Love Reborn

by Yvonne Woon

  He was completely convinced in his righteousness. “But in the meantime, you’ve been letting the Liberum kill innocent people for years. You could have stopped them decades ago. And you’ve been burying your Undead recruits right after you question them.”

  His upper lip curled, contorting his face into something awful. “We only bury Undead who pose a threat to others or endanger the mission, which could bring life to thousands of Undead and humans in the future. The Liberum play an integral role in our mission. They can use methods that we Monitors cannot.”

  “You mean they can kill people for information, and you can’t. The Liberum have been murdering people to find out where the Netherworld is for years.” I thought back to all of the mysterious deaths that had jarred the Monitoring community last year. “Ms. LaBarge,” I continued, remembering when we had gotten the call that my old professor had been found dead on an island in Lake Erie. “Cindy Bell,” I said, her name transporting me back to that day when the phone rang, telling us about another murder, of my best friend’s mother. “My parents,” I said. “Your own daughter—”

  “You don’t know that,” my grandfather said, clearly pained.

  But I kept going. “They were all killed by the Liberum, because they had information about the Nine Sisters and the Netherworld. You had the power to stop the Liberum—”

  “Renée—be careful of what you are about to accuse me of,” my grandfather warned.

  But I couldn’t stop. Not now. “You’ve known where they were all these years. But instead of burying them, you let them continue killing. Those deaths are on you now. Because in reality, you don’t really care about helping the Undead, or about giving the world the gift of eternal life,” I continued. “You just want to use it to extend your own—”

  Before I could finish, my grandfather grabbed my wrist with his leathery fingers. “That’s enough,” he said. “I do not need your blessing nor the Court’s to tell me what to do. I am the Court.”

  I tried to wriggle free, but my grandfather held on, dragging me through the snow. “I would send you home, but then you wouldn’t be able to watch while we bury your Undead friend,” he said. “So for now, I’ll send you back to the tents.”

  I kicked at him, thrashing beneath his grip, when a shiver rippled through the air. The fog rearranged itself, clearing a path in front of us toward the peaks in the distance. Through it, I could feel the presence of the Undead twisting around my ankles, my neck, my arms. Could Dante be among them? There were too many of them for me to tell.

  My grandfather froze, his fingers loosening on my wrist. “They’re here.”

  He turned to one of the elders. “Wake the camp. Tell the Monitors to ready themselves,” he said, and pushed me toward him. “Take Renée with you. She can wait for me at the camp.”

  “I’m not going back—” I began to say, when the temperature dropped.

  The elders gripped their Spades and turned toward the vacancy. My grandfather thrust me toward the camp. “Go!” he said, then followed the others toward the creeping hollow in the distance, the fog folding around their bodies until all I could see of them were the handles of their Spades disappearing into the mist.

  The remaining elder took my arm, his gray gloves tightening around my coat, and dragged me toward the camp. With each step, the tug of the Undead pulled me backward. I stumbled behind him, trying to wriggle free, when I noticed the tip of the elder’s Spade glinting in its sheath against the back of his coat. One of the only things a Monitor would stop for was his weapon. I let my legs fold beneath me, intentionally falling into the snow. When the elder bent down to pull me up, I grabbed his Spade from its holster and threw it as far as I could. The elder spun around, stunned. I broke free and ran into the fog.

  It seemed to part for me as I ran through it, the presence of the Undead carving out a trail through the mist. I could barely make out the dark shapes of the elders in the distance, when a deep crevasse materialized in the snow. I skidded toward the edge, trying to stop myself from sliding in, but the ice crumbled beneath my feet. I dug my fingers into the ground, searching for traction, when someone grabbed the back of my coat and pulled me to safety.

  I fell back into the snow with a thud, my legs tangled with those of another. Theo groaned beneath me. “You’re heavier than you look,” he said, and pushed me off him.

  Anya stood beside him, her chest heaving as though she couldn’t catch her breath fast enough. She leaned over, clutching her chest.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Anya took a moment to gather herself, then nodded. But she didn’t look okay at all. Her face was exhausted, her shoulders hunched as though she didn’t have the energy to hold them upright.

  “When you left, I had a feeling that something bad was going to happen to you,” she said. “Then Theo felt the Undead coming.”

  “You’re welcome, by the way,” Theo added, picking up his Spade, and glanced over the edge. The crack in the ice was just wide enough for me to jump over, and so deep that I couldn’t see the bottom. A bit of snow crumbled off the edge and fell into the crevasse. I waited for it to hit the bottom, but heard nothing.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I watched as Theo stood up, dusting off his bag. I eyed it. “Do you still have it?” I asked.

  Theo hesitated, then lowered his pack and took out the black box. “Of course I do,” he said. “I steal from other people. No one steals from me.”

  “Give it to me,” I said.

  But he didn’t move. He gripped it tighter, as though he wanted to keep it for himself.

  Anya nudged him in the side. “Give it to her,” she said, her eyes wide.

  At her urging, Theo reluctantly dropped it in my hand.

  I stuffed it in my bag, suddenly uncomfortable. “I meant it,” I said quietly. “When I thanked you. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “Died, is what,” Theo said, wiping the snow from his hands. “But don’t get too emotional. I didn’t do it for your sake. I just need you to get that chest from your boyfriend.”

  I rolled my eyes, telling myself that he was joking, though his eyes weren’t teasing at all.

  A shout sounded through the fog. I stared at the mist with apprehension, wondering what I would meet on the other side. Though I couldn’t sense Dante’s presence, the prickle beneath my skin told me he was there. “I have to find him.”

  “I know,” said Anya. “We’re coming with you.”

  Deep crevasses cut through the ice like scars. We maneuvered around them, the silhouettes of the elders growing larger, clearer, until we could see them gathered beside a jagged crack, the ice beneath their feet so thick it looked blue. I could feel the Undead before I could see them. The atmosphere was still and frigid, as if all the life had been hollowed out of it.

  “Force them toward the crevasse!” my grandfather yelled.

  The air around us rippled, as if the entire world was shuddering. A blur of white billowed over the crest in the mountain like an avalanche.

  “Form a line!” my grandfather shouted to the elders. “Don’t let them surround us.”

  We reached them just as they collided, the Undead boys tumbling into us in a flurry of hands and hair and snow, our shovels pressing them back. They clawed at our feet and hands, their tiny bodies slipping between our shovels. I felt the shock of an arm, ice-cold against mine. A pair of dulled eyes stared up at me, their pupils so clouded the boy must have been close to blind. I twisted out of his grip only to see a set of yellowed teeth biting into my leg. I kicked him off, swinging my shovel wildly as I pushed forward against their weight with the rest of the elders, trying to force the Undead closer to the crack in the earth. Theo and Anya fought beside me, their shovels clinking as they peeled the Undead off of their limbs and pushed them toward the opening.

  My grandfather cleared a path before us, knocking the Undead aside with his Spade. With his other hand he wielded a roll of gauze, wrapping their le
gs, their arms, anything he could get his hands on. I scanned the fray, searching for Dante. The sight made my stomach sink. Undead crowded the mountainside, so many that I could barely pick out one from the next. They outnumbered us ten to one, their tiny bodies surrounding the elders, who struggled to stand amidst the swarm.

  I ran toward them, thrusting the Undead aside and searching their faces for Dante’s, when a sunken face, so sallow that I could barely believe it once belonged to a child, appeared through the fog in front of me. He grabbed my shovel, pulling me to the ground. I couldn’t see what was happening; I could only feel the weight of his bony body on top of mine, an elbow in my ribs, a knee in my thigh, four nails scratching at my shoulder.

  We wrestled in the snow, his fingers scratching at my throat. I kicked him off only to be pinned down by two more, their hands as cold as ice. They knelt over me and clawed at my cheeks. I thrashed, trying to wriggle free from their grip. Through their fingers, I saw an elder clutching his face, his cheek nothing more than a mess of pulp and blood. An Undead boy leaped onto the elder’s back, biting his neck, his shoulder. Beside him, another elder fell. The Undead boys swarmed him like insects, pushing each other aside to suck out his soul. They were overpowering us.

  The Undead boys leaned over me, ready to press their mouths to mine. I felt the gravity of their lips pulling a thin cord of my breath toward them. My head grew faint. Then a voice bellowed through the wind: Clementine’s father, John LaGuerre. He bounded toward us holding a Spade and a torch, the rest of the Monitors from our camp trailing behind him.

  The Undead’s grip on me loosened as they looked up. I flung them into the snow, watching as they flew across the ice and into the dark pit of the crevasse.

  The junior Monitors rushed toward us in a force of fire and metal, pressing the Undead back with their torches. Clementine fought beside her father, her eyes wild and ruthless as she struck one Undead into the crevasse with her left hand, while warding off two others with a torch in her right. She thrust her shovel into the ice and, with both hands, plunged the torch into the chest of an Undead boy, her face devoid of any mercy. Black smoke coiled up around her. She stood, her chest heaving. After wiping the sweat from her brow, she continued into the fray.

  On the periphery, I could just make out an Undead leaping toward me. Just before he made contact, a Monitor knocked him into the snow. I looked up, startled, to see my guard, Ms. Vine. Her mousy figure was far stronger than it looked as she swept him into the crevasse. Thank you, I mouthed. She nodded before ducking under a Spade and pressing forward.

  Behind her, Theo shouted and sliced his Spade through a crowd of boys while Anya kneeled over one fallen Monitor, then the next, her tin open as she wiped their foreheads with a bit of cloth and dabbed ointment on their wounds.

  A shiver ran through the air.

  “Another throng of Undead, coming up on the rear!” my grandfather yelled. “Spread out!” he said. “Guard the back!”

  As they grew closer, an icy thread uncoiled through the air and wrapped itself around my fingers like a hand grasping mine. It sent a prickle beneath my skin, so familiar that it made my chest swell.

  Dante.

  A cluster of dark figures emerged from the fog. I didn’t know whom he was with, though I was certain he was there. But before I could run toward him, a chill settled in over the mountains, colder than I had ever felt before. I spun around to see nine black dots move across the horizon, so quickly that they seemed to be carried on the wind. The Liberum. With them came a foul gust, so cold that it made the air around us grow brittle. One by one, the elders looked up. They felt the vacancy, too.

  “The Liberum are coming!” my grandfather shouted, throwing an Undead into the crevasse. “Prepare yourselves.”

  The nine Brothers swept toward us like a dark fog, their black cloaks dragging through the snow. I backed away and watched as the Monitors surrounded them, trying to ward them off with torches, but the Brothers moved smoothly, soundlessly, slipping just out of reach as if they were made of nothing more than robes.

  All the while, I felt Dante’s presence behind us, getting closer, closer, his vacancy prickling up my skin like frost. I heard a Monitor near the back shout that more Undead were upon them, but beyond that I couldn’t make out his words; I could only sense Dante, his hollowness tickling the back of my neck.

  I caught glimpses of him. An arm reaching toward me through the fog. A flash of brown hair, wet with snow, as he ducked beneath a Spade. His hands, grasping the tattered shirts of the Undead boys and pulling them away just before they attacked the Monitors. A pair of lips, frosted red, parting to call out my name. I pushed through the bodies between us, trying to make my way to him, but the sway of the fight kept pushing us apart.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a pair of Undead boys run toward me. I swung my shovel toward them, but before they reached me, an Undead with blond hair thrust them in the opposite direction. Beside him stood a tall Undead with broad shoulders and a frame that bespoke someone my age. Together, they scooped up another Undead that ran toward me, and then another, tossing them aside until the snow around me was clear.

  Their vacancies felt familiar. I thought back to the pair of Undead who had directed others away from me at the Mädchen Inn in Germany. These boys must have been the same ones that had protected me that night. But why?

  The taller one must have noticed me staring because he touched the blond boy’s arm and pointed at me. I held out my shovel, ready to attack, when I felt someone come up behind me. I spun around, slicing my shovel through the air. Clementine ducked out of the way, the metal tip barely grazing her hair. When she stood, she patted her head, making sure her barrette was still in place. She let out a sigh of relief. “You’re lucky,” she said. “If you had cut off any more of my hair, I would have had to send you into the crevasse with them.”

  I felt my chest deflate. “You’re lucky I didn’t aim a little bit lower,” I said, and together we turned to face the two Undead through the fog.

  “You take the blonde,” Clementine murmured. “I’ll take the tall one.”

  I nodded. But they didn’t come any closer. Instead, they backed away, disappearing into the mist.

  I blinked. “What was that?”

  Clementine didn’t respond. Before I heard the footsteps behind us, she whipped around and struck an Undead in the jaw. Blood splattered across the snow. She wiped the blade of her shovel on her pants, unfazed, and turned to the fog where the two Undead had stood, her face just as perplexed as mine was. “I have no idea.”

  But I didn’t have time to linger. I had to find Dante. His presence reached out to me in icy tendrils of air, leading me through the Monitors and the Undead boys, over the bodies strewn across the ground, contorted by death. Now that Dante was closer, I could feel the life coming back to me. The colors grew vivid, the filth of the fight brightening until it almost looked surreal. Warmth returned to my hands as I gripped my shovel.

  The Brothers of the Liberum loomed over the fight, their hooded silhouettes casting dark shadows over the snow. They scanned the snow, as if searching for something. An Undead boy beside them whispered to one of the Brothers, then pointed in my direction. The Brother turned; his empty visage rested on me. One by one the Liberum broke free and followed him.

  “Are they coming toward us?” I asked, a wave of dread passing through me. “They saw Dante rescue me at Gottfried Academy. They know I know him. They must think I have the chest.”

  “I call the two in the middle,” Clementine whispered. “Which ones do you want?”

  I steadied my arm. “I—I guess the two on either side.”

  Clementine’s eyes met mine, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. “What do you think is under those cloaks? All I can picture is more cloaks.”

  I let out a nervous laugh. “Aren’t you ever scared?”

  “Of course I am,” she said. “The trick is to never show it. So what do you think is under there?�
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  I thought back to that awful day at Gottfried, just after Noah had died, when one of the Brothers had swept through the snow toward me. All I had been able to make out of him was a crinkled sliver of white beneath his hood. I tried to extend that hint of white to the rest of his face, but it withered into mist. “A cavity of wrinkled skin and bones.”

  Clementine shook her head. “See, that’s what you’re doing wrong. You have to think of them as what they actually are: kids, just like us. The only difference is that they’ve gone on living long past their expiration date. Which is why there’s nothing to be afraid of. Watch them,” she said. “Their senses are dulled. The Monitors know it; you can tell by the way they’re attacking.”

  The nine Brothers pressed their way toward us. The Monitors crept around them, striking with stealthy, sudden movements, before receding back. With each blow, the Brothers lashed out, but always a few seconds too late.

  “They act like they can see and hear us, but they can’t, at least not that well,” Clementine said. “It’s a weakness that we can manipulate to our gain.”

  I hadn’t even realized that my fingers were trembling until Clementine reached out and put her hand on mine to make them go still. When she removed her hand from mine, a roll of gauze was wedged between my fingers.

  “If I don’t get a chance to see you before the end,” she said, “then good luck. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  My eyes stung in the cold. “Thanks,” I whispered. “Maybe in another life, we’ll run into each other again.”

  “I hope so.”

  Together we crouched low to the ground and crept forward, our feet barely making a sound, as if we were carried by the wind. The Liberum were just yards away, their hooded heads leaning forward as if they were trying to see where we were. I stole to the left, Clementine to the right. We raised our shovels. The Liberum tilted their heads, as if they had seen a flash of something move, but before they had time to turn their heads, we struck. A glimmer of metal. A clean swish through the air. A low wheeze as our metal hit their sides. Once, twice. A blow on either side, stunning two of the Brothers, followed by a quick turn of the wrist. I looped a roll of gauze around one of their arms, catching a glimpse of the sallow skin beneath. Clementine did the same. Then we both ducked out of the way, their heavy robes grazing my forehead as I crouched low to the ground and went still.