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Amazon
Maria Rachel Hooley
Amazon
Category:
Young Adult/Teen
Publisher: Createspace
ISBN-10: 1451539754
Type: Fiction
Pages: 192
Copyright: June 29, 2010
ISBN-13: 9781451539752
Lev Walker has fulfilled his purpose in Elizabeth Moon’s life, but it has come at a considerable price. The bullet meant for Elizabeth has shattered Lev’s mortality and the forced separation from Elizabeth has scarred his spirit, so much so that Evan Walker has purged Elizabeth’s memory in order for Lev to start over. Yet love is eternal. What began with a saving Elizabeth’s life continues in healing Lev’s spirit as he is forced to remember what he has lost at the risk of everything.
Book 2 of the Sojourner Series
Excerpt
Covenant
By
Maria Rachel Hooley
Covenant
© 2010 Maria Rachel Hooley
Chapter One
The pain is like the fire and light of a thousand suns searing through my body. I scream, but no one hears. I wait for it to burn itself out—or for me to plunge into the abyss. Maybe I’m already there. Maybe.
It’s like my body has been polarized and consumed by that fiery brilliance. I don’t know where or who I am. I know only an inferno, and in that holy fire nothing else matters.
Chapter Two
“Lev!”
An ebon-haired human leans over me, her fingers probing my chest where blood plumes and spatters, scatter-slick across my shirt. She’s crying, hysterical, wrapped amid my mortal coil.
Why am I bleeding?
I look closely at her dark skin and eyes. Her face is long and thin, frozen in fear, and she trembles; the turmoil roiling through her jostles me, yet I can’t move. I can only blink.
I am trapped in this revolting hide. And this mortal is grieving for me. I don’t understand.
Then a great incandescent bloom envelops all.
I stutter from slumber into a wash of new brilliance. The world is filled with it as I look to the endless light that seems to tug within me, reaching for the deeply buried calm, yet some part of me resists—the part tangled in my dream with the dark-haired human I don’t recognize. My heart is racing. No matter how much I blink, her face remains—her features as refined as though they had been born upon one of us. But she’s human, isn’t she?
Human.
There is such an emptiness within, stirring below the calm, like a fluttering of feathers amid the blanketed numbness; there’s something I can’t remember—something about her. But why? Why should I care? What does she matter? Does she? And there is something about me, too. Something troubling.
I blink away the last fragments of sleep and dreams and sit up, staring at a brilliant blue sky. My splayed fingers touch grass, soft and slightly wet with dew. I struggle and stand, not expecting the jagged undercut of agony at my chest that brings me to my knees.
“Lev? Can you hear me?”
The voice is frantic and forces me to open my eyes. Evan kneels over me, his hand resting on my chest. Sunlight halos his head. “What happened?” I ask, my mind swimming.
“You’re weak,” Evan replies, leaning over me.
“Why?” I stare at him, feeling the light ebbing through me, yet it is disturbed, especially around my chest. It ripples inside, distorted; that should not be. I’m an angel. I’m not prone to pain and weakness. They’re beneath me.
Disgusted, I try to break away and rely on my own two feet, but even as Evan releases me, I fall. Evan grabs my shoulder and eases me back to the lush greenery. “You’re not as you were, Lev. A mark has been made, and none of us can undo it.”
I close my eyes. The human returns, her face some kind of iconic painting I have seen in churches. Her tears smudge the hard lines, and even as I think of her, some part of me aches, and my breath catches.
“What mark?” I finally ask, unsure I want to know. I plumb the depths of my memory, but nothing rises. What did I do yesterday? It’s a simple question, yet I can’t answer it.
“What has happened to me?” I ask, wondering what this human has to do with it and why her memory won’t be pushed aside. Why is there such incredible beauty in her pain?
She shouldn’t matter.
“Nothing that need be spoken,” Evan says, kneeling beside me. Evan, my first mentor. He refuses to meet my gaze, and that alone tells me my world has changed. It’s all about what he doesn’t say, the words I don’t hear.
In the distance, I see mountains, the jagged edges hidden in clouds. The huge mass of rocks are reflected in the ocean at its base.
“I would rather know than not,” I snap, staring at him defiantly.
“Perhaps you would.” He shakes his head. “Then again, you were always one to walk blindly into things. Trust me when I say you’re better off blind.”
“I don’t want to be blind!” I rage. Yet my raised voice has no impact on him. He looks at my chest, searching for something.
“You’re insufferable!” I snap, turning away as I prop my head with one arm.
“Perhaps,” he quietly agrees, his tone filled with some foreign emotion. “Then again, there are things I have learned I can’t bear, and this is one, Lev. I won’t open your eyes. I can’t.”
That’s when he leaves me, and I want to throw something to stop this mad fluttering inside. I can sense nothing amiss, so I look at my hands, trying to find some mark upon my body to explain this crippled feeling that plagues me so. As I stare at my hand, I see another hand with that same lovely, dark skin, drape my own, those fingers encircling mine, and I feel it hold me.
I inhale sharply and blink. That makes it vanish. From beneath the wall of nothingness, I feel a small stab of regret, and it takes my breath away. Regret is a human emotion. I’m an angel.
I don’t regret. I have never regretted. It is a mistake.
I clench my fingers into a fist, trying to forget that image, but no matter what, some part of it lingers within me, and suddenly I hear the word “hesed” whispered in a female voice—that dream voice.
“Hesed.” She says it again.
Love.
This time, the regret is sharper, as though its wings have bones that have splintered into jagged thorns raking at my insides. They cut. I see the blood mingling with the golden light within. It starts out as a circle about the size of my thumb and grows.
A movement to my left forces my attention. Celia stands there, her long blond hair falling around her face, but a frown mars the perfection.
For a moment, we just stare at each other, and in that moment, I sense that whatever darkness blocks the truth, she knows everything, she and Evan both.
“Out with it,” I growl, breaking the silence that seems to weigh upon me so that even breathing is difficult.
“I don’t know what you mean, Lev.” She takes a tentative step and then another. Finally, she sits on the ground beside me. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired of these games you and Evan play. I want the truth.”
She stiffens and looks down before finally turning back to me, a hardness gleaming in her eyes. “Do you? Really? Somehow I doubt that.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. I’d rip it out if I thought it would help. “You speak in riddles—I want answers!”
She takes a deep breath and forces her stare directly ahead. “I know what you want, Lev. We all do. But sometimes it isn’t about our desires.” She reaches out for the hand still lying uselessly on my chest, and her palm settles atop it. Fingers encircle mine and softly squeeze in reassurance.
At first, I want to snatch my hand away, but I know that won’t change her stubborn streak. Nothing can change that. So I shift to something that should be much easier for them to answer.
“Fine. Since you won’t tell me what happened, at least tell me when I am free to resume my duties.”
Another look away to tell me she is hiding more than I thought. Either I am not well enough to complete my tasks or being in the Lower Realm has something to do with my present condition. Or both.
She chews her bottom lip while struggling to come up with an answer. “Perhaps we should talk to Evan before any decisions are made.”
That’s it. I pull away from her well-intended hand holding and get up in spite of my earlier mishap. I have to put some space between us before I lose my temper. Right now the fury is bubbling just below the surface, and there is no telling how much longer I can rein it in.
“We should talk to Evan?” No matter how hard I fight to keep my voice even, it rises with the frustration inside. “That’s part of the problem, Celia. Evan isn’t talking, not about what matters—what made me like this. So that means he should automatically have say over what I do and when I do it?” I feel myself standing before an invisible line and my feet are poised at the edge. I know I should back off. Even though I feel the chaos stirring deep inside, I know Evan is ever-constant. He is older than I am—wise beyond measure. That is why he is among my band, because Celia and I are neither old nor wise by righteous standards. Evan knows what he is doing for the most part. I seem to blunder more than I should, and for whatever reason, Celia looks to me for guidance, perhaps because I first helped her with sojourning.
But even if Evan is so much more capable than I am, I grow weary of waiting. Thus the line.
“You are still barely recovered, Lev—if you are even recovered at all.” Her gaze falls to my chest, the same place Evan touched me—the place I feel the distortions within.
Gritting my teeth, I raise my shirt and look at the area where I’ve seen them staring. Celia tries to stay my hand and stop me, but I’m too fast for that. In a split second, I see a round scar. Angels do not scar. We are not bound by mortal rules. We are above them.
I stagger back to the ground, suddenly exhausted. My mind is churning, and the pain is back, telling me I should sleep.
“Are you all right?” Celia touches my face, her blue eyes troubled.
“What has happened to me?” I whisper.
“My being aches.”
She nods. “I know. Just give it time. That’s what you need more than anything.”
I rest my head against the wild clovers blooming in a blinding white and shut my eyes. As the darkness starts to take me away, I hear low voices drifting around me.
“I don’t think we can keep this from him,” Celia says. “He’s going to figure things out one way or another. And he’s smart enough to know that whatever might be wrong with him isn’t physical.”
Another voice—Evan’s. “Perhaps you are right. But until things settle a bit, we have to keep up the façade. And making him think the wound is physical is just to cover the true history. We both know that.”
Even in my drowsy state, I find myself wondering what they are talking about. What wound do they refer to? I try to drift closer to consciousness, but it won’t have me.
“But taking him back so far, Evan. I hardly recognize him with that distain for humans.”
“I know. But that was the only way to separate his existence from Elizabeth’s. I had no choice.”
Elizabeth? I wait for more, but silence lulls me to sleep.
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