by MG Buehrlen
My soul expands. My body thickens from the inside out, growing stronger. There’s a buzzing sound in my ears. The smoke plume slithers around me again, circling, but it can’t make purchase. The black of Limbo arcs toward me, bending like a black sail caught in a gust. All the soulmarks swaying gently at Polestar bend in my direction. I can feel their energy roll out like a rug toward me as my soul tugs at them from across Eremus. Their energy pours inside me, healing me, making me stronger. Bigger. Powerful. The plume can’t touch me now.
But I can touch him.
With fingers outstretched, I reach into the darkest part of the smoke and summon his soul into my hand. I pull on his energy. I inhale it into my skin. He shouts and struggles, but I bear down on him, draining his energy with all my might. The smoke dissipates, and the plume grows smaller and smaller until it condenses into a small, swirling ball of dark fog, hovering just above my open palm.
I let out a puff of breath. The buzzing in my ears stops. Limbo gives one last stretch toward me, then sighs and settles back into place. I let the Descender’s soul hover above my hand, small and defenseless, while I wonder what I should do with him.
I never get the chance to decide.
Over a dozen more plumes of fierce gray smoke suddenly materialize and surround me. There are so many that the thunderous sound of rippling flags is deafening. Like a freak tornado, they force themselves upon me, swirling, pressing, squeezing the energy out of me, disorienting me until I lose my grip on the little ball of fog in my hand. My hair whips at my face. It tangles around my neck and stings my skin, blinding me. I try to scream, but the savage gray wind sucks the sound from my throat like a vacuum.
Then, in the midst of the cyclone, Porter appears at my side, orange cap and all. He seizes my wrist. We vanish from Eremus.
CHAPTER 25
TRUTH
We land face down in my garden. Porter’s hand still clutches my wrist. The fountain he built me gurgles in the background. I don’t even realize I’m crying until he gathers me up into his arms, his weathered hands smoothing my hair from my forehead.
“I’m sorry, Alex,” he says, rocking me. Sincere guilt coats his words. They tremble on his cigar breath. “I am so sorry. I had no idea Gesh would retaliate so soon. I knew he would send a Descender to derail us at some point, but not this soon. Not after only one mission.”
I breathe in the faint cigar smoke on his collar, and it calms me. I’m safe now, in my garden, hidden away where the other Descenders can’t find me. Why hadn’t I thought to leave Eremus and step below? What if Porter hadn’t been there?
He keeps rocking me. I cling to him like a child.
When I’ve calmed down enough to form words, I ask, “Why did their souls look like smoke?”
He rests his cheek against my forehead. His stubble stings my skin. “Souls can take on many forms in Limbo. They can trick you into perceiving them as all sorts of things. The smoke is just one of a Descender’s more formidable forms. Very difficult to fight against smoke. But you did so well. I felt the surge of energy across Limbo and knew right away what happened. I’m sorry I left you alone. I should’ve been with you, protecting you.”
He holds me there, our breathing in unison.
“It doesn’t make sense,” he says after a while, mostly to himself. “It should’ve taken several missions for Gesh to figure out you were traveling again.” He pauses, his eyes squinting at some unseen thing in the horizonless, black distance. “He can’t have known we were behind the Raphael discovery. He would’ve suspected, yes, but he would’ve waited until he saw a pattern. Until he had proof. He wouldn’t have sent a Descender after the first time. He wouldn’t have burned up a soulmark on a hunch. Not unless...”
There’s a sharp inhale of breath through his nose, and I feel his shoulders stiffen.
I lift my chin to look at him. “What?”
His eyes flick to mine. “Not unless someone told him you were traveling.”
“But no one else knows. You and I are the only ones who…” The words crumble to dust in my mouth. All the breath seeps from my body, leaving my gut feeling like a yawning, sickening pit.
Blue.
Blue knew I was near the Raphael in 1961. Blue knew I was with the Carters in 1876.
“My God,” I say, pushing away from Porter’s arms. “It’s Nick. Jack. Heath. Whatever his name is. He’s a reincarnated Transcender like me, isn’t he?”
Porter’s lips part. Fear slants across his brow. “You saw him again?”
“Answer my question.”
He rubs his pinky knuckle with his thumb. “Alex, listen to me. He wasn’t supposed to be there. In all my research, not one record says he went with the Carters that night–”
I scramble to my feet. “You son of a bitch,” I say, shaking my head, glowering at him. Porter winces, the words piercing his chest like bullets. “How could you not tell me?”
He pushes himself up, his hands palm-out like he’s trying to calm an unruly colt. “There are several reasons why I kept it from you. Several very worthy reasons–”
“You told me I was the only one. The only soul Flemming reincarnated. Why would you lie about that?” My voice skips a few octaves. “You said you weren’t a liar.”
“I didn’t think you would run into him. At least not–”
“How many are there?” I demand. “How many souls did Flemming reincarnate?”
“Only two.” When I scowl at him again, he quickly adds, “It’s the truth. When Flemming intercepted your soul in Polestar, he intercepted this other one as well. Your soulmarks were born at the same time. Flemming set you up as a team. He placed your Newlives in the same eras, the same vicinities. He wove your timelines together.” Porter sighs and drops his hands. “You used to be partners at AIDA. You worked on the same missions.”
My brow is drawn down tight. “Is that why it felt like I knew him when we first met in Chicago? When I sat with him in the alley, and it felt like I recognized him? I knew his face. His eyes. I had the same feeling when I first saw you in the cafe.”
“Yes, most likely. But there’s more.” Porter frowns, looking apologetic. “Your connection to him is stronger than your connection to me. When Flemming reincarnated you at the same time, it fused your souls together. I can’t explain why or how, but when you descend, he descends, and vice versa. It’s why your travels have always seemed so random in the past. At times, you were descending because you experienced déjà vu. The cat. The Ferris wheel. What you didn’t realize was that you were also pulling him along with you. You just didn’t see him. You didn’t know he was there. The other times you descended, when there seemed to be no explanation at all, those were times when he experienced déjà vu. He took you with him to the ship crossing the Atlantic. To Jamestown. Your souls are universally linked across time. When you die, he dies. When he is reborn, you are reborn. He is your soul mate in the very literal sense of the word. That is why you felt so connected to him in 1927, and that is why I tried to keep you from meeting him.”
Angry tears form in my eyes as I try to make sense of it all. Why would Porter betray me like this? “Why didn’t you tell me this when I came back from Chicago?”
“I didn’t know the boy you met was him.”
“But you saw him. You were inside my head. You saw what he looked like.”
“Alex, you have to understand. When I knew him at AIDA, he looked very different. As far as I was concerned, the boy you met in 1927 could have been any boy. I sent you back to erase your impact on that random boy’s life. Had I known that boy was your partner, a Transcender from Base Life, I wouldn’t have bothered. Your impact on him wouldn’t have mattered. Had I known it was him, I wouldn’t have made you redo it. I wouldn’t have put you through all that pain.”
“But you knew it was him when I came back from 1961,” I say. “You knew then. You told me it was just my imagination. That I was grieving. You made me feel like I was going crazy.”
“I didn
’t want you to get too attached. Don’t you see? By that time it was too late. You’d already formed an attachment to him. I had to make you believe ‘Nick’ from 1927 was just a regular boy from the past. That he was gone. That way you wouldn’t be obsessed with finding him each time you descended. You would focus on your missions. You wouldn’t be distracted.”
“But I was distracted.” This time I scream the words. Full volume. There isn’t an echo. “By not telling me, it made me even more distracted.”
“You wouldn’t have been if things had gone my way. You weren’t supposed to break down on that road in 1961. He wasn’t supposed to be with the Carters during that robbery. I picked those missions specifically. I didn’t want you running into him again.”
I let out a short, dry laugh. “Well, you didn’t do a very good job, did you?”
He wipes the corners of his mouth with shaking fingers. “No, I didn’t. I underestimated Gesh.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “What do you mean?”
He sighs. He looks haggard. “Your partner has defects, just like you. When you descend into a host body, you can only remember your Base Life and your mission, right? You retain some residuals and muscle memory, but you can’t remember the particulars of that past life. You can’t remember your parents, your friends, your likes, dislikes. Your partner is the exact opposite. When he descends, he can’t remember his Base Life. He can’t remember his mission. He can only remember his past life. Which made him even less valuable to Gesh than you were. What good is a Descender who can’t remember his mission?”
“But he remembered me,” I say. “He said my name. He remembered I had brown eyes in 1927.”
“Exactly. Which is why I underestimated Gesh.” Porter pauses. He looks like all the hope in the world is lost. “Nick’s name was Tre back then, when we all worked together at AIDA. It means three in Danish. Gesh is number one, Flemming is two, Tre is three, and you are four. We called you Ivy, which was literally your name in Roman numerals. I-V. Number Four.”
“That’s why IV is carved on my Polygon stone?”
Porter nods. “I worked in the division dedicated to repairing your defects. We tried everything. Operations, hypnosis, mind control, subliminal messages. Nothing worked. But Gesh must have figured out how to restore Tre’s memories – the new Tre, the one born in your current Base Life. If Tre is remembering while he’s in a host body, then he no longer suffers from his defect. And that means all of this is over. We can’t win. If Tre is working for Gesh now, then you can’t descend anymore. It’s too dangerous. If you descend, you’ll bring Tre’s soul with you. He’ll always be there, somewhere. No matter how far his host body is from yours, he’ll find you. Because now he remembers his mission. And his mission is you.”
A cold chill slides over my skin. It grips my wrists like dead fingers.
All this time.
All this freaking time?
Pretending like he didn’t remember me on the side of the road. Slow dancing with me at Peg Leg. Kissing me beside the fountain. Following me out into the dark when I was tracking Cask. Sneaking up on me and grabbing me from behind. Scaring the crap out of me. I was so relieved when he said my name. Remembered me. I felt warm and safe in his arms. I thought he cared about me.
Did he tell the other Descender where to find me? Had he known the asshole would torture me? Rip a bullet through me twice? Try to kill me? Had he been OK with that? Had they sent the other Descender to do the dirty work so Blue wouldn’t be the bad guy? So he could continue to distract me and deceive me on my next mission?
I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. Blue is Cary Grant in Charade, and I’m Audrey Hepburn, the doe-eyed fool who fell for all his lies.
The traitor.
The poison-lipped traitor.
The tendons stretch over my knuckles, turning them white. I swipe at tears with fists. He won’t get away with it. I won’t let him play me like that. I’m not that girl.
My blood pumps hot through my veins. I want revenge. I crave it. Shooter Delaney style.
“What do we do now?” I ask. “How do we stop him?”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? It’s over. We don’t do anything now.”
“But–”
“No, Alex, listen to me.” Porter steps up and squares my shoulders to his. “You can’t descend anymore. I only let you before because I didn’t think Tre was a threat. Now that I know he is…” Porter makes me look him in the eyes. “It’s over.”
“But I have to go back. I have to redo my time in 1876. I can’t let it play out the way it did, with Shooter waking up and finding herself lying there, bleeding to death.”
Porter swallows. His Adam’s apple rises and falls. He presses his lips together. “You’re right. You can go back, but only for a touchdown. That means you land on the train, then you come right back. That will erase the timeline you created.”
I nod, but he makes me look him in the eyes again. “You land and you come straight back. Do you understand me? Don’t make me rip you out of the past. It hurts like hell and you’ll come back with some nasty, half-baked residuals.” I give him a questioning look, but he just says, “Trust me.”
I don’t take a deep breath this time. I don’t hesitate. I reach for my 1876 soulmark and dive in.
TOUCHDOWN
When I landed, the perfume hit me like a brick wall. I sputtered and coughed. I swatted Perfume Lady’s hat feather out of my face.
“Don’t you think so, dear?” The hairs in her chin mole stood at attention again.
“Yes,” I said. “It would be so very excitin’ if we got robbed. Did you wear those pearls for just that occasion?”
She bounced. “I did! How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” I said, turning to the window. The gray November forest swept past. Dark, sodden tree trunks blended into one continuous black brush stroke. My pistol weighed heavy on my lap.
OK. That’s enough. Come back now.
Porter’s voice dipped inside my head gently this time. Timid. Like a tiptoe. But I didn’t listen. I wasn’t ready to go back. Not yet. I needed a few more minutes.
The rumble of the train and Blue’s treachery numbed me from within. An angry tear slipped down my cheek. I pressed my forehead to the ice-cold glass. I pressed my eyelids shut.
I could feel him. His hands on my face, cupping my cheeks. His hands on my back, fisting my shirt. His lips on mine. The look in his eyes.
God. I thought I was falling for him.
Alex. Don’t do this.
I wanted to see him. I wanted to look him in the eye one last time. His soul was here in 1876 now. If Porter was right, then I brought him along with me when I descended. I tore him from his Base Life, wherever that was, and brought him back to the past. All I needed was one good look in his eyes to let him know that I knew. To see his reaction. To ask him why.
Don’t you dare.
I wouldn’t stay long. I wouldn’t even throw my bowl of soup in his face. Just one look. That’s all I needed.
What if they soul block you again? Then what?
My eyelids peeled open. They were sore and puffy. I hadn’t thought of the soul blocking. Of course they’d block me again. God, what if they already had?
They have to be near you to block you. Come back now. While it’s still safe.
More tears slipped down my cheeks. I sat up and looked around the train car, taking in all the hats and bonnets and dresses and crazy mustaches, trying to commit it all to memory. The coil of smoke lifting from pipes. The murmur of conversation. The sound of the steam. The smell of the coal.
I sniffed and wiped my nose with the back of my gloved hand. If it was all over like Porter said, then I would never get to experience anything like this ever again. I would never see Martin Luther King’s speech or walk the Underground Railroad. I’d never find out what my life was like in the Roanoke Colony. Or in 1927.
This was my last descent.
“Are you all right,
dear?” Perfume Lady asked, waking me from my thoughts. She smiled at me with kind concern.
She was sweet. Daft, but sweet. I hoped Shooter wore her pearls at least once after the robbery. It would’ve given Perfume Lady one heck of a story to tell.
I returned her smile, sad and true, then ascended back to Limbo. Still numb. Still cold. Still clutching my shock and fury and disbelief in my fists.
GAME OVER
Porter tells me it’s not my fault. That I couldn’t have known. He tells me he’s sorry over and over. But I can’t deal with him right now. I can’t deal with more explanations, more talk. So he lets me go home to rest. He says to call him whenever I’m ready to talk again.
Right now, that seems like the very distant future.
When I land back in my room, I don’t even open my eyes. I can still hear Gran whisking eggs in the kitchen below. I hear Audrey call out for Afton, then the tinkle of the tiny bell on his new collar. Pops sneezes.
I can’t deal with any of that either. Not yet.
I fumble for my glasses on the floor next to me, then toss them on the nightstand as I crawl into bed, so very exhausted. I pull my quilt over my head, trying to shut everything out. I rub my thumb over my right palm and my left knee, making sure they’re intact. No blood. I can still remember the pain, but it feels far away. Like a dream of a dream.
Why didn’t I bring those wounds back with me? Maybe because of the touchdown. I’d erased the gunfight. It never happened.
I nestle into my pillow and feel its cool softness against my cheek. It smells like my apricot shampoo. Like comfort and home. So far removed from my other life. My secret life, tainted with bullets and blood, lies and more lies, and wayfaring souls. I squeeze my eyes tighter and see flashes of the timeline I erased – the timeline that exists only in my memory. Perfume Lady’s excitement when she finds out she’s sitting next to Shooter Delaney. Cask’s shadowed eyes and barking laugh. Judd’s sweet smile when he talks about the house on the hill. He didn’t deserve to die like he did – cold and alone in prison. It isn’t fair.