Unbound (17 page)

Suddenly,
he stepped away from me and chuckled. “But the truth is,” he said, “No matter
how tempting you are, I simply can’t wait any longer. It has felt like forever.”
His laughter edged on hysteria. “Be still now, child. All good things must come
to an end.” He tilted his head and regarded me seriously with those dead, dead
eyes. “Or else, they are no longer good.”

Taking
off his gloves unhurriedly, he opened his coat and slowly undid the buttons of
his tailored shirt, one by one. Pulling me closer to him, he grabbed my hand
and placed my palm over his heart, holding it there. My arms were inanimate
things, no longer controlled by me; I stared at them curiously. He opened my
coat and snaked his own hand down the V-neck of my sweater to place it over my
heart in the same position. Some distant part of my brain recoiled at the
intimacy of his touch. Closing his eyes, he began to hum. Was it a lullaby
?

My
lips parted with a gasp as icy coldness spread from his hand into my chest, my
breath frozen in my lungs. My fingers felt numb where he held them against his
flesh. Severed from fear, I noted with academic interest that my heartbeat was
decelerating, each thump a little further from the last. Watching the stars
dance in my peripheral vision again, my thoughts turned to Eaden. How upsetting
would my death be for him?
 
Because
I was dying, I realized.
 
And I
didn’t want him to feel bad. It wasn’t painful at all, really. Only a little
disconcerting as my organs modestly and sluggishly released all inclination to
function.

As
the blackness swam over me, a smile tugged at the corners of my lips at the
irony of it all. Since my father’s cancer was diagnosed, I had been so
terrified of death that I had never really lived. And yet, dying wasn’t nearly
as bad as I had feared it would be. It was actually quite peaceful. My only
wish was that Eaden was here, in place of the soulless monster whose hands were
on me. Eaden would make this seem like heaven, I thought, and then was consumed
by the darkness.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

I
wanted to cover my ears. To defend them against the pitiless guttural noise
that pummelled my head. But I had no arms. Harsh voices tangled and clashed
somewhere outside of me, punctuated by incoherent howls of rage that shook the
ground beneath me. Wishing only that the shouting would stop so that I could
return to the soothing blackness, I tried again and this time, managed to
locate my limbs. Curling into the fetal position, I wrapped my arms around my head
and made myself as small as possible. It seemed sensible to steer clear of
whatever beasts were responsible for that hideous racket.

Against
my wishes, other physical sensations began to return. First, the hollow rhythm
of my heartbeat; accelerated and thudding painfully in my chest. Next, the
throbbing in my head; an escalating ache so fierce that I rolled over onto my
knees and vomited, which had the unfortunate consequence of sending a sharp
stab of searing light to blister my skull. Blind with pain and whimpering, I
crawled away from the ongoing cacophony that felt like a severe beating, hands
and knees scraping against the rough pavement. Lastly, my wits, or what was
left of them, flickered and flared back into existence. Disoriented, but
cognizant of who I was, if not where, I struggled to make sense of the
situation. Straining to focus amid the pain and noise, I remembered walking
home from the library.

 
Hadn’t Eaden been there?

No,
not Eaden. Someone else. Moving to sit upright, the violent ache in my head
blazed again, effectively quelling any attempt to piece my world back together.
I felt shattered into pieces.

Like
Humpty Dumpty. I giggled.

Big
mistake.

Groaning,
I leaned forward and emptied my stomach completely this time. My chest heaving,
I hunched on all fours until the act of breathing no longer made me want to
scream. Hearing the echoes of my panting breath, I realized that the chaos
around me had stopped. Far from making me feel safe, I felt more vulnerable,
exposed. Now I had no idea where the beasts were.

Opening
my eyes slowly, the world teetered and spun, but I was determined not to be
overcome by the vertigo washing over me. At any rate, there was nothing left to
throw up. Struggling to hold my head up, I saw that I had crawled into a narrow
alleyway populated with dented trash cans and overfull recycling bins. The dark
shadows beyond were alive with the small, quick movement of four-footed
scavengers. Unintelligible mutterings drifted from the broken windows above me.

Turning
my head slowly to avoid more wooziness, I saw a man crouched low on the
sidewalk. He stood swiftly, the simple grace of his movement identifying him
even before his voice, low and urgent, called out to me. He was beside me
instantly, his hands frantically roving over my body, his fingers pressing
against my neck, my wrist.

“Rachel,
I’m going to lift you,” his voice was rough. “It might hurt.” He sounded as if
he were choking.

He
didn’t wait for my response. It didn’t matter. I had no words yet.

But
I could scream.

The
pain in my head erupted like a volcano and then, mercifully, dense blackness
settled down over me once more like billowing smoke.

If
I dreamed, I don’t remember it. Thick with sleep, consciousness returned
reluctantly like a child called in from playing outside when the street lights
came on. I lay quietly with my eyes closed for several minutes, disconnected
thoughts drifting through my mind. The fierce pain in my head had receded to a
dull thudding and although my body felt pummelled and beaten, I flexed my
fingers and toes with impunity. Taking a deep breath, I smelled clean fresh
linen, antiseptic, and a warm wool blanket that rested gently under my scraped
palms. A familiar noise and a slight jostle to my right made me think of
smiling. Opening my eyes, my gaze was fixed on the two beautiful wide green
orbs that stared back at me.

“Hey
Angus,” I croaked, my throat raw from retching and screaming. Angus regarded me
seriously and continued to knead his paws intently into the blanket. With some
effort I managed to prop myself up on one elbow to scratch him between the
ears. Closing his eyes, he pushed against my hand greedily.

Eaden
sat at the end of the bed, a sinister purple bruise scraped across his left
cheekbone, its edges already beginning to fade to green and yellow. Dark blood
matted his hairline on the same side, making it stick out with even more
enthusiasm than usual. His nose was broken. Again.

But
as bashed his face looked, as blood-spattered as he appeared, his eyes were
terrible. I had become accustomed to the grief that usually lingered in his
gaze, accustomed to the expressions, moving swift-footed across his features, that
hinted at a deep and abiding sorrow. But his continual mourning seemed mild in
comparison to what blazed there now. Wracked with desolation, his eyes were
jagged windows to a soul ready to be annihilated. Ready to sacrifice itself to
despair.

We
stared at each other silently, the faint ticking of a clock in the kitchen
marking the seconds of our impasse with cold precision.

“You’re
hurt,” I whispered.

He
tried to smile and failed, so he shrugged instead, jaw clenched tight. “I’ll
heal.”
 
It was painful to look into
his eyes. “How do you feel?” He shifted his gaze so that he stared slightly
beside me at the wall.
 

Pushing
myself fully upright with some care, I gave his question serious consideration.
How did I feel? Stiff and sore, my body felt as if I’d been rolled down a
mountain like an Easter egg. And I was bewildered for sure; glaring gaps in my
memory stuck out like pages ripped from a photo album. But on the plus side,
Eaden was here.

 
“Okay. Confused. Sore,” I answered, rubbing
my head.

He
nodded, saying nothing. Looking at him, a warning in my head told me that as
disoriented as I was, he was far more fragile.

“What
happened?”

“What
do you remember?” he asked, without inflection. Only his hands gave away any
sign of his distress, closing into tight fists as if bracing himself.

Inhaling
deeply, I closed my eyes and tried again to reconstruct events. In my mind’s
eye I could see the cold, grey sidewalk strewn with leaves and garbage. “I was
walking home. It was dark. Someone was behind me.”

The
man with the mocking smile stepped out into the light of the streetlamp. And
then…

I
opened my eyes, blocked, but sure of one thing.
 
“I thought it was you at first. But it
wasn’t.”

He
winced, scrubbed his fists against his legs.

Thinking
hard, I squinted with concentration. “He was looking for something…” It made my
head ache again to work to retrieve the memories. “No…he said I had something
he wanted.” I opened my eyes, remembering his disdain and contempt as he looked
me over.

Silence.
Grim-faced, Eaden stared at the floor.

“Who
is he?” There was no doubt in my mind that Eaden knew this man.

He
cleared his throat. “An immortal. His name is Sabas.”

Remembering
his soulless gaze, I shuddered. “What is…
Mafte'ach?
”

Eaden’s
shoulders slumped forward. The words sounded as if they were being torn from
his throat. “A key.”

The
noise of late-night traffic outside drifted over the silence in the room. A
horn blared somewhere and the sounds of a police siren grew louder and then
faded.

“Eaden?”
My voice was barely a whisper.

He
looked up at me with his broken eyes.

“You
have to tell me what’s going on. I’m scared.” I tried to keep my tone mild,
despite the dread that trickled down my spine.

Hunched
forward, his forehead resting on his fists, he addressed the floor.
“Immortality is a curse.” Silence filled the space where his words should have
been.

“Eaden?”
My stomach clenched. Something bad was coming.

He
took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to the ceiling, as if looking for
direction, and started again. “We are human, Rachel. And whether mortal or
immortal, the experiences humans value in life are precious
because
they are so rare. Because
each moment is unique. What we treasure ceases to be pleasurable if there are
no limits to how often we encounter it.”

Words
and images ricocheted in my head. “All good things...”

Glancing
at me sharply, he nodded. “Isolation is not the only reason that immortals go
mad. Eventually, each and every one of us will succumb, worn down by this malaise.
There is no other conclusion to an infinite life.”

No
other conclusion?
My dread ratcheted up a notch to panic. “All of
you? But…” My thoughts slipped away from me as my fear grew. “What happens…how…?”

Incoherent
as I was, he seemed to understand what I was asking. “In the beginning, the
Council contained those who were sick; kept them safe, out of sight.
Particularly if they had deteriorated to the point where they were dangerous.
But it was challenging. A few escaped. They were recaptured, but in the
meantime, they managed to cause a great deal of destruction. There were many
deaths. Terrible deaths.” He swallowed thickly, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

Remembering
Sabas’s dark, vacant eyes, I shuddered. If he wasn’t insane, he was certainly
well on his way.

Eaden
continued haltingly, “They had to stop it from continuing. A world
overpopulated with psychotic immortals would be chaos. The Council created a
solution, a way to manage the problem. For the last two thousand years, they’ve
bred humans, mortals who carry genetic material that…liberates us.”

“Liberates?”

“Allows
us to die.” His face could have been carved of stone, for all of the expression
I saw as he spoke about his own death. “For every immortal, one human will be
bred with a genetic code so similar to our own that, like a beacon of light, we
are drawn to them. They called them
Mafte'ach,
the Hebrew word for key
,
because they are the key to our salvation.
Our death and their own.”

The
key. My brain scrambled to make sense of his words as shock and understanding
collided in a fiery crash. The blood drained from my face as terror prickled
the hair on my neck. I finally understood.

Standing
in the sunny meadow, my brother, my twin, places something in my palm, closing
my fingers around it in a fist

“Sabas...I
am his key,” I whispered, fear making my voice unsteady.

Eaden
was frozen, his eyes drained of hope. He shook his head slowly.

“No,”
he replied, “You are mine.”

One
heartbeat…two heartbeats…then a third thudded into the silence in my head.

His?
Everything
I knew, everything I was, had been tossed into the air and come tumbling back
down to lie in jagged heaps, crashed and broken. My mind was empty, cavernous
with echoes. Images flickered. Jacob. Eaden. Jacob. Eaden.
The key.
I was the key.
His key
. Staring down at my hands
where they lay, the tears that dropped onto them could have been anyone’s.
 

“You
want to die?” My throat felt scorched, insult now heaped upon injury, tears
thick in my voice.

Oh
God, his eyes
. Don’t look at
his eyes.

“I
did. Before you were born. I very much wanted to die.”

“Oh.”
I cleared my throat. “And I…the key…dies too?”

Not
letting myself look away this time, I watched as he nodded.

My
hands were shaking. This was my dream
.
Jacob. Eaden. My arms wide as I embraced him. As I welcomed death into
my life
. It wasn’t symbolic at all. It was real. It was Eaden I should
have feared, but didn’t. I had mistaken my own personal grim reaper for a
guardian angel.

“Rachel…”

I
held my hand up, stopping him. “Don’t.” The harshness in my voice startled me.
“Just wait.” Pulling my knees up to my chest, I sank my head down. I couldn’t
think with him looking at me like…
oh God, his eyes
.

My
heart pounded against my legs.
What
does this mean?
My thoughts were frantic things, skittering around,
looking for an escape. But they could not run far. Because I knew. I understood
now how Eaden had found me. Why he had watched me. He’d been drawn to me
because
I could offer him death. The
silly girl who was scared of
everything
,
had warmly welcomed the angel of death with open arms. I wasn’t special; I was
the solution to an unbearably long life.

The
duvet quickly soaked up the tears that continued to flow freely.
 
Eaden had been the one person I had been
so sure of. How ridiculous it now seemed that I had believed he could want me.
I was a child – a naïve stupid girl – easily led, so easily fooled
by a few romantic gestures.
 
Rejection, like a physical creature, wound its limbs around my heart and
squeezed tightly until I was leached of hope.

Stifling
the sobs that I felt building, I concentrated on deep breaths.
I had to leave.
Get away. Before the
shame that filled me erupted and allowed him to bear witness to the breaking of
my heart.
Don’t think, Rachel, just breathe
.
 
Lifting my head, I
hastily wiped my tears from my cheeks. His face was impassive, revealing
nothing; his gaze remained locked on the floor. Only his hands gave him away,
his knuckles bone white as he clenched his fists tightly.

A
small piece of my resolve crumbled away. No! I had to leave. But...

No.
There
was no need to make this more difficult for him. His pain was real, I could see
that. He had been sentenced to live for all of eternity. I wouldn’t hold him
responsible for trying to avoid that fate. It wasn’t as if either of us had
been given a choice in this. But…

No.
Don’t think. Just leave
. I pulled another deep breath.
But…

If I was Eaden’s key, why wasn’t he already dead?
Why wasn’t I?

 
“Why?” My voice was husky.

As
if waking from sleep, he raised his eyes slowly to meet mine. His Adam’s apple
bulged as he swallowed, but his eyes were empty now. “Why what?”

“Why
didn’t you… a long time ago?” I couldn’t bring myself to use the right words. I
wasn’t sure I knew what they were. The countless opportunities he had been
given flashed through my mind. Memories that were so much a part of who I was.
Memories I had cherished.

No.
Don’t think
.

 
I had not thought it possible for his
fists to clench tighter. His voice was as raw as mine. “It’s age-dependent,
like immortality.” He looked away from me again, speaking towards the floor.
“Until you were eighteen, there was no way…we do not kill children.”

I
nodded dumbly, but my mind danced around his words.
Don’t think. Get up and
leave
. But my thoughts whirled and twisted, unheeded.
Why bother dating someone you plan to kill?
Was he that cruel?

“My
birthday was months ago. What…” My lower lip trembled and I bit down on it to
hide my shame. “What were you waiting for?” My voice broke at the end of my
sentence. I hadn’t meant to sound so pitiful.

His
head snapped up as my words sank in and with an incoherent cry, he staggered to
his feet, fists clenching and unclenching. Seizing a wooden stool that rested
nearby, he heaved it across the room where it exploded against the brick wall,
shattering like a child’s toy. Agony was etched into every line of his expression.
“How much am I meant to endure, Rachel?” he roared. “How much? Don’t you
understand? I chose you! I made the choice. I chose you.”

Back
pressed to the wall, shaking fingers covered my mouth.

His
eyes were wild now, uncontrolled. “I will suffer a thousand more years of this
tormented existence, I will give myself up to the madness. Just please
Rachel...” his voice broke into a hoarse whisper. “Please don’t…. You don’t
have to forgive me; you don’t even have to love me. Just know…you were never in
any danger from me.” His face like an open wound, he strode from the loft, the
door slamming loudly behind him.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

Clutching
my chest with both hands as if to hold the pain inside, I curled into a tight
ball. The sobs came freely then, and for a long time I lay curled on top of his
bed, lost in my crushing grief. Fierce tears that were offered – not only
for Eaden – but for Jacob, for my father, for a life only half-lived.
Sorrow broke my heart open with such force that I imagined the rupture might
never heal, its edges jagged and ruined forever. For years, I’d tried to hold
all of this misery back, hold it all in, buried; terrified it would overwhelm
me, swallow me whole and leave me trapped in smothering darkness. But I didn’t
care anymore. Surrendering, I let the waves crash over me, let them take me
completely, consume me utterly, until spent, all that was left was the sound of
my breathing and the steady beat of my heart.

 
Gazing at the view of the night sky from
where I lay on the bed, surprise came slowly. Genuine wonder that having given
my grief full rein and succumbed to the pain, I found myself in one solid
piece. Granted, I felt as if I’d been dropped off a tall building, but my head
felt clear. Trying to swallow over the lump in my throat, I coughed and then
flinched at the pain. I needed something to drink. Uncurling, I eased myself to
my feet with great care and stood swaying for a moment or two before finding my
balance.

So far, so good
.

Limping
to the kitchen, I grabbed a glass and opened the fridge. Standing motionless,
staring at the neatly organized shelves, my chest tightened so that I could
hardly breathe. Barely noticing the cold air that wafted out or the goose bumps
rising in ridges along my arms, I gazed at the Diet Coke cans lined up along
one side like little tin soldiers. Eaden didn’t even like Diet Coke.

My
lower lip trembling, I bit down hard to try to halt the flow of fresh tears
–
more tears
? – and
stumbled backward, letting the door swing close, my knees shaking so hard they might
have knocked. Sliding my back down the cupboards, I thumped onto the tile floor,
hard enough to wince, and closed my eyes, overcome with thoughts of
Eaden
. The man who remembered I liked
my coffee black and knew that my father had called me Rabbit. The man who knew
I was afraid of cars and elevators and global disasters, yet somehow, had said
he loved me.

Eaden
loved me.

It
would be safer to deny it. To hide behind my fear. To avoid the risk of being
hurt. Of being left. But it would be a lie. Because he loved me. Eaden had made
his choice and I had to make mine. Terrified by the possibility I would be hurt
again, I still realized I didn’t have much choice left. My heart, my life, my
soul, they were already his – just in more ways than I had realized.

Shuffling
back to the living room, I grabbed the same blanket that Eaden had thrown over
me just a few nights ago and, wrapping myself in it, sat down to await his
inevitable return.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

Exhausted,
I fell asleep within minutes, but despite the tumultuous evening, I slept
lightly enough that I heard him come in, the door closing gently behind him. He
stood in the middle of the loft, staring at me with that expression I’d grown
so familiar with – loss and sadness and worry all bound together –
as if he was unsure how he’d be received. In spite of my earlier fears about
damage, my heart seemed to be working just fine because it began to thump
loudly in my chest at the sight of him. My smile was hesitant, but genuine as I
gingerly tried to push myself up to meet him on shaky legs.
 

It
seemed that was all he needed. Crossing the room in long strides, he swung me
up into a bone-crushing hug, my feet barely touching the floor. Burying his
face in my hair, he took a long, shuddering breath and then another, murmuring
words I didn’t understand and then gently set me down again, pulling back to
gaze at me.

Grinning
through my tears, I stared back and then reached up to touch his bruise, faded
already to a light mottled green. Wincing in sympathy, I probed the solid lump
under my fingertips. He stood absolutely still, waiting patiently until I was
finished before softly brushing his lips against mine and pulling me with him
into the chair so that I sat snuggled in his lap. For a long moment he said
nothing as my tears continued to roll down my cheeks, only swept them away with
his thumb and then brushed my hair back from my eyes. His grey eyes never left
mine.
 

His
smile was tender, if sad.
 
“I love
you,” he said.

 
“I love you too.” I wiped my sleeve
across my runny nose.
 

He
shifted slightly and pulled a crisp white linen handkerchief from his pocket
and handed it to me.

Blowing
loudly, I shook my head, flashing him an embarrassed smile. “This wasn’t
exactly how I pictured saying those words for the first time.”

His
expression didn’t falter.
 
“You look
beautiful.”

Despite
the evening, despite knowing that my hair was probably matted with crud from
the alley and my nose was red, despite everything that had happened between us,
I actually believed he meant it.

“Rachel...”
His expression was solemn. “There are things you need to know.”

I
nodded. “No more secrets.”

His
eyes were undefended now; exposing all of the mourning and all of the passion
he had tried to shield me from in the past. His smile was wry. “There’s nothing
left to hide.”

I
took a deep breath. “Tell me.”

Settling
back into the chair, he stared up at the ceiling, one hand lightly running up
and down my leg. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.” He met my eyes. “You
weren’t suppose to happen. From the very beginning, we knew something was different.
Like immortals,
Mafte’ach
are always
male. Or at least they were until you were born,” he added.

“But
how is that...” My eyes widened with sudden understanding. “Jacob?”

He
frowned slightly. “I think so. There is little precedence for twin
Mafte’ach
– it is highly unusual.”
He pressed his lips together and then said softly, “I think it was Jacob who
drew me first. It was him that I heard.”

“You
could hear him?”

“Not
hear exactly. And not really feel, either.” He searched for a description.
“It’s more like awareness, like a pull.” He glanced at me with some concern
before continuing. “And then, it changed, not the intensity, but the quality.”

“Because
Jacob was stillborn.” My brother had been Eaden’s key, not me. Jacob was
supposed to have been
Mafte’ach
.

“Is
this very hard to hear?” His voice was gentle, concerned.

“Yes.
No. It’s just...odd.” I thought of my nightmare. “I have dreams about Jacob
– it’s almost as if he has been trying to tell me.”

He
didn’t seem surprised. “There is evidence of
Mafte’ach
having some extrasensory abilities – precognition,
telekinesis, telepathy. It’s not unheard of. When you were born and Jacob died,
the Council was very intrigued. And so was I, probably more so than I should
have been, rightfully. But at their request, I stayed close so that I could
report any irregularities in your development. And so I watched you, and
watching, found I could not tear myself away.”