evervale bot

Victor stared at the wall as if it were still a window. “He doesn’t know how patient you are,” he said. “Doesn’t know you like I do.” Eli cleaned the blood from his hand. “No,” he said softly. “No one ever has.”

Eli took several gulping breaths, cradling his chest. His eyes struggled open, fought to focus. He took in the room around him, the view from the blanketed floor, before leveling his unsteady gaze on Victor.

“I’m not a monster,” growled Eli as he dug one of the bullets out of his shoulder, and dropped the bloodied metal to the floor. “I am God’s—” But Victor was already there, burying a switchblade in Eli’s chest.

Eli shrugged. “All I know is that book is a sniffer’s dream,” he said. He was right, the four Sharpies Victor had gone through in converting the book to art had given it an incredibly strong odor, one which Victor found at once entrancing and revolting.

Eli gave a cough of a laugh, but then his face sobered. “This isn’t the way to do it, Vic.”

Eli looked up. “You stopped breathing. You almost flatlined.” “But I didn’t.” “I’m sorry,” said Eli, rubbing his eyes. “I couldn’t…”

Eli never ceased to amaze him.

“Hey Angie,” said Eli, and Victor watched the light fold in behind his eyes even as he pulled her in for one of those movie-star kisses.

Why did Victor have to do this? Why did he and Eli have to find each other?

Eli was sitting in a chair by Victor’s bed, just as he had been in the apartment. Only now there were no bottles, no pills.

Victor had felt like death. Worse than. Like every fiber of his being had been plucked or torqued or twisted or cramped. Then again, Victor hadn’t died, right? Not the way he was certain Eli had.

Eli dragged his gaze away from the photo. “What are you going to do about him?” “I’m going to find him. You two can each have a cell to rot in.” “Oh, great,” said Eli dryly. “We can be neighbors.”

“This was indeed a learning experience,” said Eli. Victor muttered something unkind, but Eli continued.

Not to think about what it meant, that Eli Cardale was really, truly dead. The way the knowledge knocked Victor off-balance. A counterweight finally removed. An opposite but equal force erased.

“Very astute, Mr. Cardale.” Victor had missed the question and the answer.

Victor’s ghost ran a hand over the folded clothes.

“Why Ever?” Victor posed the question from across the table. Eli had just died. Victor had just brought him back.

Victor clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You’re religious, then.” “I believe in God,” said Eli steadily. “Well,” said Victor, nudging away his plate. “You can live in the heavens. I’ll take the earthly sphere.”

“He?” asked Victor incredulously. He wasn’t in the mood for God. Not this morning. “According to your thesis,” he said, “an influx of adrenaline and a desire to survive gave you that talent. Not God. This isn’t divinity, Eli. It’s science and chance.”

“Hey Angie,” said Eli, and Victor watched the light fold in behind his eyes even as he pulled her in for one of those movie-star kisses.

Eli let his words hang in the car. Victor turned the radio from low to off.