Chapter 46
“All human wisdom is contained in these two words—‘wait and hope.’”
—Alexandre Dumas
The sound of low, concerned voices drifts through my consciousness, dragging me from heavy sleep. When I open my eyes, I’m disoriented for a moment until I realize I’m in Ambrose’s bed. For a moment, relief falls over me with the familiarity of the room and the smell of Ambrose on the sheets.
Then reality slams into me as the memories flood back. The devastation of leaving, the vindictive satisfaction of killing Joel, the terror of realizing my mistake, and the desperation of hoping I didn’t get back to Ambrose too late.
They almost killed him. They didn’t, but the severity of what we so narrowly avoided is enough to open the raw wound in my heart anew.
He’s alive, I remind myself, taking a deep breath to steady my racing heart.
The only thing I remember before losing consciousness is the crushing pressure in my skull, the overwhelming sensation of panic, and the peace that came with knowing Ambrose was safe.
I sit up slowly, expecting to feel that same throbbing ache in my head, or at least some soreness from being knocked to the ground by Samuel, but as I stretch and slowly stand, I’m shocked by the realization that there is no pain, not even as much as tenderness from a bruise.
How long have I been out?
I stand there for another moment, waiting for something to kick in, but I only become more awake. Weirdly enough, I feel rejuvenated, and less tired than I’ve felt in ages.
The floorboards creak beneath me as I make my way out of the room and down the hallway, following the low voices to the study. There, Ambrose and Elias sit across from each other deep in conversation. Their voices pause at the sight of me in the doorway.
“You’re awake,” Ambrose breathes in a relieved sigh as he rushes out of his seat to wrap me in his arms.
“Hello to you, too.” I smile against his chest, inhaling his calming, familiar scent and returning his embrace.
He pulls back only slightly to look down at me, as if he’s searching for anything that might indicate I’m not alright. “How are you feeling? You’ve been asleep for almost a full day.”
“I feel good. Really good, weirdly enough.”
He and Elias exchange a loaded look.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
Ambrose’s lips lift in a small, knowing smile. “I think it’s best if you sit down. We have some things to discuss.”
I do as he says, partly wishing I could make some coffee first, but I take the spot directly beside him on the couch and lean into his side as he wraps his arm around my shoulders.
“Elias,” I say coldly in acknowledgment to the man sitting across from us.
“Hello, Brielle.” He’s clearly nervous, wringing his hands in his lap, already a man of few words but made more cautious by the situation—whatever the situation is. I realize I don’t actually know what he’s doing here in the first place. A part of me had assumed he’d run and never look back.
Ambrose’s voice is gentle when he says, “Elias used his powers to heal you after the incident at the church.”
Oh. “Thank you,” I mutter.
“Realistically, you shouldn’t have survived Samuel’s attack,” Ambrose says. “It’s impossible to know for sure, but we believe your possession of my artifact allowed you to fight off the effects of his attack just long enough to… well, to do what you needed to do.”
Elias chimes in next. His voice is soft and soothing, and as much as I try to resist it, it does put me slightly at ease. “But, we think there may have been some… unintended consequences from Samuel’s death.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were holding Ambrose’s artifact first, which allowed you to stay alive from Samuel’s attack. However, you were holding Samuel’s artifact when you killed him. To my knowledge, a Liminal being has never been killed by a human in possession of their artifact.”
“So what does that mean?”
“Well… we believe that Samuel’s powers and lifespan may have transferred to you.”
It takes a moment for the words to register. His powers and his lifespan. Magic, and the potential of eternity.
Ambrose notices my slack-jawed, wide-eyed expression and squeezes my shoulder in reassurance. “It’s better that you find out sooner rather than later, but I know this is hard to process.”
My mouth is dry when I ask, “And my lifespan? What is it?”
“Only you can tap into that information through your artifact,” Elias says. My artifact. The pocket watch is mine now. “It won’t be an exact number, but it will give you an idea of the life you have yet to live.”
I nod, trying to process this information as best I can.
I have supernatural abilities now. I am functionally immortal so long as I choose to be.
Ambrose being this way was one thing—there was a level of separation that allowed me to disregard the implausibility of it all—but becoming the same as him forces me to come to terms with the understanding that this is real, though a part of me is convinced I’m still asleep and dreaming.
“You don’t have to know if you don’t want to,” Ambrose assures me. “You can just pretend it doesn’t exist if that’s what you want to do.”
“But I still have all those years left to live now, right?”
He nods.
“Then I need to know. I won’t be able to stop wondering otherwise.”
Ambrose pulls the small, gold pocket watch from his pocket and hands it to me. I take it gingerly, as if it might explode as soon as I touch it, but a sense of rightness washes over me as soon as I cradle it in my hand. Yes, it seems to say, I belong to you now. I am a part of you.
I close my eyes as the metal warms in my hand, and though I have no clue what I’m doing, I try to tap into the same feeling with it as I did with the necklace before. Silently, I will it to tell me how many years it holds—how many years I have to live.
Just as Elias had said, it doesn’t give me an exact number, but the vastness of the number is staggering. Centuries upon centuries.
I gasp, and my eyes fly open.
“It’s… a long time,” I stutter in explanation.
Probably enough to rival Ambrose’s, if not more.
But even more unbelievable than that is the fact that I’m not devastated by the prospect of living so long.
I’m eager to see what the future holds in those endless years, when six months ago, I was sitting in a bathtub slitting my wrists and craving oblivion.
It’s funny how life changes.
“Has this ever happened before?” I ask. “A human becoming like this without dying, I mean.”
Ambrose answers, “Not that I know of.”
Elias echoes his answer.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t piss off the big man upstairs that this happened,” I chuckle, but the joke falls flat and Elias visibly cringes. “Umm, is there something I should know?”
They exchange another heavy look before Elias lowers his voice and says, “Nobody is supposed to remember their first time meeting The Creator, but I do. I remember every second of it, and I’m certain it’s some sort of fluke. Knowing what I know about Him, we should hope that he doesn’t find out.”
Great. I’ve made a potential enemy of God himself, apparently.
“Was it true that you and Samuel were working on his behalf?”
“No. I had believed his claim at first, but Samuel was dangerous and manipulative, which made him unreliable. However, I don’t doubt that our Creator utilizes others like us as his pawns.
” Elias slumps back in his chair, exhaustion written all over his features.
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry. I should have done more to stop him, but I didn’t know how, and I’ve only been living this way for a couple decades.
Samuel took me under his wing, so to speak, and I didn’t understand his scheme until it was too late.
But I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you. ”
I nod, and Ambrose says to Elias, “I think it may be time for Brielle and I to catch up, but you’re welcome to stay if you need to.”
“The place I’m staying is not far from here,” he answers. “But I’d like to come back to say hello in a few days, if that’s alright.”
“You’re welcome anytime.”
With that, Elias leaves, and Ambrose and I are left in the weight of the silence that follows.
“Are you okay with talking about things right now, or do you need some more rest?” Ambrose finally asks.
“We can talk, but I’m making coffee first,” I say in an attempt to lighten the tense atmosphere.
The stiffness in his shoulders loosens almost imperceptibly as he chuckles and says, “Deal.”
We make our way to the kitchen, and I go through the familiar routine of scooping coffee grounds into the filter and filling the tank with water.
I press the button to brew it, and the machine gurgles and steams as coffee drips into the pot below.
It’s a steadying ritual, something to ground me in the present as I try to wrap my mind around the magnitude of my new existence.
Immortal.
Once the coffee maker beeps to signal the end of its brewing, I pour myself and Ambrose steaming mugs of the dark, rich liquid, and we sit across from each other at the small kitchen table.
It feels like more neutral ground than the living room or study, a place where we can speak freely without so many memories and emotions clouding our perspectives.
It’s impossible to escape all the memories, though, because I think about the last time I sat here with him in the late hours of the night as they gave way to morning, how he held me tightly in the gray light of dawn and held me while we danced.
I take a deep breath and say one word. “Explain.”
He swallows hard and opens his mouth to speak before closing it again and considering his words.
Eventually he says, “As you know, I watched you for quite a long time. You piqued my interest and my curiosity, and I wanted—needed—to know more. I vacillated between convincing myself not to interfere with your life and desperately wanting to steal you away and make you mine.”
He taps his fingers nervously against the wooden table before continuing.
“But I saw how miserable you were, how close you were coming to your breaking point. I took too long to decide what to do with you, and when you attempted suicide, I had to act quickly. I wasn’t sure if you’d come with me willingly, and even if you did, I feared you would run when you realized what I am. So I tricked you into coming to me.”
“And the whole ‘bargain’ thing? I killed people, Ambrose. That’s not something you can just wave off.”
He winces. “I probably could have handled that a little better as well, but I did have mostly good intentions. I didn’t care about adding to my lifespan, but it was clear you needed a purpose, something to strive for, and a way to take back your power.
And correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe that killing those men was therapeutic for you in a twisted sort of way. ”
He’s right. Enacting vengeance on corrupt men who weaponized their authority and preyed on the vulnerable healed something in me that had been broken for a long time. It gave me agency and power after living a life of abuse and subservience. But still…
“Why didn’t you tell me later on, after we… got closer?” I ask, not wanting to put words to the connection that has grown between us.
“I was scared,” he admits. “I was afraid you’d leave as soon as you knew the truth and that I’d lose you forever. And I know that’s incredibly selfish of me. I have no other excuse, but I did plan on telling you the night you left.”
God, that feels like forever ago, even though it was only, what, two days ago? But I do remember him anxiously telling me he had wanted to talk to me about something, followed by my avoidance.
“And how do I know you’re telling the truth now?”
He pauses, running a hand through his hair before standing. “Follow me. I have something to show you”
I do as he asks, following him as he leads me into the study and pulls a small key out from underneath the corner of the rug. Then, he reaches up to the glass case filled with notebooks, unlocks it, and pulls one out.
“You can read this,” he says, handing it to me. “This is evidence of everything I’ve thought about over the past six months, and each entry is dated.”
My eyes widen. “You’re letting me read your journal?”
“Yes. If that’s what it takes for you to trust me again.”
“Okay,” I breathe, taking the book gingerly from his outstretched hand. “I suppose I owe you an explanation as well.”
He nods, and we sit in our usual spots before I explain to him how the angels—well, not angels, apparently—appeared to me in the woods and tried to convince me to help them.
I tell him about the promises they made me, my wavering uncertainty of their intentions, and my encounter with them at the masquerade.
I also explain how Samuel took the lead and how Elias was quiet and anxious for each of the interactions.
“I wasn’t sure what to believe,” I admit.
“But I never gave them the information they wanted. My last meeting with them was the day before I left. I told them I wouldn’t help them, and they must have realized I’d only be a liability from that point, so they told me the truth about the bargain.
I decided I would leave to test the truth, whether it would cause a problem for me to be separated from you, and when I found the necklace in my purse, I panicked and everything sort of clicked. ”
He’s silent as he listens to my story, nodding occasionally.
When I finally finish, he’s quiet for a moment before asking, “Are you still planning on leaving?” Hope and fear clash in his expression, and though he attempts to keep a neutral facade, my eyes zero in on the way his hands grip the armrests of the chair so tightly that his knuckles turn white.
“No,” I answer, and his tense posture relaxes as he lets out the breath he was holding. “I’m staying, but no more lies. And I have some stipulations.”
He beams, leaning over to take my hand in his. “Anything.”
“I want to travel, to go all the places I’ve dreamed of and do all the things I never had the opportunity to do. I want to experience all the joys of life outside of the constraints I’ve been confined to.” I may not know exactly what I want out of life yet, but I intend to find out.
Ambrose kisses me deeply, caressing my cheek as if to make sure I’m real. I kiss him back with every ounce of devotion I have to give, warmth blooming in my chest until it encompasses me entirely. When we finally pull away, I could swear my skin emits a soft glow in the dimness of the room.
“I will go to the ends of the Earth and back again if that’s what you desire,” he murmurs, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I’ll hold you to that,” I tease.
“Please do. After all, we have nothing but time.”