Astrid took him to an empty hallway near the boardwalk staff lounge. He created a Door, identical in appearance to the Door to death, but instead of a mirrored surface in the center, Astrid saw an alley, complete with a trash dumpster with a dark, fetid puddle spreading beneath it. Without asking her permission, Gopan grabbed her hand and pulled her through.
“It’s better to come through in an alley or back room, where we’re not noticed,” he said. “We can pop in and out among people, and for the most part they don’t notice. But this way guarantees we won’t startle them.”
“What happens if they see us when we come through a Door?”
“Nothing. They just see us, but generally don’t notice anything amiss. It’s similar to the way we can understand any language. We get some protections when we’re on the job.”
He led her down the street, and they stopped in front of a bookshop, complete with a swinging wooden sign overhead depicting an open book with old-fashioned letters spelling out “Marginalia.” The wooden window frames were old and cracked, but the glass was clean. The window display included some newer books as well as older, more tattered volumes.
“This is Jeff’s shop. It’s all used books, but no truly valuable antiquities. Mainly old paperbacks, Reader’s Digests, Encyclopedias. No one comes here, for the most part.”
“Then how does he make money?”
“He does a decent business selling used books online. And he does get a few customers in person.” He checked his watch. “We have a few minutes until the others get here. Everyone will be happy to meet you. It’s not often we get a new member.”
“Do you only get a new psychopomp when an old one dies?”
Gopan gave her an assessing look. “God, it’s not anything morbid like that. We do die, after a while. But we retire at age seventy, so typically we don’t die while we’re still working. No, you just happen to have come of age, and you get to join our merry band.”
Astrid thought of what death meant for a psychopomp, to travel through that mirrored Door, to see what was on the other side. She was curious to know. Where exactly did they send the sticky souls? What waited beyond?
Gopan opened the door, an old-fashioned one with dark green paint and square panes of glass on the top half. A little brass bell rang overhead and Gopan called out Jeff’s name. The shop was small and cramped, smelling of dust and old books with volumes crammed into every space, piled on top of the shelves and teetering in uneven stacks on the floor. Yellowing handwritten cards identified each aisle as Romance, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Reference, Biography and others.
“The shop’s empty,” called a man’s voice. “It’s just us.”
A bearded, middle-aged man appeared from between the bookshelves. Curly brown hair surrounded a round, thoughtful face that lit up at the sight of her. His eyes were magnified by his glasses and she saw him look her up and down. Oddly, she was not offended. She sensed that he was just trying to learn about her, not make any sort of judgment. She still wore her Luna Park uniform, and her hair was too long to be neat and too short for her to pull it into a ponytail.
“I’m Jeff,” he said, and held out his hand. She shook it.
“Astrid.”
“Come on in. I have doughnuts in the back.”
A room at the back of the shop contained an old table with five metal folding chairs surrounding it. At the center of the table sat a pink cardboard box held closed with a piece of scotch tape. A coffee pot gurgled on the counter as it brewed. Gopan pulled open the pink box, selected a rainbow sprinkled doughnut and turned the box toward her.
“Graciela and Robin both like the bear claws, so we leave those for them.”
“Tell me what Gopan has told you so far about being a psychopomp,” said Jeff, taking a glazed doughnut.
Astrid took an apple fritter, poured a cup of coffee and took a seat opposite from Jeff. It felt strange that something like a Door into death was discussed like any ordinary thing, as if being a psychopomp was similar to joining a book club. These people were like her. They were Doors. They could understand what she felt and thought and could answer her questions. These were her people.
She told Jeff what she knew, leaving out how she was Unseelie and had opened Doors between the human and sidhe worlds. He seemed pleased with what Gopan had told her and nodded to the boy, who took another doughnut and smiled.
A minute later, a slender woman came in. Graciela looked like she was in her early thirties and when she embraced Astrid, she smelled of expensive perfume. She wore tight jeans, high-heeled shoes and lots of jewelry. She was not bookish like Jeff or slightly odd like Gopan, nor was she gloomy or strange, the way Astrid would have imagined someone associated with death. She pulled out her phone when it dinged to report an incoming text and told the group that Robin was on his way.
Graciela told Astrid she was from Argentina and worked in a clothing boutique, though she did a little modeling on the side. Astrid felt conscious of her ugly uniform, her scruffy hair and old shoes. Even dressed up, she’d never look like Graciela.
Robin, a black man in his forties, arrived, and as he entered he received an enthusiastic hug from Graciela and then took a seat beside her. The meeting, if you could call it that, was nothing more than a chat session, with Robin and Graciela engaging in a few side conversations of their own while Jeff and Gopan filled in some of the holes in Astrid’s knowledge.
They were the only five active psychopomps on earth, Jeff told her, and one was born about every decade, give or take. They became Doors around the time of adulthood, which in modern culture was around age eighteen, though it was earlier in previous centuries. When a sticky soul needed an escort to the afterlife, one of the psychopomps felt a tug inside, which all of them insisted that Astrid would not mistake for anything else. He or she would then make a Door, walk through to the soul, escort it through the mirrored Door into the afterlife, and then make another Door to return home.
“There’s no pay involved,” said Jeff. “But we save on airfare, as long as we can hide our Doormaking from others. All of us have regular jobs, but you have to find one that lets you leave at a moment’s notice. Most of our jobs only take a few minutes, so you can escort a soul during a coffee break.
“Or a bathroom break,” said Robin. “You make a Door in a bathroom stall, make a Door, help the soul, then return to your job.”
“What makes the souls pull us?” Astrid asked. “And what’s beyond the Door? Is it heaven?”
Gopan slowed his chewing and watched Jeff.
“None of us know, and that’s the truth,” said Jeff. “None of us have gone through a Door to death, as we wouldn’t ever come back. And I have very limited contact with the higher-ups.”
“Who are they? The higher-ups?”
“Well, there’s only one I talk to regularly. And he’s not a higher-up really, so much as one of us, but retired and very old. So occasionally I’ll consult with him, but he’s shy and doesn’t meet with everyone together. We’re a naturally occurring phenomenon, and as such, we operate more by natural laws than by hierarchical ones.”
Astrid would have to think that over. Doors, she knew, were born. They were people. But a Door could also open on its own. She had heard of people who had stepped through Doorways that were not made by any living thing. They simply appeared. And then there were Doors made by technology, as in the case of the Professor’s time machines that ripped holes between places, times and worlds. Three types of Doors, each different.
“Can our Doors go through time?” Astrid asked.
Jeff looked displeased, but only for an instant. Astrid thought he might be the sort of person who could not hide his emotions well, which would be useful. She wanted more information than instructions on being a proper psychopomp. She wanted to get Elliot out of the Library, and it supposedly existed outside of time.
“No. Our Doors are only in our own time. We live just as ordinary people do, one day after the other,” said Jeff. “And we can be killed just as easily as everyone else. We’ve lost people to pneumonia, influenza and car crashes.”
“Can we marry and have children and everything?”
“Sure. We’re just like everyone else. We just have an extra duty to humanity.”
“It’s nighttime back home,” said Gopan, checking his watch. “I need to be going.”
“I’ll see her home,” said Jeff, and Astrid was glad that she didn’t have to figure out how to make a Door to Los Angeles on her own.
Everyone made sure they had Astrid’s phone number and she entered all of theirs into her phone, adding a note on the time differences in their home countries.
Graciela and Robin gave her a hug, then left together. Gopan simply said good-bye, not offering to shake her hand. Once they were gone, Jeff cleaned up the coffee and doughnuts.
“Robin and Graciela are a lot alike,” said Jeff. “There’s no romance between them, if you got that idea. They’re just twin souls, in a way.”
He handed her the pink doughnut box and told her that she should take them home.
“You’re skinnier than I am,” he said. “And I bet you have more questions. So now is the time. Ask anything.”
“I want to know about aspects.”
“I won’t tell you mine. But I’ll help you with yours, once you get it, and if you choose to reveal it to me. It should come any time now.”
She thought of asking Robin’s and Graciela’s aspects, but decided against it.
“Why are you the boss?” she asked. “Do you give us orders or anything?”
“I’m only in charge, nominally, because I’m the oldest. When I retire, then Gopan will be the leader. I’m just like the rest of you in my abilities and knowledge. I’ll coordinate your training, help you along. You’ll train with each of us, so someone will be with you for all of your early jobs until you know what you’re doing. All of us have something to contribute, and don’t discount Graciela because she’s the youngest. She has things to teach too. We each approach the job in different ways, and your way will be unique to you.”
Astrid tossed out the used coffee cups, not sure how to ask him about finding a way to the Library.
“I have a question for you,” said Jeff. “You’re Unseelie, I know that. And I know you’ve been to the void. I’d recommend not going back. It’s very dangerous.”
“I liked the void. It was comfortable. Like coming home after a long day.”
“I know. Being what we are, that only makes sense. The void is part of our nature, a thread among many in our being. But don’t go there again. There are things there, void wyrms, and they’ll kill you. Don’t ever take people through your Doors either, unless they’re sending them to death. It destabilizes things. Now, when we’re on the job, we can pull threads in people’s minds and touch their thoughts. That’s fine, but whatever you do, never use other people’s minds as passageways again.”
“How did you know I had done that?” She had once used many minds to find her way back from the void.
“The old one I talked to. He can feel things we can’t.”
“He’s not human either, is he?” she asked.
“I doubt it. But the thing you need to know is this: You can destroy people. Their minds are delicate and strong at the same time. Some pieces are more fragile than others, and when you travel through, you can bump those pieces and unbalance someone.”
“They’d go insane?”
“Maybe. Or a personality change, a violent outburst, anything. Or it could also give them a brilliant idea for an invention, reform a criminal, cure an addict. There’s no way to tell. Just stay out of minds.”
He wiped down the table, cleaning up crumbs and coffee circles.
“You don’t know me, so you probably don’t trust me,” he continued. “And from what I’ve heard of your home life, the human home life, I’m surprised you’re doing as well as you are. But I can help you. We all can. Once in a while, there will be a bad psychopomp, one who won’t do his duty or who is just a jerk. This is a good group, a stable group. Now, with that said, I know you come with some baggage with the Seelie.”
“They’re angry with me because I sent my cousin to the Library instead of death,” she said, hoping that Jeff truly was trustworthy. They were family, in a sense, and she could use all the help she could get. Heaven knew that the Time Corps had not been very helpful in saving Elliot. A little stab of anger gnawed at her at their incompetence, followed by remorse. They were only trying to undo her act, after all.
“And that’s what I wanted to discuss,” said Jeff. “Our higher-up negotiated as best he could, and instead of having to turn you over to the Seelie, or be in their service for three full moons or whatever crazy thing they dream up, you have to perform three tasks for them. Then your debt will be paid.”
“That sounds like something out of a fairy tale.”
“I think there’s a reason for that. They’re unpredictable and erratic, but in some ways they’re more hidebound than anyone. Besides that, the Seelie are bad people to be beholden to. On their own, they’re a pain, but it’s those among them who are sympathetic to the Unseelie that really worry me. Those people would gladly force you to open a Door to Unseelie to free their separated brethren. Part of the negotiations involved not forcing you to open a Door into or out of the Seelie or Unseelie worlds. I wish you hadn’t gotten into trouble with them at all, but what’s done is done. So do your three tasks and be done with them forever.”
“Did this higher-up say anything about the Library?”
“There’s nothing you can do for your cousin. Now, I like books, but not even I would venture into the Library.”
“But there’s nothing stopping me from making a Door to the Library aside from my inexperience. Once I learn, I could do it. It’s possible, right?”
He sighed. “I’m not your boss, and I have no power to force you to do anything. But if you went to the Library, then you could no longer be summoned to escort souls. And that affects our work, so it involves me. The soul would suffer and it would upset the balance of life and death. It’s serious.
“And that reminds me of another thing. From what I understand, a while back you opened Doors to the Seelie world in your sleep. I heard that a few slaugh came through.”
“My cat killed them.” Astrid didn’t mention that her cat could also speak and was a member of the Time Corps. “It hasn’t happened again.”
“Good. I suspect that’s because you’re growing into your position. Our abilities are natural, like breathing, and once you can control them, you should have no problems with unintentional Doors. Now, it’s time to get you home. Let’s have your first lesson, making a simple Door.”
For the next quarter of an hour, they worked at the back of the shop until Astrid could reliably open a Door to the backyard at the Time Corps house. Jeff handed her the doughnut box and came with her through the Door, wanting to see where she lived, in case he needed to come visit her.
“Ah, Los Angeles,” he said. “It feels different here. Can you tell?”
Astrid said she couldn’t.
“Maybe that comes with age and experience. Or maybe it’s because you grew up here. It’s a funny place, unstable. Did you ever wonder why there are no subways here?”
“We have a few. I suppose we don’t have more because an earthquake would collapse the tunnels.”
“Earthquakes are a reason but also a symptom. It’s because things can live in tunnels, catacombs, subways. It would be a city beneath a city. Like it is in London, Paris and Rome.”
She thought of New York, where she’d go to art school, and its extensive network of subways. Jeff stuck his hands
in his pockets and looked up at the sky.
“This place, the City of Angels, was created without an underground. It’s a failsafe, of sorts. It forces things into the light. But it’s not foolproof, for evil has its illusions, and this city, of all in the New World, is the city of illusions and make-believe. There’s one thing you need to know.” He turned and looked straight at her. “We’re on the good side. Death isn’t evil, it’s natural. It’s unfair sometimes, but natural. Imagine the opposite, if everyone lived forever. That would be the truly terrible thing. Or if sticky souls stayed here, going mad, tormenting the living. We are the last people they see before they pass to the afterlife. Our job is sacred and we take it seriously. I want you to understand that about us. About yourself. We’re with the good guys.”
He said good-bye, made a Door back to his bookshop and was gone. As Astrid carried the doughnuts into the kitchen, she realized that Jeff hadn’t questioned her about the worlds of the sidhe, her Unseelie family or anything else aside from the minimum he needed to know to keep his group safe and functional.
She still didn’t know if she could trust any of the psychopomps, though she very much wanted to. They must have their agendas, their needs and goals, just like anyone else. They were people, just as she was, hopefully decent and good-hearted. They were as ordinary as anyone. But what had she expected? Of course death was as familiar as the face of an old friend.
Chapter 9
Hazel followed Neil as he descended below decks to check their cargo of fancy mead. They were approaching the small Mexican coastal town where, with luck, their trade would go smoothly. The deal was unrelated to helping Elliot, but Hazel owed the recipients a favor, and tried to keep the goodwill of the few people she knew in various times. After dropping off the mead, they would sail up the coast, using the time machine to travel to the early twenty-first century, where they would arrive at the Time Corps house in Los Angeles.
The Time Corps Chronicles (Complete Series) Page 93
