Fallen (56 page)

“An
ne Boleyn? The Queen of
England
,
Anne Boleyn?” asked Ezra, showing surprise
for the first time
.

“That’s correct.”

“But she was executed in
1536…
” Ezra
stated
under her breath.

“Most of
those
I am talking about have been alive for hundreds of years,
Elam
included.”

To this, my roommates raised their eyebrows.

Gershom, if he noticed, ignored it.
“
Elam
has one weakness. Although his skin cannot be punctured – evidence from the explosion in Mr. Sparks’
Bio
chemistry class – any part
of his
body not covered in skin can be harmed. This includes his eyes and the inside of his mouth. I know of one attempt on his life in which he was given poison. It nearly killed him but with his love of chemistry he was able to
narrowly escape death
by concocting an antidote serum. His attacker later became the victim and was found gutted from the inside out, hanging from a spike on the
grounds of the
Tower
of
London
.”

“Ugh…” Felix dipped his head and shuttered.

“The next most powerful one is Achan.
Abaddon
discovered him sometime during the French Revolution, picking off rebels from high positions with his choice of weapon – the bow and arrow. Something Maggie knows
,
unfortunately
,
all
too well. But what you don’t know is his strength. I’ve never seen anyone with the magnitude of his ability. No one has ever been able to match him.  And lastly, there’s Sharar. He came to
Abaddon
not long ago and asked to be a follower
. I don’t know his history but
what I can tell you is that he’s unpredictable. He strikes without thought or strategy
…
it seems
…
whenever the urge appeals to him. His only weakness that I’m aware of is his ego. He thinks very highly of himself. No one is above him. ”

“Not even
Abaddon
?” I asked.

“That remains to be seen.”

“Alright,” said Ezra, thoughtfully. “So we know that Elam must be attacked through the eyes or the mouth, Achan’s strength can possibly be used against the others if we positio
n ourselves tactically, the wome
n would need to handle Sarai for obvious reasons, and we can possibly use Sharar’s ego against
Abaddon
.”

Ezra
–
always
the
supportive,
selfless caregiver
– left me unnerved h
earing he
r talk with such strategic derision
. It even took Gershom by surprise.

“Y-Yes,” he stammered. “That’s well thought out, Ezra. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. What you should be focusing on is leaving the city. We’ve wasted too much time already.”

“Agreed,” she said
, glancing at
each one of us. “So…what do you think about
Key West
this time
of year
?”
She
asked
this languidly, as if she were offering
up
the location as a vacation spot.

Felix clapped his hands in excitement. “Yessss!”

Rufus lifted his shoulders,
displaying indifference.

Within
minutes
,
our bags
were being
haphazardly stuffed with clothing and toiletries
before leaving
the house.
As I followed Rufus out the front door,
I paused and turned one last time. I could see down the hallway to the kitchen where I’d first met these people I was now leaving with; where I’d
eaten
meals and held soulful conversations with them; where I felt that my life had finally begun. Now, here I was a few short months later running from the first place I could call home.

The sad,
stark reality
of our situation hit me as I passed the parlor and caught sight of the polished gold rod next to the fireplace screen. It had been covered in cobwebs the first time I’d seen it but had remained polished and ready since my roommates had moved in.
So long as
Abaddon
and the
Fallen One
s
were after us, we would never be able to stay in one place for
to
o
long again. We’d always be glancing over our shoulders, waiting for one of them to walk through the door when we least expected it,
and
keeping our toothbrushes and clothes in bags for a quick getaway. None of this seemed fair – least of all to Ezra, Felix, and Rufus. They hadn’t asked for this type of life. I had drawn them
into
it.
These thoughts more than any other reason were what resolved me to do what I had planned to do this morning.
I only needed to get everyone else safely out of town before I could act out the decision I’d secretly made.

With Felix, Rufus, Ezra, and Gershom in the car and me on my motorcycle, we headed
east
on I-1
0. I followed
, patiently,
for over an hour until I
was
certain they were no longer looking back to make sure I was still there
.
When I was completely sure,
I
exited onto
an inconspicuous
off-ramp and
I parked there
,
under the overpass
,
to wait
.
I allowed enoug
h time so they wouldn’t see me, and
then
I started my engine
,
drove up the onramp
for
I-1
0 West,
and headed
back to New Orleans.

It didn’t feel like I was driving my bike
toward
to the jaws of death, like I was delivering myself to evil. In fact, I felt nothing at all. This consciousness – or more accurately my lack of
emotion, thought, or free will
- only slightly registered with me. I was on autopilot. The bike moved itself through the cars
back
toward
the city, back to the
Fallen One
s.

I did, however, understand that without
any feelings
, it would be far more difficult for Eran to find me.
K
nowing this calmed me even further. By the time he learned what I was doing
,
I’d be dead. I would be dead and, more importantly
, my roommates would be safe. Abaddon and his followers wanted
me
and that was
exactly
what I
was planning to
give them
.
I was their beacon, their honing light
, used by
the Fallen Ones to track down my roommates wherever they
may be.
Gershom had made that clear when explaining
how
I gave them the
sens
ation
of being electrocuted. Being removed from the equation
,
m
y roommates
would be undetectable and free
to live
out
their lives in peace.

I wasn’t certain that what I was about to do would be
‘
acceptable
’
or that I would end
up in Eran’s world
,
but
if
it
didn’t happen
, if I went somewhere else,
at least my efforts here on earth would not be in vain. Ezra, Rufus, Felix, and Gershom would be safe and that mattered more.

Of course, they’d wonder what happened to me, why I suddenly disappeared while following them on our escape. They’d turn around and come looking, first at the house where they’d go through every room, calling my name, and in the end they would only find my letter…the letter I had left
on my bed
.

I never had any intention of running. It’s not in my nature
,
as much as Eran, Gershom, and the others wished it to be.
I said I would leave and that was what I planned to do.
So when I went in search of Gershom this morning, it was to say goodbye but it was also to understand the
Fallen One
s – what I
should
expect. He’d given me a pretty clear picture while describing them to us in Ezra’s office. The prospect of pity was laughable. I had a solid understanding that my death would be drawn out
and
painful, even entertaining
for
them.

By the time I reached the city limits, the sun had just touched the horizon. It would be dark soon enough.
With it
being close to Christmas, colorful strings of lights were already lit on the houses as I rode
by
them, their cheerfulness not being lost on my decidedly darker situation. As I exited the interstate
,
and headed down
Canal Street
, I noticed that tourists and locals alike moved in and out of stores for last
minute shopping
and the street cars and
horse-drawn
carriages were blazing with lit decorations.

I appreciated the city’s mood, feeling a pang of disappointment that I would never be able to experience it
all
again, and then
I
immediately
brushed the thought away.

No feeling, I reminded myself. I wasn’t certain I could keep that promise
, in light of
what I was expecting to encounter shortly. I would sure try. The last thing I’d want is for Eran to stop this from happening.
He’d proven more times than I cared to count that he’d do his best to save me from death. If he
was
successful at it this time, i
t would only cause me to fin
d another time to confront the
Fallen One
s
,
delay
ing
the inevitable. I
much
preferred to get this over with quickly.

So I turned my thoughts to finding
them
.

Knowing who they were, that they were visitors to the city, and that they indulged in vices – countless ones I imagined – there was really only one place I could think to find them.

Bourbon Street
.

So I pulled
onto the
thin, cobblestone lane
,
in
famous for its brazen entertainment
,
and inched my way through the
gathering
of partiers milling around. They heard my engine’s rumble and parted the way
,
making it easy to move freely down the street without worries of running
into
anyone. It also allowed me to scan the open doors of bars, clubs, and restaurants. Although they were packed with people, I kept my sight focused on looking across the top of the crowds’ heads, in search of just one who stood out, towering over the rest.

Abaddon
.

I was midway down the street when I felt him. The same intense reaction I’d
encountered
earlier
in The Square
came over me and I nearly swerved
into
a group of college students before regaining control of myself. Through it all, I realized that I didn’t feel a moment of fear, anxiety, or any other emotion
– just the odd symptoms of
a Fallen One’s
presence
.
I realized this was the result of my
still
being
in a daze, reacting more than thinking.

That moment of lost control over m
y bike drew enough attention
that I was sure
Abaddon
,
or one of the others
,
had
seen me. Still, I
wasn’t able to
see them. They were somewhere in the crowd, somewhere nearby, but as I
looked
from side to side
the only ones in sight were tourists
– none of whom looked familiar.

I decided to park my bike on one of the side streets, before heading back t
o the place where I’d felt the
Fallen One
s.
This bike had been my first venture
into
independence
and
freedom, carrying me
toward
it wherever I went. It was a part of me. It defined me. As I stepped away from it, I
was aware
that it now carried me to my death.

I didn’t allow myself to look back as I left it
,
for fear of another pang of disappointment, but instead
,
I
focused on
Bourbon Street
and the packs of people moving
along
it. I still didn’t see
Abaddon
or any of his followers as I stopped at the street corner. Variations of music pumped from the establishments lining
the broken sidewalk. M
eagerly clad woman gestured to men walking the street and beckoned them
into
dark doorways with strobe lights and dancing girls beyond
. T
ourists stood on balconies lit with strands of holiday lights, slopping beer from enormous plastic cups. There was too much going on. If I was going
to coerce them out of their hiding
, I would need to draw attention to myself.

On
Bourbon Street
, there was really only one way to do it. It was not what I prefe
rred but it would be effective.

I entered the nearest bar with access to a balcony and climbed the stairs. Even in
the dark staircase I felt the
Fallen One
s so strongly
that
I expected to run
into
them as I reached the top. There were only college girls hanging over the
side of the balcony
.
I joined
them
, squeezing myself in between the crowd until I too was overlooking the street below.

From above,
it
looked less crowded. This was good. Easier to identify them.

“You…
you
…” a deep voice from below called up
a few moments later
.

I looked down to find a guy in his early twenties pointing
at the balcony where I stood
.

“Me?” called a blond
e
girl standing to my right. She didn’t bother to hide the thrill in her voice.

“No,” the guy shook his head and pointed again.

By
then
, I was certain his finger was focused on me.

“Oh…” said the girl bitterly, turning to me with narrowed eyes. “He means you.”

“Come on!” The guy from below called, dangling a cheap plastic necklace, as if that would entice me.

He had no idea he was simply a means to an end. Still, I knew I needed to play the part. I smiled
seductively
at him, hoping it looked
that way at least.
I’d never
attempt
ed
that expression before.
Then, I
slipped my fingers up underneath the hem of my shirt – like I’d seen other girls do before when I was forced to venture
onto
this street.

“Don’t you have anythin
g better?” I called down to him, my eyes disregarding him and scanning the stre
et for any sign of a
Fallen One
.