The Island of Excess Love

by Francesca Lia Block

  Acacia grips my hand tighter, pulling on my arm, and I turn to look at her. She shakes her head very slightly. No.

  In all the literature I’ve read about the underworld you must refrain from eating anything or you can never leave. I’m lucky my favorite foods aren’t here and for a moment I remember what the king served me at his quartz table.

  “No, thank you,” I say.

  Xandra smiles from under the corona of her pale hair. “Are you sure? You may not realize it but you’re very malnourished and you need sustenance. When’s the last time you ate a real meal?”

  After the king’s seafood stew, rice, salad, and wine there’s been nothing but the water and crushed bitter berries Ez gave me.

  “Because what Dylan gave you?” Xandra says. “That wasn’t real. Weeds and roots and acorns maybe if you were lucky. Even the water you drank was enchanted to appear fresh and clear. After the disaster he gained powers for transforming the appearance of things. He had this fixation on you and how he could create what he thought you wanted to see. I still don’t understand it.”

  I think of the island after the king’s brutal death. No quartz palace full of oil paintings and silk dresses; no flowers, no fruit trees, no meadows. Just ash and debris and bones and ruin. All the wonder of the island had been a glamour cast by the magician king.

  There is no beauty left in the world, I think.

  Except for my home, across the sea. But that might be gone now, decimated by Bull. And more important, my friends, my little family—the truest beauty—they might be gone as well.

  “I want to see my friends,” I say. “I’m willing to stay here if you let them go. And her, too.” I nod at Acacia.

  Xandra taps her lips with one finger. “Very nice. Self-sacrifice. A hero’s trait.” She frowns in a way that reminds me of the king. “Fair enough.”

  She motions for Acacia to come forward and the little girl drops my hand and walks over to her.

  “Go bring them here,” Xandra says.

  Acacia looks back at me, the lenses of her eyes glowing green planets in her dusky face, and then she runs off into the darkness.

  I guess I’m not entirely dead or drunk on Lethe because when Acacia returns and I see Ez, Ash, and Venice holding Argos I feel something stirring in the cavity of my chest. But I don’t run to them the way I normally would and they don’t come to me either. Xandra’s eyes seem to be waiting to catch any sign of indiscretion.

  Argos growls at the black dogs and they calmly turn their heads toward him and bare their teeth. Any of them could snap him up in one bite. Venice struggles to keep him quiet.

  “Where’s Hex?” I ask.

  “The one who likes Virgil. We’ve been sharing quotes. We’ll see if you deserve Hexane or not. Now remember, you haven’t eaten or even had much water for longer than you realize. Make yourself at home.

  “Oh, one other thing. I thought you’d like this quote Hex and I have been discussing. It’s about the death of Queen Dido who killed herself when her lover betrayed her. Not exactly apropos of our situation here but there are similarities.” She puts her hand to her breast and when she speaks again her eyes glitter ferally and her mouth slathers spittle.

  “Not yet had Proserpine clipped from her head

  The golden tress, or consigned her soul to the Underworld,

  So now, all dewy, her pinions the color of yellow crocus,

  Her wake a thousand rainbow hues refracting the sunlight,

  Iris flew down, and over Dido hovering, said:—

  As I was bidden, I take this sacred thing, the Death-god’s

  Due: and you I release from your body.

  She snipped the tress.

  Then all warmth went at once, the life was lost in air.”

  “But Dido killed herself,” I say, meeting her gaze though it makes my stomach churn. “The king was killed by the harpies.”

  “And I blame you for that. He slept with you and they found out and became jealous.”

  “But if you were able to haunt that ship, if you were able to make me and Hex find our own corpses, why couldn’t you save him?” I ask her.

  Xandra raises her arm and the torches around her flare and go out. When they flame up again she’s gone and so is Acacia. The dogs and snake are still there.

  Now my friends come forward, surrounding me. I close my eyes and we all sink to the ground in a heap, huddling together, restraining brave little Argos from attacking the dogs.

  “Are you okay? Tell me what’s going on,” I say.

  “We were separated from you and we searched and then finally fell asleep. I’m sorry, Pen. When we woke up we were here,” Venice says. I can tell he’s holding back tears.

  I kiss his forehead. “It’s okay. Look. Acacia healed my shoulder.”

  Venice puts his hand where my wound was.

  “Acacia.” He speaks her name shyly, almost with longing, looking into the dark where she stood moments before.

  How people come and go in this new world.

  * * *

  I have always only seen the past but as I follow Venice’s gaze into the dark I glimpse a vision of an older Venice—so tall now, he’s finally had his growth spurt. Maybe he’s eighteen? Broad shouldered, lightly bearded; he’s standing beside an older Acacia with a pregnant belly. They are holding hands and wearing crowns of golden leaves. Around their feet kneel young women with skin conditions, broken limbs, all kinds of maladies, waiting to be healed by Venice’s wisdom and Acacia’s hands.

  King and Queen of the world that is to come. Maybe it’s real; maybe it’s my hopeful dreaming.

  But where are the rest of us?

  Eventually, you may be able to see into the future as well, the king had said.

  * * *

  “What about Hex?” I ask Venice. I won’t tell him yet about the vision I’ve just seen, although judging by the way he was looking at Acacia I don’t think he’d be surprised by it.

  “We haven’t seen him. He ran off after you talked to each other,” says Ez. “I followed him for a while. He didn’t see me. He was crying. Then he started to run and I was worried about you so I went back and I lost him.”

  Hex, crying?

  “Do you think he’s here?” I ask. “And where are we anyway?”

  Ez puts his arm around me. “Xandra says that this island rose up from the sea after the Earth Shaker.”

  “She’s the king’s sister,” Venice says. “The Queen of the Shades.”

  “That’s true,” I tell him. “I mean that she’s dead and the king’s sister. I saw it.”

  “If she’s the queen of the dead, then are we…” Venice starts to ask.

  “We’re not dead.” I don’t know if it’s true but I have to say this in order not to give up, to keep Venice and the others from giving up.

  “All I know is I’m starving.” Ez eyes the food. “I could eat the table.”

  “Don’t. Remember your mythology? You can never leave the underworld if you eat anything there,” I tell him.

  “I mean the table itself. Do you think there are any rules about not eating furniture in the underworld?” I remember the harpy’s curse: Your hunger will gnaw at you until you eat the furniture and when that is not enough you will eat each other. Ez is still staring at the food now and I recall how I first met him in Beatrix the witch’s demolished mansion. She’d gained control over him with sweets. He’s the one I have to watch the closest now.

  Ez stands and walks unsteadily toward the table.

  “Don’t,” Ash says, jumping to his feet. But Ez keeps walking as if he doesn’t hear him.

  “Ez!” I shout, standing too. My body is like a hollow gourd. I wonder if food would make me feel human or if it’s too late for that.

  Would it be so bad to have to stay here forever? At least the five of us are together and the alternative—to return to that forsaken island—isn’t much better. And maybe we really are dead, in which case we’ll have to stay anyway.

 
I can smell the roasted meat and burnt sugar wafting off the food.

  Argos twists himself in Venice’s arms and Venice shouts and Argos leaps away from him, not toward the dogs but onto the table.

  Where he relieves himself all over the feast.

  Gross. Nasty. What the hell? Everyone’s talking at once but I’m proud of my dog. He did the right thing. I get up and take him in my arms, hugging his body, scratching him behind the ears so he lets down his guard and allows his eyes to close in pleasure for a moment. Back on duty he looks at the black hounds, the low growl resuming in his throat so I can feel it reverberating through his body.

  “Damn!” Ez collapses against a wall of the cavern. “I really wanted some of that cake.”

  Ash goes to him and takes him in his arms. His voice is softer than I’ve heard it since before we left home. “I know you did.”

  Ez blinks at him. “I’m so sorry,” he says.

  “It’s okay.”

  “I mean on the Island of Excess Love. I didn’t see clearly.”

  “I know. Neither did I. That wine was good, though.”

  “It wasn’t even real.” Ez sighs, leans into Ash, and closes his eyes. Ash kisses the top of his head. “I don’t even want to know what we really ate and drank there.”

  Ash nods to the disgusting feast before us. “It couldn’t have been worse than that.”

  “Let’s rest,” Venice says. “We can’t do anything more tonight.”

  “I’ll keep watch awhile,” I say. Still holding Argos tight I slump down beside Ez and Ash on the cold rock floor. Venice joins us and they all sleep. When I can’t keep my eyes open anymore I wake Ash, ask him to take a turn, and hand Argos over.

  * * *

  Later, when Ash wakes me, someone is sitting in the darkest recesses of the cavern.

  “It’s Hex,” Ash whispers.

  Yes, I’m still alive. I may not feel hunger or thirst or pain but I feel this. I feel Hex. My guilt at what I did, my terrible remorse and longing. Or maybe this is just the punishment of hell—to feel only this for eternity.

  Argos strains in Ash’s arms, trying to get to Hex. He comes over and takes Argos from Ash, letting the dog kiss his neck and face. Fastidious Hex usually doesn’t allow this.

  “Hey, little man. Did you miss me?” He sounds gentle and I look up hopefully, but when he catches my eye his gaze turns cold as the stone of the cave. He gives Argos back to Ash.

  “Where were you?” Ash asks.

  “Around. This place sucks. That lady is a psycho but at least she gives me cigarettes.” He pulls one out and lights it on a torch, the cherry sizzling in the dark cavern.

  Ez and Venice are blinking awake. The black dogs are still watching us. Their upper lips are drawn back; I can see the edges of their white teeth.

  The torches go out and then flare.

  Xandra and Acacia are there again, Xandra in her chair and Acacia seated in her lap, letting the older girl braid her hair. Acacia seems to be trying to make eye contact with me, to tell me something, but I can’t decipher it. Except that it’s some kind of warning.

  “Very good,” Xandra says to us. “You’ve passed the test and now you’ve received your reward.” She smiles at Hex but he ignores her, jamming his hands in the pocket of his filthy hoodie. I realize he’s probably worn it since before we set sail on the ghost ship. He was too proud to accept the king’s clothes, but they weren’t real anyway; they were rags held together with thorns, like the tatters I’m still wearing, glamoured by a spell.

  “So will you let us leave now?” I ask.

  “Not yet. There’s one more test. Well, maybe a few actually.” Xandra gently pushes Acacia off her lap. “Go get him,” she says.

  Acacia runs off. We wait. I try to get Hex to look at me but he refuses. His shoulders are stooped as if he’s trying to keep someone from stealing his precious cigarette, and he looks thinner than ever.

  I wonder if Hex will ever forgive me, if there’s anything I can say or do. We didn’t have to get sent to hell; I’d already made my own. I think of him crying and I wish he could have shown me those tears instead of his anger. Then maybe I could have reached him. Will I spend eternity trying to repair the damage I have wreaked?

  Acacia returns holding the hand of a figure covered in a robe with a hood.

  “This is my brother, the revenant king, Dylan.”

  He reaches out his other hand to me and I see that the skin is charred black.

  I fall to my knees before him with the force of shock.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say.

  He nods his hood but doesn’t speak. His sister is looking at me in a curious way. I realize how similar their faces are—high cheekbones; straight, long nose; angular chin. Their faces were. Oh, my king.

  “Can you do anything?” I ask Acacia, taking her free hand, running my fingers over the palm.

  She holds her hand up toward the king, then drops her head and looks away.

  “This is how he will always be,” Xandra says. “My handsome brother. This is your doing.”

  I ignore her and address only him. “What happened?”

  When he finally speaks his voice is frail. “The harpies were jealous of our relationship. On their pyre I was turned to ash and my ashes blew away on the wind. They came here where I was resurrected. Such as I am. By my sister.”

  “She could have prevented it,” I tell him. “She has strong magic.”

  The king turns his hooded head to Xandra. She lifts her chin and glares back at him. Her body is so tense that I bet she’s shaking, though imperceptibly.

  “Penelope is right. Tell me why you didn’t prevent my death, Xandra,” the king says.

  “I did not wish for your death. Your own servant girls killed you out of jealousy. You should never have cast those spells on them to begin with. When I saw in my mind what they were doing to you I decided to let you come to me. I’ve missed you all these years. And she doesn’t deserve you.”

  “We’ll discuss this later,” the king says. “You have me. Let her go.”

  “Please,” I say. “We have work to do in the world above.” The words surprise me and only when I say them do I realize how true they are and how significant.

  Xandra gestures for Acacia and hauls her back onto her lap, undoing the braids she’d made earlier. She’s preoccupied with this for what feels like a long time and I wonder if she’s forgotten the king’s question. Finally she says, almost to herself, “Why should I help these people?”

  “As she said, they have work to do,” the king answers.

  Xandra releases Acacia and waves her hand at Venice. He steels himself, setting his shoulders and staring straight ahead, the way he used to when going up to bat in a baseball game where everything depended on his hit, and goes to her. (I try not to picture his head-hanging stance of defeat when he missed the ball.) “This one is lovely, so charming. A little like you as a child. I’ll let him live. But why the rest?”

  The king points at Ez. “Ezra paints,” he says. “He could paint your portrait, so everyone would know you.”

  Xandra cocks her head to the side. “Really? Show me.”

  Acacia gives Ez a piece of parchment and a jar of ink, probably made from a combination of charcoal, powdered stone, and gum arabic like the ancients used. He kneels on the floor and begins to sketch Xandra. As always, it’s a perfect representation of her form, with only the slightest exaggerations to make her even more compelling.

  A bemused smile gentles the corners of her mouth. “Not bad.”

  The king points to Ash. “Ash sings. Sing for her, Ash.”

  Ash stands straighter and looks at Xandra. He begins to sing. It’s a song from Then I can’t quite place, something in a foreign language. Maybe Icelandic? Almost religious sounding. Dirgelike. I’ve forgotten how much I love Ash’s songs. His voice seems to reach down inside me, bringing me back to life.

  Xandra nods but I think I see a tear in her eye. Maybe it’s just the light
. She’s looking at Hex now. “And what about him?”

  “Hexane?” The king’s voice has changed so much since the last time I heard him utter this name. He hesitates and I bite down on the inside of my lip. What if the king doesn’t feel Hex is worth saving?

  Hex pulls out a cigarette from his pocket and dangles it from his mouth, fierce eyes on Xandra.

  “Hexane is a fighter,” the king says.

  “Show me.”

  Xandra holds out a sword. It’s forged of metal with crystals embedded in the hilt. The king bows his hooded head and gestures for Hex to take the sword.

  But before we actually see this exchange Hex is poised in front of Xandra and the tip of the sword has pierced her chest.

  I gasp.

  Hex pulls the sword out. There’s no blood anywhere, not even a tear in Xandra’s garment. She looks down at her chest and smiles.

  “Very nice work. You are a fighter, young man.”

  “What about Penelope?” Venice says. His voice is clear and strong. He looks into Xandra’s eyes without flinching.

  “What about Penelope, Dylan?” Xandra says. “I know you think she is your destiny but all that’s over now.”

  “Penelope is a hero. She is self-sacrificing, disciplined, noble, brave, clever, and a storyteller.”

  “An epic storyteller,” Hex adds, under his breath but loud enough so only I can hear. “Epic. Fail.”

  Xandra wrinkles her nose like a petulant child. “I’ve seen some of this. I’m not sure it’s enough.”

  “There’s one other thing.” The king walks over to his sister, leans forward, and whispers something into her ear.

  Xandra stares at me for such a long time that I have to fight not to look away. “I didn’t believe you were the one,” she says. “That you were meant to return this wretched planet to its former state. My brother always believed it but I didn’t. It was I who made you and your friends mad on that ship Dylan sent for you, peopled it with ghosts to drive you insane. It was I who showed you the bleeding branch and your dead bodies. I wanted to discourage you from finding my brother, make you turn away in terror, but you would not give up and, as I feared, you destroyed him.”

  “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

  “I knew you would ultimately be the cause of his destruction.”