considerable time-consuming digging, I found out about the lost years you spent in New Mexico. Took a few trips out there. Those proved very
entertaining
. Poor, poor Jack. And Trent. And what’s his name. I’d dunno. I kinda lost track of them all. Jack was the one that stood out to me. The people I spoke to said it was the most unusual suicide they’d ever heard of. I couldn’t have agreed more.” There was pure malice in his eyes.

My breathing was becoming uneven, ragged.

“
Poor guy just couldn’t hack it with you, could he? And then all those others. If you hadn’t dropped me all those years ago, maybe things would’ve been different. Before you start thinking too much of yourself—that time has passed. After you
forgot me completely
,
” his voice strained in a rage, “I don’t think there’s anything left for us, do you?”

“
There never was an
us.
”

He held out his hand, and for a moment, I thought this was part of the performance, a theatrical movement, like in Hamlet. But instead of reciting Shakespeare, a dark flame sparked from his flesh. His hand rotated in a magician’s movement as the flames flickered and grew.

I felt no heat.

Jonathan closed his hand slowly, extinguishing the unnatural fire.

“
I learned to do this all on my own. But you—there’s a
stain
on you, a stain that bleeds off onto anyone unlucky enough to touch you. I can literally
see
it. No that’s not right—it’s more like radiation. The energy draws people to you and then slowly kills them. So ironic—you’ve got to be going insane with curiosity! I’m just a bystander and it’s practically killing me. I’ve never seen anything like it. Everything I got going on, I created myself, and then they just reached out to me from the other side after admiring what I can do. But you, it’s like you were drawn to the other side because of what had happened to you, instead of the other way around.”

With this, a sickening revelation began to unfold in my mind. My mother had tried to protect me from this curse, to avoid exactly
this
. She’d forbidden my grandfather from speaking to me about it... she must’ve done
other things
to try and protect me. But, instead of protecting me, those other things she’d tried to break the curse had left a mark. I was a beacon, calling to any otherworldly visitor who happened to cross my path. It was just like that old proverb about actually finding your destiny on the detour you took to escape it.

I doubled over and coughed furiously in an attempt to choke back the acid rising in my throat. My body began to tremble violently. My eyes welled with tears at the utter despair and futility of it all, but I refused to let them spill. My mother had done her best, done whatever she knew how to do for me—all for nothing. And there was nowhere I would ever be able to hide from it.

Jonathan and his companions stared at me with amusement. I was, at least, thankful that none of them seemed to be able to read my thoughts as Mr. Fernwood had, but I supposed it probably wasn’t too difficult to guess. I wiped fiercely at my eyes with my forearm, embarrassed the tears had almost escaped.

“
Now, before I have some
fun
—and have what I’m dying to take from you—I need to know where you’re hiding the book.”

I stared down at the ground, searching in vain for my dignity.

“
The book, Evangeline, the
Book of the Dead
. I know you’re family has the only true translation in existence. None of this would be possible for you without it. The spells have worked for no one else—no natural magic is powerful enough to guide someone to the other side and back again.”

“
Where’s Mr. Fernwood?” I asked in a whisper—ignoring the question—as I focused to regain control of my breathing.

“
Who?”

“
You didn’t send him to kill me?”

“
It’s possible—these things don’t exactly work like ordering a pizza. Whoever he is I’m sure he’s back where he belongs, wherever it is he came from.” He shrugged. Jonathan didn’t care about anyone or anything.

“
What will happen to him?” The farther I could remove my thoughts from the larger, stain-involved picture for me, the better off I’d be.

“
How sweet. You really should be more careful, though. If he’s from the other side he may be one of the last of the greats—the truly
evil
ones.”

He was bluffing—he didn’t know what I was talking about.
How had I half convinced myself that Mr. Fernwood was actually real?

“
You didn’t answer my question...”

“
Who cares!” He interrupted, in apparent annoyance at my attempt to change the subject. “Maybe he’s given an extra thousand years of torture on top of his lifetime of servitude.
I don’t give a shit.
There’s a multitude of other, more obedient demons to choose from in the same hell hole he came from. I’d really be more worried about myself right now if I were you.”

I choked back whatever residual emotions were left from my earlier outburst, trying to summon my strength for what I now knew I needed to do. “And what happens to you, when all this is through?” I asked.

Jonathan’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“
Do they get
your
soul?” I asked casually, motioning to the surrounding malformations.

“
My soul?” He snorted before turning back to me, his eyes ablaze. “I. Don’t. Have. One. Have you not been listening?”

I nodded. I’d definitely touched a nerve. He didn’t know the price of the bargain he’d made. I turned to the surrounding aberrations. “Do you get his soul?” I asked, gesturing to Jonathan.

The monstrous beings turned to one another. Some form of silent communication appeared to be going on between them, but none of them answered me directly.

“
I thought a person had to be told what their deal involved, or is that just a myth?” I was beginning to feel better. My own soul seemed to have been restored, however fleetingly. The pain had reached its peak, a point of near collapse—like a clogged artery—my body losing almost all ability to function, and then, by some miracle, the clog had dissipated. My body slowly resumed a more natural state—my mind alert and clear again. Except—there had really been no clog in the first place. The physical feelings were induced by a toxic combination of guilt, fear, regret, shame, and a number of other emotions I was incapable of finding words to describe.

Feverishly trying to work a way out of this mess, I examined Jonathan as the creatures were preoccupied. I noticed something—a necklace—apparently made from bone and stained with blood. My best guess was that it was a kind of talisman.

A lithe, dark-haired being approached me, his hand stretched behind him as if to order the others to stay back. He opened his mouth to speak, and a terrible low-pitched screeching sound came out. My hands flew to my ears in an effort to shelter from the horrible sound, but to little effect. The words he spoke seemed to be coming from many different voices, but I couldn’t place the language.

I’m not sure what the fiend had expected to happen, but it seemed he had expected a different reaction. I released my hold on my ears hesitantly, my hands hovering just above them, unsure if he was finished. He turned back to the others, a look of confusion on his face.

“
I’m ready to be done with her,” Jonathan said to the demons, before returning to me. “You’re sucking up too much of the other side. These guys are more edgy than I’ve ever seen their kind be. But it’s just hype isn’t it? You’re not really so tough underneath. I’d worked myself up into believing you were some kind of supernatural bad-ass I couldn’t compete with, but you really are kind of sad. You’re just stumbling blind.” He laughed irritatingly, a display of pity meant just for me.

I had no reply to give.

“
Ready for the sacrificial altar?” He called mockingly.

With that, he began walking away. His minions marched me behind him, ever closer to my beloved tree.

When we reached it, I was shoved down from behind. I tried taking in all the splendor of the unnaturally large, wicked shape. This was clearly not the way I’d imagined my reunification with this magical place. I turned at the sound of rustling behind me to see Simon walking, and Nicky and Gavin being dragged toward me. They were meant to die with me—a group sacrifice.

Jonathan sighed. “This is hard... I’d like to be all diabolical and say how glad I am to see you go, but I actually feel a bit disappointed. It took every ounce of black magic I could find, really the trickiest work I’ve ever done,” he paused, the magical light illuminating the malevolence in his eyes. “I don’t really know what I’m going to do without you around... breathe easier, I guess?” He added sarcastically, “You understand.”

My eyes flickered helplessly to my friends.

“
I think you’ll find Jack’s death will seem relatively painless compared to this. You didn’t have to see that. Tonight, on the other hand, is going to be quite unpleasant. When they begin to beg... the first time I watched such misery, I was given my greatest inspiration.”

My eyes closed. I wasn’t going to be able to bear this.

“
I just don’t think you were meant for this world, Evangeline. You’d already been touched, altered by your mother’s dark magic when we were kids. I always felt there was something different, intriguing about you—magnetic. That was just another unintended effect, you being so different from others. Nothing special about you, really.
Goddamn!
I can’t stop saying how disappointed I am!” He motioned to his legion of devils.

I fought against the pain inside. I willed myself to stay in the present, though I desperately wished to disappear into my fantasy world.

“
I really need to test something first...” He reared his leg back and kicked me in the side. I was knocked back from the force and pain of it, my head landing sharply onto upturned branches. I clutched my side, feeling utterly powerless.

“
Fight, Evangeline! Don’t let him get to you!” I heard Simon, who seemed to be shouting from very far away. I was so absorbed in my own feelings of responsibility over their fates that I’d almost forgotten they were even capable of independent action.

Our struggles seemed only to further fuel Jonathan’s amusement; he kicked my side repeatedly. “You do feel pain. How…
unexpected
,” he mused, bending over me. “How will the screams of your friends sound to you then?” he whispered for only me to hear.

He motioned and one of the men grabbed the back of my sweater, pulling me to face him.

Jonathan gazed directly at me. The surrounding world seemed to fade away. I watched helplessly as the whites of his eyes disappeared, leaving only darkness behind. His eyes were suddenly disproportionately large compared to the size of his face—and flickered with dark flames.