by S. C. Green
“We weren’t always happy.” I remembered the cruel words we’d exchanged the morning the dome came down, the last day we’d spent together. If I’d known that I wouldn’t see him again after that for ten years, I would’ve told him I loved him. Despite all our fights, I really did.. The old familiar shame slammed into me, driving out my breath.
“Don’t do that to yourself, Raine.” Alain pulled his hand away. “You can’t change what happened.”
“We’d better find your girls,” I said, turning away to scan the cemetery and blinking away tears.
“I can’t see anyone here. If they’ve left already, they got here awful fast.” Alain knelt next to the stones and rubbed at their faded surfaces in an attempt to make out the names. ‘What did you say her name was again?”
“Annabelle McVey,” I replied, bending over to read a name.
As I stepped across a crumbled stone, a wave of cold passed through my body. I shot upright, my back rigid. The familiar pull of my Order coursed through my veins, tugging at me like a puppet on a string. I thrust my arms out to catch myself as the sensation swirled inside me. Bile rose in my throat. God, it was so strong.
“Alain ... “ It was the call of a soul out of place, but it was more than just a spirit who had yet to be reaped--it was the sickening sensation of a death reversed, of a creature brought back from their immortal lands.
A wraith had been made here, and it was very recent.
In a flash, Alain was beside me, his strong hands holding me as I teetered on my feet. “Shit. I felt that, too.” His face paled.
I clamped my hand over my stomach, willing myself to keep everything down. “We’re too late,” I said, staring at the debris scattered on the ground. “They’ve already made her into a wraith.”
Alain picked up one of the fragments of the crumbled tombstone, frowning as he read the faded inscription. He held it up for me to see. NNABELLE C MCV— the letters read.
His whole body shuddered as the full force of the sensation hit him. “It just doesn’t make sense. She was cremated. She shouldn’t be able to come back as a wraith. Maybe we’re just sensing the residue of one of the other wraiths who once dwelt here. This was their stronghold. It might take some days for us to stop sensing them.”
“Look.” I pointed to a patch of wet earth in front of the small plaque by the tombstone. I touched it with my finger and brought my hand to my nose. “That’s recent.” I didn’t need to say that it was the same sickly sweet smell we’d all breathed in at the chemical plant.
“So they’ve done it, then.” Alain’s voice shook with rage. He dropped his head into his hand and rubbed his temples. “We just got rid of the wraith, and now they’re raising more.”
Panic clenched my chest. The cold chill of a wraith’s presence shuddered through my body. “Here’s another.” I darted to the next grave, jabbing my finger at the earth. In front of the small stone was another wet patch.
“And another.” Alain moved through the rows of broken plaques, pointing at the tiny patches of chemical left on the ground.
“How did she do this so fast?” I wailed, casting my eyes around. The cemetery was completely deserted. We’d only been fifteen or twenty minutes behind Harriet, at the least. How had she completed this work so quickly? How had all these wraith risen up and then vanished?
“I don’t know, but at least now we have a path of sorts to follow.”
He was right. As we moved across the cemetery, the creeping sensation increased. My skin broke out in goosebumps, and my stomach lurched, rejecting its contents. I threw up against the bare earth. It didn’t make me feel any better. Alain held my hair off my face, and a sickening sense of deja vu thudded against my throbbing skull. His hand on my hair, my mouth tasting of puke … It was like when we were younger, sneaking off with Dorien and our friends to drink in the cemetery.
We followed the cold draft across the barren grass, through a wrought iron gate that had been blown off its hinges, over the debris of the Citadel wall, and into the street.
Alain glanced around, his fists balled at his sides. “Something’s happened here.”
He was right. The debris, that on most other streets I’d seen stacked in tall heaps, had been scattered all over, as if a mighty wind had blown through the dome. Dust particles still floated in the air.
“Alain, look.”
On the edge of the street, behind a gnarled bench covered with stone, a dark shape lay on the footpath. I crouched beside it, choking back a fresh wave of bile. It was a man’s body. Or at least it had been. His skin had dried into a kind of crumbling soft stone. The entire front of his torso had disappeared, leaving only a jagged hole, the edges blackened, scorched, curling away. His head had been smashed, the eyes torn out, the bones ripped apart like tissue paper. Smoke rose in fine tendrils from the mangled remains of his body, and heat emanated from the corpse, sliding over my skin. I searched nearby for the man’s spirit, ready for us to take him to the underworld. But it was nowhere to be seen.
That could only mean one thing. This poor unfortunate was the victim of a wraith attack. But this wasn’t like any wraith attack I’d ever seen. The wraith were typically controlled – they took what they needed through the chest, leaving the husk mostly intact. This was vicious, like an animal that couldn’t control itself. And why the heat? The burning?
I clamped my hands over my mouth and whirled around. I closed my eyes, rocked back and forth on my heels, tried to think of something pleasant. But the man’s broken face leered at me from inside my eyelids. I grabbed the bench for support and threw up again.
“I recognise him,” Alain said. “That’s one of the Dimitri brothers. He must’ve been following us.”
I didn’t know how he could recognise any of him, so badly had the body been mutilated by this attack. I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I merely nodded.
“This is like no husking I’ve ever seen before,” he said, bending down to inspect the husk closer. “This is more like … he’s been burned by a flame-thrower. There’s no control, no central point of entry. I don’t understand.”
He stood, and we continued down the street, following the cold chill that had settled in our veins. I clambered upturned filing cabinets and the mangled remains of old cars as he picked through the rest of the debris.
“We should take our raven forms,” I said. “We’d get through this much quicker by flying.”
“There are wraith nearby,” he said. “I don’t want to alert them we are Reapers, not unless we absolutely have to.” We came to an intersection, and the coldness tugged us left.
“They’re not heading toward the tunnel,” I said. “It’s in Brownleigh, right near the edge of the Rim.”
“If they’re not, then that’s a real concern.” He pointed down the street toward Lonsdale. “The only thing I can think of that’s in this direction is the Compound. You said it was deserted. Your wraith would know that. Why would they go there?”
I gulped. “What if they know something we don’t? Maybe … maybe Harriet saw May and Sydney heading there, instead of back to that apartment?”
Alain’s face darkened. “Maybe you’re right. Let’s go.”
15
Sydney
The cloud billowed over the square, and I lost sight of everything. I gripped the old iron gate so hard my knuckles turned white as the dust and debris churned up and flew past my face, each piece of detritus narrowly missing knocking us out. The cold wind tore through my body, a grim spectre reminding me how the hope we’d cultivated when I’d destroyed the wraith had been completely stripped away.
In a few moments, the cloud moved behind the corner, plunging the street once again into grim, deathly silence. Lorcon’s raven leapt down from where he’d been hiding in the rafters of the gatehouse, and he transformed into a human.
“May? Is she safe?” His eyebrows knitted together. At that moment, he looked more like a kindly grandfather than the cold, calculating politician I knew
him to be.
“That cloud took her. She’s probably...” I couldn’t speak the words, my mind struggling to keep up, so I jabbed my elbow at one of the bodies, or what remained of a body … just a few scraps of clothing and a dusky, torn heap.
I’d lost Diana only yesterday. The grief of her absence still clung to my heart. To lose May as well … I gulped, trying to control the rising emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.
Lorcon shook his head. “You don’t know that. That cloud is wraith. I don’t know how, but that’s the only way I can explain it. But for whatever reason, it hasn’t taken that blonde girl. She really does seem to be controlling it. And she wanted May to come with her, so she’s unlikely to husk her.”
“Harriet is May’s girlfriend.”
Lorcon lifted one black eyebrow. “I see.”
I blinked down at the gun in my hand. Harriet wasn’t even carrying her weapon any longer. That wasn’t like her. Harriet loved that gun. It made her feel safe, in control. And no matter what was happening to her, Harriet had to feel in control.
Who was I kidding? What use did Harriet have for a gun when that cloud was her army?
“She was a prisoner in a Dimitri whore house, part of the sex ring Dorien was operating. I freed her, and she’s been an invaluable resource. But she’s been acting strangely ever since I destroyed the wraith. And now ...” I gestured to the departing cloud, my head spinning. A sudden burst of nausea rolled through my body. My stomach churned, my legs turned to jelly, and Lorcan's face turned into a blurry thumbprint. I grabbed his arm for support, my nails digging into his skin.
“You destroyed the wraith?” He stared at my hand, his dazed expression swimming in my warped vision. “I think you need to tell me everything that has happened.”
“I need to .. sit down …”
He led me to a small sitting room off the main courtyard. This room had once been quite opulent, by Reaper standards. The outlines of paintings blurred on the walls, and when he sat me down, my body sank into a plush velvet sofa. I tasted bile, and I pitched forward and discharged the contents of my stomach across the floor and Lorcan's black shoes. Oops.
While the old Reaper patted my shoulder, I hugged my knees and sucked in deep breaths until I felt somewhat normal again. I described everything that had happened since Diana and I had fled the Compound. When I got to Diana’s death, the tears finally won, and they spilled down my cheeks. I wiped them angrily away and kept going.
After a time, Lorcon paced across the room, his brow furrowed in thought. “You believe this Harriet will take the cloud outside.”
“I don’t know what to think, but that seemed to be what she was saying.” Somehow, Harriet was controlling that cloud. And, given what we’d just seen it do to those men, that was very, very bad news.
“If the cloud is wraith, can you not just stop it, the way you did before?”
“That’s just it. I don’t really know what I did. Once I was inside the Mimir, it all just seemed obvious.” I stared down at my stomach and sighed. “But I had to die in order for Alain and May to take me there, and I can’t do that again. I can’t risk the life of the baby.”
His eyes widened. “You’re pregnant?”
I nodded, gesturing to his shoes. “Hence the nausea. Sorry about that, by the way. It comes and goes.”
“This child – it’s Alain’s?”
I nodded again.
Lorcon smiled, a genuine, hopeful one. “This is remarkable news. Our Order has remained stagnant inside the dome without women to continue our race. A new child, even if it is only half Reaper, will ensure our genes will live on.”
“The thing is …” I lifted a limp hand. My body sagged with weariness. “I’m not sure I am entirely human. Alain keeps using this word to describe me--valeda. But I’m not really sure what it is or what it means.”
Lorcon rushed to my side and gathered my hands in his, his mouth parted in what might’ve been awe. His skin was rough one mine, creased with age.
“If you are a valeda.” Even at a whisper, his voice shook with excitement. “Then you are more valuable to us then you could ever know.”
“Shouldn’t we go after Harriet and May?” The thought of standing up again sent a shudder through my body, but I knew we couldn’t waste time.
“This is more important.” He squeezed my hands in his. “You need to know what it is you are.”
“Alain hasn’t been very expansive. I worry he’s keeping it from me.”
“Alain has probably told you everything he knows. The valeda are an ancient story, a race of human-sorceresses long since believed to be extinct upon the earth. They exist now only in legend. Reapers are taught of the valeda and their journeys during their schooling, but without a deep reading of our old texts, their knowledge is not without many gaps.”
“And you can fill in some of those gaps?”
“I believe so. I was one of our historians, responsible for reading and interpreting the texts of our Order. If Alain’s interpretation is indeed true, you will be the first valeda I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, although I have heard of two others manifesting their powers in the last hundred years - one in Germany, the other in China. Both disappeared from public record very quickly, probably recruited into the top orders of the Reapers. I assume you have had some kind of magical or divination ability manifest throughout your life?”
“I can see through objects. If I press my hand against a door, I can see through to the other side.” I held up one of my hands, palm facing him, as if to prove it was more than just a hand. “I always thought it was kind of a stupid ability. It’s not as if I can fly or melt people just by looking at them.”
“Not at all. The gifts of the valeda are extremely powerful. You are a seer and a finder. Your magic cuts right into the heart of all things. In ancient times a valeda would wander from village to village, working their magic where it was needed. She was highly respected and worshipped. With this power, you would have judged disputes, located lost property, and rooted out rebels and dissenters. But you have power that is much more powerful at your disposal.”
“Such as?”
“The valeda are the weavers of the Seidr – a word for magic that literally means string or rope. Only women have the ability to work the Seidr, to literally fuse and weave and cut the rope of fate, to rework it into something new. All women have this ability to a small extent, for what is childbirth if not a reworking of fate, bringing new life where once there had been none? But the valeda were masters of the Seidr. Their will can change the entire course of history. Veleda would often work with Reapers to banish demons and evil spirits. But as the race died out, many female Reapers tried to learn to master the Seidr. Some had small successes, hence the reverence of female Reapers within our Order. Have you ever experienced something that made you aware of other powers?”
I blinked down at my hands and nodded. “When I was inside the Mimir, there were these black strands. They looked as though they were coated in tar. I couldn’t understand it then, but I just knew each strand represented a wraith. I gathered them together, and I pulled them. And … something happened, and the wraith were all gone.”
“That is how you stopped the wraith,” Lorcon said. “It was no mistake. You found the threads of their life within the tapestry of the world. You knew they did not belong there, that they were ugly and twisted. You yanked them free, and in doing so, you gave their souls peace.”
“Alain and May did all the hard work. They took the wraith to the underworld.”
“Ah, yes. But you ensured they would remain there.”
“By destroying the Mimir, sure. But after we returned, May and Alain don’t need it anymore in order to access a portal.”
“I’m not surprised. Your magic will be feeding them, granting them strengths they’ve never had before. But that comes from you, not from them.”
“I don’t feel magical,” I complained. “I don’t feel any different at all.”
“Yes.” I rubbed my stomach, thinking of the little peanut growing inside. “This baby … I’m not supposed to be able to have one. My womb was badly damaged some years ago. But when I emerged from the Mimir, I was pregnant, and my body was whole.”
A shadow passed over Lorcan's face. “That is not something I’ve heard of before. A valeda only has the power to change what will be, to balance the universe again, not to create from what has been lost.”
“Should I be worried? I spoke to my mother inside the Mimir. She said this was a gift for me.” My stomach flipped but not from the pregnancy nausea. When I spoke again, my voice sounded small, damaged. “I’ve wanted a baby for so long.”
“Then I am sure your mother’s gift is perfectly safe.” Lorcon smiled at me, but the darkness didn’t leave his eyes. He dropped my hand and paced to the window. “We should follow that cloud before it gets too far away. If it is wraith, you should be able to destroy it.”
“Wait.” I held up a hand. “Hold on a minute. How do I control this power? How do I use it to banish this new wraith?”
Lorcon gazed out the window with his hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t know. Only the valeda know. I could teach you some meditation techniques the Reapers use to grow and strengthen their powers, but we don’t have time.”
I glared laser beams into his profile. “You just said we had time!”
“That was before I knew we had a way to destroy this new threat. Now that we do, we should move as quickly as possible before it takes any more lives or discovers a way to bring down the dome.”