by Scott Hale
“The Witch made Vrana do it,” Felix said. Lucan followed after them.
Deimos stepped over the corpses of Avery and Mackenzie. “Do you know how?”
Felix buried his face in Lucan’s chest. “No,” he babbled. He wished both his eyes were swollen shut, so he didn’t have to see them like that.
They moved into the halls outside Felix’s room. There were five more dead bodies staining the carpet, those of the gossipmongers who forever roamed Pyra’s distinguished places. A few torches and candles burned along the walls, but elsewhere, further down in both directions, all lights were extinguished.
Felix’s stomach grumbled nervously. “How many people did they kill?”
Lucan ignored him, said, “Where are the rest of the guards?”
“Not many guards,” Audra rasped. “Don’t want Pyra to look like a prison.”
Deimos shook his head and raised his sword. “Where’s the Mother Abbess? Isn’t her quarters near?”
Felix nodded. He had one last look at the halos of gore that hovered where his best friends’ heads should have been. Where was Justine? Or her guards? Why hadn’t they come? He bit the side of his mouth to stop himself from cursing the Mother Abbess’ name.
Audra raised her head. Chin quivering, she chattered, “Why’s it so dark?”
Lucan let down Felix. He leaned against the wall and grabbed one of the two torches in the hall.
“It was not like this a few minutes ago,” Deimos said, his breath puffs of fog on the air. “It is colder, too.”
Felix brushed off Lucan’s attempts to help him. He limped over to Audra, to share the torch’s warmth with her. “Here,” he said, smiling until she smiled.
Deimos lowered Audra from his shoulders. The dagger went deeper into her shoulder, but she held her composure.
“Leave it,” Deimos said as she reached to rip it free. “You don’t want to lose any more blood.”
Audra scowled at him. She turned to Felix and said, “Thanks, but I’m really hot right now.” It was true: her face was practically melting, and the slip was almost indistinguishable from her skin. “I’ll be okay, though.” She ruffled Felix’s hair. “Do you smell that?”
Lucan crossed the hall and grabbed the other torch. “Smells like a toad,” he said. He leaned forward, into the darkness that surrounded them. “Smells like a fat, rotted toad.”
Felix listened closely. There was something else, something out there in the dark at both ends of the hall. It smelled awful, but it sounded… heavy. Thump. Skhhh. Thump. Skhhh. It sounded as though it were dragging a block of stone. Thump. Skhhh. Thump. Skhhh. But it was doing it as quietly as it could. Thinking, maybe, no one would hear.
Deimos took the torch out of Felix’s hand. “Get ready to run,” he whispered. “We’re not alone.”
Lucan nodded at Deimos and, together, both Night Terrors hurled their torches down the opposite ends of the hall. At first, as the torches lay there, singeing the carpet, there was nothing. But then the sounds started again. Thump. Skhhh. Thump. Skhhh. Thump. Skhhh.
“Is there any other way out?” Lucan grabbed Avery’s sword off the ground. “Holy Child!” He shook Felix. “Is there any other way?”
But Felix wasn’t paying him any attention. Ahead of them, a leg had stepped into the light. A pale, stone limb, with a waxen sheet that swayed around it. His head snapped back to the other end of the hall. There, a head floating above the torchlight, star-shaped and twitching. It looked like it was laughing.
“Run,” Felix cried. He grabbed Audra’s arm and pulled her back towards his room.
He didn’t get a foot before the petrified Holy Children toppled him over and tore Audra away. Felix slammed into the wall and fell on top of Mackenzie’s corpse. He grabbed her sword and struggled to his feet.
Deimos stabbed at one of the Holy Children. It caught the blade, and it broke it in its grip. With the shards in its palm, it punched them into Deimos’ chest. He flew off his feet and into the open arms of the statue that had snuck up behind him.
Several more of the Holy Children ambled into the hall. Lucan hacked at their heads and sides, but the statues would not be stopped by the blows. They closed in until he couldn’t move. One reached out and caught his arm, mid-swing. It snapped the bone in half and flung him across the hall. A smaller statue, jittery and giggling, quickly scooped him up and held him against its chest.
“Get out of here,” Audra screamed.
Felix snapped out of it and saw her being hauled away by four statues, each one holding a limb.
He hurtled down the hall after her, tears and spit streaming down his face, belting, “Let her go, god damn you,” when, as though out of thin air, Justine appeared before him.
Sword inches from her stomach, he dropped it and crashed into her. She wrapped her arms around him, stopped his momentum.
He pushed off her and screamed, “Make them stop!”
Justine sighed. “It’s okay.” She smiled. She couldn’t have been calmer when she said, “They will not hurt them.”
“What?” Felix laughed in disbelief. Deimos’ chest. Lucan’s arm. And Audra was on the verge of being split like a wishbone between the four statues that held her. “Are you kidding me?”
His pupils dilated with undiluted hatred. In that moment, he didn’t care who she was, what she had done for him. In that moment, he could have killed her.
Justine was wearing a white dress tonight. A simple dress, but it was covered in ornate needlework that, even in the light, would be impossible to make sense of. It wasn’t that the images were confusing; it was the fact that they were of symbols and shapes that simply didn’t exist. Still smiling, she plucked a piece of thread from it and let it go. As soon as it touched the ground, it shriveled into diamond dust.
Through his teeth, Felix said, “What are you trying to be tonight?”
“Hmm?” Justine looked down and touched her dress. “Oh. Just myself, Felix. For once.” She held out her hand. “Please, come with me.”
He batted it away. “I’m not going anywhere.” Deimos and Lucan struggled behind him. Audra had passed out. “Not until you let them go.”
“Let go of Audra of Eldrus and the Night Terrors who broke into Pyra?” She shook her head. “That’s not for me to decide, Felix.”
“You’re the Mother—”
“It’s for you to decide.” She held out her hand again. “If you want me to let them go, I will let them go. All I ask, your holiness, is that you listen to what I have to say.”
“You’re testing me.” He looked at her fingers, so close to his, and thought about biting them off. “No, you’re a liar! You have been tricking me this whole time. You don’t care about me!”
Justine’s hand returned to her side. “The test is over, Felix. I care about you more than anything else in this wretched world. That’s why I am going to tell you everything. And you’re going to tell me where we go from here.” She went to her knees, her head at his feet. “Will you hear me out, your holiness? Do what you will with me afterward. No one will stop you, but don’t you want to know why I’ve done this to you?”
CHAPTER XII
Felix stood at the furthest end of the Ascent, where an old, narrow staircase ran upward into a door built within the ceiling. Between him and the staircase was a wrought iron gate with more locks than Pyra itself. Though it had never been heavily manned, the Mother Abbess was known to be seen in the area on a daily basis, making sure the locks hadn’t been tampered with. Surprisingly, Felix never had much interest in figuring out a way to get past the gates. To him, the gates were heaven’s gates, and the staircase the bridge between this world and the next. It was a mystery that, unlike most things, was best left a mystery; because the less he understood of it, the longer it would last. He knew he would grow old, grow doubtful and different, and adulthood would corrode most of his childish fantasies. But if he kept heaven safe, deep down where his grimy soul squirmed, he could keep it forever.
&nb
sp; But things were different now. With the Holy Children who had preceded him at his back, Felix watched as Justine undid the locks to heaven. She didn’t need a key. Her hands were the key. One by one, the locks fell to the ground, thudding against the stone floor. Yesterday, he might have told her to stop, but tonight, all he wanted her to do was go faster. If god was at the top of those stairs, he would run to god. And if god was not, if heaven was as empty as he thought it might be, he would wait and do the best he could. Because anywhere was better than here.
Felix, staring over his shoulder at the Holy Children, said, “The stairs aren’t wide enough for them to follow.”
Justine removed the last lock. She held it in her hand. “They will have to wait down here, until we are finished.”
Though nothing was holding it back, it took a moment for the gate to creak open. Locked up for so long, it had forgotten it could do such a thing.
Felix stayed rooted to his spot, arms crossed, his swollen eye now something he wore like a badge of honor.
Justine nodded at the Holy Children. “Deimos, Lucan, and Audra will be fine, I promise.”
Fine? They were beaten and bruised and, in the arms of the Holy Children, appeared broken. Felix turned to Justine. “Where were you? Didn’t you hear what was happening?”
“I went back to the Tribunal, to speak with the Demagogue about locating Isla Taggart. She was his star pupil, and a menace, if left to her own devices.” Her eyes began to water, but it seemed as though she were forcing the tears out. “I came as fast as I could. I am very sorry about Avery and Mackenzie.”
Felix shook his head. He didn’t need to hear their names right now. Instead, he went forward, past Justine and through the gates. “Where are we going?” he asked, stopping at the foot of the staircase. A cold wind rolled down the steps, a chilling reminder that heaven, if it were up there, may not be what he expected.
“To get some fresh air,” Justine said.
Felix looked at the Holy Children, at the Mother Abbess. He gritted his teeth in an unspoken threat that Justine registered with a nod. Taking a deep breath—it felt like a sin to walk into in heaven still living—he slowly started up the stairs. With each step he took, he grew colder and colder, until halfway up, he was shivering so badly he thought he might not walk into heaven alive after all.
“Here,” Justine said, at his back. “Take this.” She wrapped a blanket around his shoulders that she had seemingly conjured out of nowhere. It was white and featured the same intricate, impossible needlework found on her dress. “It’ll keep you warm.”
And it did. As soon as it touched his skin, a dull, liquid warmth washed over him and thawed the sudden frost. He pulled it down across his chest. He breathed in the fabric, and it smelled of burning wood. The scent, so strong and distinctly Justine’s, caught him off-guard.
The Winnowers’ Chapter often accused the people of Penance of worshiping the institution—the exemplars, the Mother Abbess, and the Holy Child himself—and, honestly, how could he blame them? Her scent and this private belonging had almost instantly made him forget his animosity towards her. Having heaven behind these gates was all well and good, but it was the touch, the tangibility, he and the rest of Penance cherished most. And who was he kidding? If he could grasp heaven, he wouldn’t keep it deep down, where his grimy soul squirmed. He would take it out every day, look at it, and be proud of it. Yet, he didn’t, because he couldn’t touch it. It wasn’t tangible. And maybe, not there at all.
Felix pulled the blanket closer and stomped his way to the top of the stairs. Besides the beatings he took, these grown-up thoughts were giving him a migraine.
I know it’s you putting all this in my head, he said to god, completely disregarding the fact he had questioned heaven’s existence moments ago. Now’s not a good time. Just help me get through tonight. Please. Help us all get through.
“The door is open,” Justine said behind him.
Felix stopped. He reached out to the ceiling, to a rectangular outline etched in the stone. It didn’t look like a door so much as it did the front of a tomb.
“Give it a push, and it will give.”
So he did. Cringing, because he didn’t know what to expect, he threw his weight into the door. It fought him, not moving an inch from its place. But then Justine touched it. The door flung backward, as though a great force had wrenched it open.
Behind the door, there was only sky. The night sky. Moonlit and snow-speckled, the dark stretch was made brighter still by the bands of green light billowing across it. Auroras, an exemplar had told him once, that was their name. Felix had seen them here and there, but not like this, not so close. They were beautiful, breathtaking. They didn’t seem a part of this world, but a glimpse of another. A place in-between. A portal, or a Membrane.
“Go on.” Justine touched the small of his back. He flinched. “Go through.”
Felix hurried up the steps, out and onto what was now obviously the roof of Pyra. The snow wasn’t as deep here as it should have been, but with the abbey and the whole of Penance below and before him, he didn’t care too much to consider such things.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Justine chirped. She stepped onto the roof with him and stood beside him. “It’s hard to appreciate the city when you’ve lived in it so long, but it is truly beautiful.”
Justine had made a lot of bold statements over the last few weeks, especially regarding Audra being a Worm of the Earth. But saying Penance was beautiful? That was one sentiment Felix could get behind.
They were at the top of Pyra, which sat higher than the city itself. From here, for the first time in his life, he could view Penance in its all glacial glory. He knew the city-state was huge, but to see it sprawled out for miles on end, from the frozen plains to the icy shore, was breathtaking. It had the quality of a crystal to it. There were large structures, angular and raw; crowded around them were smaller buildings, homes and local businesses. Penance didn’t look like a place that had been built, but grown. A place where a hand far more capable than humanity’s own had planted a seed and nurtured it for eons on end, to see it through the north’s harsh climate. Felix could see god in it all, in every brick and stone, in every window and well. He still didn’t know Justine’s reason for bringing him up here, but if it had been to calm him physically, mentally, and spiritually, then she had succeeded.
“It won’t look like this in the morning,” Justine said. “In the light, you see all the city’s flaws. Right now, most of those flaws are asleep—”
Felix cut her off by saying, “What did you want to tell me? Why are you stalling?”
Justine furrowed her brow. Her skin, so pale in the moonlight, left her veins on full display. “This is hard for me, too. I have to share something with you that I have only shared with a few.”
Felix shrugged one shoulder, not nearly as disinterested as he was trying to appear.
Justine swallowed a mouthful of apprehension and said, “Have you decided if Audra of Eldrus is a Worm or not?”
The test. This was it. This was the moment where he either became the final Holy Child or one of those abominations below. What could he say? The truth? Or what she wanted to hear? In the last twenty minutes, he had already disrespected her more than he had during the whole time he had known her. And he had aided an enemy of the city and the Holy Order on more than one occasion.
Felix looked into Justine’s eyes, which were like crystals themselves—sparkling, lifeless, and cold—and said, “She is not a Worm of the Earth.” He tightened his shoulders and braced for the fallout.
Justine hummed, nodded. “No, Felix, she’s not. Because I am.”
Taken aback, Felix said, “What?”
“I am a Worm of the Earth.”
Felix shook his head. “Why are you doing this to me?”
Justine smiled. She reached back, undid her dress, and let it fall around her ankles. Underneath, she was naked, and looked like any other naked woman Felix had accidentally and pu
rposefully seen in the past. Except, she didn’t. Her breasts were without nipples, and between her legs she was sexless. And her chest, there was something wrong with her chest. She was wearing a necklace—he had always seen the chain, but never the piece itself. It was silver, with a white gem inside a tangle of worms. But behind the jewelry, there was a scorched hole that ran deep into her chest. Inside that, something was fixed, as though it had been lodged in there for safekeeping.
“I… I…” Felix covered his eyes. She took his hands away from his face and placed them at his sides. “I… I… you shouldn’t say that about… about yourself.”
A little bit of heat rushed to Justine’s cheeks. “I am a Worm, Felix. Let me show you.”
The Mother Abbess’ stomach began to bubble and bulge, as though something were trying to break free. With a sickening tear, her stomach split open and tens of white, steaming tendrils spilt out. Fixed upon each one was a woman’s face. In his horror, some of the faces even looked familiar to Felix. The tendrils snaked their way up Justine’s body. As they did so, she continued to tear down the middle, opening like a Venus flytrap. Her head sank down inside her and one of the tendrils took its place. Her body, wet and glistening, and twisted like a sheet, then began to relax, reform. Her skin took on different shades and her physique became thinner and heavier. At times, she had a penis, and others a vagina, and sometimes, between her legs, there was a gnashing mouth or long, flailing arms. The metamorphosis went on for only a minute, but to Felix, it felt like hours.
The display did eventually come to an end. And when it did, Justine’s head worked its way out of her stomach and back onto her shoulders. The tendrils retreated into her gut, and her skin stitched itself back up. When she looked herself again, she slipped back into her dress and said, “I am the White Worm of the Earth. Do you doubt me still?”
He shook his head. At this moment, it was about all he could do.
“I am not going to hurt you. But I do have a lot to tell you.” She took out the silver, white-gemmed necklace and let it lie over her dress. “May I share my secrets with you?”
