Chloe launched herself at him for a hug. The train was coming in.
“It’s here, it’s here!”
“So it is,” Nick said.
“I have to go now, don’t I?” Nick hadn’t let go of her hand, and she was pulling him towards the train’s door, and her tug felt like salt on an open wound.
“Yes.”
The doors hissed open. Everyone was boarding except for some wearing black suits and dark glasses. Reapers. Angels never tarried at the Terminus, they simply brought their subjects and left. Lingering was a sign of weakness.
But Nick didn’t let go of Chloe. For some reason, he didn’t want to.
“I’m going now,” she said.
He gave her his best smile, couldn’t help it. Then he let her go. As she turned and began running toward the doors, he called out to her.
“Chloe!”
To his surprise, she stopped and turned around.
He tried to speak, but pain from that laceration in his memory inhibited him and he could only mouth a goodbye. And then, knowing where all this sentimental rot came from, he resolved to kick it out of his mind.
It would be here, in this construct—he’d never build one for this place again. Not this one, anyway.
The next thing he knew, Chloe had run back, wrapped her arms around his neck, and was squeezing him as hard as a five-year-old could.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Were those tears in his eyes? He hugged her back.
“Goodbye, Chloe.”
She ran off again, turning once to wave.
Then the doors slid shut.
3
AS CHLOE’S TRAIN LEFT THE PLATFORM, Nick let the sounds and images of the construct evaporate and remained alone in the pitch blackness of the Terminus with the pain he’d resurrected and inflicted upon himself.
Victoria Station…
“Why must you do this to yourself, Nikolai?” A bright golden light outlined Tamara’s frame, though shadows somewhat obscured her features.
“Spying on me?” Nick said, not turning to face her.
“It’s my duty to keep an eye on you.”
“Then you’ve been remiss.”
Now he turned to face her directly. She smiled and gave him a maternal look. They were now standing in his construct of the boardroom of a corporate office building, staring out the window over endless clouds.
“Don’t tell me you’re upset that I’ve been away. It’s only been a hundred years. Is that what this is all about, Nikolai? ”
“I prefer Nick.”
“Since when?”
“Mid twentieth century.”
He wanted to leave. Tamara came over and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Oh, come now, I know what’s bothering you.”
“Do you, really?” He didn’t want to discuss what had happened at Victoria Station. Hopefully she wouldn’t bring it up.
“You’re getting impatient. Isn’t that it?”
“Not even remotely close.” Not entirely true, but at least she was on the wrong track.
“This delay is not due to neglect.” She pointed upwards. “As if anything could escape our Father’s cognizance. There’s always a reason, a purpose. This, like all trials, is a test of character. It’s His way of preparing you. You especially should know this, from your observations of the mortals.”
“Do you suppose you could dial back the condescension?”
“Sorry.” She laughed. “What’s really bothering you, Nick?” Her emerald eyes bore into him.
He wanted to open the window and just fly off. But where? He couldn’t hide from Tamara any more than he could hide from the commander in chief—whom he’d never seen, yet like every angel referred to as Father.
“Do you know how many reapers I’ve watched get promoted?” he said. “Reapers hundreds of years my junior with little experience where it counts? I used to be a highly decorated guardian, and now…” He sighed. “I think I’ve more than proven myself. Isn’t it high time we end the games and move forward?”
“What is it you want, really?”
“For one thing, I’m tired of this holding pattern between earth and the Terminus. I’m ready to cross the divide. I’m sick of this glass ceiling. Sick of spinning my blasted wheels.”
“My, you have spent too much time with them.”
“Them?”
“Mortals.” Tamara’s eyes narrowed. “The facial expressions, the syntax…You’re even speaking like them now.”
“I’m doing nothing of the sort.” After a hundred years of probation, the last thing he wanted was for her to think he’d squandered that second chance she’d risked so much to get him. Yet before this meeting was over, he’d surely disappoint her.
“I’m concerned, Nikolai. Perhaps you should take a leave of absence. Gather your thoughts for a century or so. I’ve always found that a short break helps alleviate the effects of…oh, what do they call it down there…” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Burnout! Yes, that’s it. Take a break, and when you come back this whole issue of the delay, your promotion, it’ll all work out.”
“I’m sorry, a hiatus won’t help.”
She started to protest, but the resolve in his face stopped her.
“Then what will?” she said.
Now that it was time to actually tell her, Nick found it even more difficult than he’d imagined.
“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t easy to keep his eyes on hers. “I can’t do this anymore.”
She looked at him for a long moment. And though she had always been the maternal figure, she now seemed like the child, bravely holding back her tears.
“I feared it might come to this. You’re not the first, you know.”
“I know.”
Now her eyes were filled with sorrow—and concern for him.
“Please, won’t you reconsider? Don’t do anything in haste.”
“I’ve had almost a hundred years to think this through.”
“As I said, haste.”
“Tamara…”
“Are you absolutely certain?”
“Yes. No. I’m not sure, at least not a hundred percent. I just have to try or I’ll go through eternity never knowing what might have been.” He stepped back and tried to smile. Poignantly. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, Tamara, more than I can say. But I have to try.”
She nodded. This was every angel’s choice. She could not take this right from him, could not forbid him.
“No matter what, Nikolai, you are loved with an everlasting love. And you can always come back.”
“I doubt that.” His heart ached even as he hardened it. “It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“It is for me.” And with that he walked out of the boardroom, leaving Tamara alone by the window.
4
THE ELEVATOR RIDE SHOULD HAVE TAKEN HIM to the lobby but went down a few levels further. Levels Nick didn’t know existed. He stood ramrod straight and hardened his gaze at the door. The elevator, which had been pumping in cool air and what sounded like Fliegtheim, ihr Raben from Wagner’s Götterdämmerung, seemed to have grown smaller. And warmer.
Brilliant. I hate opera.
Without a chime or any other indication as to where the elevator had landed, the music stopped.
The air conditioner’s fan stopped.
The lights went out.
Nick remembered he was still inside his own construct and snapped his fingers, but the darkness prevailed.
He groped around.
Cold doors. Buttons on the panel.
Still inside the construct.
“Splendid.” Trapped inside an elevator in the Corporate Office building, heaven knows how many levels beneath…