Feversong

by Karen Marie Moning

  Going to sleep next to him every night. Waking up with him every morning, feeling the warmth of his body next to—

  I went still.

  So still I might have been made of stone.

  Warily, I opened all my senses to their fullest.

  I sleep on my side, one arm under the pillow, backside pressed up to him. Dancer sleeps flat on his back, arms usually over his head. He breathes easier that way.

  He was behind me, his hand grazing my hip.

  His cool hand.

  I pondered that. He might have gotten up to get a glass of milk or something and his hand was still cool from holding the glass. Or maybe he’d had one of the grape Popsicles we’d made a couple nights ago from grape juice and a couple of bottles of iced wine we’d found. I’d roll over and find his lips were purple from sucking on one. Everything would be fine.

  “Dancer?” I whispered.

  Nothing.

  “Dancer?” I said.

  Silence.

  Loudly, brightly, “Dancer, wake up. It’s the day. We’re going through to Shazam today. You two are going to love each other. We’re going to be a family.” And we were doing it together; he was coming off world to Planet X with me, we’d decided last night. Even though I was worried about his heart, I’d agreed to not cage him and he wanted to be there with me, to celebrate a joyful reunion. Or comfort me if it didn’t go as we hoped.

  I have super senses. Super smell, sight, strength, speed.

  And hearing.

  There was only one person breathing in our bed.

  I exploded up, spun midair and slammed my hands down on his chest. “Dancer!” I snarled. “Wake up!”

  He was still, eyes closed.

  Pump, pump, pump.

  I read about this. Never did it. Learned in case I needed to. Thirty pumps at the rate of 100 to 120 per minute. Tilt head, lift chin, pinch nose, breathe. Two breaths. Each lasting a second.

  Pump, pump, pump. Breathe.

  I kicked up into the slipstream so I could do it faster and straddled him, envisioning the heart inside his body, that lovely, unfairly penalized muscle, and pretended I was wrapping my hands around it, massaging it back to life as I worked.

  Pump, pump, pump. Breathe.

  I vibrated as intensely as I could because Mac told me that Ryodan said (and how he knows is beyond me) that I give off a subtle electrical charge when I do. I hit full intensity, pumping at the same time.

  No breath. Not a twitch or even a flicker of eyes behind his lids.

  Pump, pump pump, breathe.

  Pump, pump, pump, breathe.

  The tears came long before I stopped trying to bludgeon and breathe and vibrate his body back to life.

  Burning, hurting, scarring so motherfucking deep.

  My head whipped back and I snarled at the ceiling with grief and fury and white-hot rage. “Why?” I shook my fist. “Give me one good reason! Tell me WHY you son of a bitch! Why not me? Do you take everyone away and leave me here just to torture me?”

  I don’t know how long I wept and raged up at the ceiling, or when I changed tactics and began begging. Offering anything.

  Everything. All my superpowers. Whatever made me special. Just let me have Dancer back. One more day.

  One more hour.

  Even just long enough to get to say goodbye.

  Hands dropping uselessly at my sides.

  Brain going numb: reject reject reject.

  His body temperature told the story well enough.

  He’d slipped away shortly after I’d fallen asleep.

  Hours ago.

  While I’d slumbered ignorantly on.

  Dancer had died, alone, and I’d been lying beside him, having happy dreams, oblivious to his suffering, his need.

  This had been my fear: I wouldn’t be there when he died. Worse yet, I’d been right there, yet not. I’d wanted to be holding his hand. I’d wanted him to not be alone.

  But no, I’d slept through it.

  Had it hurt?

  Had it taken a long time, did he gasp my name? Or had his enormous, beautiful heart just slowed and slowed until he drifted off on a dream?

  Had he been afraid? Had he suffered?

  Had he even known?

  I sat on top of him, staring down at him, and sought the answers in his face.

  It was peaceful.

  His eyes were closed. No sign of strain in his face.

  Accepting.

  Just like he’d always been. Of everything. Of me. Of his unfair fucking life. Always seeing the good in me, in everyone around him.

  Hot tears dropped down my cheeks, scalding my skin.

  “Wake up, wake up, wake up!” I cried, nudging him. “Please don’t leave me. Oh God, Dancer, don’t go. Not yet! We’re supposed to have more time!”

  His face was pale and cool, his hair tousled by our lovemaking, lips parted as if on a final sigh.

  I love you more eternal than pi, he’d said.

  I drew back my fist and punched him in the chest, thinking if my punch was lethal enough to stop a heart, maybe it could start one.

  That was when I felt him.

  Not beneath me.

  Behind me. Where no sun was touching my skin, I felt sunshine on my shoulders.

  I felt his presence.

  I swear I felt his hands moving my hair aside so he could kiss the back of my neck. Then they rested solid and warm on my shoulders and squeezed a little.

  And until the day I die myself I’ll continue to believe that I actually heard him speak.

  No tears, Mega. Only joy. We were the lucky ones.

  The lucky ones. He was dead and could say that? Was he batshit crazy? Maybe he was the lucky one, but I wasn’t. I was here. I was alone. And his body was empty of all that was Dancer and I was in bed with a corpse.

  Love doesn’t die just because the person does. Everything we felt for each other still exists, Dani. It’s in your heart. Don’t turn it off, wild one. Never turn it off again. The world needs you. And you need the world.

  Then the warmth was gone and I stretched out beside him and I held on to him and kissed him and kissed him and said all those things we’d only just started saying to each other.

  I don’t know how long I lay there. Time got weird then.

  I only know, at some point, I became dimly aware that Ryodan was in the room with us, touching my shoulder, watching me with intensely bright eyes, untangling me from him, wrapping a blanket around me, making me get out of bed, and I screamed and screamed at him and I hit him and told him to leave me alone because I was never letting go of Dancer.

  And he let me do it, rage and scream and hit him over and over, and when I finally collapsed to the floor where I lay sobbing and broken, he picked me up, tucked a blanket around me again and carried me out into the much too bright day.

  I got lost in a really bad place then, where I felt sorry for myself and angry at the world, and I was made of nothing but pain, and I felt ancient and arthritic in every single one of my 222 bones, and the pain was so huge and I knew I couldn’t survive it. It was going to kill me, and that was okay because Dancer was probably really close still and we could grab each other’s hands and freeze-frame to the next adventure together.

  Then Ryodan’s fingers were brushing my forehead and he was laying me down in a crisp white bed, murmuring soft words, and I think I kind of died then because the pain finally.

  Blissfully.

  Stopped.

  I have foggy memories for a time. I know Mac came and sat with me, wherever I was, somewhere deep in Chester’s. Barrons even came sometimes, and once he held my hand and I remember thinking I must have been dreaming because Barrons would never hold my hand. But I still remember the feel of his hand, how strong and big it was and how it felt like he was sending some of his gargantuan strength into my body, taking some of my pain out of it.

  I have distant, gray memories of Kat, Enyo, and Christian lurking beyond the veil I couldn’t see past. Or didn’t
want to. Even Jack and Rainey sat in my room, keeping watch, with Mrs. Lane fretting nonstop, tucking my blankets close, feeling my forehead, sometimes just sitting on the bed, touching me somewhere.

  I have clearer memories of Ryodan. Each time I awoke, if one of the others wasn’t in the room, he was. Always. Sitting. Chair by my bed. Watching. Waiting. Forcing me to live. Sometimes stroking my forehead and making all the hurt go away for a time. Other times punishing me by forcing me to live.

  I’d wake up but refuse to open my eyes. He’d know anyway and threaten to hook up a feeding tube if I didn’t eat. He’d lift me up and lean us both back against the headboard and pour protein drinks down my throat until I gagged (there was no way in hell I was chewing, chewing was a commitment to getting out of bed and that was a commitment to living), and I’d roll over again and melt back into the gray place.

  Of all the things that happened to me in my life there are only two that nearly crippled me: losing Shazam and losing Dancer.

  I thought about that in my gray place. And eventually realized it was because I’d chosen to love them, to give them my whole heart. And losing someone that you’d willingly given all of yourself to hurts far more than the many indignities and cruelties of the world. It’s pure. It’s a gift that gives back tenfold. And once you’ve lost it, you can never have it again.

  In the end, it was both of them that brought me back.

  In my gray place, I dreamed that Dancer was yelling at me through a pane of glass and he was saying Shazam’s name over and over. And he told me that just because we didn’t get to hang together anymore didn’t mean I could be a complete jackass or that Shazam didn’t need me, so I needed to pull my shit together and take on the world again. Like superheroes do.

  He loves you like pi, too, he said. Eternally. Wake up. Seize the day. He needs you now. There will always be someone who needs you. And you’ll always answer the call. That’s your place in the Great Slipstream, Dani. And you’ve always known it.

  “It was a lovely service,” Mac said as we walked through the cemetery.

  We’d had a big memorial mass at the abbey and buried Dancer and Alina next to Jo, in the private graveyard behind the fortress. I still couldn’t believe Jo was gone. It seemed like just yesterday I’d seen her at Chester’s, but thanks to some Unseelie prick, I never would again. I nodded. I still wasn’t big on talking. It seemed like too much effort.

  But I was getting stronger every day. And finally gaining some weight back.

  “I like the inscription on Dancer’s headstone,” Mac said when we stooped to place flowers on the stones of three side-by-side graves.

  ALINA MACKENNA LANE

  JOANNA MACLAUGHLIN

  DANCER ELIAS GARRICK

  I’d chosen it myself: NEVER THE SIDEKICK, ALWAYS THE HERO. I’LL SEE YOU IN THE SLIPSTREAM.

  I swallowed hard. He knew I loved him. I’d said it before he died and showed him in a thousand ways. I didn’t see much point in getting maudlin with his epitaph. If he was hanging around somewhere, I highly doubted he was checking out his headstone and reading the inscription. He’d be hanging out in the bathroom when I was naked in the shower.

  “I miss him.” I had two holes where my heart used to be. The temptation to become Jada again was intense. But I lacked the energy to pull it off. It took effort to stay ice cold all the time when you’d pretty much been slapped together at birth from passion, fire, and a teaspoon of stardust.

  Mac put her arms around me and pulled me into a hug. “I know, honey,” she said. “We all do. He was one of a kind.” After a time, she said, “Are you ready to do this?”

  I didn’t move. I wasn’t sure I was up to it.

  While I’d grieved, Ryodan and Barrons had gone through to Planet X and stacked Silvers so I could go get Shazam and bring him home.

  The problem was, Shazam was nowhere to be found. There’d been nothing on the small island but the enormous mirror. No force-field cage. No half-naked tribesmen wearing feathered headdresses. Not there and not anywhere else on the small world.

  It was deserted, void of both humanoid and Shazamoid life forms.

  Yes, they’d called for him. Mac told me Ryodan had stood on the island, calling for Shazam for the better part of a day.

  With no response.

  I suspected they still weren’t completely convinced Shazam wasn’t a figment of my imagination. And if I didn’t find him, they might never be convinced. Might think me even more of a nut job than I currently was.

  It was possible, after decades, Shazam was still waiting for me, somewhere up in the air, refusing to come down for anyone but me.

  But it was just as possible that he’d died or left that world long ago.

  Either way, I needed to know.

  Facing the truth is always better than living in limbo. And as I’d recently learned, there were a lot of people far more nosily concerned about my well-being than I’d ever realized. People willing to take time out of their own lives to make sure I was okay. I couldn’t say I was comfortable with all the fuss. But it wasn’t the worst thing either. “Yes, let’s do this, Mac.”

  I took her hand and, as we walked from the cemetery, I didn’t glance back at his grave.

  Dancer wasn’t there.

  I know a funny thing about eyes. Where you let them look is where they take you.

  Look back and you stay stuck in a lost, forever unattainable past.

  Look forward and you live.

  DANI

  When I arrived at Kilmainham Gaol people were having another party or something. There were a few hundred people milling around the portal to Planet X. I glanced around, trying to fathom what was going on. Surely they hadn’t all come out to see me off?

  Jack and Rainey came rushing over the minute I got there. Rainey smothered me in a big mom hug and petted my hair and generally fussed over me so thoroughly I just stood there looking at her because none of the things I felt like doing or saying were socially appropriate.

  “I’m so glad to see you up and about, Dani,” she exclaimed, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “We were so worried!”

  I shot a look at Mac and she gave me one back, and damned if I didn’t hear her voice in my head. I didn’t tell them and never will. But I suspect Alina did. Nobody blames you and everyone loves you. Deal.

  What the hell? Was everyone going to get the power of telepathy but me?

  I scowled at her and ignored her for a while.

  Then Enyo, Kat, and a cluster of sidhe-seers were milling around me, all talking at once, and it was overwhelming to my Mega ears, but I moved into the cluster, greeting each in turn, assessing Kat, startled to realize how different she was. Enyo on my right, Kat on my left. It felt right, us as a team, and as I searched their faces I knew they were feeling it, too. Mac didn’t know how to sing the walls back up between our worlds. It might take her a long time to figure it out. Sidhe-seers were critical. The three of us would find our places among them, and help the others find theirs.

  Christian joined me briefly, iridescent eyes glittering. Told me he’d be keeping an eye on me so if I saw him sometimes hanging around, not to worry. He’d be nearby if I ever needed help.

  Ryodan, Kasteo, Fade, and Barrons were standing apart, near the portal. I spotted Lor in the crowd, but he seemed to be keeping a distance from me and Mac.

  But once she’d moved off to talk with her parents, he moved in, grinning down at me, and for the first time since Dancer died, I felt my face relax and shape a smile. It’s impossible not to smile at Lor when he grins at you. But there was something different about him. For the first time since I’d met him, he looked somehow…ancient, like the rest of the Nine, in a way he never had before. “You ready, honey?”

  I nodded.

  “I’d go through with you but me and Mac, we got a bit of a problem we’re working out.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of problem?”

  “Bitch killed me ’cause she got pissed at me. I’d kill her
back but then Barrons would kill me and I’d have to kill him and we’d all kill each other for a few centuries like we did once before and I ain’t going back to that shitty, boring time.”

  I arched a brow, waiting, but he said nothing more. I couldn’t wait to get the scoop from Mac. If she’d killed him, she’d had a good reason. “Sorry about Jo,” I said.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  When I finally managed to disengage myself from everyone who wanted to say “Hi” to me for some bizarre reason, I joined Ryodan, Barrons, and Mac at the portal.

  “You shouldn’t come with me. He may not come out if you’re there.”

  Three immutable gazes stared at me, and I was struck by the sudden realization that I might never get rid of these people. They were in my life to stay. And they were going with me now. And that was that.

  I shrugged. I’d find a way to make them leave if push came to shove. “Okay then. Let’s do this.”

  A hush fell over the crowd as we moved toward the wall. A dozen feet away from the undetectable portal, a tall, wide Silver had been embedded in the wall.

  “We’re working to establish similar connections to many worlds. We’ve gone universal, not global,” Mac told me.

  Bloody hell, how our world had changed.

  I inhaled deep, exhaled slow, preparing myself for the worst. Hoping fervently for the best.

  Planet X. I was going through. It was the day.

  I’d never have believed I’d be leaving a world that had no Dancer in it. It was still impossible for me to wrap my brain around. Mac said it would be that way for quite a while. That I’d expect to see him around the next corner. Or I’d text him or pick up the phone to call and his absence would hit me like a two-ton truck. I knew it would be a long time before I could ever go near Trinity College again. There were places in our city I’d be avoiding permanently.

  Still, I’d been loved. Incredibly loved. And that was something I’d never had before. It had changed me. Given me new parts. “Thank you, Dancer,” I whispered as I stepped through the portal.