Eternal Daughter

Chapter 4: Adam

He laughed, a nice sound, full of life even if maybe he wasn't. And he wasn't, not really. I could feel Death in him as I crossed the threshold of his room and paused there, hesitant and nervous. Consorting with mortals was against the rules, every angel of Life and Death knew that. We didn't visit this realm to make friends. We were here to do a job and that was it. I could get into some serious trouble just talking with him. Somehow, that made this brief moment of interaction all the more appealing. I blushed at my own tiny flare of rebellion as the young man pulled himself up higher, three pillows behind him, laptop sliding sideways from his long, lean fingers. Again he gestured.

"You," he said. "Unless you're a hallucination, then you can come in anyway."

I laughed, a half snort, half donkey braying kind of sound and fell silent, cheeks hot yet again. This was a disaster and I really had to go. Instead, I found myself shuffling my feet, hands diving into my back pockets while I struggled to not feel like an awkward loser. But holding my ground nonetheless. Where had this brave Eve come from?

"Hallucinations are allowed to sit down," he said with an air of authority. "But only for a minute."

I giggled that time and, despite knowing if Daphne or Ophelia saw me I'd be in for a huge dressing down, I slipped closer, sinking into the rigid armchair beside his bed. He grinned back at me, white teeth shining.

"I'm Adam Worth," he said.

"Eve," I whispered. Cleared my throat and tried again. "I'm Eve."

He waited but I didn't have a last name to give him and he was so cute and his smile was so sweet and friendly I couldn't make my brain function well enough to fake one without choosing something totally stupid. So I held still and quiet and smiled back weakly until he shrugged. He had no idea I just enjoyed this moment of being with someone who had no idea what a crash and burn I really was.

"Nice to meet you, Eve," he said. Then frowned, looking at me a little closer. "You okay?"

I nodded, fast and too eager. "Yeah," I said, both hands on my face, wiping away imaginary moisture as I realized I must have looked even worse than I thought from all the crying I'd done. "Just... rough night."

Adam set aside his computer, hands settling in his lap over the bleached white sheets. "Hear you," he said, only the faintest trace of hurt in his voice and his aura. Funny, his emotions touched my empathy but didn't assault it, just skimmed past as if unable to sink in. Either that or he had no desire to share, not really. He looked away, chin falling, lips tight before he exhaled and smiled at me again. "Need to talk about it?"

His offer caught my breath. I'd never had this much interaction with a mortal before, for obvious taboo reasons. Usually, my time with them consisted of either killing the ones who were meant to have life or saving those bound for death. Not exactly conversation evoking times. Let alone had a handsome guy my age ask me to tell him my troubles.

And his question was genuine. It came through clearly, his aura vibrating with his offer. He truly wanted to help.

In a rush of guilty need, I gulped and spoke. "Things just don't seem to go the way they're supposed to when I'm around." Vague enough for him?

Adam's lips were lovely, really, made the most delightful bow shape when he smiled. And those white teeth, utterly perfect. "At the risk of sounding cliché," he said, gray eyes smiling, too, "which is, in itself, a cliché," he winked, "that's life, chiquita."

"I suppose." I sighed, sagged in the chair, the plastic squirting air from small holes, making embarrassing noises. Adam smirked, but out of real amusement and not a trace of teasing so I smiled back despite my conscience whispering to me I really, really had to go. Just get up. Get out of there before someone caught me. So why then did my body remain where it was, heart sighing softly in response to his kindness? "I just wish for once I could have been able to do something right."

Adam's smile faded. "It's not your fault," he said. It could have sounded like a rote response, something lacking authenticity or truth. But, from him, it came out with so much insistence my empathy latched on with purpose and absorbed it of its own accord. First time for everything. I gasped softly at the change and almost missed his question when he spoke again. "Who's dying?"

I tensed when understanding woke, but his emotional support lingered, strengthened and I let it. Like I had a choice, or so I told myself, enjoying the moment immensely as it stretched out in delightful softness I'd never experienced before. "He's not," I said. "Not anymore." That came out as a whisper despite Adam's emotional contact.

"And you're upset about that?" Adam shook his head, but didn't judge, his aura warm and kind. "Grandfather?"

I didn't respond, let him assume. Because I couldn't tell him the truth.

"Is your family upset he's going to be okay?" Adam sounded totally confused now, though his faith in me didn't waver. Was this what it was like to be mortal? To believe utterly and wholly in things and never doubt? But no, my sisters and brothers had beliefs this strong.

So doubt was just me.

"In a way," I said, struggling to answer him. "It's been expected, you see." That sounded terrible, had to, to a mortal. Especially one who was sick. "It's complicated."

Adam chewed his lower lip a second, the warmth of his aura fading, leaving me, replaced by his own worries. I wished then the empathetic layer I carried was reversible, that I could comfort him with what had, until now, felt like a lifelong curse. "I guess so," he said. Then sighed, sorrow in his energy. "People are weird about dying."

"Tell me about it," I said. His aura shifted into pain, physical and emotional and I almost reached out with my hand to grasp his but held back, knowing better. I didn't dare touch him. For all I knew, doing so would trigger an ending I'd regret. I wasn't here for him, so who knew what contact would result in? Death or Life or nothing? Not worth the risk, not when I felt myself connect to this young man in a way that the rules demanded I shouldn't. "So, how about you? Did you want to talk?" I was a good listener. At least Tulip said so. My only real friend loved to chatter on and I preferred to let her so I guess it made sense.

Adam didn't look at me, staring out the window into the darkness. "I don't talk about it," he said.

I sat there a long moment, feeling the break in our connection and wishing I hadn't ruined this, too. Not that I could do anything to maintain our relationship, whatever it was in these few rebellious moments. I couldn't help wondering what I could do to help him though, secretly wishing I could find a way to start again. When he turned back to me, everything slid toward joy again. This guy had mercury in his blood or multiple personalities. Or maybe he'd come to terms with the thing that was killing him-his Death was written all over him when I allowed myself to look-and refused to feel badly for long.

"I like your attitude," I said, meaning it. And liking him far more than I knew was good for me. But as I sat there and smiled at him, I found I didn't care so much what anyone thought. About rules and mortals and angels. I wasn't a daughter of Life or Death, not in that way. I'd proved that often enough. So the rules didn't apply to me, did they?

Adam laughed. "You're the only one, then," he said. "Everyone else tells me I need to come to terms with what's happening to me. The tumor." He gestured at his head while his aura warmed up again and hope hugged me. "But there's still this new treatment they're trying. I'm not ready to give up yet."

I couldn't tell him what I saw. I was enough of Death's daughter I knew his end was coming. Then again, who knew? Not me, certainly. For all I understood he might make it. After all, I was the worst angel of Death ever.

Made me feel a little better for him and his chances.

Eve. His mind always felt soft and kind, but Dad's touch made me tense anyway. Partly because I sat where I did, consorting. I almost snorted at the word before sighing and answering him.

Coming. He didn't have to ask. I knew what Dad wanted. Time to face the music. Even though it was his orchestra and the score was created by my parents, not me.

I stood, hugging myself again. "I have to go, I guess."

"Hallucination over," Adam said. "Got it."

I turned toward the door, paused. "How's the game?" I'd have to tell Tulip I met a mortal who played. My best friend loved video games, made her own, in fact. She'd be gasping and shocked and jealous all at the same time.

Adam glanced at the screen. "Played one, killed everyone in sight, you've played them all." He sat back, waved. "By the way," he said. "Our name connection was not lost on me."

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "I was wondering." And forged ahead with a privately giddy thought even though the likelihood I'd ever see him again-should or would-was pretty slim. "Next time, I'll be sure to bring an apple."

His eyebrows rose, smile broadening. "Next time?"

I waved instead of answering and left him there, heart buzzing with something I'd never felt before. No, I couldn't have a relationship with a mortal. This was once and once only, right? A chance to clear my head and release the last of my hurt before facing Dad. An accident, a slip up from someone who constantly stumbled from one mistake to another.

At least I'd keep telling myself that while finding a way to return and see Adam. I wasn't hurting anyone, was I? The hospital corridor swallowed me while I clung to the feeling Adam left in my aura, not sure if I wanted to let that emotion out.

***