Eternal by H. G. Nadel

neck and began to massage her head, which was now lying on his chest. The other hand drifted down her spine to the small of her back and pressed his fingers into her flesh. Without thinking, she began to run her hand through the back of his thick, wavy hair. She looked up hesitantly and saw a new fire in his eyes. Then, in a flash, it was gone. He detached himself from the embrace, cleared his throat, and looked down at the note she was still holding. “‘Death to the heretic?’“
    “Yes. It’s so …” Julia’s words trailed off as her eye caught the message written on her windshield with a finger in the rain-streaked dust: “I’ll never leave you.”

T HIRTEEN
     
    A ustin followed Julia back to her apartment. When they walked in, she double-locked the door behind them.
    “Can I get you a glass of water?” she said.
    “Sure, thanks.” He followed her to the kitchen; and, when she almost fumbled the glass, he rescued it from her shaking hand. “Maybe you’d better sit down and let me get that.” He pulled out a kitchen chair, and she almost fell into it. Austin filled the glass from the tap and handed it to her. Then he grabbed another one from the cupboard and filled it for himself.
    “Thanks.” She took a sip and then set the glass down, sloshing water on the table.
    Austin took the kitchen chair next to her and twisted it backwards. He straddled it, his folded arms resting on the back of the chair. He observed her quietly for a moment, his oblique expression making Julia wonder what he was thinking.
    “Julz, you certainly have a penchant for trouble,” Austin said with a half-smile, his blue eyes sparkling. A thrill went through her at the sound of her name. Only her father had ever called her “Julz,” and she secretly loved the nickname.
    “You knew what that note meant.”
    “Well, at least I know what the words mean.” He let go of her hand, reached into his pocket, pulled out the note, which was now enclosed in an evidence bag, and read,
“Mort à l’hérétique’:
Death to the heretic. I spent three summers in France. How about you? You speak French?”
    “Like a native. My mother was from Paris.”
    “I’m so sorry for your loss, Julz.’“ His gaze was sad, thoughtful. “You’ve had a rough year.”
    Her eyes filled with tears at the simple acknowledgment. “You could say that.” Austin took Julia’s hand in hers and began to massage her knuckles with his thumb. They were silent for a moment. Then Austin cleared his throat.
    “Let’s talk about this death threat.” He tossed it onto the table between them. “We know what the words mean, but any idea what the note means?”
    “You mean why someone would say such a thing to me? I don’t have a clue.”
    “Did Bertel speak French?”
    “No. At least, he always told me he was language-challenged.”
    “Was he a religious man?”
    She shook her head. “Agnostic.”
    “And you?”
    “A heretic.” She shrugged off his sardonic look. “I told you before that I was atheist.”
    “Actually, what you said was that the soul never used to interest you, because you’d never seen observable evidence of it before.”
    “Right.”
    “But lately you’ve seen observable evidence, haven’t you?”
    “Of a soul. But not of God.”
    “Aren’t they related?”
    “Not necessarily. To me the word ‘soul’ is just a convenient term. I’d call it the brain’s chemical-electrical source for personality and character.”
    “How clinical of you.”
    “You’d prefer something more poetic?”
    “Sorry. I’m not trying to grade your answers. I’m just trying to figure out why someone would want to threaten you.”
    “If we suspect the note was from a religious fanatic, then I guess he’d say I’m a pretty big heretic. Once upon a time, I would’ve been burned at the stake or something.”
    “Isn’t that for witchcraft?”
    “I suppose some people would see what Bertel and I were doing as not too far from that. How