Afterworld

by Lynnette Lounsbury

  ‘But time is different for everyone. Perhaps she was in one of those cages for years and years, even though you think she has been around here for years and she thinks it has been only a few weeks, doesn’t necessarily mean either one of you is wrong.’ Dom felt very tired all of a sudden. Lying back on the bed had not helped him to feel any more alert. The Trials were looming in less than forty-eight hours and he could barely lift his head off the bed. Worse, one of only two allies was pacing the room in anger.

  ‘Are you going to come with me through the Maze? You still need to find out what’s going on with Anubis,’ he whispered, falling into sleep.

  ‘I don’t know. I told you, I don’t even know if I have a choice. I am a Guide. I may have to stay and do this all over again with someone else.’

  ‘All of it? I hope it’s some old woman next time.’ He tried to laugh. ‘I’m sorry, you know. Everything here is confusing . . . I don’t know why I did it. It just happened. And I was stupid. That’s all I have. I’m sorry.’ He fell asleep then, wishing he could have heard her reply, but unable to stay awake any longer. And he slept long and dreamless and more deeply than he had since he had died.

  8

  Dominic’s Hourglass

  2336 Minutes

  When he opened his eyes they no longer burned. He breathed in and felt better, healed and alert. Eduardo was leaning over him impatiently.

  ‘Get up child, you have only a few more hours to train,’ he said in his thick accented voice.

  ‘I am not a child.’ He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, grimacing a little as he waited for the pain of the previous night to hit him. It didn’t. He felt sharp and fresh.

  ‘You look better.’ Eduardo nodded. ‘And I’ll call you whatever I wish to. I am over ten thousand of your years and you? You do foolish, dangerous and ultimately pointless things. Thus I can call you a child. A babe.’

  Dom stretched. ‘What are we doing today?’

  Eduardo swung a large leather bag onto the bed. ‘This is what you will take with you into the Maze. It is everything you will need. Food, rope, tools and every type of weapon I could find. Sometimes it is cold in there, sometimes very hot. There is also a blanket and torches. Those are the most important. You will also take the book Eva has given you.’

  Dom tested the bag; it was heavy. ‘What about the Trials?’

  Eduardo looked at him piercingly. ‘I am your Guardian, but you chose to be part of the Trials. If you lose, I cannot help you. Got it? Until then I can train you. How many minutes do you have?’

  ‘I have 2336. Won it from the fights.’ Dom began to do the math in his head.

  ‘It’s almost two days. You could still run.’

  He turned to see Eva walking through the doorway with bags of food for breakfast. She handed them bread. Dom nodded his thanks and tried to catch her eye. She walked to the other side of the room and pulled the notebook from her own satchel.

  ‘We haven’t really gone through this properly. I needed much more time to teach you everything. And we have not even talked about the River. I hope . . .’ She paused and raised her eyes to his for a moment. ‘Nothing.’

  Dom suddenly thought about what the Angel had said. ‘Run? How do I live with myself if I just run off?’

  ‘Pride, Dominic, is not something you can afford to have when you have angered the Nephilim.’ Eduardo was pragmatic. ‘Satarial makes the rules. You do not have any way of being truly prepared for this.’

  ‘You think I’m going to lose, don’t you?’ Dom turned to him with mild surprise. He had sensed a kind of hope in Eduardo that had buoyed him.

  ‘I think you believe it. And whatever you believe, in your soul, that is what will happen. All the training in the world will not change your soul’s power.’ Eduardo smiled a wry, small smile and walked towards the door. ‘Are you coming? We will train in the Gardens. You will fight me. All day or until you can defeat me.’

  Dom sighed. It would be a painful and exhausting day. Again. ‘Will you be fighting as a drunken old Spaniard? Please?’

  The Angel laughed. ‘Will the Nephilim?’

  He walked through the doorway and it shut behind him. Dom turned to Eva who was studiously packing and repacking her satchel.

  ‘Are you coming with us?’ he asked her.

  ‘I have some things to do. I’m going back down to the gate. See if anyone else has returned from the Maze.’ She didn’t look at him.

  ‘This could be our last day together – forever. Don’t waste it being mad at me. Please.’

  Eva didn’t answer him and eventually he walked out the door and down the stairs to meet Eduardo, who was waiting impatiently for him in the street. They ran together to the park and found a place among the tall trees and hanging vines where they had enough space. Dom stripped off his shirt and cloak and stood in his ragged jeans waiting for Eduardo to begin. The Angel watched Dom in amusement.

  ‘Well, you don’t look like a boy anymore. You are a man. I will stop calling you child now.’ He laughed and with a strange stretching motion, changed to his angelic form; taller, broader and fuller than as the human Guardian. Dom gazed up at him with the same wonder he felt every time Eduardo transformed. It never became less amazing to see him as an Angel. Eduardo stripped off his shirt as well and Dominic was confronted by the most muscular body he had ever seen.

  ‘Really? Are you kidding me?’ Dom twisted his head to the side. ‘I’m putting my shirt back on.’ He reached down, but had a thought that distracted him. ‘Hey. Turn around, I want to see your wings.’

  ‘They are not wings. Like a bird. Or a horse,’ Eduardo snarled softly, turning to show Dom the smooth, wingless skin of his back. ‘They are very different.’

  ‘And you’re not going to stoop to showing them to a mere human?’ Dom scoffed.

  Eduardo stared at him for a while, a calculating look that made Dom cringe. Perhaps there was a whole level of history here he didn’t understand and he should have kept his mouth shut. Eduardo walked towards him until they were far too close for comfort and Dominic’s face was almost against his chest. There was a crack like a branch breaking and they appeared, the huge black wings that whipped from the back of his body faster than Dom could see. They extended almost two metres on either side of his body, deep and thick and muscled. And feathered.

  Dom stared at them with incredulity. ‘They do have feathers. Like a bird.’

  Eduardo did not move, but his wings pulled forward and wrapped themselves on either side of Dom. The feathers moved independently, holding his arms tightly above the elbow and lifting him off the ground until he was at eye height with the Angel.

  Eduardo spoke softly. ‘Do you remember a conversation we had once, Dominic, about the Angelus? About how they become very easily angered by humans?’

  Dom was startled, but not scared. It was still Eduardo. ‘Angry Angels? Yes, I remember. I apologise. They are very nice . . . flying apparatus.’

  With a snort, the Angel dropped him back onto his feet and with a sweep of one wing knocked Dom sideways into a tree. As he struggled back to his feet and prepared to fight, something flicked through his mind. ‘Wait. Horses? What?’

  The reply was another wing, swooping low and knocking his feet from under him. The hours of training kicked in, and his instincts allowed him to roll as he fell, pushing back to his feet to the side of his opponent.

  ‘If you must fight Nephilim you must wait for them. The way to cripple them is always from behind. Wait for them to attack, evade them and then use their nerves against them.’ He struck Dominic’s back gently in a series of twisting, pressured moves. Nothing happened to Dom, but he had seen it work on the sensitive Nephilim. They collapsed. ‘It will not hold them indefinitely, but it will give you the advantage of time.’

  ‘Isn’t there a way to disable them permanently?’

  Eduardo didn’t reply, but resumed his attack and the two traded blows faster than Dom could see. He had to let his mind and
body work together and keep his consciousness out of it. Every time he tried to find an awareness of what was going on, he was hit. The Nephilim were fast, but Eduardo was exceptional. His wings allowed him not only to move around with ease, they were also another set of weapons and Dom found he had to watch for kicks, punches and the swiping blows of the wings which had a reach he could barely stay out of. He was exhausted within minutes and had to resort to simply evading as best he could.

  Finally he sat down on the perfectly green, insect-free grass to catch his breath. Eduardo sat beside him, no sign of sweat or fatigue on his body. ‘It’s only been a couple of hours, boy – you need to build endurance.’

  Dom lay back and coughed up a laugh. He used the moment to ask a question that had been playing on his mind for a couple of days.

  ‘Eduardo?’

  ‘Do not say their name.’

  ‘How did you know?’ Dom sat back up and looked at his Guardian in astonishment.

  He sighed. ‘I have been waiting for you to ask.’

  ‘Who are they?’

  The Angel closed his eyes for a moment and tilted his head. Seeming to sense nothing he said softly and quickly, ‘he was speaking of the Superios . . . The Archangels.’

  ‘They are different to you? To the Angelus?’

  ‘Yes. Very, very different.’

  ‘How many more types of people are there? I’ve never even heard the words before.’

  ‘They are not people.’ His expression was bitter and his shoulders hunched. ‘There were three tribes created from the Awe. Humans, Angelus and Superios. Humans were gifted with mortality. Angelus with immortality. The . . . others, with the Impervious. Humans have a finite life, Angelus do not, but they can be killed. The others cannot even be hurt physically.’ He was silent for a long moment and Dom heard a few sounds of the City on the other side of the Gardens. The lunchtime markets were opening and he could hear the small wagons being rolled through the City carrying food. A few branches brushed against each other. Mostly it was a cold quiet.

  Finally Eduardo continued. ‘We were supposed to learn from our gifts and teach each other – mingling until we were one race. But it did not happen that way. Humans control their emotions very well, Dominic. It is a skill the Angelus struggle to master and the . . . the Superios . . . have not bothered to learn at all. They feel no physical pain, but their emotions are razor sharp. They are hurt, angered, jealous and fickle without reserve. They toyed with humans until the humans rejected them, just as the humans rejected the Angelus. And we too have parted ways. As much as possible we do not even speak of them. Satarial was likely just mentioning them to cause concern, but if he is right, and they have involved themselves in the Afterworld, we are in the deepest of troubles.’

  Dom heard someone calling his name and knew the conversation was over.

  ‘Dominic?’ The voice was a distance away.

  It was Deora, and Eduardo reacted instantly, pulling Dominic close to his face and hissing quickly in his ear.

  ‘Never speak of what I told you. And do not trust the girl.’ His voice was strained. ‘Nephilim are like Angelus – a race of men. They are undone by women. She holds far more power than she leads you to believe.’

  He let go and as he stepped away Dom wiped the sweat from his face and squinted through the darker shadows of the park’s unusual foliage until he could see the shape coming towards him. Deora was, as always, dressed in her diaphanous white dress, her long blonde curls draped over one shoulder like a Greek goddess. He felt the sudden hot sensation of dread. He glanced at Eduardo who was human and standing beside him in the swarthy, rumpled body of a middle-aged man who drank too much.

  Dom panted at him, under his breath, ‘Give me just ten minutes of fighting you in your human form. I dare you.’

  ‘And I will take back all the knowledge I have given you. Then we will be two blind humans swinging wildly at each other. That will be spectacular.’ He looked at Deora with suspicion, or perhaps disgust. ‘I will stay here. Do not be drawn to anything, Dominic. She is Nephilim first.’

  Dom walked towards her and she smiled as he approached. It was the same disarming smile she always used, as though he were the most important thing to her in the world. Dom tried to concentrate on everything that he knew about her, everything Eva had told him, but she had some kind of aura around her; perhaps it was the aura anyone of exceptional beauty had, one that made those around them want to believe everything they said.

  ‘Dominic.’ She kissed his cheek, slowly, and leaned close. He saw her glance briefly at Eduardo over his shoulder, her eyes barely open, but sharp. ‘You need to come with me. I told you I could give you information and I have it. It is the best I could do. He does not trust me or favour my presence any longer. I have to work through other sources.’

  Dom remembered the look that had passed between Satarial and Deora at the Glass and knew she was not telling the truth. Satarial had been communicating with her directly. Even in the midst of his anger and frustration he had listened to her.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied.

  ‘Come with me now and I will tell you.’ She raised her voice. ‘You have to come with me. Your sister is almost gone and she wishes to see you. Satarial has said you may come and see her before she goes.’

  Dom’s heart stopped. Was she kidding? Or was this just a ploy to get him away from Eduardo? Eduardo looked at him piercingly and nodded, and Dominic hurried after Deora who wasted no time in leaving, her sandal-clad feet gliding along the path towards the edge of the park. The dark City loomed around them again and he felt the cold reality of where he was.

  ‘Is that true? Is Kaide . . .’ he said as soon as they were far enough away from Eduardo for Deora to believe they were alone.

  ‘Yes,’ she said casually, ‘but that was just an excuse to get you away. Now I can tell you what I know. Do not forget, Dominic, you promised to take me with you if I helped you.’

  Dom stared at her blankly. ‘I don’t care about the Trials right now, Deora, just take me to my sister.’

  ‘But you need . . .’

  ‘Take me to my sister.’ Dom said it more harshly than he meant and the surprise on Deora’s face was rapidly replaced by a cold sullenness.

  ‘Okay. Then follow me. But I may not have another chance to tell you, so you can listen as we walk.’

  ‘Run.’ Dominic weighted the imperative with a burst of speed and Deora had to sprint to catch him. She was light on her feet though and barely lost a breath as she spoke to him. He sensed annoyance in her voice, but she masked it well.

  ‘I have heard from some of the clan that Satarial has something different planned for tomorrow. Something he has never done before. Usually he simply manipulates the elements until the contestant is too exhausted and cannot continue. He uses the audience as well, makes them turn on those in the Arena. It is not hard, the people here are bored, and it makes them bloodthirsty. So they throw stones or spears or whatever they have and help to cripple the contestant.’

  They crossed the stone bridge into the Nephilim territory and Dom could see the stadium. As they ran down the incline towards Satarial’s villa he looked at the huge trees, swaying very slightly despite the lack of breeze and winding around each other into the huge Arena that had housed so much torture and suffering.

  ‘So what is he doing differently for me?’ Dom asked.

  ‘I am not certain, but it will not be the usual. I doubt you will survive.’

  Dom wondered how she was expecting him to take her with him when she so clearly pictured him in a tank full of water. For his part, he was feeling slightly more confident. He was much more terrified of the ice and the fire than he cared to admit, even to himself. What could be worse than burning? Perhaps he would be up against other contestants. That would be perfect. He had the Angel’s knowledge on his side. But Satarial must know that by now, why would he give Dom any advantage? Unless they were Glassers. He shuddered at the thought of the savage gnawing creature
s. Dom sighed. It was no use second-guessing, he had no idea what Satarial was thinking. The Nephilim hated him because he was young, because he was human, both reasons Dom could never understand.

  They reached the smooth, pale sandstone that made up the pathways around the villa, and Deora led him to the main gate and ushered him in.

  They walked into the courtyard Dom had seen on his last visit, the gardens manicured to perfection and the water clean and flowing crisply through the many fountains. It was exquisite, but just as lifeless as the rest of the City. The brightly coloured roses, more detailed than any flowers Dom had seen, barely nodded and there was no hum of insects or birds. The leaves were perfect, bright green and smooth, and they seemed less real for their perfection. Dom wondered if he looked like that. A smooth and flawless version of himself. Lifeless and perfect.

  They entered the villa through an arched doorway past the main garden. The doorway was made for Nephilim and was nearly ten feet high, ornate and carved with images of dragons, twisting, flying and spouting flames. They were delicately detailed, down to the diamond patterns on their skin. The hallway was dark, but lit with torches and Deora glided smoothly past several identical wooden doors to a simple one, which she opened. Dom was surprised that it was a real door that swung, unlike the vanishing doorways of the stone apartments that filled the City. He touched it as he walked through and the wood felt slightly warm, like the benches in the Arena, as though it were still part of the tree. He wanted to examine it more, but he had already walked through the doorway and as soon as he saw his sister, he forgot everything else.

  He felt a brief moment of affection for the Nephilim when he saw her. They had tried to set up some semblance of a hospital room, with a bed, a table with water and a machine beside the bed, monitoring her heart. It was simple and rudimentary, even for the Necropolis. Nobody here was ever sick so nobody remembered how to care for the living, especially when they were dying.

  Satarial sat beside the bed, watching Kaide. Her breathing rasped loudly and it tugged at Dom, the same sound he had heard after the ventilator stopped working. He walked to the other side of the bed and sat in the empty wooden chair beside it. Satarial did not look at him.