Convoke

Chapter 55

Excruciating cold clasped Ezra limbs. He felt that first, like the cold depths of the earth had reached out to squeeze the existence of life from him. He twitched a finger, and the pain travelled through him with such discomfort, his eyes forced open.

He panicked when the pebbled beach below was all he could see. Was he falling? Had he been dropped from a height that would end his long miserable life. But the beach wasn't rising to meet him.

He wasn't falling, he was dangling.

Ezra pushed his boots into the wet earth. Slowly, he dragged his weak body away, rolling onto his spine and gasping at the zap of pain as his lungs tried to breathe in the icy air.

He laid on the edge of the cliff for a long time. Rain started falling. His skin was so cold, Ezra could barely feel it.

He knew he couldn't lay out in the open forever. The demons who had left him there would soon return to make sure he had gone, or worse, gone from the world.

With all his strength, Ezra sat up. A wave of sickness washed over him, and he threw up over the side of the cliff face. He held his head in his hands, picturing his secluded beach and the small alcove in the cliffside, sheltered from the wind and the rain.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Once he was there, he cried out long and loud, knowing the vast space of the ocean would swallow his wailing as if it was a gentle breath. He curled up into a tight ball, feeling the cold hard pebbles beneath him, but hurting too much to crawl into the alcove.

No wonder he had been so bitter after living where he was not wanted for almost a century. How had he gone on before meeting Tom? How had he coped with the hatred, and the bullying? How had that felt like normal life?

The rain poured harder, and Ezra forced his battered body into the side of the cliffs. His teeth shattered on a body that wasn't used to feeling the cold so severely. Ezra dreamed of a comfortable bed, a cup of clean water, and the loving hands of someone holding him until the pain had been sucked out of his wounds.

The anguish he felt towards everyone who had hurt him soon simmered. He could resent the demons all he liked, but in the end, he only felt sorry for them. Perhaps that was his angelic soul shining through, but they didn't know forgiveness. They would hate him for not being them, therefore they would never know peace.

Ezra gripped his chest, and rested a pounding head against the cold stone that surrounded him. He had to get back to Wileshire village. How could he get there when he was in so much pain?

Ezra missed how he used to be able to travel as an angel, fast and efficient. Travelling as a demon was slow and hard work, especially when he had been beaten within an inch of his life.

He rested for longer, drifting in an out of sleep. He wasn't sure if he had woken and dusk or dawn, but the colour of the sky was glum, and the tide was close. The water was so close that another five minutes would have his legs soaked in freezing sea water.

Ezra forced himself to travel the full five miles a demon could travel before having to touch the ground again. He landed painfully in a field. But he pressed on, thinking of Tom, thinking of Wileshire village and the Glass Horns Pub, thinking of home.

Each five miles was harder than the last. Each time he landed, he stayed a little longer, fearing the pain, wanting to give up and lie on the ground and sleep for a week. But he thought of Tom, and the worry he would feel if Ezra didn't return. He had to keep going, if not for himself, then for the ones he had allowed to care for him.

When he was only five miles away from the Glass Horns Pub, he laid in a field as the stars shone down on him. He had woken on the beach at dusk, but had he slept through a full night and a full day? Ezra had no idea of the time, nor the day. But he didn't care.