The Afterlife Series Omnibus: Heaven, Hell, Earth, Wasteland, War, Stones

by Mur Lafferty

  And Daniel, the trickster and the impatient, said, We open a door.

  • • •

  The Month of Opals, Day 14, Year 15

  Humans. Every time, they mess it up.

  I shouldn’t judge. We messed up, back on Earth, or, as Daniel calls it, Earth Prime. Killing in the name of peace, restricting in the name of freedom. Putting two confused humans in the roles of gods. What were we thinking?

  Earth Secondary got messed up even worse. We made a planet and immediately released Chaos to devour it. Oops.

  Earth Tertiary, well, we got it created all right. Felt like we were getting the hang of it. But then Daniel accidentally created a religion that blinded boys, and I accidentally killed a goddess, and one of our new friends

  became a junkie. It was a whole thing. Then we literally lost the sun and the moon.

  We lost the sun and moon. How stupid must you be to do that?

  A lot of bad shit happens when you lose the sun and the moon. We broke cities. People died.

  So Daniel and I figured we were doing a pretty terrible job as walking, talking gods. We gave in, letting the divine power go on autopilot. We honestly didn’t realize we could do that. My corporeal body was pretty much destroyed anyway, so I was cool with changing planes. I became the sun; Daniel became the moon. We stopped meddling. We hoped the humans would heal, would move on without our meddling.

  They haven’t.

  • • •

  The Month of Opals, Day 15, Year 15

  We communicate, still. He tells me what happens in Lathe and Meridian and Leviathan when I can’t see, and I tell him the same. Only one night a month, when the moon is new, do we not speak, because the planet cuts off all communication.

  I watch the world with interest, the cities we touched while we were human - the ruins of Dauphin, Leviathan, and Meridian. The new capital city of Lathe, run by madmen and refugees. The cult of children in Meridian. The barren north that used to be Chaos’ domain, but now hosts nothing but wasteland, and mad gods hidden from our sight.

  Yes, the other gods. That was a triumph, as Daniel would say sarcastically. We killed the moon goddess, kidnapped the harvest god and turned him into a coral reef (where he still lives, churning his anger and angst into the sea), and the sun god and death/moon goddess died destroying Chaos.

  The rest? We’re not sure. They retain enough power to hide themselves from us.

  I can’t blame them. I’d hide from me too. The hamsters hide when the well-meaning toddler blunders in to squeeze them, after all.

  Daniel asked me last week if I thought we should make an Earth Quaternary, and I asked him how he knew that word. Dude has a dictionary with him. I don’t even know how that happened. Then I had him count up the number of dead or insane gods we’d left behind on Tertiary. Take a good hard look at how the worst slum has become the capital city. See the ruins of the floating city that fell. Tally the dead.

  We broke it, we bought it.

  • • •

  The Month of Opals, Day 16, Year 15

  We check in on Secondary from time to time. They’re doing just dandy without gods. We’re not sure what to think about that. Sure, there’s crime and the like, but there are no cults doing atrocities in our name, no elevation of people on arbitrary grounds based on what god they favor. I guess we didn’t meddle too much with that one.

  Tertiary, though. It’s a mess. Three cities destroyed, thousands drowned, burned, or crushed to death. And yes, cults are rising. Cults of me, cults of Daniel, cults of children who are convinced that we are dead and that they must resurrect us.

  Children want to resurrect gods. It would be cute if they were in the backyard with a black candle and a copy of Pet Semetery – God Semetery or something – but it’s not cute the way they’re going about it. How do you get to the afterlife? (Here is where Daniel would say “practice!” and I would hit him. Sometimes I miss arms.) These kids want to get to the afterlife via the quickest way, which is death.

  Daniel says we should stop them. I don’t want to meddle. When we meddle, we fu-- what, you don’t like swearing? Really? My own prude of a prophet, censoring me. Fine.

  We mess things up. How’s that?

  • • •

  JULIE WOKE UP, drool sticking her hair to her face, pencil clutched in her fist.

  She wiped her face and yawned. Stretching her tired hand, she saw that it wasn’t yet morning.

  She looked down at the page and groaned.

  Child cults needed to be stopped? She grimaced. Amadeus would call that blasphemy, and he did not allow blasphemers, even if he did accept that she was the goddess’s prophet while she slept.

  Julie rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up. Amadeus had been showing less and less patience with her; she was writing things that did not fit with how he believed the gods Kate and Daniel ruled the world. Two other planets like themselves? Notes on how the worshippers were getting it wrong?

  “Every time, they mess it up.”

  Her hand went to the small pouch around her neck. Amadeus let her keep it because she said it was dust from the ruin that had been her home, when

  Meridian had floated, before the gods had warred. She never removed it.

  Julie didn’t believe that her writings were channeling a goddess. At least, she hadn’t at first. She thought she was going as mad as the Mayor of Lathe, Lady Cynthia Fitzmilton the 31st, who had her dogs as her seconds and executed anyone wearing the color green.

  (There was a rebellion stirring in the hills of green-wearing scientists. The inevitable war would be ugly.)

  But after the Games, the dreams had started, and she had made the mistake of confiding in a friend, who had immediately told Amadeus. He “offered” her a room in the ruin he occupied, a tower that had once been a docking station for airships. For her protection, he said.

  Her ankle was still injured from her race, and spent her days in her room, reading what she had written, wondering why Kate had chosen her. The day she forgot her pouch of sand after her bath, she realized the sand had connected her to the goddess.

  She kept the pouch with her even though it cemented her role as Amadeus’ pet prophet. If the goddess was talking through her, surely she had Her favor, surely She would protect her.

  She hadn’t finished last writing, though, she realized as she looked at her notes. Something had woken her.

  • • •

  The weak winter light had yet to break through the dirty window close to the ceiling. The ruins of Lathe didn’t see the holy face of Kate much this time of year, and it stayed dark for far longer than it did in the summer.

  Julie heard nothing. No reason why she should have woken this early. She blinked and lay back down, shrugging to get more comfortable.

  “Julie,” a voice said, and she shot up again, heart pounding.

  “Who’s there?” she asked into the darkness. The voice wasn’t one she recognized.

  There was a thump in the room, she smelled a whiff of sulfur, and the end of a walking cane blazed to light. Was that a relic?

  When the gods had roamed the world, their divine energies had made the cities of Lathe and Meridian float, and the scientists in in both cities harnessed the power and made wonderful things. Few relics existed now, found by scavengers or held by priestesses in the temple in Lathe. No more could be made.

  The light illuminated a pale face with blue eyes and high cheekbones. His light skin and hair color marked him as a refugee of Leviathan City, an underwater city where the sun never appeared - everyone else in the world had dark skin, blessed by the sun.

  She rubbed her eyes to wake up. “Who are you? Are you from Leviathan City?” she asked, hoping the anger in her voice hid her fear.

  “I am Marcus,” he said, and now she could hear his accent; he was definitely from Leviathan City. Even though the city’s dome had cracked, some had remained to rebuild and try to keep the city alive. Every once in a while someone surfaced for news, or trade, or escape.
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  But refugees went to the only surviving city, in the north: Lathe. They never came to the ruins of Meridian, where only children lived.

  Marcus’ odd blue eyes flicked toward her notebook, and then back at her face. Julie shifted to shield the book, even though there was no way he could read her writing from his vantage point by the door.

  He nodded slowly. “I came to find you. He kept sending me images of you.”

  “Who?” Julie asked.

  Marcus wore a long brown leather coat favored by the people in Lathe and he fished something from a pocket. He tossed it at her, and she caught it reflexively. It was a book. She opened to a random page.

  We have to stop them before they go through with this ridiculous killing game. Kate says don’t meddle. I ask her if she wants more children to die for her glory, and she just said that the other gods were gone, or dead, and the kids might have a better chance of finding them than we do.

  They think bringing the dead gods back will heal the land, make Meridian float again. Their understanding of this stuff is remedial and, frankly, terrifying in its execution.

  I told her we could take corporeal bodies again. I told her we could look for the gods ourselves. I think she’s scared.

  I can’t say I blame her. We do manage to fuck things up every time we do that. The Greek myths are less bloody than our adventures. Still, we can’t let these kids try and die doing things we’re too scared to do.

  Can we?

  Julie felt the air leave her lungs slowly. Marcus watched her impassively.

  “He’s holding more Games are today,” she said.

  Marcus nodded.

  “Do you believe it’s Him?” She didn’t indicate she meant a different “Him” this time, but Marcus followed her.

  “Read the last entry. He told me where to find you, what you looked like, how to get into this temple, that today would be the best day for you to escape, and that She speaks through you. He said you would be injured and I had to find a way to get you out of the city without running.”

  Julie handed the book back without reading any more. Marcus stepped forward to take it from her. “The door’s locked. How did you get in here?”

  Julie asked.

  “You don’t grow up in Leviathan City after the Fall and not learn a thing or two about getting into and out of secure buildings. Sometimes that ability all that’s between you and a wall of water. Besides, everyone is so excited about the games, it was easy to get in. The crowds are already impressive. Even people from Lathe are here.”

  “Before dawn?”

  “They wanted to see the beginning of the race to Lathe. Now there are food vendors from Lathe going through the crowds. It’s almost civilized out there.” Amusement tinged his voice, but he remained tense, glancing over his shoulder like he expected Amadeus to walk in.

  “He will never let me leave,” she said.

  Marcus screwed his face up, suddenly looking much younger than when he’d originally appeared. She pegged him at seventeen, her own age. “We aren’t asking permission.”

  Julie pulled the blanket aside and showed the shackles on her bare ankles. Her right ankle was still swollen from her fall. She wouldn’t run far. “The boy who owns this key said so.”

  Marcus frowned, the light on his cane leaving shadows over his sharp face.

  “Amadeus,” he said.

  “How did you know? Did He tell you that much?” Julie asked.

  A small smile creased Marcus’ lips. “No. Besides, I’m not that clever. I found your letters.”

  Another dip into a side pocket, another presentation of folded letters.

  Rage burst inside her like an infected boil, and she fought the desire to shout at him. She lunged across the bed, her hand outstretched to snatch the stack from him. Her knees caught on her nightgown and she ended up stumbling and face planting on the bed. She sat up, face flaming. “Those were private! They were mine!”

  “And yet you left them atop a spire in a gargoyle’s lap for anyone to find. And you never went to receive the last one.” Marcus pointed to the letter on top, still sealed with wax.

  Julie stared at it. “Last one? No, my letter was the last one. I wrote it after Adam died. Then Amadeus took me after the Games and locked me in here.”

  “And yet there is one unread letter.”

  She glared at him. “Someone’s playing a joke, then!”

  “One question, why didn’t you follow him the way your last letter said?

  Follow him into death to hunt for the dead gods?”

  “I was going to.” Julie stared at the white bricks in the wall beside her bed, remembering. “I was going to just jump, right there. But I got scared. The goddess started talking to me in dreams that night. Then things got really crazy. Amadeus decided he’s Prosper’s prophet, and I will be his wife since I’m Kate’s prophet. Then he locked me here, and comes up to get my writing every day.”

  “Pet prophet.” Marcus crossed his arms, regarding her. The only reason she didn’t throw something at him was that he didn’t seem to be looking at her with pity.

  “Adam and I were going to run in the first Games together. It was exciting, we thought he was going to make us his prophets, but, I don’t know, look at old texts, or venture into the wasteland. Then Amadeus started swimming near the coral reef.”

  Marcus winced. As Leviathan City was near the reef, they knew the madness that churned from the harvest deity that had rooted there in rage decades ago, when the gods fought.

  I continued. “He got scary after visiting Prosper. He was divinely chosen, he said. He was doing the god’s will, killing us would be the god’s will, and therefore it was OK.” She focused on Marcus’ face again. “But you already knew that. Daniel told you.”

  Marcus inclined his head.

  “I guess I should be grateful to Kate. Now that I’m a prophet Amadeus won’t let me compete. I can’t scavenge or run or do anything but sleep and dream and write. I’m completely safe here, trapped and safe.” Bile rose in her throat.

  Marcus held up his walking stick. “If we can get you free, I can get you to the wasteland. I can get you to the Reach.”

  Julie looked at him for a long time. “What makes you think we can get there? And what will we find when we do?”

  Marcus smiled, then, and raised his walking stick. “As for the second question, I don’t know. But as for the first, these relics are quite powerful, if you can figure out how to use them. If I promise to get you out of here, will you come with me?”

  Julie raised an eyebrow. “You’re Daniel’s prophet. I won’t change one guy who wants me in some weird religious marriage for another. You get me out of here and I’m free for real, right?”

  His eyes grew wide. “Good gods, Julie, I will set you free right now and let you go wherever you want. I’m not binding you to my side. I just need to know if I should let you go and leave the city, or wait until the right time to let you go and take you with me.” He gestured with the letters he held. “Besides, this showed me quite clearly who your heart belongs to, even if I did have designs on you.”

  Julie glared at him. She hated that he knew more about her situation than she did. She hated Daniel telling him secrets about her. She hated being locked in this room, hated being a pet. She had allowed Amadeus to keep her here out of fear. She had seen what he was capable of: the ritual murder of her friends, the zealous following of a mad god.

  She sat up straighter. “I’m done being a pawn. Tell me your plan and I may go with you, or not. Regardless, get me out of here. Please.”

  His face didn’t move, but she sensed his body relax as if he had been holding his breath. He placed the stack of letters on the edge of the bed. “I don’t need to convince you. Just read the last letter.”

  She looked down at the stack, suddenly loathe to touch them. “How do you know what’s in it? Isn’t it sealed?”

  “He – Daniel – told me what it would say.”

  Julie sighed.
“Of course he did.”

  This boy wasn’t afraid. He had risked everything to get into her room. He held the diary out to her: silent proof that he dreamed as she did, with the god Daniel speaking through him.

  “Why do you need me? I’m a coward,” Julie said, feeling suddenly weak and tired.

  He blinked, disbelief crawling across his face. “Because... because you’re a prisoner here. Because you’re Her voice. Because you’re trapped by a guy who’s convinced that a mad god wants him to ritually murder his friends. And, well, it’s the decent thing to do, isn’t it?”

  Julie smiled, relieved to see him act like a real person and not an all-knowing enigma.

  She sank back on her bed, the iron around her ankle cool and very heavy. Marcus didn’t move from his spot at the doorway.

  “How do you plan on getting me out of this room?” she asked.

  He fingered his cane again, this time looking more thoughtful than looking to it for answers. “I won’t have to. Amadeus will. He needs you at the Games, to bless them with Kate’s voice. Once you’re in the open, I can get you free if you think you can make it to me.”

  Julie was weakened by her days doing nothing but staying in bed, but it hadn’t been long enough to make her feel as if she couldn’t run. “He won’t make it easy. But I won’t make it easy for him, either.”

  “Good,” he said. “Read the letter. Later today, you’ll see me in the crowd. If you can get away, if you want to get away, I’ll be there. If you want to stay, I’ll leave Meridian and won’t bother you again.” He reached for his stick with a pale hand, turned the crystal knob like a switch, and disappeared.