William Wilde and the Necrosed (The Chronicles of William Wilde)

by Davis Ashura

  “I’ll do my best,” William replied with a solemn nod.

  “Sorry we can’t stay long enough to help pack up,” Serena said.

  “No worries. I’m not paying you for today’s work anyway,” Bill said with a dismissive wave.

  Mrs. Nancy hustled into the backyard. “Oh good! You’re still here.”

  Her skinny frame appeared particularly skeletal in the tight-fitting, white jeans and T-shirt she wore, and despite the ungodly hour, she had still found time to apply her makeup and tease her hair into its typical bouffant.

  “I’ve got some goodies for you,” Mrs. Nancy said, reaching into a large sack. “Cookies. Right out of the oven.”

  Serena’s nose tickled and her mouth watered. Chocolate chip cookies. Her favorite.

  “I’m so glad you haven’t left yet,” another voice called out.

  Disquiet traced Serena’s spine.

  Elaina Sinith.

  “I’ve got some presents, too,” the witch said.

  William shifted about, visibly uncomfortable.

  “For you, Jason, I have this.” She pulled out a single glove with a theatrical flourish.

  Jason held it in obvious confusion. “One glove? I don’t get it.”

  “It’s a right-hand glove, just as you are the strong right hand of your trio of adventurers,” Elaina proclaimed.

  Serena somehow managed to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

  “To you, William, I give this fountain pen. I sense that where you journey, the sword will prove mightier than the pen. But having a good pen is never a bad thing.”

  Elaina wore a broad smile as she turned to Serena. “I haven’t forgotten you,” the witch said. “You are unforgettable. But a word in private, sister.”

  Serena felt the need to fidget, but she forced herself to remain still.

  Elaina stepped closer and spoke softly. “I know who you really are, and I know they don’t.” She gave a barely perceptible motion of her head. “I’ll keep your secret.”

  Serena gave her a bland smile of confusion. “What secret?”

  “I’m not stupid,” Elaina said. “Nor am I your enemy. In the end, that honor belongs to yourself. If you don’t let go of your falsehoods, they will trap you in sorrow.” She shrugged. “But it’s your life to live.” She stepped back and once more donned a bright smile. “Now. Your gift. To you I give this pendant.” She presented Serena with a silver locket in the shape of an om. “Though the mind lies, the heart is always true. Find your truth, and you’ll find your joy.”

  For once, Serena’s training held no suggestions on how to respond. She merely nodded her thanks for the witch’s gift.

  “And with that, it’s time for us to hit the road,” William declared.

  “You all packed up?” Jimmy asked.

  “The Scout’s ready to rumble.”

  “Then may good luck and a fair wind allow you to safely reach your destination, and annoy those who deserve it,” said Mr. Bill.

  Serena stared out the window and watched as the barren reds and tans of the desert flowed by like a static image. The view went on and on, a never-ending expanse of eye-aching dreariness. Once the colors had been fascinating, but fascination had long since faded, and the colors had long since grown aggravating. All the reds, orange, and earth tones—in her mind’s eye Serena imagined green forests, white-capped mountains, and an indigo blue ocean, soothing images from a not-so-soothing home.

  Jason napped in the back while William drove them along a monotonous highway heading south. They took a circuitous route to Black Canyon Lake that they hoped wouldn’t allow Kohl Obsidian to so easily guess their final destination.

  Serena doubted it would work, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

  “You don’t like the desert,” William said to her, breaking the quiet within the Scout.

  “Why do you say that?” Serena asked, turning to him.

  “Because I don’t like it either,” William said. “And you sighed.”

  Serena quirked a wry smile, surprised at his insight. “I don’t like it,” she admitted. “I was imagining the sea. All the blues and greens. Something tranquil. Anything other than these stupid reds and oranges.”

  “Same here, except I was thinking of a forest, like when my family went camping in the Smokies.”

  “What’s it like?” Serena asked.

  “Pretty,” William replied.

  Serena waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. His eyes faced forward, and he remained silent.

  “And?” she prodded.

  “I’m getting to it,” William replied with a frown. A moment more of silence, and he began to talk. “It’s pretty,” he repeated. “A morning fog blankets the ground, and the world is so quiet. Dad and I would wake up early—Landon and Mom always slept in—and we’d talk. It was like we were the only people in the world.”

  “Sounds peaceful,” Serena said, her wistful tone a true expression of her feelings.

  In times past when William had spoken of his family, or when he and his friends had shared their stories and laughter, she had tried to maintain her aloofness, to disregard what she considered a weakness. Now that same supposed weakness had become a longing, a desire for the comfort and safety of family and friends who truly loved her.

  The time left to her in this life might span less than a day since tomorrow they would reach the saha’asra. Tomorrow her future would be decided, and she didn’t want to face the end with regrets and unanswered questions.

  “You okay?” William asked.

  Serena forced a smile. “Not really,” she said. “Tomorrow . . . It’s scary to realize that tonight might be the last sunset I’ll ever see.”

  “It is scary,” William agreed softly. He reached for her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

  Serena squeezed back. Doing so no longer filled her with guilt. If comforting another was a weakness, then so be it.

  After all, look at William. He was exactly the kind of person every one of her people would have categorized as weak: kind, decent, and easily manipulated. And yet, he had survived three attacks by a necrosed, and he’d done so mostly because of his friendship with Jason.

  How many of her people could have accomplished such a feat in a similar set of circumstances?

  None.

  Which meant that William wasn’t weak, and neither was friendship or love.

  It was a strange and startling insight.

  “We’ll make it through this if we stick together,” William said. “That’s what friends do.”

  Serena nodded before turning to stare out at the wasteland. Friendship: a terrible and heavy burden, and yet, how freeing and wonderful it must be.

  William huddled alone near the fire while Jason and Serena slept in their tents. On what might be his last night on Earth, William didn’t want to be cooped up in some Days Inn or a Best Western. So they’d foregone a hotel, choosing instead to camp under the wide, open desert sky. William needed to see the stars and feel the world and the living night.

  The desert cold had him rethinking his wishes, and he shivered, shifting closer to the fire.

  He tried to keep his mind from dwelling on tomorrow, and tomorrow’s turmoils and terrors, but it proved difficult as the night stretched on, cold, lonely, and troubled.

  However, in the hour just before dawn—earliest morning or latest night—the sky began to pale but not yet pink, and a hush, serene and still, overtook the world; a magical moment that was fragmentary and fleeting.

  When the sun fully rose, life’s hectic cacophony would resume and the world’s temporarily forgotten problems would stir once more, but for now, William embraced the peace.

  The sun pinked the sky, and a cold breeze blustered. The wind stirred the coals, crackled the fire, and sent tumbleweeds scattering along the ground like errant balls of yarn. It blew harder, and William shivered as the peace ended. He pulled his coat tighter about him, but as the breeze died away, a faint, noise came to him: the cry
of a baby.

  William straightened and searched the darkness around him, seeking the source of the sound. Seconds passed, but the cry didn’t repeat, and William relaxed, thinking it must have been his imagination.

  The cry repeated, and William surged to his feet. He turned about in a circle, trying to localize the source. What was a baby doing out here? Were there other campers nearby? And where was their fire? The baby sounded close.

  *Help!*

  William startled at the word. The plea had rung out in his mind rather than his ears. He shook his head and tapped it a few times.

  *Help!*

  The plea cried out again in William’s mind, but this time he also heard again the plaintive baby’s wail. There was a baby out there.

  William frowned and glanced at Jason’s tent, wondering if he should wake him. Maybe he’d know what was going on.

  He stood frozen with indecision before finally muttering at his stupidity. Let Jason sleep. Magi didn’t possess telepathy. Jason had told him that once. It was a lost art. Whatever he thought he heard in his mind had to be a product of his overactive imagination.

  But what about the baby he’d heard? He hadn’t imagined that.

  William stepped past the light of the fire and flicked on his flashlight. He washed the light in the direction of the occasionally crying baby. It sounded close, and again William wondered what the infant was doing out here in the winter desert. If it was outside, why didn’t the parents have a fire going to keep their baby warm?

  *Please help me!*

  William stopped. A trickle of uncertainty made its way down his spine, and he frowned. What was going on here?

  *Is someone there?*

  The voice spoke in his head at the same time that he heard the baby’s mewling cry. Both sounds seemed close, only a few yards away. William swept the beam of his flashlight in the area where he expected the other campers to be. The baby should be right there, directly in front of him. But other than cactus and scrub, the desert stood empty.

  The trickle of uncertainty became a trickle of fear. William reached into the back of his mind, the part that always knew the location of Kohl Obsidian. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he felt the necrosed hundreds of miles away, back in Kansas somewhere.

  A silence fell across the desert. A stillness stole all sound, and the world seemed to wait. A rustling arose next to a scrub brush. William’s heart nearly stopped.

  From the scratchy depths of the brown bush came a small form, a calico kitten with a black patch over her right eye.

  She looked at William and mewed, the same mewling sound he’d mistaken for a baby’s cry. The kitten padded up to him and sat down, her tail curled up before her front paws.

  *I’m cold.*

  William stared at the kitten in astonishment. Who had said that? Surely not the kitten.

  *Yes. Me. The kitten. I’m cold.*

  William stumbled back from the calico.

  What the hell was going on here? The kitten was talking to him. In his mind! How?

  Maybe he’d accidentally burned peyote as part of the kindling for the fire? Maybe the kitten was just a drug-induced hallucination? And if so, how long would the peyote keep mucking with his mind? All day? Just a few hours? Long enough to render him useless when they had to face the necrosed?

  *The Shining Man told me I’d find a friend here. Are you a friend?*

  William didn’t know what to think. He stared at the kitten in confusion and fear.

  “What are you doing out here?” Serena asked from behind William.

  A yip escaped William’s lips as he nearly leaped out of his skin. Serena stared at him in bemusement.

  William aimed the flashlight at the kitten. “What do you see there?” he asked.

  Serena shifted her gaze to where he indicated. She tilted her head in consideration. “A kitten. What’s it doing here?” Her words were matter-of-fact, not rising into that high-pitched, baby-talk that most girls used when they saw a kitten or something similarly adorable.

  Her words, though, eased some of William’s fears. The kitten was real, which meant there was no peyote-induced hallucination going on. But if he wasn’t hallucinating, then why was he imagining that the kitten was talking to him in his mind?

  *Because I am talking to you in your mind.*

  William started again.

  “What’s it doing out here?” Serena repeated. “Did someone dump it?”

  “I don’t know,” William replied. “I came out here when I heard her crying.”

  “Her?”

  “Calicos are almost always female,” William explained. “And this calico is . . .” He shook his head, not wanting to explain the impossible.

  “What’s wrong?” Serena asked.

  “I think she can talk to me in my mind.” William bent down and scooped up the kitten, holding her inside the warmth of his coat. She snuggled against him.

  *My chin itches.*

  “You are a demanding little girl, aren’t you?” William said. He ignored Serena’s look of astonishment as he marched back to camp.

  “A cat that talks. That’s what you’re saying?” Jason asked. He didn’t bother to hide the disbelief in his voice.

  Serena felt the same way. A talking cat? She wondered if William had taken a blow to the head or developed frostbite of the brain with the overnight cold, anything rational to account for his weird hallucination. And why did he have to have it on today of all days? Just hours before they faced a life-and-death struggle against Kohl Obsidian.

  “She can talk,” William insisted.

  “Then why won’t she talk to me?” Jason said. “I haven’t heard a peep out of her.”

  The kitten took that moment to mew.

  “That doesn’t count,” Jason protested.

  “I don’t know why she won’t talk to you.” William held the kitten protectively against his chest, seeming like he’d already bonded with the animal.

  Serena scowled. She didn’t like animals as pets. Dogs, cats, hamsters, roosters—all creatures should have a useful purpose; not be doted upon like babies. And animals most certainly didn’t talk. Not anymore, anyway. Maybe they had thousands of years ago, when the asrasins had far greater power than they did today.

  Jason turned to her. “What do you think?” he asked.

  Serena shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I think,” she said. “William says the thing can talk to him. Fine. It can talk.”

  Jason looked at her, dumbfounded. “I thought you had more sense than that,” he accused.

  “I’ve got plenty of sense,” Serena snapped, already tired of the argument. “But what difference does it make? We’ve got more important things to discuss, like how we’re going to survive Kohl Obsidian. We don’t have any plan other than showing up at the saha’asra, splashing into the water, opening the anchor line to Arylyn, and hoping the necrosed doesn’t kill us first.”

  “I’m open to suggestions,” Jason said.

  “I didn’t mean to criticize,” Serena said.

  “I’m just saying if anyone else can open the anchor line and protect the two of you,” Jason said, speaking more vehemently, “then by all means, let me know.”

  “Calm down,” Serena said, trying to stifle her irritation. “I know you have a lot to do—”

  “I’ve got everything to do,” Jason snapped back. “The two of you can’t do anything to help me. Not one bit.”

  “I’m sorry we’re such anchors,” William said, “but maybe if you and Mr. Zeus had told me the truth earlier, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “You think this is my fault?” Jason asked, his voice rising.

  “I’m not saying that,” William shot back. “But what’s happening now isn’t my fault, either! Nor is it Serena’s.”

  “I never said it was!”

  “No, but you sure are comfortable saying we’re dead weight,” William said.

  “You’re not dead weight.” Jason sounded frustrated. “But t
he kitten is. Or did you plan on taking her with us to Arylyn? You know what’s going to be waiting for us at that saha’asra.”

  “I know exactly what’s waiting for us,” William snarled. “He killed my family, remember? I can feel him. And yes, I plan on taking Aia to Arylyn.”

  Jason threw his hands in the air. “Unbelievable. Today of all days you have to go crazy. I need you sharp and focused. Not worried about some cat you found.”

  “Aia isn’t—”

  “You’ve even named her?” Jason interrupted, sounding disgusted.

  “No, I didn’t,” William said. “She told me.”

  “What?” Jason said. “That’s the stupidest . . .”

  Serena closed her eyes and imagined “Gloria”. Lately it was the only thing that kept her sane and hopeful. William and Jason continued shouting at each other, and Serena wanted to stuff her ears with cotton so she wouldn’t have to listen.

  *They need a smack to their noses,* a small voice said.

  Serena froze. “Who said that?”

  *I said that.*

  Serena opened her eyes and stared at the cat. It couldn’t be.

  *Of course, it can be,* the voice said, sounding oddly mature and amused. *And I’m not a cat. I’m a kitten.*

  Serena’s thoughts clamored in a mad dash. Chief among them was the simple hope that that both she and William were somehow sharing the same strange hallucinations. Anything but a talking cat.

  “What did you say?” Serena asked, praying that the voice wouldn’t reply.

  *I said that I’m a kitten,* the voice replied.

  “She’s talking to me,” Serena whispered, staring at the kitten in fascinated horror.

  William and Jason didn’t hear her, and they continued to argue.

  *I told you I could talk.* The little animal blinked at her and yawned.

  Serena gaped. All of Isha’s training was of no use when faced with such an impossibility. She had no idea what to do. “She’s talking to me,” Serena repeated.

  “What?” William asked.

  “I said, she’s talking to me,” Serena said for the third time.

  “Not you, too,” Jason said, his disgust evident.