by Tobias Wade
Noah couldn’t feel the cage moving. There was no sound from the surrounding crowd to indicate his fate. They would have been cheering if he’d passed though, wouldn’t they? There would only be silence if—but he couldn’t open his eyes, because he was too afraid of seeing all those people looking down at him in disappointment.
“Noah Tellaver,” the gurgling voice announced. “How many lives. Has he lived? Such a complex tapestry. I see a common thread. Runs through them all. From start to finish. With an unparalleled passion. He has lived each life. To kill. He is worthy to. Live again.”
Noah opened his eyes to see a hundred eyes studying him with a range of curiosity and disgust. His cage was completely resting on the ground, the heart hoisted high above him. Hardest to bear was The Matriarch’s deep brown gaze which felt like a spike impaling him against the wall. The fact that she was smiling did nothing to alleviate the pressure of her stare.
“Who did I kill?” Noah whispered to the heart in a gusty breath.
“Would you like. Their names?” the heart chortled. “It would take a while.” Noah found small comfort in the fact that the heart didn’t have a face, and therefore couldn’t have been smiling as much as the voice suggested.
A murmur rose among the crowd of onlookers—first soft as the wind through reeds, yet steadily rising into a clamoring chorus. The Matriarch turned away from Noah to wave and smile, capturing their attention and urging them toward begrudging stillness.
“An unparalleled passion!” The Matriarch declared with excitement. “That’s what I like in my students. Ladies and gentleman, please be at peace. So what if our young friend was a killer?”
“I wasn’t, I swear!” Noah chimed, his voice seeming very small in the large open space. The Matriarch continued as though he hadn’t spoken.
“There is no more evil in destroying life than there is in creating it. Who can say that it is worse to kill an evil man than to bring one into the world? Did the man being born have any more choice than the man who was killed? Both belong to the eternal cycle, and we do not condemn such expressions here. Welcome, Noah, to The Mortuary.”
Noah glided back amongst the rest of the students, but there wasn’t anyone to cheer for him as they did with the others. People stepped away from either side to make room, and even Brandon’s lip was curled with disgust. Noah made his way toward Walter and Jamie again, but stopped when Walter turned suddenly to begin a conversation with a boy named Sandy behind. Jamie elbowed Walter fiercely in the ribs, prompting him to spin back once more.
“Play nice, will you?” Jamie scolded. “Does he look like a mass murderer to you?”
Walter grimaced and averted Noah’s eyes. “It’s none of my business,” he grunted.
“I never killed anyone!” Noah insisted, hot in the face. “I sometimes had to put a dying animal to sleep at work, but I certainly never enjoyed it.”
“It’s not just your last life that counts,” Sandy said, sweeping his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes. “It could have been your life before that.
“Or every life before that,” Walter added ominously.
“I absolutely would not,” Noah repeated stubbornly.
“You already did though,” Walter said, still not quite meeting Noah’s eyes. “You’re still the same soul, don’t you get it? We might not remember, but the soul we were then is the soul we are now, and it’s the soul we’re always going to be. You’re a killer, man. I don’t think that’s ever going to go away.”
Qari Olandesca Illustrations
The Mortuary
The rest of the ceremony must have completed, but Noah wasn’t paying much attention. He sat away from the others on the grass with his eyes closed, wondering whether Mandy was able to look after Lewis, or whether she’d be too stricken by grief to even take care of herself. She’d always relied on him so much…
There was a thunderous round of applause, but Noah kept his eyes pressed tightly shut. Another person with a blessed life, how nice for them. Noah knotted the grass around his fingers and flung the loose blades into the air.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d found Mrs. Robinson?” Jamie asked.
Noah opened his eyes to find Jamie standing in front of him with her arms crossed. He hadn’t noticed that Mrs. Robinson was stretched onto her back with curled front paws right beside him. Noah reached out to rub the cat’s belly and was rewarded with a bear trap of claws.
“Ow, get it off me!”
“Ungrateful,” Mrs. Robinson growled. “I came here to comfort you, and this is how you repay me.”
“I was just going to pet you. Let go!”
“Hold on, you big wuss.” Jamie unhooked the claws and pried the cat away to nestle it against her like a baby.
“Why are you okay when she does it?” Noah asked, nursing his hand.
“She’s not a killer,” Mrs. Robinson replied indignantly.
“You’re one to talk,” Noah grunted. “Bet you killed all sorts of mice and things.”
“I even got a squirrel once,” Mrs. Robinson boasted. “Took his head clean off and gave it to Claire. I think she liked it, because she ran to show it off to her mother right away.”
“See? How’s that any different?”
“It’s not about what you do, it’s about who you are,” Mrs. Robinson lectured condescendingly. “When I was on the scale, the heart wouldn’t shut up about how much Claire missed me. He said anyone who was loved so much must bring that love into the world again.”
“Well you were both let in,” Jamie said, “so you must both deserve another shot. Let’s stop bickering and hurry up or everyone is going to leave us behind.”
Mrs. Robinson allowed herself to be carried off by Jamie. Noah sat up to see everyone moving in the same direction.
“Where are we going?” Noah asked, hustling to catch up.
“The Mortuary! Come on!” Jamie called over her shoulder. “I can’t wait to see our new home.”
The Mortuary looked less like it was built and more like it was grown straight from the earth, as though it belonged as much as the forests or the cliff or the ocean itself beyond. The climbing ivy which engulfed the grave structure added to the effect, and thick moss upon every visible stone. Noah could only relate it to old gothic cathedrals he had seen in photographs, although it was impossible to compare those perfectly interlocking ancient stones with something as fragile and artificial as the buildings in his world appeared.
The far wall of the building was continuous with the cliff face as though the entire structure had been carved straight from the rock. There was a single round central tower which was composed of hundreds of smaller spires, as well as two smaller flanking towers. Each of the three towers was dominated by huge stained glass windows, and every inch of stone was intricately carved with miniature figurines, each nestled in their own alcove.
“They’re gods!” one of the girls exclaimed, pointing at the closest figurines. “I never would have guessed there were so many religions. There must be thousands of them!”
“And look at the glass!” echoed another girl beside her. “What do you think the animals mean?”
From left to right, the three stained glass images were of heroically posed camel looking into the sunrise, a wide-eyed child beneath a blazing sun, and a snarling lion before a crimson sunset. There were words inscribed in the stone above the door in the central tower.
Life and death are each other’s shadows,
Cast by the light of eternity.
The last of the curious townsfolk who had straggled along branched off here and returned to the cobblestone road, which in turn wound down through the grassy hills toward the town. The real sun was high overhead now, although Noah felt less tired and more like a deflated balloon. He shielded his face from the light, feeling as though he was fading beneath its relentless fire.
“Ah ah ah, not yet,” The Matriarch said, calling back one of the boys who was already approaching the massive iron-studded double d
oors in the central tower. “It’s so bright out, and you must all be so tired. Classes won’t begin until tomorrow night. Mr. Wilst, would you be so kind as to show the students their resting place? When you’re finished, you can join myself and the other staff in my chambers.”
“Certainly, Matriarch,” replied the dry, cracking voice. The Skeleton’s metal staff clanked threateningly against the stone path as he turned away from the front doors. A few apprehensive glances were exchanged, but no one protested to following the morbid figure along the side of the building. He brought them around the building’s flank to a tall black iron fence with severe spikes lining the top. Professor Wilst led them through the gate, and then waited there as the students filed in.
“We’re going to sleep in a graveyard?” a blonde girl asked, her nose wrinkled in displeasure.
“There’s something very comfortable about being with your own body that never goes away,” Wilst replied.
“Ewww, they brought our bodies here?” she whined.
“Shhh Grace. Just let him talk,” a taller girl beside her hissed.
Grace raised her hand instead, holding it excessively vertical.
Wilst stared at them expressionlessly for a moment before continuing. “The imps should have already stocked your bodies in the Mausoleums. There will be two names to a structure. Find the one where you belong and lie down. Professor Salice will retrieve you at sunset to collect your books and school supplies.”
“How come we still need to sleep?” Grace asked, unable to contain herself any longer. “We don’t need to eat, do we? I don’t feel hungry anyway.”
“Silly human,” Wilst replied in a voice that implied he didn’t have the first clue what silliness was, and only a faint recollection of being human. “Spirits don’t need to eat or sleep, but even the dead must dream.”
With that the Professor swept his white linen about him and exited the graveyard. Several other people were beginning to ask questions, but their voices were cut off by the loud grating sound of metal clanking against metal. Professor Wilst had fastened a chain around the gate and locked it with a heavy padlock.
The Professor turned stiffly on his heel bone and walked away, ignoring the mounting protest from the students locked inside. Within seconds there were students leaping onto the fence and clutching the bars. Others shouted after Wilst or rattled the chain around the gate, but none succeeded in turning the skeletal figure around.
“It’s not so bad, look,” Walter said, emerging from one of the stone mausoleums. He was holding a stuffed reindeer in his arms. “I don’t see any bodies in there. I think he was just being dramatic to scare us.”
“Did it work? Are you scared?” an older boy with a face that permanently appeared to be tasting something sour asked. He’d just emerged from another of the mausoleums.
“Oh boy, I love stuffed animals! Where’s mine?” Bowser said. Then louder, the dog howled “Anyone see Bowser? Where’s Bowser supposed to sleep?”
The hunt for their personal mausoleum quickly distracted the students who spread out through the graveyard. Walter had already found his place, but Noah didn’t mind not sharing a place with his new friend after how he’d reacted at the weighing ceremony. Mrs. Robinson had wriggled free once more and Jamie was chasing her between the structures, so Noah didn’t bother them either. He hunted on his own until he found his name, He ducked inside the low stone arch, grateful to finally have a chance to rest. He felt a lot less grateful when he saw who else was already inside.
“Why do I have to share with the murderer?” Brandon sneered. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground with his back against the coffin, holding a stuffed rhino on his lap. The inside of the mausoleum was small but clean with bare stone floors and a cushioned coffin against either wall. A burning lamp rested in the center, although the ball of fire which lit the enclosure floated unsupported in the glass. There was no curtain or barrier or any form of privacy between the two sides. On top of Noah’s coffin sat a stuffed tiger waiting for him.
“I won’t bother you if you don’t bother me,” Noah said, sitting down on his side of the room.
“Just looking at you bothers me,” Brandon said. Noah was beginning to wonder whether he was really sneering at all, or whether that’s simply how his face looked.
“I was expecting to find our real bodies in here,” Noah said, trying to divert the subject.
“Look inside, idiot,” Brandon said. He held up his rhino to reveal that he’d already ripped it open along the seam on its back. The skeletal remains of a hand clearly protruded from the white fluff, the curved forefinger making up the rhino’s spine. Noah looked at the stuffed tiger and shuddered, preferring not to imagine what part of him might be inside.
Brandon waited for Noah to reply, but he didn’t. Brandon sighed and climbed inside his coffin to lay down, still holding his stuffed rhino. “It’s really not so bad,” Brandon said, his voice seeming smaller and less hostile than it had a moment before. “If I close my eyes, it feels almost like I’m home.”
“Why, did you sleep in a coffin at home too?” Noah replied sarcastically. He picked up his tiger and immediately understood what Brandon meant though. He felt a presence apart from the soft fur, a sort of harmony like an out of tune note that had just been adjusted to fit again. Noah climbed into the generous padding of his own coffin and held his tiger close. It was a perfect fit.
“Screw off, what would you know,” Brandon replied. “Your home could have probably fit in my garage.” He swung his lid shut to close himself inside.
Noah double checked to make sure there wasn’t a lock on the coffin before carefully lowering his own lid. The darkness grew heavy, and this too felt nourishing somehow. The madness of the day faded into the comfortable buzz of voiceless thoughts, which in turn gave way to the haze of dreams. Violent dreams, bloody dreams, one after another, with Noah himself committing each atrocity he saw.
“Don’t hit your head when you wake up!”
Noah jolted upright, trying to escape his dreams more than he was trying to lurch back into wakefulness. He immediately smacked against the lid of his coffin and flopped back onto the cushions.
“The moon won’t wait. Come on now, you can rest when you’re alive.” It was Professor Salice, but the voice was muffled and moving away.
Noah opened his coffin with his hand this time. Brandon was already gone, and he’d taken his stuffed rhino with him. Noah couldn’t imagine what he’d need it for, but the presence was so familiar that he couldn’t resist taking his tiger along as well.
Professor Salice was standing near the open gate. He was scratching his demon dog behind the ears, which caused one of its tentacles to flop out of its mouth and twirl in sinuous spirals. A dozen imps had scattered through the graveyard to knock against the mausoleums and rouse those who resisted.
Noah moved to join the mass of students gathering around the gate, but most of them would take one look at him before quickly finding an excuse to stand anywhere else. Noah caught the eye of Walter, but he immediately looked away again without offering any sort of greeting.
“Noah! Over here!” Jamie called, waving and hopping up and down to be seen. “Look at this.”
“Please do not touch the imps,” Professor Salice drawled, looking in her direction. “I thought you would have learned your lesson on the bus already, Mrs. Poffin.”
“He remembers me though,” she insisted. “I think he’s trying to say sorry for biting me earlier. Look he even let me pet—ow!” The imp bit her once more, and the students howled with laughter. Noah smiled and moved to join her, and, at least for the time being, everyone seemed to be too distracted to take any notice of him.
Professor Salice led the students through the gate and onto the cobblestone road. In the near distance, Noah could see open gates in other sections of the graveyard which allowed the free passage of older students. It appeared that only the youngest ones were locked in during the day.
“The su
m of your supplies for the semester should cost no more than two months,” the Professor said. “You should have all spent two weeks on your passage here, which leaves three and a half months available for discretionary spending. I strongly encourage you not to spend anything unnecessarily today, however. You are all without exception still very stupid and ignorant about matters of death, and the townsfolk with have no qualms about taking advantage of your unsuspecting wealth. While you may prevent yourself from aging by acquiring other people’s life force later, you will never be able to reverse its process and become younger again while you remain a spirit.”
The students pressed him with questions about what to expect, but he assured them that they would discover it for themselves soon enough.
“We will meet back here at the crossroads at midnight when I will escort you back to The Mortuary,” Professor Salice instructed. He was passing out sheets of paper from a stack in his arms now. Some students were tentative to approach the professor and retreated the moment they received their note. “You will find the required items on the list along with a map of the town. Note the hourglass on the paper—when that is empty, it will be time for us to head back.”
The words on the paper burned as though glowing hot, making them clearly visible even in the pale moonlit night. Grains of sands like sparks drifted down from the hourglass to fill the glowing base. Noah scanned the list of required items, which included three textbooks by the names of:
Understanding Undead: The Spirit’s Guide to the Other Side
Twelve Signs Your Imp Might Be Plotting To Kill You: And Other Demonological Advice