Cathedral of Bones

by A. J. Steiger

  The door whisked shut behind them.

  Chapter Twelve

  The porter gave Alice an odd look. Simon mumbled something about her being a long-lost cousin he was taking home for a family reunion. Fortunately, the man didn’t ask questions.

  Simon and Alice sat across from each other in the creaky leather seats. Simon couldn’t afford a private cabin, so they were exposed to the aisle. Her tentacles remained hidden beneath her baggy cloak as she huddled against the wall. Outside the window, forests rushed past.

  Alice’s stomach gurgled.

  “Do you want something to eat?” Simon asked. “They have sandwiches.”

  She perked up. “Coffee, too?”

  “Probably. Do you like coffee?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’ve never cared for it. Too bitter. But I can order some for you, if you like.”

  When the porter came around to check on them, Simon ordered a coffee and two ham and cheese sandwiches. The food arrived shortly, on a small wheeled cart, which the porter left for them to use as a table. The sandwiches smelled a little suspicious. Simon picked at the stale crust and limp lettuce without much enthusiasm. Alice wolfed hers down in two bites then said, “Are you going to eat that?”

  He pushed it toward her.

  She shoved it into her mouth and washed it down with a swig of the steaming black beverage, and sighed, wiping her mouth with one sleeve.

  Simon smiled a little. “Better?”

  “Much.” She leaned back, hands resting over her stomach. “It’s been so long since I’ve had anything except raw meat.” She scrunched up her nose. “I can’t believe I ate that deer carcass.”

  “It was a bit rank.”

  “I was so hungry, I didn’t care. When I’ve been in my other form for a while, I start to think differently. It becomes harder to remember certain things.”

  “Like?”

  “Like how to talk. Or why I shouldn’t eat people. Meat is meat, after all.”

  He shifted in his seat.

  “And before you ask, no, I’ve never actually eaten a person. But I thought about it, while you were passed out on the floor. You smelled delicious.”

  “Well, thank you for restraining yourself. I appreciate it.”

  The corners of her lips twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was something. She picked a few crumbs off her plate. “You know what I’d really love right now? Bacon. Juicy, thick bacon. Not too crispy.”

  “You remember eating bacon?”

  A tiny crease appeared between her brows. “That’s the strange thing. I don’t. I just know what it tastes like.” She resumed staring out the window. The hazy sunlight painted a bright stripe down the side of her cheek. A curl of dark hair lay against her temple. “It’s frustrating. If I don’t think about it too hard—if I just let my mind go fuzzy—it feels like my past is all there. Like I know who I am. But I can’t latch onto anything. It slips through my fingers when I try to hold it.”

  “What if I asked you questions? Would that help?”

  She shrugged.

  “Where are you from? What were your parents like?” No response. He kept trying: “Do you think you trained as an Animist? You made that summoning circle, after all. With a trigger symbol, no less. Do you know any other forms of Animism?” A pause. “Nothing?”

  She shook her head. Simon let out a little sigh.

  The train’s wheels rattled. Outside, endless, mist-covered countryside rolled by.

  “As long as we’re asking questions,” Alice said, “there’s something I’m curious about.”

  “Oh?”

  Her gaze focused on him, suddenly sharp and intent. “Who’s Olivia?”

  The words hit Simon like a punch to the gut. “Wh . . . what?”

  “When I knocked you unconscious, in the cabin, you were dreaming. You cried out in your sleep. You kept saying the name ‘Olivia.’”

  There were a few crumbs scattered atop the wheeled cart. He studied them intently, as if trying to read the future in their pattern.

  He could dodge the question, he supposed. But how could he expect her to trust him if he wouldn’t trust her?

  Besides . . . it had been so long since he’d actually talked about this with anyone. He’d never had any close friends. Even during his session with the Healer, he hadn’t said much, because his father had already filled her in on the most pertinent details; Simon had simply answered a few brusque questions while she jotted down notes in a ledger. An untold story was a heavy weight. Maybe it was time he shared it with someone.

  “Olivia was my twin sister. When we were ten years old—on our tenth birthday, actually—she was murdered.” He was surprised at how calm the words sounded. “Apparently I witnessed the whole thing. I was the only witness. But I blocked the memory of that night to protect myself from the trauma. At least, that’s what the Healer said.”

  Alice was silent, listening.

  “When I came to, the whole room was torn apart. No ordinary person could’ve done that, so the killer was probably an Animist, or else a demon summoned by one. But we never learned his identity or motive.”

  “So what makes you think it was a ‘he’?”

  Simon hesitated. “Sometimes, I have bad dreams. I see her body on the floor, and . . . there’s a faint image. A man’s shadow. I can never see his face. I don’t even know if he’s real or if I invented him. It could’ve been a woman, I suppose. Could have been anyone, really.”

  “The girl in the picture . . . that was her? Your sister?”

  “Yes.” His gaze wandered to the window. “I think you would have liked her. Most people did.” A faint smile touched his lips. “She was amazing. Brilliant. By the time she was four years old, she was using meta to animate her toys. They walked around the house and had tea parties on their own. And she was kind. She would bring injured birds into the house to heal. Once, when we were out in the city, she saw a man whipping a horse. She used Animism to make the whip handle red-hot, so he was forced to let go—she could do that, channel heat or cold through the air. Then she marched over and gave him a scolding, and he was so stunned he just stood there. She was seven.”

  He could only imagine what a force of nature she would’ve been if she’d had a chance to grow up.

  “After she died . . . my mother left. Packed up and vanished. I still don’t know where she is or what she’s doing, or if she’s even alive.” He stopped, breathing in slowly. “There must be a reason. She wouldn’t have just abandoned us. I think maybe she’s trying to find the person who killed Olivia. To find answers.”

  He knew one thing for sure: Olivia had been the glue holding their odd little family together, and once she was gone, that glue had dissolved.

  “I can’t imagine,” Alice said quietly. “I don’t even know if I had a family.”

  “You must have,” Simon said. “Everyone has a family. Even demons have families. Mother always told me that they raise their young.”

  “I’m not a demon.”

  “I know. I’m just saying.”

  He wondered, again, where she’d come from. His mind strayed to the mysterious pod in the mountains. He thought about mentioning it, but something held him back.

  The train ran through the night and into the morning. Several times it stopped to let passengers board, and people bustled past, dragging bulky suitcases up and down the aisle. At one point, a thin, white-haired man in Animist robes lingered near their seats, frowning at his pocket watch. A gray-furred imp crouched on his shoulder, tail coiled around his arm. Its lizard-like face turned toward Simon, eyes flaring yellow, and a long, sinuous tongue licked the air. Its gaze flicked toward Alice, and it began to growl, fur bristling. Its lips pulled back from snaggled yellow teeth. Simon tensed, and Alice drew her cloak tighter around herself.

  “Hush!” the Animist hissed.

  The imp growled louder, eyes flashing red, then purple.

  The porter approached and cleared his throat: “Sir�
��sir, I do apologize, but there are no Eldritch creatures allowed on this train. Please dismiss your servant.”

  With a sigh, the Animist flicked a hand, and the imp disappeared in a poof. Both Simon and Alice let out whooshes of breath.

  Once the Animist had moved on, Alice whispered, “I don’t like how crowded this train is getting. How many more stops are there before Eidendel?”

  “Four, I think. Five? There are more stops the closer we get. But we aren’t far. Another two hours, maybe.”

  “Maybe we should get off at the next stop and walk the rest of the way.”

  Simon couldn’t deny he was feeling pretty tense himself. But they were so close. “Most Animists know better than to bring imps or wraiths onto a train. I don’t think that will happen again.”

  “And if it does?” She fidgeted, arms crossed over her chest. “If we’re caught, there’s nowhere to run or hide. It feels like we’re in a cage.”

  He glanced at her fingers, digging into her bicep. Her nails had sharpened into claws. “Um. Your hands—”

  “I know.” She balled them into fists. “I’m trying. It’s harder to control when I get nervous.”

  Whispered conversation caught Simon’s ear. Across the aisle, he could see a pair of older women glancing surreptitiously at Alice. One leaned toward the other and spoke, covering her mouth with one hand. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they weren’t being terribly subtle about their suspicion.

  Maybe departing this train would be a good idea. “Right. Next stop is a farming town called Heedrith. We’ll get off there.” Already, he could see the town’s steeples on the horizon. A patchwork of farmland and fields rolled past the window.

  With a hiss of brakes and a belch of steam, the train pulled into Heedrith.

  Unlike Splithead Creek, it had an actual station. The wooden building echoed with the din of countless overlapping footsteps and voices. A curved ceiling arched overhead, supported by huge oaken beams resembling the rib cage of some titanic beast. Briefly, the association sparked a memory of another, similar thing he had seen somewhere, but what? It faded quickly. Something from a dream, perhaps.

  They followed the stream of passengers out of the train. Alice hunkered down, as if trying to disappear, as they walked through the station’s door, into blinding sunlight.

  Heedrith was considerably larger than Splithead Creek (not saying much) but was still tiny in comparison to Eidendel. The cobbled streets and brick buildings had a quaint, rustic look. Simon saw no signs of Animists or their work—no imps flitting about, no men and women in robes—but a flag bearing the Foundation’s phoenix emblem snapped atop a pole outside the station. Horse-drawn carts clattered through the streets.

  Alice crept along at Simon’s side, head down. No one glanced twice at her; she was only a small, thin form swallowed up by a ragged cloak. She resembled an old woman, with her posture and cautious, shuffling gait. The tentacles, currently hoisted up and massed under her cloak, resembled a hunchback’s hump.

  “I don’t think we need to linger here,” Simon said.

  Alice nodded. They followed a wide dirt road along the outskirts of the town, past pens full of bleating sheep. Only when Heedrith had disappeared behind the slope of the hill, when they were surrounded by miles of empty countryside, did Alice relax. Her claws dwindled back to blunt fingernails. She pulled down her hood and shook out her hair. A breeze stirred her dark curls. She uncoiled her tentacles and stretched them out. “Much better.” She breathed in deeply. “Fresh air. Thank the Spirit. That train smelled awful. Like oil and smoke.”

  “It didn’t smell like anything to me.”

  “Well, if you grow up surrounded by the stink of civilization, you’re probably used to it. I felt like I was sucking on a dirty pipe the whole time. Not to mention all the passengers. Packed together like that, they smell worse than cows. Did you get a whiff of that woman in the fur coat? Phew. Like dead flowers boiled in sewer water.”

  “I think that was her perfume.”

  “Well, whatever it was, it was ghastly.” She walked with the easy, ground-eating stride of an experienced traveler.

  Simon half jogged alongside her. “Maybe we should’ve stocked up on food in Heedright. On foot, it might take us a full day or more to reach Eidendel. I mean . . . if we had horses, it would be a different story.”

  Alice tilted her head. She flexed her arm. “You know, I think I’ve healed enough to shift by now.”

  Simon froze. “You mean—”

  “I could carry you. I can run a lot faster in my other form.”

  “Er . . .”

  “I won’t eat you. I swear. Those sandwiches took the edge off. And it looks like there’s barely a mouthful of meat on you, anyway, so you won’t be that tempting.”

  It was hard to say whether she was joking. “You’re not worried someone will see you?”

  “There’s no one nearby. Out in the open like this, I can smell someone coming from a mile away. I’ll have plenty of time to shift back, if necessary.”

  Simon bit his lower lip. He had to admit, the idea of walking all the way to Eidendel didn’t appeal to him. Already, his feet hurt. Still, this felt . . . risky. In more ways than one.

  Alice averted her gaze. “If you’d rather not, I don’t blame you. It’s just an idea.” She fingered the edge of her sleeve. “You’ve seen my other form. It’s horrifying, I know.”

  “No. It’s not that.” He stopped, taking a breath, and scanned their surroundings. Nothing but rolling hills and fields of waving grass, with the occasional tree standing sentry over the peaceful countryside. Simon pulled a folded map from his pocket and studied it. This wasn’t one of the main roads; it would still lead them to Eidendel, but ahead it grew narrower and grass-choked, according to the notes jotted next to it. It wasn’t often used, except for local foot traffic. If Alice really could smell someone coming a mile away, they’d probably be safe.

  Simon folded the map and slipped it back into his pocket. “All right.” He wondered if he’d gone mad. “Let’s do it.”

  Alice undid the clasp of her cloak and let it fall to the ground, then stopped. “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Well, obviously I have to take off my clothes before I shift, or I’ll rip them to pieces.” The gray of her cheeks darkened a little. “Are you going to stand there gawping the whole time?”

  “Oh.” He ducked his head. “Sorry.”

  Cloth rustled. He kept his gaze firmly fixed on his shoes.

  “Here, catch.” She lobbed her wadded-up clothes at him. Fumbling, he caught them.

  “Don’t look yet.”

  “I’m not.”

  “It takes me a minute or two to change. It’s a bit messy. Promise you won’t look until it’s over.”

  Simon nodded, clutching her clothes against his chest. A moment of silence passed—then a moist, meaty sound erupted, like a dog ripping into a raw steak. The sound continued, punctuated by crackles and pops as bones rearranged themselves. At last, the sounds stopped, and he tentatively raised his eyes. Alice stood before him.

  In darkness, her Eldritch form had been terrifying. In full sunlight, it was awe-inspiring. Her scales shone like dark gems, greenish black with undertints of purple. Her amethyst eyes blazed. Her hind legs were as thick as tree trunks, her tentacles an ever-writhing fan sprouting from her lower back, spread out like a peacock’s tail. “Oh,” he breathed.

  Alice sat back on her haunches, like a dog, and lowered her dragon-like head. Even now, armored in dark scales, her body had a vaguely human shape, her forelegs more like arms—something between animal and human.

  Simon took a tentative step toward her. “Can you . . . talk?”

  She placed one massive, clawed hand against her plated chest and spoke in a deep, growling voice: “Ah . . . riss.” The syllables were distorted, made by a mouth not meant to pronounce human speech. She pointed at him. “Shy . . . un.”

  Simon. The tension eased
out of his shoulders. She’d said it was more difficult for her to think in this form, but if she remembered his name, that probably meant she wasn’t currently viewing him as a juicy steak.

  He took another step toward her. With her clothes still tucked under one arm, he reached up and laid a hand against the bulge of her cheek. She was warm. Her eyes shone like fire behind stained glass—the light within them seemed to move and shift, brightening and dimming. As he stared into the narrow slits of her pupils, they widened and grew rounder, making her eyes look a bit more human. Her jaws opened in a smile, showing rows of serrated teeth.

  Then one tentacle dipped down, looped around his waist, and hoisted him into the air.

  Simon let out a sharp cry, legs flailing. “Hey! Wh-what—”

  The tentacle dropped him onto Alice’s back. He sat astride her, her sharp spine digging into his groin. He gulped. “Hold on. Just a moment.” By draping Alice’s folded clothes over her back, he was able to create a sort of makeshift saddle—it gave him a bit of cushioning, at least.

  In this form, Alice had a mane of short, bristly black hair running from between her ears, down her sinuous neck, ending at the spot between her powerful shoulders. Bracing himself, he gripped the mane in both hands. “All right. I’m ready.”

  Alice’s visible eye rolled back toward him, and she grinned.

  His stomach tightened.

  She sprang forward and broke into a gallop. Muscles bunched and surged beneath him.

  As a child, he’d read stories about Animists summoning huge demons and riding them across land, sea, or sky. The tales always made it sound so romantic—the stars and wind, the excitement and freedom, the sense of absolute power and mastery over a majestic, dangerous creature as they moved in perfect tandem, like a single being.

  Alice bounded down the road with all the grace and poise of a puppy outdoors for the first time. Each stride jarred Simon to the bones. He bounced like a rag doll atop her back, the impact flinging him back and forth, up and down as he clung with all his strength to the wiry strands of hair on her neck. He tried to yell for her to slow down, but he couldn’t catch his breath long enough to get a word out. The scenery flew past in a dizzying blur. Alice leaped over a stream. His bottom briefly lifted off her back, and for the instant they were airborne, he felt a brief flash of exhilaration—