by Mur Lafferty
• • •
Kate whirled on Daniel. “You forgot to close the door? And then someone killed him so he could come through as well? Seriously?”
“It was all experimental,” he said. “I didn’t think of anyone following us. I’m sorry.”
Marcus stayed seated on the ground. “You’re gods. He’s a dead spirit. You’re gods. Can’t you just smite him?”
Kate shook her head. “We are very much like you here. We have more powers only because we’ve got experience. If you had time, you could do the same thing. Stories about gods have them fighting and hurting each other all the time. Spirits are the same way.”
“So? We can’t die in the afterlife, can we?” Julie asked, her voice cracking.
“We definitely can. Haven’t you heard the story of the beginning of
the world?”
“You mean where Kate died and then Daniel found her soul and created a world for her? That’s not real, that’s just a story, right?” Marcus said, frowning.
“We’re right here,” Daniel said. “Did you not HEAR the story we just told you?” He slapped the top of Marcus’ head lightly. “You totally can die out here. She’s done it. I killed one god in the afterlife. A friend of mine once ate a god. Weird shit can happen when you die in the afterlife. We don’t want to go and accidentally create a new world while we’re at it. We’ve done that enough. We probably did enough damage out there by just creating the Reach. It’s best if we just get out of here.”
“No,” Julie said.
Marcus had stood by now, and looked ready to follow Kate and Daniel. He stared at her. “What do you mean, no? The guy who imprisoned you is here. He was going to force you to marry him. Kill you. He killed Adam. Me too, actually. Why in the world would you want to wait here for him to catch up with you?”
Julie looked up at him, studying his pale face, his wide blue eyes.
“I’m tired of running from him. I’m tired of thinking we’re safe from him. If I kill him here, he’ll definitely leave us alone. And if I die here, I might be able to find Adam,” she said.
Marcus made a frustrated sound, and strode into the trees, not looking back.
“We shouldn’t split up,” Kate said.
“Looks like we already have,” Daniel said. “They shouldn’t be alone, either of them. You go after Marcus, and I’ll stay here. I’m armed.”
Kate reached behind her and drew a straight, thin sword with a white tassel hanging from the hilt. It hadn’t been there a minute before. “So am I.” But she nodded to Julie, kissed Daniel lightly, and then ran off after Marcus.
The sky was darkening, but they didn’t hear any indication Amadeus was closing on them.
“You know, we did that once. Left each other in a huff,” Daniel said
conversationally, drawing his sword and looking around the woods. “It was pretty awful. I lost an eye. Twice. She got reborn and then died again when the world ended.” He paused. “Oh, wait. That makes this the fourth time she’s died. Now it’s a tradition.” He laughed, a hollow sound.
“This is different,” Julie said, her mind on Adam. “You two were destined to be together. You were bound to find each other again. I’m still trying to find the one I’m supposed to be with.”
Daniel dug the tip of his sword into the spongy moss. “Yeah, I’ve never had much belief in prophecy. People always misinterpret what the gods are trying to tell them. And what’s the point of knowing prophecy when it’s going to come true anyway? They’re purposefully vague, and you usually only know what they mean after they’ve come to pass. Then people make them mean what they want them to. And yet they are always right, after the fact, of course.”
“What do you mean prophecy? I’m an orphan of Meridian. I grew up in ruins, I went exploring, I got some sand in my eyes and suddenly Kate started talking to me. This wasn’t meant to be. It just happened.”
Daniel nodded, still focusing on the hole he was digging. He looked like less of a warrior than ever. “Sure. You didn’t get your prophecy because your priestess died before she could tell you. That was probably part of the
prophecy, too.”
She stared at him, mouth open. “What are you saying? That this was
destined? That I was supposed to lose Adam and end up here with a refugee from Leviathan and two failed gods?”
He shrugged. “Does it matter? You’re going to do what you want. And whatever you do will be what you’re supposed to do. If the prophets are right.”
“But why are you telling me about this now? Don’t you think one of you could have told me before this? So I could have at least been prepared?” She barely noticed darkness had nearly fallen around them, only the campfire lighting their area.
“Why do you care? You wouldn’t have listened, anyway. All you wanted to do is die and find Adam. You’re not even armed and you’re ready to go fight a psychopath who sacrificed himself to stay on your tail,” he said, raising the sword, its end still dirty from the moss and red soil underneath. He touched the red part of the blade and then brought the finger to his mouth.
The ground rumbled beneath them. Daniel smiled. “I love it when I’m right.” He sheathed the sword quickly and took her hand. “Come with me. We run, and I promise you that I’ll tell you your prophecy, and tell you how to see Adam again.”
The campfire went out, then, and even though she had no lungs, Julie found it difficult to breathe. She was suddenly very afraid. “All right. Let’s go.”
They ran the same direction that Kate and Marcus had gone, the glowing river guiding them through the newly dark woods.
Julie heard a chuckle around the edges of her mind: a whisper that she would never be free from him, that even death could not separate them. She could smell him, motor grease and sand and root vegetables. She could almost feel him beside her. She clung tighter to Daniel’s hand and ran harder.
“Can’t you fly or something?” she asked.
“I suppose. I flew once, with Horus,” he said, sounding like he was thinking aloud. “But the question is, can you fly?”
They followed a bend in the river, and Julie could see the impressions in the moss that Marcus and Kate had made. It comforted her that they were still following the others.
“Yes,” she said, thinking of earlier.
The man beside her was suddenly a brown hawk, rising into the air. She concentrated for a moment, and then heard herself caw as a small crow. She flailed in shock and crashed into the ground, tumbling and spreading feathers everywhere. The hawk landed in a tree and called to her. She couldn’t tell if he was laughing or not.
Physically flying was much harder than just expanding her awareness, she found, and she flapped awkwardly to gain altitude to reach the same branch. She managed to grab it and land, flapping outrageously to stay balanced.
She heard – or felt – something calling to her. She nearly faltered and plunged toward the ground, but settled on the branch.
The hawk let her sit for a moment, and then launched himself into the air, calling for her to follow. She did her best to stay on his tail.
The hawk quickly outdistanced her, then paused, perched in a tree, and waited. She desperately tried to catch up, but heard the beating of mighty wings behind her.
I’m a crow and he’s a monster. That is completely unfair, she thought. She caught herself praying, but realized the gods couldn’t help her. Or rather, that they already were helping her and had done all they could. She refused to look behind her, but wasn’t sure whether the hot breath on her tail was imagined or real.
She neared the tree where Daniel was perched, but still couldn’t get the altitude. The flapping behind her was getting closer, and she saw with dismay that she was dropping towards to the ground — the river, to be exact. She twitched her tail feathers, and found herself rising. She cawed in triumph as she climbed toward Daniel, finally getting the hang of it.
As she gloried in flight at last, talons closed around her breast,
trapping her wings, and she was yanked higher, leaving a puff of black feathers behind.
The monstrous bird screeched in triumph as it rose, and its talons pierced her breast. She felt her skin break, hot blood pour out. Her fragile bones popped as he squeezed harder.
Why is he killing me? I thought he wanted to marry me? she wondered as he squeezed. The pain was distant, like something that was happening to someone else. It’s not really my body. This isn’t really me. It’s just a part of me, a small part—
I don’t need you. Now I can have the gods themselves. This is just funny. Punishment. The words were in her mind, now. She screamed, trying to get him out, but all that came out was a choked croak. She felt his presence in her head, accessing what she knew of the gods, what Daniel and Kate had told her. She felt a spike of glee, and then he was gone, mentally and physically, dropping her. She caught sight of a hawk diving, and thought, what was the bother?
She’d abandoned Marcus, abandoned her gods and her quest. Hot shame burned in her pierced chest, and suddenly she wanted to fight back, to stop Amadeus and his sudden power in this world.
She fell toward the bank and prepared herself for the final, bone—crushing impact, but talons wrapped around her own, these ones gentle but firm, and her fall slowed. They soared out over the river, Daniel trying to regain altitude. Julie closed her eyes in relief. Daniel had her. It was going to be all right.
Except that flying out over the river, Daniel got too close to the water, and the top of Julie’s head skimmed the surface.
• • •
She opened her eyes. A woman with white skin and brown hair, in white robes, crouched over a campfire, poking it with a stick. She looked young, but her face was set in a grimace that spoke of years of experience.
“Oh, good. Welcome back,” she said. “I’m Kate.”
She looked around her, taking in the dark, starless sky and the dead trees. She lay on soft moss, and a river flowed nearby, glowing a pearly white.
“You know, when you experience something, you always wonder what you would have done if you were on the other side of the coin,” Kate said. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not making any sense. What you’re dealing with, I’ve been there — ripped apart, memories severed from my body, completely catatonic. You’d think I could handle this better. Let’s start at the beginning. Your name is Julie. Do you remember that much?”
Julie. She mouthed the word. The name felt strange on her tongue. She shook her head.
Kate pursed her lips. “Yeah. This isn’t easy. Anyway, you’re in the Reach, a new afterlife of sorts created by Daniel and me. We’re gods, by the way, but really bad ones.”
Julie’s eyes flew open, and her heart lurched in panic. She sat up and then held her head as it swam.
Kate rushed over to her and put her hand on the back of her neck. “No, no, not evil. I’m so sorry. I mean we’re doing a bad job. Healing you took a lot out of me, I am not being clear. It’s been a while.”
Something cawed, and Julie’s gaze went to a crow that sat in a tree, watching her with beady eyes.
“Her? Oh, yeah. She’s connected with you, I’m not sure how. She won’t leave your side, I’m afraid. Hope you like birds.”
The woman returned to sitting by the fire, staring into it. “So you probably want to know what happened. Someone who wants you dead followed you here, into the afterlife. He got the hang of manipulating reality way too fast, and attacked you. Daniel tried to save you, but you still got some of the river water on you. That river water takes the memories of your life. Not good. So Daniel called me, and we put you back together.”
Julie looked around, eyebrows raised.
“Daniel? He’s off with Marcus,” Kate said. “Guy stuff. Who knows? Marcus is blaming himself of course. Guys.” She snorted. “Anyway, the thing that attacked you is long gone, now that we know he’s here, we can feel when he’s nearby. Right now, Daniel’s working on expanding the borders of the Reach, trying to find the door out.”
Marcus. That name.
“So do you want to talk, ask me anything?” Kate asked.
Julie shook her head.
“Can you talk?”
Julie shook her head.
“Well, shit. Great job on that one, Kate,” the goddess muttered.
The crow above them cawed again, and flapped down to perch on one of the rocks around the fire. It was a small bird, and hopped from one foot to the other, eyes focused on Kate.
“What’s your story, crow?” Kate asked. “Are you where our Julie is currently hiding?”
The crow cawed a third time.
“Oh. Well, that’s inconvenient, but at least we know you’re still here,” Kate said, sighing. “The part of you that can make words, the part with the memories, is largely inside that crow. We split you when we healed you, I guess.” She rubbed her face and looked disgusted with herself.
Julie looked at the crow with new interest. Her memories were inside it? It was part of her? She held out a hand and the crow hopped over to her, no sense of fear, and flapped clumsily up to perch on Julie’s arm.
“Keep that crow safe. If it dies, I don’t know what I’ll do. Or you. I don’t know what you’ll do,” Kate said.
The ground trembled and groaned again. Julie lay down flat on it, enjoying its rumble. She ran her hand along the moss that grew thick under her.
“Don’t worry about it. The land is new, it’s bound to happen,” Kate said.
It also didn’t like what was happening to it. Julie stopped breathing for a moment. How did she know that? She stroked the ground again, confused, but comforted by its earthy scent and springy touch.
“We think the thing that hurt you is discovering that he’s got some skills when dealing with new worlds,” Kate continued, not noticing her new interest in the rumbling ground. “That fucker is talented. Too bad he’s a psychopath. We could have used him.”
Julie felt a flare of something, a memory of a dark room, and a chain around her foot. Before that, a knife that ended everything. Her heart beat faster and she glared at Kate.
“Hey, no, I didn’t mean we should have gotten him to help us instead of you!” Kate said, holding her hands up as if to ward off an attack. “It’s just a shame when you find out that talented people work for the bad guys. We’re lucky to have you and Marcus. Even lousy gods need friends. If we were better, you wouldn’t be in this position.”
Julie’s eyes widened.
“Yeah, that was our inability to put you back together properly. I did my best. But we’re all kind of dead here, and our powers are limited.”
Julie shook her head. It was too much to take in. The crow on her arm cocked her head.
Now what?
She raised her eyes again to the inept god, who stoked the roaring fire
unnecessarily. Kate saw her watching and smiled shakily. “The one thing I do know is that these things usually work themselves out. I was blown up, and then reformed, and it took a while to come back. I had only one bitter friend to help me along, while you have two semi—experienced gods to help you and a friend. Of course you also have a crazy psycho messing with you, so it all
balances out, I guess.”
Julie looked at the crow again. She tossed her arm up, and the bird took to the air, shrieking and flying in ever—widening circles up and around the campfire. Julie leaned back and closed her eyes and felt the ground warm
beneath her.
• • •
The woods spread out, dark and foreboding, around her. There were no stars or moon in the sky, and the only light seemed to be from the campfire where Julie and Kate sat. A glimmer caught the crow’s eye to the left, about half a mile away. She followed it, a wind coming up and buffeting her wings. She swerved and wheeled, fighting it. The glint shone again, and she struggled harder, but the wind increased.
A gust caught her under her wings, and she tumbled in the air, losing control. She managed to get her wings under her, and
headed perpendicular to the glint. The wind stopped, and she tried to circle around, finding it more difficult every time she turned toward the glint. In frustration she dropped altitude, hoping to fly under the wind, and she got a little closer, but then it caught her again and again she went flying.
She landed in a tree, and stood from foot to foot, clacking her beak and considering. Finally, she flew to the forest floor, the moss spongy under her claws. The ground felt friendly, supportive. She liked it.
She skipped, sometimes walking, sometimes flying a few feet. The wind gusted from time to time, but with her wings closed it did little but irritate her eyes. She began to make slight, slow progress.
The light was harder to see from the ground, but whenever the wind was in her face she knew she was on the right track. Eventually she saw it, breaking through the trees, and she hopped closer, keeping as silent as possible.
Three men stood in a clearing next to the river. One of them lay on the moss, blood leaking from his ears. The other was struggling with the third. They wrestled, rolling around on the forest floor, grunting and swearing. The wind roared in a circle above them, and the crow crouched down low.
The men punched each other, hitting ineffectual strikes to the ribs, sometimes hitting the ground instead of each other. The men were stripped from the waist up, one with light skin, one with dark. The dark—skinned man punched the white man’s in the jaw, and his head whipped around to face the crow’s. One of the white man’s eyes was gone, but it had happened long before this fight.
The darker—skinned man rolled again, and they ended up next to the river. He ended up on top, plunging the lighter skinned man’s head into the milky water. The other man struggled, but couldn’t displace his aggressor.
The crow cawed and flapped forward, but the minute she spread her wings, the wind caught her and blew her back. She step—step—hopped until she reached the struggling men. The one with his head in the river was beginning to weaken, the one on top holding his head further under, a smile spreading across his face. Finally, eventually, the man stopped struggling, and the crow tried to picture the man’s lungs full of that milky fluid.
