Fallen Eden (4 page)

“Let’s hope that bracelet’s as eternal as we are,” I said dryly. “Because that’s how long it will be before I’m allowed to put a ring on your finger.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said under his breath and whenever his expression was lined as it was now, I’d learned he was talking more to himself than anyone else.

“I’d say a change of venue is in order?” He retrieved his shirt from the tree bough it was hanging from and slid it on. Seemed like a waste since I’d be taking it off in a few minutes anyways, but maybe that’s where all the fun was; the taking off.

But as a flash of William’s bare upper body came to mind, I knew the taking off had nothing on the exploration that followed. Not that the exploration got much past his top half, much to his very apparent disappointment and to my secret disappointment. Not in a million years would I risk William’s life again and whenever we’d neared the point of no return (as I’d sadistically referred to it), it was either time for sleep, separation—or when things got really heated—a cold shower. I had a feeling tonight would require a three tiered approach.

“How does my room sound for a change of venue, Mr. Hayward?” I hoisted my pants into place and cinched the belt tight around my vest, looking longingly at the blanket that, inanimate as it was, was beckoning to me. “What is this?” I asked, the book catching my eye. I plopped down and began thumbing through the book with its brittle pages and musty smell. Shuffling through the ancient pages I understood why the phrase
older than dirt
was created. I skipped to the page Charles had marked with a scarlet ribbon. Before my eyes could latch onto the first word, William’s hands pried it away. “Let’s not ruin the night.”

I reached for the book, but he shoved it behind his back. “I’d say your father showing up in the middle of us rounding second base to announce you’d be leaving tomorrow until the end of time already ruined the night.”

He leaned forward, his eyes hungry. “Let’s see if you’re still calling tonight ruined by sunrise.”

I imagined a brigade of fire extinguishers attacking the flames burning inside me. It didn’t help. “Nice try with the whole diverting my attention with your seduction,” I said, careful not to look him in the eyes. “But you’ve only managed to heighten my interest in whatever is written on the pages of that thing.”

“Nothing of any importance,” he countered, outmaneuvering me again, but somehow managing to position me into his lap. Such an opportunist. “Now can we please forget about the wretched book and pick up where we left off?” His eyes were floating in their anticipation, but it was his voice that gave him away.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” I asked, my eyes bulging. “Whatever’s in there is why everyone thinks you’re the chosen one.”

He sighed and this time when I reached my arm around him for the book, he released it like he’d resigned himself to whatever detour this night was taking. “What is this thing?” I asked, turning it over, searching for a title or a copyright or an author name . . .  or something that would give it a place in history. “Is this some sort of Immortal Bible?”

One corner of his mouth pulled up. “It’s more of a guidebook.”

“Isn’t that what a Bible is?”

He shrugged, fluttering his hand dismissively. “Tomayto, tomahtoe.”

“So is your name in here or something?” I asked, shuffling through the pages, charging towards my scarlet ribbon target.

“No.” His voice was guarded, as was his face. He was editing . . . again.

“So why do they think it’s you?” I tilted his chin towards me, knowing it was impossible for him to divulge anything but the truth when his face was trained on mine.

“Exactly,” he said, turning his palms up like I’d said something prophetic. “For no other reason than a vague description thousands of years old.”

At my destination, I moved the scarlet ribbon aside, my eyes falling on a paragraph underlined in black ink. I felt William suck in a breath as my eyes scurried over the first line

Balance is the fragile state of being we seek to keep,

Balance is the equilibrium we will one day lose,

Balance is what the chosen one must restore.

Mortality will be lost at a young age, by violent means,

A trio of brothers will make the journey to Immortality with him, aiding him in his quest.

A leader at heart, men will flock to him both in life and after

A solider, a healer, an intellectual, but above all, reluctant to

fulfill all that is required of his calling.

An arsenal of gifts will be at his disposal,

Foretelling to know death, to have an incentive to overcome it.

Strength, speed, and courage to combat his enemies,

Compassion to deal out mercy.

And when his need is greatest, when circumstance presents him with

the unthinkable, a gift will emerge to remind him what he is fighting for.

The gift to give life Immortal will manifest, to save his great love.

A love he will save only to fight to be with for an eternity, a fight he will lose.

This lost love will serve as fuel to his fight, vanquishing his enemies

in one final stand.

Balance, the least peaceful, most costly state of being,

Balance, the state returned to through blood,

Balance, what the chosen one will come to hate.

“Okay, so basically your name is spelled out here,” I said, so heavy with shock I knew I wasn’t able to comprehend the gravity of what I’d just read and the role William was expected to play in this Immortal world.

“Now you sound like the Council,” he said, the tenor of sadness in his voice.

I dropped the book, reaching for his hand. “Wow. This is heavy,” I mumbled, looking for some way to brighten the darkness shadowing his face. “But since you can do anything, I’m sure you’ll have no problem with this whole chosen one thing.”

He looked at the sky, concentrating on a spot I’d become familiar with. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said, his shoulders sagging as if the balance of the world was resting on them. “Since I have none myself.”

I hated seeing him like this, overwhelmed with the responsibility placed on his shoulders by everyone but himself. In most circumstances, I would have dropped the subject and moved on to something that included more laughter and a lot more lip-to-lip contact, but this wasn’t most circumstances. “I know I’m going to sound like a naïve schoolgirl in the worst kind of way here, so fair warning, but other than knowing there is a chosen one and everyone seems to think it’s you . . . just what exactly is it?”

A smile cracked, but it was lop-sided. “Not much really, besides the balance of the universe being dependent on this poor soul’s shoulders,” he said, darker than the night slinking around us.

I shouldered into him, hinting his arm should wind around me. He had a one-hundred percent accuracy rate when it came to reading my physical cues. “Is that all?”

He tucked my head beneath his chin, pulling me tighter to him. “You already know about the importance Immortals place on balance, avoiding the tipping point at all costs. Inheritors and Guardians believe and fight for different things, but at the core of it all, we believe in a cohesiveness . . . that is as unstable as it is tenuous. Inheritors appreciate the necessity of Guardians, as we do them. Either one gets too powerful and chaos in the world is the result.”

My mind leapt to a certain faction of Immortals that seemed concerned with everything but balance, but William was already there. “That was the way it was up until a few decades ago when a group of Inheritors decided it was their duty to tip the balance in their favor,” he paused, putting his words together with less care, looking overwhelmed by the weight of it all.

“Isn’t that what the High Council’s in place for?” I asked. “To make sure one Alliance or Alliances don’t get out-of-hand?”

He nodded. “Again, that’s the way it was until John managed to infiltrate and buy out the majority of the members on the High Council. They’re no more than a formality now, corrupt men ruling for the highest bidder. There’s no Alliance large enough to challenge John and he’s pulling more Inheritor Alliances into his, making it only more difficult to surmount a coup.” He picked at the corner of the quilt, trying so hard to keep his expression flat, but his eyes gave him away every time.

“The repercussions of them going unchallenged have been disastrous: economic disaster in the United States, political unrest in the Middle East, genocide in Africa, organized crime in South America, environmental disasters and human trafficking in Asia . . .” his head fell, swinging lower than I’d ever seen it “that doesn’t even begin to take into account the microscope level things they’re transplanting in communities around the world: hate, racism, murder, gangs, rape, drugs . . . in other words, the execution of morals as we know them.”

“None of that is your fault,” I said, shifting. “It is them and them only. You can’t wear the guilt of all they’ve done like a second skin.”

His face creased, looking more like a grimace that took its time to blossom. “Actually, if you subscribe to me being the chosen one, it is my fault. Ever since John and his Inheritors started tipping the balance towards mayhem, the Council’s been practically begging me to fulfill my supposed higher calling.”

“Which is what?” I asked, looking for specifics. “Other than saving the world?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I’ve been too scared to ask for the details.” The form of the man before me was one I wasn’t familiar with. Slumped, curling into himself, shame painting his face, it was a first I’d seen him so and I was determined it would be the last.

“So enough with the heavy,” I said, nudging him. “What say you to that change of venue?” The revelations spilt out over the blanket had me wanting to fold it up and tuck it away for eternity.

“That sounds perfect,” he said, his back straightening. “Mrs. Hayward-soon-to-be.”

I exhaled. “Maybe you weren’t paying attention to the newsflash your father just so merrily delivered, but I don’t think there’s a chance in you-know-what that I’m going to become a Hayward in the next few hundred millennia.”

He rolled his eyes as if I were talking about something as silly and inconsequential as my fondness for lederhosen. “We’ll talk about that later, but first”—his eyebrows danced—“let’s race.”

I chuckled and shook my head. Darn he was good at lightening the mood, a hundred times better than me. “Okay, but this time wait until I finish counting to three—” I wasn’t sure if he heard the last part because I’d already taken off and was firing ahead with all engines burning. I wasn’t above cheating, at least the kind that gave me an edge over him in a foot race. The house was in sight when a stream of bluish-white light rushed past me, like a comet falling in the night sky.

He had the gate swung open and was leaning against the fence with a smirk on his face when I screeched to a stop in front of Joseph and Cora’s. Looking ever so innocent, and quite pleased with himself, he motioned me through the gate. “You were saying, my love?”

I skirted past him. “You’re impossible,” I whispered.

“Impossibly fast you mean,” he whispered behind me.

Although it couldn’t have been later than ten or eleven, all the lights inside were off and I’m sure Joseph and Cora had retired early to grant William and me a semblance of privacy.

He turned to me, about to pick me up as we journeyed up to the second floor roof, but this was likely the only time I’d ever refuse his offer. I winked and leapt onto the roof like I’d been doing it was second nature. He was beside me the next second. “You’ve been spending way too much time with Patrick,” he said, easing open my bedroom window without making a sound. “After you.”

I grabbed the top of the window sill and swung in, feeling a little immature in my attempts to be a show-off, but I’d learned a lot this past month in strength training and I was eager to show the man who seemed capable of anything and everything what I was capable of.

Not playing coy about it, I headed straight for the bed, but his arms wound around me before I made it to my destination. “You know, I really love the sound of Mrs. Bryn Hayward,” he said, his mouth against my ear. “Dawson is quite lovely too, but Bryn Hayward just has a certain something about it.”

I twisted in his arms and looked him hard in the eye. “Did you really not hear what your dad said tonight?” I asked, not regulating my voice. “Or are you just choosing to ignore it?”

“I heard everything he said tonight, Bryn, and I’m not choosing to ignore it either,” he said, running his hands up my back until they reached the end of my ponytail. “I’ve taken their decision into consideration and have made my own decision.”

“What decision is that?” I asked, already knowing.

“We did it your way, Bryn. I petitioned the Council every chance I got and their answer has been no every time.” He tugged at my ponytail gently, lowering his voice. “This time a very final no, as we were both informed of. So now it’s time to make
our
decision as to how much longer we’re going to let the Council be the puppeteers of our lives.”