by S. C. Green
“I know,” I said. “Dorien was the one who let the wraith into the Compound to steal the Mimir. He probably had a hand in your kidnapping, too.”
“It’s sick!” May slammed her fist against the table. “The wraith are killing nearly everyone in the Hub, leaving their souls floating aimlessly between the worlds, and Dorien won’t let the Reapers try to stop them. Instead, he has everyone working around the clock on trying to adapt Cory’s particle guns to work on the dome.”
I paused, struggling to digest all of this. It was odd, but even though I hated him, I could understand why some would follow Dorien, why he himself saw destroying the dome as the only solution. The government were the ones who installed it, leaving us trapped inside to our own fate. No doubt they thought everyone in the city dead by now, but we had no idea if they’re even monitoring life inside the dome. If we were to break through to the outer world, every remaining human inside the city would have a chance at a real life. And the wraith would no longer be the overwhelming threat they now were. Their small numbers could be easily subdued.
But that was Dorien’s flawed logic talking. Hundreds of officials had flocked into the city when the wraith first emerged. I knew because I’d watched them from my apartment. Even clever Reapers like May’s mother had worked on a solution, but nothing could stop the wraith. The dome was their solution. It wasn’t pretty, but it kept the rest of the world safe. I had a responsibility as a human being to prevent the wraith from hurting others.
I thought of Alain and his desperate need to know the truth about Raine. I wondered if he secretly longed for the outcome Dorien sought so he could find her. Knowing this made my chest ache for him.
And it made anger for May well up inside me. If she hadn’t lied, if she’d backed me up, Alain might not be in the middle of this. We might have been able to stop Dorien before it was too late.
May must’ve seen something flicker across my expression, because she bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Syd,” she said quietly, staring at her hands. “I messed up. I should have told the truth.”
“Yes. You should have.” The words came out harsher than I intended. Diana kicked me in the shin.
“I was just so afraid of him. You’ve seen a little of what he can do.’ May cleared her throat. “I didn’t want to end up like Sia. But I know it was wrong. I should have been brave, like you. I’m trying to be brave now.”
“You’ve made a good start.” I admitted, grudgingly accepting her apology. She was young, and she’d been through hell. I couldn’t blame her for what she’d done. Anger wouldn’t help us stop Dorien.
“Even then, there’s a bit of selfishness in my flight from the Compound,” May looked up and gave me a tiny smile, but her eyes remained dark. “He can’t touch me out here.”
“Not if he doesn’t want Syd to cut his fingers off,” Diana grinned, throwing her arms around May again.
“How are things in the Compound? How is … everybody doing?” I didn’t want to ask May about Alain, but she likely knew what I wanted to know anyway.
“Dad is going crazy without you. After you left, he was planning to come right here and bring you back, but Dorien forbids him to do that. He’s watching Dad like a hawk, making sure he remains loyal. Dad is very confused and angry. One minute he’s yelling and throwing stuff around his room. The next he’s pulling on his coat to come and get you.”
Her words made my stomach clench. “You should have stayed with him,” I said, although I couldn’t tell whether they were directed to May or to myself.
May shook her head. “I can’t help him. I don’t know what he could do now. All I know is that I can’t let Dorien destroy the dome. And you’re the only person I could think of who can stop him.”
“How?”
“By doing whatever you did to Dorien when you fought him in the Compound,” May said. “We heard him screaming, and when we got to him, he was a mess. It took him a day just to speak coherently again, and he’s never been the same since. Yet we can find no mark upon him, no change in his physiology to account for this altered behaviour.”
I thought back to that dreadful moment when I had shifted something in Dorien’s brain. I hadn’t even thought about what it might do to him, how it might alter him. So much for morals. As a human, I was looking worse and worse every day. Maybe my mother was right after all—all it took to be a good lawyer was to find that tiny piece of your brain that agreed the crime was dust, and use that to form your argument.
“I don’t know what exactly it was I did, or if I could do it again.” Briefly, I explained about the power I had and how I had dug through Dorien’s head. “If what you’re saying is true, I’ve probably done more harm than good. Besides, getting rid of Dorien won’t destroy the wraith.”
“No, but I’m not asking you to do that, although I won’t exactly mourn his death.”
“Then what’s your plan?”
“Have you seen the wraith recently?”
Diana and I shook our heads.
May continued, her expression grim. “Your observations have proven true, Syd. They’re no longer transparent. They can walk on the earth, the same as us. Whatever they’ve been doing with all that energy they’re pulling from the city is making them more human. And that means they are vulnerable in a way they probably don’t even realise.”
She pulled a faded leather bound book from the folds of her coat. “I’ve been hunting through the library at the Compound, and I found some information about you.”
I blinked hard. “About me?”
May nodded. “About your power. It seems the Reapers have known about people like you for a long time, although there aren’t many in the Compound who bother reading these old books. In our ancient tongue, you are known as a veleda, a sorceress who held a lofty and dignified place within our society.”
“People like …” Her words sank in, melding in my mind with what Alain had said about the government experiments of people with ESP. “You think I’m some kind of sorceress?”
May nodded again. “The veleda are few, for their powers have been much weakened over the years. Your power is genetic and recessive. It won’t show up in every generation. And in order to acquire the power to use it, a veleda has to undergo a ritual death and rebirth.”
“When you left your family.” Diana grabbed my arm. “That must’ve been your rebirth.”
“Yes, yes. I get the idea.” I rubbed my temples. A headache was starting to creep across my skull.
“The veleda have different strengths, different powers. Some are experts at finding what is lost, others divine the future, and some can see through objects into the hidden depths beyond. But all veleda have the power to draw and direct energy, to change and alter the state of the world. This was what you did to Dorien. And you can do it to all the wraith and all the Reapers, especially if you enhance your powers through the Mimir. You can alter their brains, give them a new direction, force them away from the dome.”
“So, you’ve thought this plan through, have you?” I said wearily. I couldn’t see how this could possibly work. “Because last I remember, the Mimir was hanging from the sky inside the Citadel, and I don’t think John Webster will just let us borrow it for the afternoon.”
“I can get you back into the Citadel,” May said. “Diana and I will hold the wraith off while you get to the Mimir and use your powers to climb inside it with your mind.”
Back to the Citadel? That ranked high on my list titled No Fucking Way. “Diana is not going inside there. No way. That’s not happening.”
“Diana can make up her own mind,” Diana piped up.
Blackie meowed in agreement.
“Not about this she can’t,” I growled, pissed that May had even brought it up. “And while we’re on the subject, what makes you think I’d ever want to go back there and do this?”
“Because.” May grinned. “My father was right, Sydney. You are the key to it all. What if I told you that with your power, you could de
stroy the wraith forever?”
22
“Forever?” Diana exclaimed. “As in, there would be no more wraith?”
“Yes,” May said, drumming her fingers against her mug. “At least, that’s the theory.”
“Theory?” I narrowed my eyes. “You mean, you’re not sure about this?”
“I can’t exactly test it,” May said. “But I’m sure. I’m not stupid. Cory did teach me a lot about the computers, probably more than anyone else. Cory and I first had this idea when my dad brought you to the Citadel, but it wasn’t until I found that book that I knew for certain it could work. Before I left, I ran a couple of simulations following Cory’s energy models. It certainly looks right. All the numbers add up.”
“So, how exactly does this all work?”
“The Mimir is a gateway into the underworld,” May said. “It’s what the older Reapers use to manipulate events here on Earth. They can open a gateway to the underworld anywhere they please, pass through to speak to the dead there, and come back without a scratch. In certain circumstances, they can even bring a soul through before it’s that person’s time to die.”
“That’s a pretty terrifying power.”
“It is, which is why a Reaper must have many years of service to the Order behind him or her before this power will be granted, and even then, it’s not always given. The rest of us—those who haven’t learned to channel its energy— we can bring souls through the gates it opens, but we must leave them in a desert. We cannot go any further, and we also cannot open or manipulate the gates ourselves. Nor can we pull a person through whom does not willingly come with us.”
“That’s a bloody stupid system,” I mused. “No one is going to choose death over staying behind on Earth.”
“You’d be surprised,” said May. “The soul isn’t bound by the will of the living mind any longer. All your earthly desires no longer matter. The soul has its own cravings. Given the choice between staying behind on Earth as a wandering shade and living in the underworld, most souls will choose the latter.”
“And you’re saying the wraith souls chose to stay behind?”
“Not exactly. Souls that remain behind have unfinished business. They cannot bear to leave behind their life. They usually become ghosts—fragments of life lingering, clinging to the world they’d been unfairly torn from. Ghosts are trapped in time and space, tethered to a location or a person until their business is complete. That’s what’s happening to all the souls here in Petrified City. They’re floating around here without form or purpose. But the wraith are different. They all died. They all crossed over. Whatever was in that chemical that leeched into the ground, I think somehow it called them back from the underworld. And it’s still inside them, still part of them. As each wraith’s soul returned to their decaying bodies, it carried with it a tiny piece of the other side, a string of the thread that binds together the veil between both worlds. That’s why every time we send them to the desert, they come back to Earth again. ”
Diana leaned forward. “And that’s where they get their power from?”
May snapped her fingers. “Exactly. And that power allowed them to retain a shape, even as their corporeal bodies disintegrated. And that’s why they need to husk so often. They are the living embodiment of the world of the dead. They require a constant feeding of souls to survive.”
I sat back and sighed. “Well, shit.”
“Agreed. Originally, the wraith acted on instinct, following nothing but the pull of the realm that guided them. They were just using all this power they’d brought with them to fuel their lustful gorging, and they might have become living bodies much sooner—bodies that could be killed again, and their souls returned to where they belonged. But then along came the Mayor, and he organised them. He showed them what they could do with their power if they cooperated. How, if they put themselves on a diet and stored the energy from those souls, they could effectively create a giant Mimir—a huge gateway into the underworld, over the polluted soil of the cemetery, where all the dead of the past and the present could pass through as easily as you or me walking under a doorframe.”
“And what you’re saying is, you want me to push them back into the underworld and shut the door behind them?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” May nodded. “Before all of Earth becomes a world of the dead.”
“Why does it have to be Sydney?” Diana asked, her voice shaking. She had Blackie in her arms again, stroking his tiny body with fast, vigorous strokes.
“Unfortunately, Syd’s the only one who can do it.” May reached over to scratch Blackie’s head, by Diana jerked the kitten away. “With Malcolm and Lucien gone, the only Reaper with the skill to manipulate the Mimir is Dorien, and he’s not going to cooperate. You’ve already seen what can happen if I try to use it. But as a veleda, you can enter the underworld and then return to your body again.”
“Return to my—” Confusion dug between my eyebrows. “Hang on, you’re telling me when I’m doing this, my soul is not inside my body?”
“I thought that was obvious. You can’t physically enter the underworld. No one can, not even us in our human form.”
Obvious. Sure. “You want me to separate my soul from my body?”
“To save the world, yeah.”
I sighed. “Great. Way to guilt me into it.”
Diana’s face turned stony. She squeezed Blackie so hard he yelped in pain and darted away.
May frowned. “Of course it’s your choice, but—”
“Fine.” I waved my hand as if parting with my soul was no big deal. “Don’t harp on about it. You knew I’d agree, or you wouldn’t have come here.”
“No!” Diana rammed against me, knocking me off the edge of the table. We slid to the floor in a tangle of limbs. She wrapped her arms around me, trapping mine at my sides, and pressed her cheek against my chest. “Don’t go.” She cried into my bloody shirt. “Sydney, please?”
“I have to, pet.”
“That’s what you always say. But it’s not true. You don’t have to! Who cares about the other side of the dome? We don’t even know if there’s anyone out there! And if there is, they sure don’t care about us. So why do you have to leave me for them?”
“Diana, I—”
“Why do you have to leave?” She screamed at the ceiling, shoving me away with such surprising force, I hit my elbow against the coffee table. “Everyone I love always leaves me, and I’m sick of it.”
I blinked while Diana’s outburst echoed in my ears. Calm, sweet Diana who adapted to this fucked up dome better than anyone. If anyone deserved to snap, it was her. I’d just never thought to prepare myself for it.
“Diana, hey.” May reached out a hand to comfort her, but Diana tore herself away.
Diana turned to her friend, her hands balled into fists. “Don’t patronise me. You come here with this crazy plan, and you want Sydney to rip her soul out of her body, and it’s all for you! All because you feel bad you couldn’t stand up to Dorien. You stood there and lied and let your own father believe he didn’t do all those horrible things, and you broke up him and Sydney, and now you’re trying to take Sydney away. Well, I won’t let it happen!”
She pushed past me and ran to the closet, slamming the door shut behind her. Her kittens scratched at the wood, desperate to get inside.
Stunned, I turned back to May, who stared down at her folded hands as though they contained the secrets of the universe.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “This is hard for her.”
“No, it’s—” May looked up. Her face was streaked with tears. “She’s right. I did lie about Dorien. Sydney, and I’m still so sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was mess things up between you and Dad. You were the best thing to happen to him—”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I said ruefully.
“It’s true.” May sniffed, wiping furiously at her eyes with the back of her hand. “And I ruined it for my own selfish reasons. I thought that losing yo
u would be easier on him than learning the truth about Dorien. I wanted to keep Dad for myself, just the way he was. He’d only just started to pull himself back from mourning Mum’s disappearance. He was finally the father I remembered, and I just couldn’t bear to see him return to that dark place again.”
“Hey …” I climbed up on the couch and placed my arms around her neck. “I know why you did it. Because you love him. That’s a sentiment I understand perfectly. It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” May sobbed. “I’ve ruined everything. Dad is sick with grief and anger, and it’s all because of me. And now I’ve left him all alone with Dorien and come here and put you in danger, just to try to fix it.”
I wrapped her against me, rocking gently against the back of the couch. We sat together for some time, May’s sobs echoing through my tiny, damp apartment. I wanted to go comfort Diana, but I knew her well enough to know she needed to be on her own. Instead, my mind flowed to its own dark places, to thoughts of Alain, wallowing in grief, wondering where May was, if she was alive, if I was alive. Did he think of me the way I thought of him? Did his body ache for me as though it were missing a limb? Did he get physically sick from nightmares of my death?
The closet creaked. I didn’t dare look over in case I scared her away. A kitten squeaked. The couch sagged, and Diana buried her head under my other armpit, her tears running down my bloody shirt and mingling with May’s and my own. A trio of sad, silent women, mourning the lives that might have been.
MY EYES FLEW OPEN, the lids heavy with sleep. Outside the window, the grey sky had faded into inky darkness. The two girls rested against my shoulders on the couch, their eyes still shut, their breathing shallow and even. Four lumps of purring kittens dotted our laps.
“Girls, wake up.” I shrugged my shoulder. May’s head lolled to the side and came to rest on my chest. Diana’s neck rolled back, and she gazed up at me with unfocused eyes.
“We fell asleep,” she announced.
