Penult (Book Four of The Liminality)

by A. Sparrow

  Karla sidled up to me and took my arm. We looked at each other.

  “Don’t be alarmed. I’ve been asked to check in on you. Master Zhang has not heard from you. Is there a problem?”

  How the hell did she find us so quickly? But I guess I should have known better than to wonder.

  “You’re … with Wendell? You’re a Facilitator?”

  “Oh please. Don’t be worried. I’m just here to troubleshoot. We just thought you might have checked in by now. Wendell said you would—”

  “I didn’t make any promises,” I said. “I just told him I would try.”

  She scrunched her eyes at me. “Can we talk? Over coffee perhaps? There’s a nice little café around the corner. We can get a private booth.”

  “We … uh … have a train to catch.”

  “You have fifty-five minutes before you need to board. We have plenty of time, I assure you.”

  “Um. Okay then.” I shrugged. Karla was being oddly silent and compliant.

  We followed Sophie out of the building and down a block to a row of converted warehouses. Her eyes darted and probed the passersby, assessing every person we passed.

  The coffee shop had a Middle Eastern motif. Persian rugs and sisal mats covered the floor. The tables were low, with stools and a formidable array of hookahs in the corner.

  Sophie led us to a booth in the back that had its own little privacy curtain. We took our seats, Karla and I together across from her.

  “Instead of coffee, why don’t we have chai all around? I’ve already had two espressos today. I don’t know about you, but I don’t need any more caffeine. Besides, what you’re trying to achieve goes much better without the interference of psychoactive substances.”

  “What are we trying to achieve?”

  “Well, apparently, you’re having trouble making transitions. That’s what Wendell tells me, and it’s apparent from your no show. So I’m here to coach you.” She tilted her head at me and grinned.

  “Listen. Uh … I really don’t need any coaching. I mean … I’ll go when I’m ready.”

  “Yes, but you assured Wendell that—”

  “I told him I would try. I didn’t promise anything.”

  “That was most definitely not his impression. Surely, you are aware of the urgency of our situation?”

  The waitress brought over three mugs of spiced tea. I didn’t really care for it. It was way too sweet and had too much milk, but I drank it anyway. A fly landed on my finger. I let it stay, watching it preen itself with its front legs. Seraf and Lalibela had irrevocably altered my relationship with the insect world.

  Sophie watched my every action with the rapt attention of a primatologist.

  “You’re not bothered by the little things, aren’t you?”

  “Why should I be? They’re little things.”

  She turned her attention to Karla, who drank hungrily and had almost finished her cup already.

  “What’s with your boyfriend? What does he have to be so smug about?”

  “Smug?”

  “Well … we have been apart,” said Karla, who was still being oddly meek and quiet. “But now we are together.”

  “Say no more. Young love. All is right with the world. All polka dots and moonbeams. That’s your problem right there.”

  “Say what?”

  “Keep in your mind that no matter how rosy things look right now, your world is only moments away from doing a 180 and turning to shite. All it would take is a double decker bus to hop that curb and plow right into the shop window. A terrorist deciding to toss a bomb. And if one of you goes, I can tell that the other ain’t going to be too thrilled about it, am I right?”

  “I knew it. You are an assassin.” I searched for a weapon but all I had was a tea cup.

  “Not at all. I am a transition consultant. Yes, I used to run with that pack, but no longer. Now I deal with Hemisouls wishing to increase the frequency and duration of their visitations to the Liminality. Those not quite ready to take the plunge and become Freesouls. I’m here to help you cross.”

  I checked my watch. We still had forty-five minutes. Karla nudged me and frowned.

  “I try to tell him, it is all the state of mind. Is like surfing. You let your bad feelings build like a wave and let them crash over you, even if you are feeling good.”

  “Precisely my dear. Only I find it more akin to dredging. Cultivating thoughts of the more horrible things that have happened to you, building the conviction that there are more horrors to come, endless unbearable horrors.”

  “How fun.”

  “It’s all about fooling your heart, love. That’s all it is. It’s like a muscle. Once you get good at it, you can flex it on and off. The trick is identifying those key horrors, finding those that compel you personally, and dependably. But everyone’s different. One man’s horror is another man’s inconvenience. Now tell me, what bad things have ever happened to you?”

  “Bad things?”

  “Things that made you sad. Things that made you question whether you wanted to go on with life. There must be something. I mean, you’re a repeat customer.”

  I glanced at my watch again. I really did not want to be doing this, but we still had half an hour before we had to be on that train.

  “Come on, love. Surely you can come up with something.”

  I sighed. “I don’t know. Feeling like and outcast, I guess. Back home, in Florida.”

  “School difficulties?”

  “I was home-schooled.”

  “Ah. Say no more. And what aspect of that experience in particular made you feel … the way you felt?”

  Now I was starting to fidget. This was not stuff I kept in the forefront of my mind. Thinking about it again was making me uncomfortable.

  “Yes?”

  I didn’t really want to cooperate. This felt like an interrogation. But Karla’s eyes had gotten all big and expectant. She clearly wanted me to go along with this.

  “I don’t know. The isolation, maybe? I wasn’t like the other home-schooled kids. For that matter, I wasn’t at all like the public school kids, either. I couldn’t make … or keep … friends.”

  “Excellent! That is exactly the sort of well from which we want to draw.”

  “Yeah, but … now I see that it was all bullshit. I really wasn’t all that different. And the parts of me that were, well I’m glad I wasn’t like everybody else. I’m glad I became who I am.”

  Sophie grimaced. “What is this I am hearing? Vindication? Self-esteem? You will need to stifle these feelings right away if are to make any headway. Please focus only on the bad. Now tell me, how else do you fail as a person?”

  “Fail? Me? I wouldn’t exactly call myself a failure.”

  “Oh, come now. There must be disappointments. Things that made you question the value of going on with life?”

  I was staring at some spilled sugar on the tabletop. I could actually make out each little cuboid crystal. Karla jabbed me with her elbow.

  “Cooperate!” she hissed.

  I let out my breath. “Well, I was homeless for a while. Except, that wasn’t so bad. And there was prison. And … I’m an orphan.”

  Sophie’s expression brightened. “Dead parents! How old were you when you lost them?”

  “It was only a few years ago. But … I saw my mom in Frelsi. In the Sanctuary. But … she didn’t recognize me.”

  “Of course not, dear. She’s cleared. Why would she need to be bothered with the living world when she had Frelsi? But unfortunately, now that you’ve seen her, you understand that souls continue onward. You have glimpsed your loved one in another existence. That’s not exactly the best fuel for despair.”

  “What can I say? My head’s in a good place right now. I mean, is that a crime?”

  “Surely, there must be more. You must have had something truly horrifying happen to you? Most people who have visited the Liminality do.”

  Karla looked at me. “Papa.”

  Soph
ie leaned forward, her face expectant. “What’s this?”

  “I was kidnapped. Beaten … and tortured. By Karla’s father.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere! Put yourself back in that place. Close your eyes. Empty your mind of everything but that. Bask in the futility, the hopelessness.”

  I tucked my chin and clenched my eyes, remembering the moldy dankness of that church basement, the pain, the rats, the darkness. I sensed something begin to swirl just beyond the range of my perception. Roots?

  Karla took my hand in hers and broke the spell. I was back in the coffee shop, my heart aglow.

  “Karla, dear, you’re not helping.”

  “Sorry!” She yanked her hand back.

  “You see, burgeoning love is a most powerful bane against hopelessness. It can make a young man yearn for life even in the most desperate situations. I can see that this is likely the root of your problem. Perhaps … a separation is in order.”

  I slammed my fist on the table. “No fucking way. I just got out of prison! She just came back from the dead.”

  “Now, now. It was just a suggestion. Give a few weeks for the glow to fade and you might be happy to have a little time for yourself. Happens to the happiest of couples. Which makes me think we should strike while the iron is hot. But then again, maybe we have enough to work with here. Reach back James, and put yourself back in that basement. And this time, Miss Karla, restrain yourself. No touching!”

  So I closed my eyes again. Summoned the rat going after my lunch. The footsteps coming down the corridor, never knowing whether they were coming to beat me. Linval’s screams. His groans. His ever weakening whimpers. And finally, his silence. A tear dribbled down my cheek.

  But I knew Karla sat beside me. She didn’t have to touch my hand. I knew she was in reach. And her presence made it all okay. I could handle the nastiest horrors of life with her by my side.

  “Anything?” said Sophie.

  Nothing filled my senses but the smell of coffee and spiced tea, tobacco, cloves, cool leather, the rumble of the underground trains passing below us, reminiscent of Reapers.

  No roots announced their presence. The Liminality kept its distance. I felt nothing.

  And in a way, I was glad. Whatever troubles the Frelsians were having, they had nothing to do with my current life. My path through existence need not lead through Root. There were other realms for souls to reside. I would find the right place when the time came.

  “How about now?”

  “Nope. Nothing.”

  “Maybe I can go for him,” said Karla.

  “Go where, dear?”

  “To the Liminality, to see Master Zhang.”

  Sophie pursed her lips. “Well, I am sure you can, love. No doubt you have vast reservoirs of angst to tap. You may go wherever you like, dear, but this is all about James.”

  “Why me?”

  Sophie skipped a glance towards Karla. “The boy has no clue, does he? Low self-esteem, perhaps? Renders him completely unaware of the elephant in the room?”

  “Elephant?”

  Sophie pursed her lips.

  “You James. You are the elephant. You are why I rode the early train down this morning all the way from Bristol. This is all about getting another master Weaver to join our ranks in the Liminality. Because souls with the ability to move … mountains … are few and far between. We can count their number on … two hands. We need you … to stand against the Cherubim. To save Frelsi.”

  “What if … I don’t want to save Frelsi?”

  Sophie glared. “It’s not just Frelsi. I’m talking about every society and sub-culture on the surface of the Liminality. All of them Penult aims to exterminate, or at least drive back underground. These so-called angels. Self-appointed overseers of the afterlife. Seraphim and Hashmallim and their strange, poor minions the Cherubim. They just want the surface or themselves, to drive us all back underground like cattle to be processed for the Deeps.”

  I tapped my watch. “We … uh … we have a train to catch.”

  Sophie sipped the last of her chai. “So you do. A long train ride can provide an excellent environment for executing transitions. Something about the rhythm of the rails. Please, do try your best. It is vastly important that you see Master Zhang as soon as possible. We would hate to resort to more drastic measures.”

  “Drastic?”

  “I cannot stress enough the urgency of seeing Master Zhang. The alliance awaits you.” Her eyes narrowed into piggy little orbs. “You need to see him soon, love. Time is running short.”

  Chapter 7: Scotland

  As we pulled out of King’s Cross Station, I sent Sturgie a text with our arrival time in Inverness. Almost instantly a torrent of eager and excited messages set my phone pinging like a pinball machine.

  He was thrilled to hear from us, couldn’t wait to see us. Yes, he was still going to college up there, starting up his third year. He wanted to take us out for seafood at his favorite pub across the River Ness. Afterwards, we were welcome to crash at his flat, as long as we wanted.

  I grinned at Karla as I showed her the parade of texts.

  “He came to see me in Brynmawr,” she said, smiling.

  “Oh? How are he and his uncle Renfrew getting along these days?”

  “Pretty well. Sturgie is actually thinking of coming back to the goat farm when he graduates. He changed his major to business.”

  I was getting spoiled by all the nice hotels and expensive flats. The thought of sleeping on some college kid’s floor didn’t thrill me. I could kick myself for not grabbing more keys from that safe deposit box. Maybe we could sneak off somewhere cozy after a couple of nights hanging out with Sturgie and his mates.

  I nodded out with my head propped on Karla’s shoulder somewhere on the north side of London. No roots came to visit. I have to admit I was being a bad boy and not heeding Sophie’s advice to let myself be overtaken by negative thoughts.

  Why should I? I had worked hard to achieve my positive frame of mind and I wasn’t quite ready to give it up.

  But there was something weird about my dreams. Something fundamentally different. They were tangible. My senses more completely engaged. I could feel things and smell things. Even within the dream I was aware of this difference, but my awareness did nothing to break the spell.

  I did a lot of floating around kind of like what I experienced through Billy. But also a lot of flitting around between people’s heads, kind of like the way I experienced the Singularity.

  For a time, my consciousness clung to a man walking down a city street. I had no idea what city or what country. He was no one I recognized, just some random stranger, for all I knew. He was walking along some waterfront near a church carrying a thick coil of braided wire. Strange.

  My eyes flicked open. The interior of the train car was glaringly bright. Karla’s face was inches from mine, her eyes pegged wide.

  I squirmed up out of my slouch and looked out the window at some rolling meadows, rocky hills, boulders and sheep. “Where are we?”

  “Somewhere north of York,” she said. “You slept a lot. Did you go? Did you see Master Zhang?”

  “No. Did you?”

  “No.” She pouted. “What are we going to do?”

  “We do what we can, when we can, if we can. When was the last time you went back?”

  “When you were still in jail. Around Easter.”

  “And? How was everything?”

  “Fine,” she shrugged. “They were worried about the newcomers arriving on the shore, but there was no fighting. There were dragonflies everywhere.”

  “Whatever happened, must have happened fast.”

  “I went down below … to the tunnels. Looking for Izzie. There were so few pods, compared to how it used to be. So many souls are coming to the surface. But … no Izzie.”

  “Well, that’s good, right?”

  Karla’s face flushed. Her eyes glistened. “I don’t know why she had to leave the farm. They would ha
ve taken such good care of her. She should have waited for me. I would have come for her.”

  “But she thought you were dead.”

  “I was dead. But no matter. She should have just stayed on the farm. Or in Brynmawr with those ladies. All would have been fine.”

  “Maybe she found a boyfriend.”

  “Please. She is only fourteen.”

  “You’re positive she’s not still in Wales?”

  “I went through every corner of Cardiff. Retraced all her steps. She was helping out a band. Punk band. Roadie, groupie, whatever you want to call her. Living with them. Carrying their equipment. Singing, sometimes, although she has a terrible voice. But she’s not there. She left without even telling them, although she packed her things.”

  “She packed? Well, that’s a good sign. Means she wasn’t kidnapped, maybe.”

  “If she was coerced, it is just as bad. Papa knows how to push her buttons.”

  “Don’t worry. She’s a tough little cookie. The fact that she hasn’t shown up in Root is a good sign, right?”

  “Maybe,” said Karla. “Maybe not.”

  ***

  We got to Edinburgh on time and had a bit of a wait between trains. Finally, I finally got to see a bit more of the wondrous city beyond the train station. It was crazy, with all the castles and the different layers of streets and their verticality. I had never seen anything like it.

  Even though it was drizzling, Karla plopped herself down on a wet bench and refused to budge. She was in a bit of a funk. It took all the charm I could muster, which isn’t much admittedly, to get her off her butt to go shopping.

  She needed some clothes badly to replace some of the rags she was hanging onto. But she just couldn’t get into it. All I got her to buy was a flannel shirt and a pair of cheapo jeans from a tourist shop. She glared at my little black card when I pulled it out, but said nothing.

  I wasn’t crazy about going to Inverness, either. Nothing against that town, just that some of the most horrible days of my life were spent in Edmund’s church basement.

  Once I got her back on the train, a pall fell across her face like a shadow. She sank deeper and deeper into herself every mile closer to Inverness, accumulating layers like so many coats of hard shellac, re-erecting defenses that she had previously shed. This wasn’t surfing. This was depression.

  I tried not to take it too personal, but I had to wonder what it said about our relationship when I practically floated through the world in her presence, but she acted like she was wearing a hundred pounds of lead weights? Did she not want to be with me? Did I not matter as much to her?