Dead Girls Don't Sing

by Casey Wyatt

I gritted my teeth hard but kept silent. The All-Knowing Voice was aggravating, and I didn’t appreciate its tone.

  A soft chuckle irked me further. It could read my mind. I pictured me giving it the middle finger.

  “It’s really not polite to hide in my head.”

  “I am not hiding. The Yet-to-Come is not visible to you.”

  “Except you just showed me.”

  “Mere shadows. Perhaps it will happen. That depends on you.”

  I stood on an empty street. Rubble was piled high on either side. A thick coating of ash swirled around my ankles. The moon hung in the inky night sky abandoned by the stars. An eerie quietness settled over me. Even the wind vanished.

  Moving forward, I searched for signs of life. Ash kicked upward, clogging my nostrils and coating my eyelashes. The musty odor reminded me of the closed-off rooms in Belmont.

  “There’s no one to hear me,” I said, sure that Yet-to-Come was nearby observing. “Is this the part where you tell me I’ll die alone? I’m not Ebenezer.”

  White light flashed. A humanoid figure appeared on the lonely street. Kinda reminded me of Herne and his plastic features.

  “Do not mock what you do not understand,” the voice rasped in a papery whisper.

  “I might understand better if you explained what I need to do.”

  “We do not tell. You must decide.”

  “Why do I have to be responsible for the fate of the world?” I couldn’t quit griping. Who was I? No one special. That was for sure.

  The figure faded away, leaving me alone on the barren street. Good riddance. It wasn’t like I was learning anything new or useful.

  Dust shifted, blowing ahead of my footsteps. I tried hard not to think about where it came from. Most likely the remains of the billions that had died.

  Out of the dust clouds, a shape emerged. A blot on the horizon. Worn by time, I still recognized it. Colossal metal robot legs. The same machine Vala had destroyed seemingly moments before.

  Fury and sadness warred inside me.

  What was the fucking point of trying to save my Family if humanity lost anyway?

  Using the universe’s math, personal sacrifice equaled zilch. Despair rode roughshod over my emotions.

  A low mewling sound hummed from my lips. I released it.

  I screamed until my lungs burned and my throat closed. Until the only thing left was my raw determination to return home.

  A white orb hung before me like a decision waiting to be made.

  This couldn’t be the answer. I refused to believe it. I was done with whatever game was being played at my expense.

  But was I?

  I reviewed the events so far.

  Every time I thought I had the answer, that creature came along and derailed me. Like something didn’t want me to notice the truth.

  Kyshmar had said it before she froze. There was no Lost Ship.

  Which meant there was no plague.

  The cure was a hoax too.

  There never had been one. The Ancients, the Pall, whatever they were called, they had been playing me the entire time. Distracting me from what they really wanted. To escape. To conquer.

  One thing I knew for sure. I wasn’t curing anyone. And I was done playing by their rules.

  I was finished being played.

  My future was to change their past.

  Right about now, you’re probably thinking, What the WHAT, Cherry?

  Trust me. I know what I’m doing.

  Capturing the orb, I summoned the will to slip into the time stream and plunged inside, ready to confront my destiny.

  The Pall was about to learn the lesson I’d taught Jonathan years ago.

  No one puts Cherry in the corner.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Backward is the New Forward

  I exited the time stream, confident I was in the right place.

  The dregs of a tropical storm had raced past an hour earlier. Too bad I’d missed it. I’d forgotten what rain felt like touching my skin.

  Still the evening was alive and vibrant. The sweet aroma of jasmine struck my nose. Frogs croaked and insect wings fluttered near my ears. Even in nighttime, the air was thick with humidity.

  The courtyard was empty except for two young humans. This time, one of them was me.

  Breath whooshed in and out of my lungs. Blood pumped through my veins. And the heat made me sweat. The empty glass of champagne in my left hand signaled that my bladder wouldn’t be ignored much longer.

  I hadn’t needed to pee in over a hundred years. I stifled a gasp and suppressed the urge to run my hands over my body.

  Jay, so youthful and joyous, dark hair slicked back and neatly trimmed, smoked a cigarette while staring moodily at the torch-lit gardens. His pressed white suit was a stark contrast to the rumpled appearance he kept while in the lab on Mars.

  I traced a line through the rain droplets on the marble rail in front of us, fascinated by the way they connected to each other.

  Jay didn’t notice my sudden change in focus. Or the fact that his friend had been replaced by a much older spirit.

  “Someday soon we will be bound up into society’s expectations. You will marry a rich and well-positioned lord of some sort. I will marry a beautiful bride, appropriate to my family’s class. It all sounds incredibly dull.”

  He took a final puff then crushed the cigarette under his toe. “Are you unwell? You seem a bit down. Don’t listen to me. I’m sure your life will be full of exciting social engagements and plump children to adore.”

  I partially recalled the conversation. We’d fantasized about what we’d do with our lives if we could make whatever choices we wanted.

  We were idiots. Young, hopeful idiots.

  And I wouldn’t change that for anything.

  I don’t remember what my original retort to his comment had been. “You’ve always been a good friend to me, Jay.”

  “How much champagne have you imbibed this evening?” He arched an eyebrow.

  “Enough. How about a song?” Because I needed to move this portion of the evening along. “I’m taking requests.”

  This is where it got tricky. I know I said before that I wasn’t interested in changing my past. Or taking away the moments that made me who I became. And that decision stood. I was there to observe someone else. Someone who believed this was the key moment in my life.

  And that person wasn’t me. I might have liked to think that it was the moment of my greatest regret.

  If only I hadn’t sung. If only Jonathan hadn’t heard me.

  If only . . .

  The two worst words in the human language. They implied that we had the ability to change our past actions. To modify our fate based on things outside of our control. And while there is a place in the world for dreams, come on, most of the time, they’re fantasies.

  Jay looked genuinely concerned about my mental state. “No more bubbly for you tonight. Didn’t you just spend the last five minutes telling me why you couldn’t sing?”

  Had I? Thinking back, that sounded about right. “Who cares what Mother thinks? As you’ve pointed out, she is going to marry me off anyway. Why should I make her life easier?”

  A match flared. He puffed another cigarette to life. “Oh, that song from the World’s Fair. Only sing it straight and serious.”

  He was referring to my habit of impersonating other performers. A skill I would later put to excellent use taking off my clothes.

  Setting aside the glass, I strode toward the center of the garden and cleared my voice. I precisely positioned myself and began.

  For some reason, I always remembered that I’d sung a tragic love song.

  Well, I’d been wrong. It was “After the Ball.”

  I’d first heard it when Father had taken us to Chicago. It was the last trip to America before coming to India. Jay loved it to pieces though I didn’t see why.

  In terms of songs, it was average. Nowhere near as layered and complex as music would become. I
think it was really better performed by a band rather than a singer.

  No matter. I sang, keeping a watchful eye on the glass’ tiny reflection. I’d chosen the spot because I suspected that was where Jonathan had observed me unseen.

  There was a slim opening between the hedges out of Jay’s sightline, but well within the range where Jonathan could observe me. The entire other side of the courtyard was well lit and taken up by the mansion’s walls. A tiered garden rested below where we were standing.

  As predicted, I saw movement. A white shirt, a hint of a garish scarlet overcoat. Jonathan dressed like he fell from a French court in the 1700s. Yes, he stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. But he was insanely rich and well connected. Naturally everyone kissed his ass.

  Some things never change.

  Jonathan spied on me from the hedge’s shadows, transfixed by my voice. A moment later, he was joined by a short, imposing woman, Queen V. Her face was hidden behind a veil, but there was no mistaking her.

  Her appearance wasn’t a surprise. She’d told me herself when she’d given me the cuff that she’d heard me sing. Even if I hadn’t seen her, in my weaker human form I could feel her. She left an impression, like a hand touching my shoulder.

  I was waiting for someone else. And, a moment later, she arrived with the precision of a Swiss timepiece. She slithered into the courtyard in a shroud of ground-level fog. It wasn’t uncommon to see ankle-high vapor rising from the various ponds in the gardens. Jay wouldn’t give it a second glance. Plus, tipsy on champagne and enchanted by my voice, he was oblivious.

  I reached the second verse as the Not-Mother snuck toward us. She must have known about Jonathan and Queen V, because she evaded their detection. Or it seemed that way from my vantage point.

  As a mere mortal, I hadn’t originally noticed any of our undead visitors that evening. In any case, I hadn’t chosen this time and place to reminisce. Or to interfere. I wanted to test my theory that the Not-Mother was after something specific from my past.

  She morphed into a ghostly outline then drifted toward us, hugging the shadows. In her palm was an orb. She tapped it twice and it flickered. Pale and guttering like a flame trying to catch hold of a candle wick. The spark ignited, jumping in time to the rhythm of the song.

  She was using the orb to capture my song. That was why only I could unlock it.

  The song ended. Jay clapped and cheered.

  Jonathan and Queen V were gone.

  So was the Not-Mother. I spun around, looking toward the house. If memory served, my real mother would have been in the thick of the party. That thing had better stay away from my mom.

  “Charity! Look out!” Jay grunted in pain.

  The false mother stood poised over him, hand around his throat. I closed the distance in a heartbeat, forcing my human form to do the unthinkable. I might have been in a human shell, but the cuff was still there. The sudden burst of speed caught her off guard.

  I landed my fist in her face. The crunch was satisfying. “Run, Jay! Now!”

  The creature lunged toward me. Exactly what I wanted. I locked my arms around her and forced her over the upper tier of the garden. Jay called after me.

  Before she could break contact, I summoned the time stream and willed a destination, praying it would work.

  “Charity! Are you mad—?” His voice stopped as we slipped into the time-stream.

  Her elbow jabbed me in the solar plexus. Not that it mattered, we weren’t corporeal. Refusing to be distracted, I had to precisely time our arrival, otherwise, my plan would be in jeopardy.

  I landed in my eight-year-old self, the impact knocking me against something soft before I bounced against the wooden floor. Splinters jabbed into my kneecaps and my palms.

  Aunt Cass groaned next to me. Looks like I’d collided with her. Oops.

  The entity that would possess my mother swirled above my head. An angry genie tethered to my right hand, imprisoned by the cuff.

  I scrambled upright. It wrapped around me like a serpent. A shield repelled it as the cuff defended me.

  “What’s happening?” Aunt Cass rubbed the back of her skull, muddled with confusion.

  “Don’t move!” I cautioned. One thing I’d learned traveling through the time stream, I could carry objects from outside the timeline as long as they were physically in my possession. I fumbled in my dress pocket, fingers landing on the orb. The tablet holding Kyshmar took up most of the space, making it hard to retrieve it.

  Before I could free the orb, I was slammed against a pile of crates. The entity strained to break free. Its tether had thinned. I didn’t have much time.

  Aunt Cass rushed toward me. “Hold on, child! The devil won’t take you.”

  “No, don’t touch it!” My warning came too late. Cass screamed. It swirled around her, black vapors filling her nose and mouth.

  Cass lurched across the attic floor, footsteps clomping, unsteady. The tether between us was thin as a thread. “It’s too late,” it said. “It doesn’t matter which of them I take. Events have been—”

  No, this wasn’t what I wanted to happen. Cass grabbed at my skirt, ripping the fabric.

  The tablet fell from my pocket. Kyshmar appeared on the screen. “Release me!”

  My arms were spread wide, one stretched toward the tablet, the other tugging toward my aunt. Pain burned my arm sockets. “Would love to. Kinda in a bind here.”

  Agony blistered away my thoughts, I had to let something go, otherwise my arms might be torn off. I released the tablet. Seeing an opportunity, the entity sank deeper into my aunt, dragging me within striking distance.

  Another fast blow landed, striking the top of my skull. Dark spots danced before my eyes. I struck back with a sharp kick to her shins.

  “You little bitch!” She reached for my hair.

  I ducked and rolled away. I may have been in a child’s body, but I knew how to fight. Ian had made sure of it after the colony had been invaded. “Surrender now. You won’t get what you want.”

  The nuclear option, the one where I died young, danced before me as a possibility. It meant wiping my daughter’s life away and potentially everyone in my vampire Family. A grim outcome, but the future where the entire Earth was destroyed was far worse.

  The creature had almost complete control of Aunt Cass. The barest of connection still remained between it and me. Once that snapped, I’d have a choice to make.

  “Cherry! Use the cuff!” Kyshmar’s voice reached me from across the room.

  Use the cuff? To do what? I almost asked when the answer occurred to me. Jonathan’s ghost had told me he’d been uploaded. Not as a ghost, but an avatar.

  A fireplace poker shot past me, narrowly missing my head. Running as far as I could, I moved to retrieve the tablet. My hand landed on it. A heeled shoe stomped on my hand, pinning me in place.

  “Got you. Now lie still.” Aunt Cass hovered over me, a fireplace shovel poised to strike. “Enough of this. Once the transfer is done, I’ll make sure you won’t remember any of this.”

  I ignored her evil bad guy monologuing and concentrated on the cuff. Why hadn’t the object come with an owner’s manual, I wondered again. I didn’t know what to do.

  Yes, you do. The cuff warmed around my wrist. Ordering the cuff to make the transfer and keep it hidden, I kicked upward like an angry mule.

  Not because I wanted to be brained with a shovel, but to distract the creature. Chances were high the cuff would stop it, but why risk it?

  The shovel landed between my shoulder blades, winding me. Shocked that the cuff failed to protect me, I didn’t have to pretend to be hurt. I screamed as loud as I could.

  The noise startled Aunt Cass. When her weight eased, I flipped out of her grasp. The shovel landed on the tablet with a sharp crunch. The screen shattered. I hadn’t expected that.

  Don’t worry, Kyshmar said in my head. I let the shovel strike you. I overrode the cuff’s defense shield. She has to believe she can hurt you.

 
Satisfaction widened my aunt’s grin. “Is that your mother I hear coming our way?”

  Oh, shit. I lunged at her, clinging to her neck and back with the grip of a monkey. “Leave her alone!”

  “Get off me!” She slammed me against a support beam. My grip remained firm even though my body cried Uncle. With brute force, she flipped me over and cracked me against the wooden cupboard. The door flung open, ready to receive me.

  There was no way I was going into the cabinet. “We don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, we do. Will you and your kind set us free from our prison?” Spittle formed at the corners of her mouth. Deranged joy twisted into a smile.

  “Maybe we can work something out,” I said, inching away from the cupboard. Pressure weighed on my chest. Like some force was exerting its will against me.

  Cass grinned. “You feel it, don’t you? Time wants to have its way.”

  I gripped the cabinet and pushed, toppling it to the floor. “Not today!”

  The creature roared like a wounded lion. “Why don’t you want this? Do you want your daughter to never be born?”

  “Leave her out of this!” I scrambled deeper into the attic.

  The attic doorknob jiggled. “Charity! Are you in there? How many times have you been told to stay out of the attic?”

  Mother, the real one, had arrived. My time was up.

  “Hold on,” Aunt Cass said, lightly, like we were having fun. “Let me get the door.”

  Kyshmar spoke. Let her go but remain close. When she moves to take your mother, she will be vulnerable. Release me then.

  I nodded my understanding, waiting for the door to open.

  “Charity, are you—?”

  The creature gripped my mother by the throat and thrust its dark power into her chest. It was hard to stand by and watch. To do nothing. Inching forward, I positioned myself off to the side. The creature, so confident in its victory, paid no attention to me.

  Now, Kyshmar said. Touch them both!

  On command, I gripped each woman by the ankle. As if completing a circuit, energy jolted through me, seizing my muscles.

  The entity floated, ominous and dark, trapped between the three of us. We were frozen, caught in a bubble of time.