Ether (14 page)

            He
hesitates then pulls me carefully against him in a hug. “Scared the hell out of
me Becka. I thought I’d lost you, again,” he says gruffly.  He pulls back a
bit, so he can look me in the eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. You tried
to tell me, I didn’t believe you and you nearly died. This is my fault. Can you
ever forgive me?”

            I give him
a weak smile. “You saved my life. I think that means you get automatic
forgiveness. Besides, this isn’t your fault. It was Inteus. He’s the bastard
that held me under water with a pole until I died. Plus, it was kind of a crazy
story. I might not have believed me either, if I wasn’t living it.” My smile
broadens a little. 

            He cups his
hands around mine, blowing warm air on my chilly fingers. “I’m sorry for the
stuff before that too, almost ruining our friendship. I should have known-” he
catches himself and finishes quietly, “-better.” He isn’t looking into my eyes
but he doesn’t really need to.

            I lift one
hand to his face, running my fingers along his jaw. His head swings up,
surprise and confusion and just a glint of hope in his bright blue eyes. “That
other
stuff
didn’t almost ruin our friendship, seriously.”

            Justin doesn’t
react right away. I can see him considering what I’ve said, weighing the
possible meanings. “Becka, I’ve almost lost you twice now. It put a lot of
things into perspective for me. You’ve been my best friend for, well I guess
you’ve always been my best friend. You’ve been the one person I could always
trust and always turn to. You know how much you mean to me.” He takes my hand
back and looks me right in the eyes. The rest of it- the part he doesn’t say hangs
between us as clearly as if he’d shouted it.

            I don’t
know what to say, what to feel. My feelings for Justin are deep and
complicated. Trying to shift from thinking of him like family to something else
feels overwhelming right now. There’s a right answer to this though, a right
way to respond and I desperately search for what it is, but my brain’s all sluggish
and slow. The longer I wait the more hope seeps out of Justin’s face, like air
leaking out of a balloon.  “Justin,” I start without really knowing what I’ll
say next. “You know how important you are to me…” My voice fades away weakly. I
can see from the crestfallen expression on his face that I’ve gotten it wrong.  

            “It’s okay
Becka.” He sighs. He changes the subject briskly, “So where is this spirit you
told me about? A little absent when you were being drowned wasn’t he?” There’s
just the slightest hint of bitterness in his voice.

            I feel the
air around us change. I know Ephraim was probably watching this entire time,
but I’ve been too focused on Justin to feel his presence. I raise my voice a
little, calling out, ‘Ephraim, you might as well manifest. I can feel you
nearby.”

              The air
beyond Justin shimmers a split second before Ephraim is standing in the room.
“I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says sheepishly. “You two were having a
moment.” Turning to Justin he continues, “We need to do a better job of
protecting her or the Numina will not only kill her; they’ll over run the
mortal plane.”

            Justin looks
stunned, staying very still while he absorbs Ephraim’s appearance. “Okay. Let’s
just say for a minute that all this is really happening, and I’m not completely
convinced that it is, I think you better start at the beginning and catch me
up. Who are the Numina and why do they want to kill Becka? Actually, scratch
that. Let’s start with who, or what, you are.”

            Ephraim
pulls over Justin’s computer chair and settles in. He speaks to Justin but his
eyes stay focused on me. “I’m an Ethereal. Put simply Ethereals are a part of
the vital essence of the world. We are energy and spirit in their purest forms.”

            “So you’re
some kind of energy being, I get that, I think. But that doesn’t tell me who
you are or why you’re involved with Becka, with us.” Justin snaps. I feel a
guilty little pang; I’ve made things hard for everyone.

            “My
involvement with Becks,” Ephraim says thoughtfully, “Began when I first saw her
on the Ethereal plane.” He’s speaking very slowly, choosing his words
carefully. “Her spirit was brighter, clearer and more vivid than anything I’d
ever experienced.” His eyes hold mine dancing with liquid gold light that makes
my stomach knot in the most thrilling way. “I felt something for the first time
in my existence. She was so precious, so beautiful, so alive. I had to be near
her. And then I realized her life energy was streaming away from her. She was
dying. There was only one way for me to save her; I combined some of my essence
with hers and brought her back to her world. I would have done anything to save
her.” He pauses, now he’s talking directly to me, rather than narrating a story
I already know, “and then you saw me, spoke to me and dreamt with me. And you
started to perceive other, darker things as well. It was only then that I
realized we could never be apart, and that I’d changed your life forever.” His
voice sends intense little shivers up my body. There’s a mixture of pleading
and longing in his voice.

            I try for
cool and calm, not easy considering, “But I’m alive. That’s all that matters.
Alive.” I lay back on my pillow. It’s not enough. Ephraim’s basically telling
me he devoted his entire existence to me, and apologizing for it. For the
second time today I’m searching for just the right thing to say, and failing.
But unlike Justin, Ephraim didn’t crumble at my words.

            He nods,
smiling at me, like I’m the only light in his world. It makes my head spin even
more and I start to feel warm for the first time since Matt tried to drown me. “You’re
right. Alive is all that matters. We can have any life you choose, as long as
you’re safe.”

            Justin makes
a disgusted noise. “That’s just great. No, I’m glad you saved her life, I’m
just not incredibly keen on sharing every single private moment with Becka with
some other worldly,
creature.
”

             “Justin,”
I start, not sure I have the energy to smooth this out.

            “Save it,” he
says coolly, “I’m over it. It’s fine. Alive is what matters. So how do we keep
her alive?” His words are clipped and angry. Maybe he has a right to be angry,
but not with Ephraim. Of course, right now, just thirty or so minutes after I
nearly died, he can’t very well yell at me.

            Inwardly I berate
myself. I call myself all kinds of ugly names, the best of which is
tease
.
Ephraim’s eyes never leave me and they softened as Justin speaks, reacting to
me, not Justin. He moves and kneels by the bed, taking my hand. Justin bristles
at his proximity. Warmth rushes through me and I felt warm, sleepy and safe. It’s
like being tucked in by my mother when I was young, when she used to sing to me
and the lights would be dim and I’d feel all snugly and warm. He leans in and
kisses my forehead and I smell spring fields and rays of sunshine. At the back
of my mind an old, half hazy memory pings with recognition but sleep has me, so
it slips away.

            Half
dreaming, half aware I hear some of their conversation. I can hear Ephraim’s
voice deep and steady, never becoming angry, never wavering. There are blank
spots between, soundless pauses in which Justin must be speaking, but his voice
doesn’t penetrate into my dream.

            When I open
my eyes again the room is hushed and dim. Only the low desk light is on and
Justin sits with his back to me, bent over his books. Just like him, to be
studying at a time like this. Time? What time is it anyway? My mom will be
freaking by now.

            “Justin?”
My throat is dry and cracks on the word, making me sound feeble and helpless.
He’s at my side instantly, all worry and anxiety.

            “Becka?
You’re awake. How do you feel?”

            I run down
a mental check list; Head: achy, stomach: sore, leg: tolerable. “Actually a lot
better than I thought I’d feel. My leg feels pretty messed up still, but my head
isn’t pounding anymore.”

            Justin eases
the bandaged away from my head wound. His fingers brush against my skin,
sending little quivers down my body. I try to concentrate on right now, and not
let my thoughts drift. Justin whistles softly. “He said you’d heal quickly, but
I didn’t expect- Becks, there’s nothing but a little scratch here.” His hands
skim down my leg, rolling up the sweat pants. “You’re leg still looks pretty
raw, but it’s more of a bad scrape than anything else.” His eyes move to my
stomach and he hesitates.

            I sigh,
lifting the shirt enough for him to check. My stomach’s a mess of blue tinted
bruises. But it barely hurts, which means the bruising is only superficial.
“Ephraim said I’d heal quickly?”

            “This is
how you survived the accident, and how you’ve been healing so miraculously
quickly. It wasn’t ever luck, was it?” Justin’s voice is hushed but I can hear
the strangling emotion underneath it. “So he’s telling the truth about being
part of you, changing you.”

            “I guess. The
doctors all expected me to be in the hospital for months. Then they warned my
parents about all kinds of complications, and then they just told us we were incredibly
lucky.  Speaking of my parents?”

            “My mom
called your mom. I told her you weren’t feeling great and just wanted to lie
down and rest.” 

            I snort.
There isn’t much need for pretence. My mother would have agreed to just about
anything Justin proposed. Her fondness for him is as irrational as most
mothers’ hatred of their daughter’s boyfriends. “So, what now?”

            “What now?”
Justin raises an eyebrow and gives me his best stern stare. “What now is that
you rest and heal until you’re completely, one hundred percent better.”

            I shake my
head, tensing for a wave of pain, and when it doesn’t come I go on, “Oh right,
because it’s best to be completely healed before someone tries to kill you
again. Really adds to the drama that way. I’m not just going to sit around and
wait for them to find a way to me. Besides, they have Matt and we have to get
him back.”

            The bed
shifts with Ephraim’s weight. I turn my head to see him outlined in the dim
room. “I thought you might feel that way.”

            I smile at
him. I feel my whole body shift toward him, as though pulled by a source of
gravity. “Good, then I hope you’ve been working on a plan.”

            He smiles
back at me, and the whole world melts into a haze with just him and me in its
bright center. “I have.”

* 
*  *

Ephraim’s plan is
complicated and involves something he calls misdirection. Honestly, I don’t
really understand it, but Justin and Ephraim are in agreement. As far as I can
gather there are supposed to be two phases to the plan. And for the first part
of the plan my big contribution is staying out of danger. I’m not sure what I
had in mind when I said I wanted to save Matt but definitely I had at least a
vague impression that I’d be the hero and it would be my life I was risking. Instead
I’m coasting around in my car, waiting for a text, while Justin goes out there
and takes all my risks for me.

            Ephraim
says it’s almost impossible to track and ambush a moving target. So the best
way for me to stay safe is just to drive around aimlessly. As long as I stay
away from my house or the school or anywhere else they might expect me, I
should be alright.  Kind of faint comfort, especially when I’m leaving it up to
Justin to actually find Matt and bring him to me. I keep imagining Justin
ringing Matt’s bell, standing in his hallway, talking to that
thing
inside
him. Ephraim promised Matt wouldn’t try to take Justin, but this terrible what
if game is playing in my head. What if there is another Numina looking for a
body? What if Matt just decides to kill him? What if Ephraim can’t keep him
safe?

            I’m driving
in circles and even though I’m trying to make random decisions and avoid places
I frequent, I find myself closer and closer to the bluff where Ephraim and I
almost kissed. My head is throbbing and I rub my temples with one hand. It
feels like my ears are buzzing and I’m having trouble thinking clearly. I keep
hearing Derrick’s voice telling me over and over that we should be friends.
That he’s trying to make things better. The throbbing in my head gets worse and
worse the more I think about it. I need some air to help clear my head. So even
though I know better, and even though it is
not
the plan, I pull the car
over and put it in park.

            It’s dark
here, the kind of pitch darkness that makes your eyes ache for the light. I
stand by the car, listening to the crashing boom of the surf against the rocks,
one hand curled around the door handle ready to spring into motion if anything
moves. Even when my eyes adjust I can only really see layers of darkness. The
deeper, purer black is the ocean, the shimmering black the sand, and the paler
darkness overhead is the sky. I feel all alone out here but anyone could be
watching me. Someone could stand a few feet from me, and as long as they stood
still I’d never see them.