Everwild (34 page)

“Sorry that I found out, or sorry you didn't tell me that Jill's amulet was fake?”

He looked at the bubbles in his champagne, feeling all his hope begin to extinguish. Milos had no idea what Mary would do now. Would she throw him out? Would she have both him and Jill hurled off the pier to join Pugsy?
Directness
and honesty,
thought Milos.
That's what Mary respects.
And so rather than wasting his breath trying to spin things to his favor, he simply told her the truth.

“I was afraid to tell you. I thought you might blame all skinjackers for what Jill was doing. I feared that you might send us away. That you might send
me
away. But I'm not like Jill… .”

And instead of throwing him out, Mary tapped her champagne glass very gently to his and said, “Do you really think I am so shortsighted as to let you go, Milos?” He didn't think he was supposed to answer, so he didn't. “It does change things, though,” she said. “Since we don't have to wait for accidents, I can increase Jill's quota.”

“Increase … Jill's quota?” Milos was stunned.

“The more opportunities we have to save innocent children from the living world, the better, don't you agree?”

As Mary's words tumbled through Milos's mind, he knew there were two sides to which they could fall. The side of terror, or the side of wonder. He also instinctively knew that the choice he made now would define his entire afterlife—it was, in fact, the very focal point of his existence. Milos had always considered himself a good person at heart. Admittedly, he leaned toward serving his own best interests, but in an enlightened way—always in a way that helped others even as it helped himself.

“Milos, are you all right? Did you hear me?”

Terror or wonder? To which side would it fall? He still wasn't sure, yet he forced a smile, and took a step closer. “You never cease to amaze me,” he said, which was true.

“I understand that skinjackers can't skinjack forever,”
Mary said, “and that Jill has been skinjacking much longer than you.”

“Jill has been in Everlost for more than twenty years, I have been here for four,” he told her. “I do not think she will be able to skinjack for much longer.”

She looked at him a bit differently than before, as if she were searching his eyes, and Milos held the gaze, hoping she would find whatever she was looking for. “I know you're not like Jill,” she said, “but there may come a time that I will need you to do what she does… .” They were standing close now. Close enough to be deep within each other's afterglow.

“If I asked you to, Milos, would you do it for me?”

He knew the question was coming, but he didn't want to believe she would ask it. There was no more hiding behind a gentle gaze and inscrutable eyes. He needed to make a choice. What Mary called “saving innocent children,” would be called something very different in the living world. It would be called murder. Would he do that for Mary? Should he? His own words came back to him. “
You should never be afraid to tell anyone ‘no',”
he had once told Allie—but if he said no to Mary, he would lose everything. He would lose
her.
Losing Mary was not an option for Milos, and once he realized that—once he realized what he
truly
wanted, the choice became clear.

“Would you do it, Milos? Would you do it if I asked?”

He took Mary's hand, and his afterglow blushed lavender. “Yes,” he told her. “I would do anything for you.”

The city of Memphis is gone.

This once great river city—the very center of civilization—now lies in ruins, eternally buried by time and river silt. That is to say, the
Egyptian
city of Memphis, capital of ancient Egypt when that kingdom was at its height, over 3,000 years ago. The great palaces have crumbled, and the towering stone obelisks, once wonders of the upper and lower Nile, have fallen like trees, and now lay hidden beneath farmland.

Across the Nile river from Memphis, on its western bank, was the necropolis: the city of the dead, containing the tombs and burial chambers of Egypt. It seems all cultures respect the awesome and mystical nature of a great river—how it can divide life from death, here from there, known from unknown.

No one has ever accused Memphis, Tennessee, of being the center of civilization, although it does have its moments. It, too, lies on a great dividing river—a gateway to the West. At least it's a gateway in the living world. In Everlost, however, it is a city of relentless wind, and marks an inexplicable barrier to the
West … which makes it interesting to note that Memphis, Egypt, was also known as
Ineb-hedj
or “the White Wall.”

To the living world, the kingdoms of Egypt are ancient history—because in the living world, even that which is considered permanent is always proven to be temporary. To the living, eternity is a concept, not a reality—and yet they know it exists.

The living do not see eternity, just as they don't see Everlost, but they sense both in ways that they don't even know. They don't feel the Everlost barrier set across the Mississippi River, and yet no one had ever dared to draw city boundaries that straddle both sides of its waters. The living do not see Afterlights, and yet everyone has had times when they've felt a presence near them—sometimes comforting, sometimes not—but always strong enough to make one turn around and look over one's shoulder.

Look behind you now.

Do you feel in your heart a slight hastening of its beat, and a powerful sense that something momentous is about to happen?

… Perhaps, then, this is the hour that Mary Hightower takes to the sky with a thousand Afterlights heading toward Memphis.

… Perhaps this is the moment that Nick, the Chocolate Ogre, arrives in that same city in search of Allie, only to find that he has no idea where to look.

… Perhaps this is the very instant that a monster called the McGill arrives there as well, aching to ease his pain by sharing his misery—not only with his new minions, but with anyone he can.

… And perhaps you can sense, in some small twisting loop of your gut, the convergence of the wrong, of the right, and of the woefully misguided. If you do, then pay sharp attention to the moment you wake, and the moment you fall asleep… . For maybe then you will know, without a shadow of a doubt, which is which.

Nick had no idea that this day would lead him right into a vortex—and not just any vortex, but one of the most dangerous ones Everlost had to offer. All he knew was that nothing was going according to plan. The moment Nick had heard Allie was in Memphis, he was convinced that he was destined to find her. He was certain that he would arrive, and there she would be. How foolish. Did he expect her to be standing there in the middle of Beale Street waiting for him?

He had teams search the city for days, battling that soulnumbing wind, but they didn't find a single Afterlight in Memphis, or a single clue as to Allie's whereabouts.

A scout had returned from St. Louis, claiming the Mississippi wind was no better in that city. He spoke of rumors that Mary Hightower was farther north. Michigan, perhaps, or Illinois. Charlie, who wanted to map more of the Midwest rails, was urging him to head north, but Nick wouldn't have it. They could face Mary without Allie, but having Allie there simply felt … right. The sum of the parts would be greater than the whole. It
would make them complete. It would make
him
complete.

“Allie the Outcast is here!” he told his restless troops. “I can feel it.” And he could. That connection, forged the moment they were born into Everlost, told him that she was right under his nose, if only he knew where to look. “Keep searching!” he told them, sounding more like an Ogre by the minute.

Then, on their sixth day in Memphis, Johnnie-O approached him with some news.

“She's coming,” Johnnie-O said. By the tone of his voice, and the look on his face, and the way he cracked his knuckles, Nick knew he didn't mean Allie. “Somehow Mary knew we were here!”

Nick stood from his chair. It was getting increasingly harder for him to rise, and as he walked forward, he dragged his feet, leaving chocolate skid marks on the ground.

“How close is she?” Nick asked.

Johnnie-O cracked a knuckle, the sound as penetrating as a sonar ping.

“Stop that,” Nick said. “For all we know she has a kid with big enough ears to hear that a hundred miles away.”

“Sorry.” Johnnie-O looked deeply worried, and he was not an Afterlight who was easily intimidated.

“How close is she?” Nick asked again.

“You're not gonna like it,” Johnnie-O said.

“Just tell me.”

Johnnie-O let his large hands fall limp by his side. “She's already in the city. Less than two miles away.”

Nick stared at him incredulously. How could that be? Everywhere they went, they sent scouts out for ten miles
in all directions, searching the skies for the
Hindenburg
. If there was one thing Mary Hightower could not do in an airship, it was sneak up on them. “How could she get so close?”

“I think maybe we were all looking too high,” said Johnnie-O, nervously cracking his knuckles again.

Two miles away, a hundred Afterlights holding ropes heaved themselves forward, dragging behind them a giant airship. Inch by inch it moved, its belly practically crawling across the ground.

Mary had been unconvinced that the western wind was the obstacle others claimed it was. Still, she had Speedo conduct the airship due south from Chicago, and didn't turn west until they were over Tennessee airspace. As Memphis had begun to loom in the distance, their airspeed slowed, and the airship's rudder strained hopelessly to keep them on a western course. When it became clear they would get no closer by air, Mary had Speedo set the ship down, and arranged for an alternate method of propulsion.

A hundred Afterlights were chosen for the team that would pull the
Hindenburg
forward toward Memphis, straining against an increasingly powerful wind. It was amazing how a ship that was supposed to be lighter than air could feel heavier to drag than a stone obelisk.

Fortunately, obstacles in the living world were not obstacles at all, for the airship passed through living forests and buildings—and although it was difficult for the team of pullers to struggle for traction in the bog of the living world, Mary's children always did what they were told.

Within the airship, the rest of Mary's kids filled the rigid aluminum frame, resting on catwalks, finding space between the huge hydrogen bladders. Mary had briefed them personally on their part in the upcoming mission, and now an air of excitement filled the hollow spaces of the giant craft, like the static electricity that brought the airship to Everlost in the first place.

She had left behind a dozen of her most well-trained followers in Chicago to tend to the sleeping Interlights—more than two hundred of them when she left. She didn't know when she would return to Chicago, but when she did, there would be a fine community of Afterlights, all brought up with the benefit of her teachings.

As the grounded airship crawled toward Memphis, Mary tried to quell her own anticipation by taking the most frightened of her children to her in the Starboard Promenade, and telling them whatever comforting stories she could remember from the living world. Fairy tales with endings she tweaked toward the positive. Happily-ever-afters fabricated where none existed before. Still, the children were on edge.

“What if the Ogre attacks us before we get there?” one of her children asked.

“He won't,” Mary told him, for as much as Mary wanted the world to think that Nick was a ruthless monster, she knew he was not. He would try diplomacy before waging an all-out war. In fact her whole strategy counted on it.

At noon, she could see from her windows that the airship was no longer laboring forward, for the many Afterlights straining to drag it had reached an impasse against the wind. This was as far as they would go … which meant the time
had come to finally make an opening gesture to Nick. A letter—which she wrote and rewrote until she was sure it was just right. She crafted it to make sure he could read nothing between the lines. It would not reveal the feelings she still had for him—mainly because she couldn't be sure he still felt the same way for her. And besides, after today, those feelings would no longer matter.

Once the letter was ready, she sealed it with old-fashioned sealing wax stamped with an
M
, then she called for one of her fastest runners.

“I need a brave messenger,” Mary told her. “Can I count on you?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically, thrilled to be able to please her.

“I need you to go to the Ogre's train as quickly as you can—Speedo will tell you the way—and bring the Ogre this letter. You must hand it to the Ogre personally, and to no one else.”

The girl no longer looked enthusiastic but terrified, so Mary put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “The Ogre is a terrible creature to be sure—but this letter will keep you under my protection. As long as you are brave and true, and do not accept
anything
the Ogre offers, I promise you will remain safe.”