Divine 05 - Nevermore

by Melanie Jackson

  “Yes.” Emerson sighed. “It is why we rarely gather.”

  “Here we are,” said Roman, turning onto a path that was lit by a soft glow. “Welcome to Nevada state line.”

  I caught of whiff of something dead and wondered if zombies were using this these tunnels too.

  Chapter 14

  ‘And there was war in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back.’

  —Revelations 12:7-8

  We were standing in almost complete darkness except for the soft glow at our feet, but my attraction to Emerson was undimmed by the strangeness of our situation. In fact, desire was growing more with every step. I sensed that his longing for me was likewise compounding and I wondered if it had something to do with where we were. It was all I could do not to take his hand and snuggle against him.

  Abrial tipped his head as though listening.

  “If the shian senses emotional attachment between people, it will encourage it,” he explained, looking back at us. “You two are drawn to each other. The shian wishes to aid you.”

  “Yes, well, that’s nice. But I think Emerson and I can work this out on our own.” I didn’t look at Emerson and was glad that the dark covered my blush. I felt scalded from bra-line to hairline. Emerson in my head was bad enough. I didn’t need a whole party of strange men listening to my thoughts.

  “You should know anyway that we gave up the future for all generations when we gave up our old lives. It would be union for its own sake,” Emerson said suddenly. I wondered if he knew that he has spoken out loud. “I would not have you enter a relationship blind to the facts.”

  I thought this through before I answered, already so embarrassed that I figured it didn’t matter.

  “Can you— can I— have children? If we wanted them?” I asked Emerson. This really wasn’t the ideal time or place for this conversation, but then there might never be another time for it either. This fact was always in the back of my mind.

  “I doubt it. Unless we manage it with schizogenesis.” He smiled wryly. “We make a trade when we change. I think we keep all the life that we would have given to children.”

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. Of course, there hadn’t been time to discuss this before he changed me, but I wondered what else I might have gained— and lost—when the change happened.

  “Others of you kind have conceived,” Thomas said quietly. His gaze was compassionate. I seemed to be the only one feeling discomfort and embarrassment. “It may be possible if this is what you want. We can speak to our healer.”

  What I wanted? Who the hell knew anymore? I hadn’t many expectations on normalcy left but the present situation failed to meet even these few. I thought you have to be kidding! Children?

  Children.

  There it was— grief, my second skin. I thought I was done with it when I stopped mourning Harrison and the life that might have been, but there it sat, ready for me to slip on its familiar painful sleeves. I understood now the bundle of vitriol and bile that was my Aunt Juliet. Loss could do that to a person.

  And either Emerson heard this thought or else made a shrewd guess about my confused reaction to this news.

  “Let’s leave it in the lap of the gods for now,” he suggested, probably as overwhelmed by the idea as I was. “We must first survive the coming battle.”

  Or not. So, my inner voice wasn’t missing just being circumspect.

  “I sometimes wonder what goes on in that head of yours,” Emerson muttered.

  “Almost nothing,” I joked. “And you can know what goes on anytime you want.”

  “No, I can sense strong emotions—catch the gist sometimes if it is edged by something like fear. But your thoughts are your own in here.”

  Really? Things were looking up already.

  “The others of our family are gone for now, taking the children to a safer place, but you may meet them later,” Abrial said, stopping outside of a more or less rectangular opening. I looked beyond him and saw a bedroom. Or perhaps I should say bed chamber, since its walls and floor were of stone. There was an elegant bed, a giant affair of carved posts and velvet covers. The only light came from a vase filled with glowing blue water on desk-like table. The room wasn’t dusty but it felt long-abandoned.

  “This will be your chamber,” he said, echoing my thoughts. “There are plenty of others but I recommend that you share it. The shian sometimes sends odd dreams and it is best not to be alone.”

  I shivered.

  “No problem. Where will the boys be?” I jerked a thumb at the Vikings who were still looking hypnotized. Magnus was less puppet-like but I could tell his mind was elsewhere.

  “They will be in the room next door. Resting and healing.” I didn’t think he meant a natural sleep, but I didn’t say anything. “This place can be overwhelming for some. Sleep is a kindness.”

  “You sleep tight, kiddies,” Roman said cheerfully and then Emerson and I were alone in the stone room with the big bed.

  I walked to an oversized chair, a carved wooden thing that might have once been a throne. I put down the rucksack and slipped off my jacket. My shirt had buttons, lots of tiny stubborn ones that were a pain to undo when the fabric was damp. This gave me time to think but I failed to use it. I don’t believe Emerson was thinking much either.

  “Are you sure?” he asked me, but even as he said it, he was reaching for me.

  I kissed him. Because I was absolutely sure I wanted him. Even when I wasn’t sure about anything else.

  Emerson paused to let me catch my breath. I would not have been surprised he had shown a flair for the dramatic and said something grand, but there was nothing. Not even recycled poetry.

  “Shall I confess that for a full day after Baltimore I kept asking myself what have you done? But very quickly I came to…” He searched around in his head for the right words. His groping was unusual. “I came to feel hopeful. It was a relief when you finally called me and asked me to come.”

  “Hopeful?” I asked reluctantly, finding too many ways to interpret that and not wanting to be distracted from the moment. He felt awfully good pressed against me. Sometimes talking is over-rated.

  “That changing you was a good thing after all.”

  “Well, since I didn’t want to die, I think it was a good thing too.” Then, when he looked away, abashed at my somewhat exasperated reply, I added: “I’m also very glad I met you. You are also completely unexpected and it’s been—oh for heavensakes, Emerson!” I abandoned formal politeness. “I’m attracted to you. I like you. I want to work with you. And I wouldn’t mind tearing your clothes off and doing things our mothers wouldn’t approve of. Right now.”

  This got me a wide grin and an embrace that ended with me being tossed into the air. Emerson was being jubilant. I laughed.

  Things went more smoothly after that.

  *

  Emerson was gone when I awoke. Hoping he had gone for breakfast and was not ditching me to play Galahad, I pulled on some clothes, my rubber gloves and then opened the portable. The computer asked me if I wanted use the local area network. Surprised, I said yes. A moment later I had my new email up and running.

  There was an email from Claire— Where are you now?

  I typed In a fairy tale. Details later. and then muttered: “Having a great time. Wish you were here. More lies to follow.”

  I really hoped I didn’t die. I didn’t want this to be my last message to my sister.

  I figured that it was time to Google Saint Germain and see what he was up to. There were lots of entries. An hour’s reading showed me that either he had been the recipient of an organized campaign of attack or his foundation had the worst luck since Job.

  Enough time elapsed that I figured Emerson wasn’t fetching breakfast. That probably meant he was doing something sneaky and protective. I closed the laptop, feeling both touched and annoyed.

  I stepped out of our room and was immediately under surveil
lance, though it felt friendly and curious. A moment later Roman appeared. He was eating Poptarts and offered me one which I accepted.

  “My partner in crime—”

  “Or some more loving equivalent,” Roman suggested, leaning against the wall. He grinned and I had a feeling everyone knew that Emerson and I had been intimate.

  “—has disappeared. I have a strong suspicion where he has gone and just hope the dragon hasn’t eaten him for his impertinence.”

  Roman laughed.

  “You wrong him. Emerson and the three Scottish witches are having a pow-wow with Jack and Thomas. Jack is our leader. He’s kind of like Robin Hood. Only maybe not so nice since he’s a death fey.”

  A death fey. I decided not to go there.

  “Are they Scottish? They seem less Macbeth than the Three Viking Stooges,” I said around a mouthful of jam. “But I shouldn’t call them that since I don’t think they were. Vikings, I mean. They aren’t old enough, I don’t believe— though you’d never know it to look at them.”

  “May I ask why they appear so aged? The others of your kind have all seemed more… youthful and vibrant.” Like Roman, though I was fairly certain that he was older than he appeared.

  “I don’t know really. Maybe they were changed later in life. They have a lot of scars and I think some hard mileage when they were young. It also can’t help that they get lost in the minds of other creatures and forget to eat or sleep or come in out of the blizzard.” Roman blinked, perhaps surprised at my candor. “I have also wondered if being constantly drained of energy by the storms that follow them like shadows ages them too.”

  “Storms?”

  “Yes. Emerson says that storms can make us high. Maybe they get so buzzed they don’t want to come down and it’s killing them just like any other drug addiction. Really, I can’t see that there is any upside to this—” I stopped. I had almost used the word curse.

  “There are benefits though. Abrial told me that the Northern Tribes in Scandanvia and Scotland valued the cursed. It was a great benefit in battle to have eyes in the sky, watching enemy troops. The problem seems to have come when this seeing was combined with fire-life—that’s an old term for what was done to you with the lightning. Before the Frankenstein stuff, the cursed died young and fairly sane just like everyone else. Now I guess they live on indefinitely and become quite mad. Abrial said that a few were put to death by their chieftains because they became useless and frightening in later life.”

  “Poor things,” I said softly, then shook myself. This was a sideshow and I needed to get back to the main event. “Should I ask what the boys in the backroom are really doing while we chat over pastry? Perhaps coming up with a plan to ditch the curse of Adam while you keep me entertained?”

  Roman grinned at me.

  “Emerson has been explaining. They have old-fashioned high principles where women are concerned.”

  “And old-fashioned low methods,” I agreed. “However, I will not be stuffed in the lifeboat while they gallantly drown in my stead. Frankly, other than Magnus, I am not certain that the other two would be any help at all in a crisis. Emerson sees ghosts.” I stopped, not wanting to betray his weakness but also needed to know more about what we were facing.

  “I see. That could be a problem. The plan, so far, seems a little….”

  “Hind-end foremost?” I suggested.

  “But it is a very elegant hind-end. And when being sensible and cautious will not serve…” he began.

  “Then let’s try reckless and silly.”

  “You will make a wonderful wife.”

  Thomas appeared. I say appeared because I couldn’t tell where he came from. He was just there.

  “We were about to join the party,” Roman said.

  “I’ve been reading up on Saint Germain this morning. He seems to have had some bad luck lately,” I mentioned to both of them.

  “Those are the public files,” Thomas said quietly. “Here are the private ones.” He smiled a little as he handed me a memory stick. I held it gingerly. “I have access to some proprietary software. And don’t worry about damaging equipment down here. The mound keeps your electrical impulses within safe levels.”

  Suspecting that I was being deliberately diverted from following Emerson, I still went back into my chamber and turned on the portable. I looked and read some more and was horrified. Especially terrifying were the recon photos of a ‘clinic’ in Iran. There were hundreds of human zombies in a fenced area, being herded by what I realized were goblins. It was the four arms that gave them away. I was relieved to see a later photo with the clinic and grounds as burned out shells and wondered if the dragon had had anything to do with the destruction.

  “Your fire-life friends have been busy.”

  “Has Emerson seen this?” I asked Thomas.

  “He’s about to.”

  “I want to be there,” I said firmly and Thomas nodded.

  The room where the others were meeting looked rather like a medieval version of the Oval Office. A beautiful male with white blonde hair was speaking as the others looked at some gruesome images being projected on the wall. This had to be Jack, the less than nice Robin Hood.

  “Some of it was done in ignorance. People were suffering from terrible diseases and Saint Germain offered his clinics for free. One cannot blame desperate governments for grasping at the hope offered. But in many places there was complicity with governments who knew full well what Saint Germain was doing and cooperated because it seemed like a painless way to do some ethnic cleansing. Other leaders were whores who happily spread their legs and took the money,” Jack’s voice was calm but I I knew he was disgusted. “His organization has been largely dismembered and even disemboweled by others with the fire-life, but like the dead he rips from the ground to do his bidding, the monster himself will not die. Someone must gather up all the scattered pieces of his nightmare and put them and their creator in a fire.

  “That may not be as difficult as you expect. Others of your kind have hunted down most if not all of his the clones and destroyed his laboratories. There is only one citadel left and it is in an abandoned goblin city. Unfortunately it is at the equator and he has opened it to the sky and we cannot venture into those parts.”

  “The sun is inimical to us,” Abrial said.

  “Inimical. Are you trying to impress us with your erudition?” Roman asked.

  “Get you and the big words. But can you even spell erudition?” Thomas asked. “Roman knows lots of old, bad words. And when he runs out he goes and digs up some more. It is the nature of the beast.” Abrial didn’t smile but I sensed he was kidding.

  “Abrial, you are such a cube.”

  “Now children!” Jack scolded and they grinned.

  Shaking my head, I pulled out a chair next to Emerson and sat. Before I could say any words of greeting or reproach he took my hand and squeezed it gently.

  “You needn’t worry about travel,” Thomas said. “We can make any documents you need. We can also get you anywhere you wish to go without passing through borders.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “There are low roads everywhere. We haven’t visited all of faerie— and many roads are likely haunted and perhaps even inhabited by oddities, but they never fall into complete disrepair no matter how lone abandoned. Abrial knows them best. He will be your guide to the forgotten city. After that you will be guided by a goblin called Lentz. If he is still among the living.”

  I looked at Emerson. Taking the low roads made sense, but it could be very dangerous.

  “How good are you at ignoring ghosts?” I asked softly.

  “As good as I need to be.”

  That wasn’t the hoped for answer. It might not even be the truth.

  “I’ve enhanced your ammo with a death curse,” Jack said. “One bullet will put a zombie down.”

  I still had a hard time believing this beautiful creature was a death fey that cursed things, but at the first touch of the weapon in fro
nt of me I could feel the implacable hate waiting within the gun.

  We heard an explosion of coughing and I wondered if something had torn loose inside some giant engine. No one else was surprised when the dragon appeared. Somehow the door grew to accommodate his larger size. He really was magnificent. And scary.

  “Good morning,” he said. We all played it cool and nodded, though of our party only Emerson appeared unaffected by his presence. I think perhaps I anchored him.

  “When do we start? Immediately?” I asked, hoping we had a while to rest up but suspecting that we did not. “And do we take the dragon?”

  “Beautiful, brave and brainy,” Roman said sadly to Emerson. “It’s a tragedy when the pretty ones end up intelligent as well.”

  I reached over and shoved him off his stool. This time even Jack laughed.

  “You’ll have the dragon for part of the journey. We will need him later. While you are dealing with Saint Germain, we must see to a band of hobgoblins. Most have agreed to a peace accord, but a few have not and they are too dangerous to be allowed free. Especially if they turn to your Saint Germain for further powers.

  Chapter 15

  ‘…for her house sinks down to death

  and her ways to the land of the departed spirits. None return who go to her;

  none reach the paths of life.’

  —Proverbs 2:18-19

  We didn’t leave immediately. There was time for a meal and a shower with the beautiful healing waters. I wished that I could have more time to explore the shian because everywhere I looked there were fascinating rooms full of books and scrolls, and beautiful gardens full of flowers that grew nowhere on the topside, but I sensed the rising concern in Emerson and knew that he was looking outward and seeing things that disturbed him. What creature was playing his eyes and ears I could not guess and did not ask. Nor did I try to deepen our bond so that I could look with him. I sensed that my staying anchored in the real world was going to be important for our survival. Anyway, I had no urge to look deeper into the Darkside.