Strange and Ever After

by Dennard, Susan

  I shook my head. I didn’t care, and I was wasting time. But when I tried to rise, both Anubis and Thoth blasted their thoughts at me—so bright and loud, my body locked into place.

  The jackal and the ibis do not care about you, yet Hathor’s clappers were never meant to be in the earthly realm—

  “So punish Hathor. Not me.”

  Hathor has been punished. Two layers of Annunaki thoughts, like fire searing through my brain. She was punished more harshly than you can even fathom, mortal. Yet now the imperial clappers have chosen you, and the queen’s clappers have chosen your demon. The magic within them has spent millennia drifting and seeking the ones who could bring them home.

  “Ridiculous,” I gritted out. My arms would not move. My legs were trapped in time.

  It is fact. The clappers made their choice, and now you will do as required. You will return the clappers here. Then you will restore balance. The one called Marcus has broken it. You will fix it. And your demon will fix it too.

  “No. No. You took the purest of all souls—the only person in this world who truly wanted to be good. You think that is balanced? If so, I do not want your balanced world. You may bind my body in place, but you will have to hold me for an eternity before I will ever be your pawn or do your bidding. I do not care how much you punished Hathor. It can never be enough. The clappers and the Black Pullet should never have existed—and Hathor should never have fallen for a mortal she could not have.”

  My eyes bored into Thoth. I fought against the power that trapped me.

  “I came here to find the man I love, and that is all I will do. I have made my choice, and it is for me. The balance of the world may crumble for all I care. I will have my Daniel back, and you. Cannot. Stop me.”

  With those final words, I pushed against Thoth with my mind. Against Anubis. Against anything that was not my choice.

  I was not a pawn.

  I was a queen. I was an empress.

  My hands shot up. Movement rippled through me, through the boat. My eyelids lowered, and when they popped back up, the ibis was gone.

  So was the jackal.

  On wobbly legs, I jumped up and grabbed the dock. But I was so weak. I had to swing my legs—back, forward, back—but even that did not give me the momentum I needed.

  A hand appeared before me.

  My gaze leaped up . . . and met sea-blue eyes. Elijah. It was my brother, and though his body looked like Marcus, his soul did not. Nothing about my brother’s spirit felt like the monster outside.

  Elijah gripped my wrists and hauled me out. My belly scraped over the dry wood, but soon I was upright.

  And my arms flew around his neck. My brother.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, El.”

  “Help me,” I mumbled into his chest. But then I trembled back a step, trying to see beyond him.

  Daniel’s silhouette was gone.

  I clutched at my heart. No matter how many breaths I gulped in, my lungs would not stop shaking. “W-where did he go? Where did he go?”

  “He left the dock.” Elijah stroked my hair. “He passed into the spirit realm.”

  “No.” I shook my head, a desperate swinging that made the dock spin. Made tears scorch down my cheeks. “He was right there.” I pointed ahead.

  “I’m sorry, El.” Elijah’s eyebrows lifted, a pitying look that I wanted to scratch away. It was not time for pity. Not yet.

  “He has passed on,” Elijah added. “Daniel crossed from the no-man’s-land, and now he’s out there.” He gestured to the black waters around us.

  My breath hiccuped. Left, right—I searched every wave and ripple for some sign of him. . . .

  “So I must use the boat then.” I pivoted back to the hole.

  But I instantly stopped. My nose hit an evening suit, and I rolled back my head to stare into Clarence Wilcox’s face.

  “You,” I breathed. He looked so much like Allison.

  I grabbed his jacket. “Why didn’t you tell me about her?” I screamed. “You should have warned me!”

  “You do not understand,” he shouted back.

  “I do! She made this happen. I wouldn’t be here if not for her. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Enough.” Elijah yanked me back. “Clarence has been so focused on protecting you, so intent on helping me keep watch of this spirit dock, that he lost sight of his sister.” He wrenched me around, and his fingers dug into my elbow. “I promise you he feels enough agony.”

  “He may feel shame,” I snarled, “but that does not mean I forgive him. Or forgive Allison. Let go.” I snapped my arm free. “I will take the boat, and I will find Daniel.”

  I kicked into a stalk, shoving past Clarence.

  But the boat was gone. The hole was gone.

  I rounded back on Clarence, whose brows were drawn tight with sympathy.

  “Where is the boat?” I demanded.

  He lifted one shoulder. “That is the way of the no-man’s-land. You may find it again. Or you may not.”

  “And even if you could find the boat,” Elijah said, moving to Clarence’s side, “and even if you could find Daniel’s body, it would do you no good. Daniel’s body and his spirit are cleaved. You cannot hew them back together.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” I stared into his blue eyes—so familiar. So foreign. “You tried it. With a spell from Le Dragon Noir, you tried to return Father’s soul to his body—to his skeleton. I will do the same. At least Daniel’s body is still fresh and whole.” Spinning on my heel, I resumed my stride.

  “It will not matter,” Elijah called after me.

  I ignored him and pushed my legs into a march. The golden curtain was as absent as the boat, so I could only guess I had come very far into this no-man’s-land.

  But not too far. There was never too far for Daniel.

  I moved faster. And faster. Soon I was sprinting, and each step thwacked hollowly on the wood.

  “Miss Fitt.” Clarence’s voice whispered behind me. “I implore you: stop walking.”

  I twisted my head slightly. Somehow he was keeping pace with me. Silent. Ghostly.

  I only ran faster, until each breath was agony and each step thunder.

  “You do not want this.” Elijah’s voice snaked into my ears, but when I glanced back, neither he nor Clarence was there.

  I returned my gaze forward.

  And I slammed into a body. Clarence’s face leaned into mine. I bolted back around—but Elijah blocked me.

  “Let me go!” I shrieked, lurching back at Clarence. “Let me go—”

  “NO.” Elijah’s voice boomed out, shaking through the stillness of the air and scratching over my skin. “Look at what became of me!” He slammed his palm against his chest. “Look at what I have done.” He flung his arm at Clarence. “You will become this if you do not stop.”

  “And,” I growled, “I. Do not. Care. I have come for Daniel’s soul, and I will take it.”

  “But he will not be the same,” Clarence murmured. “Your Daniel is no more.”

  “What do you mean? Your soul is here, and it is the same—”

  “And our souls have not passed judgment,” Elijah interrupted. “We are still on the dock, but Daniel is out there now.” He jabbed a finger at the endless water. “When Clarence and I are eventually judged, our souls will be stripped bare. Soon . . .” He glanced at Clarence and swallowed.

  “Soon,” Clarence agreed. “Soon we will have to face the scales ourselves. We have clung to this dock to keep you safe. We have used our resolve and our desire to stay here, where we could protect you from the Hell Hounds and guide you on the dock . . . but once we enter the spirit realm, our souls will be ripped apart and judged piece by piece.”

  I stared at Clarence, not understanding. “But how could Daniel already be judged? Yet you are not?”

  “We were not ready to die,” Elijah whispered. “Daniel was.”

  “He died willingly,” Clarence said. “When a person enters death by their own choice
, they cross the dock in moments. Fragments of a moment.”

  “His . . . own choice.” My breaths came in, faster and faster. Daniel had jumped in front of a spear meant for Joseph.

  Just as he had jumped from the airship.

  My life’s nothin’ compared to yours. That was what he’d said a few days ago.

  But he was wrong. His life was worth everything—how could he not have known that?

  “Eleanor.” Elijah spoke my name with an inescapable heaviness. “What you will find will only be fragments of Daniel—good, bad, ugly, or clean. . . .” He lifted one shoulder. “There is no way to know what parts of his soul now drift toward the final afterlife, and if you try to fuse those remnants back into his body, you won’t have a complete human. You will have something back . . . but it will not be your Daniel.”

  “I do not care,” I croaked, but my knees were beginning to shake. “I would rather have a piece of him than none.” I gasped . . . and gasped again. The air felt too cold. My lungs too small.

  “But would Mr. Sheridan want to be summoned back?” Clarence pressed. “Would he wish to return to a shattered life?”

  “No.” Elijah’s head shook, but the movement seemed hazy and slow. “Daniel gave his life willingly. If you bring him back, you will be dishonoring that choice.”

  My legs stopped working. It was as if they’d forgotten how to exist. How to be.

  Elijah’s and Clarence’s faces disappeared, and the dock drew close.

  I hit the wooden slats—my knees, my hands, my chest . . . my face. Each piece of me was broken.

  I had no reason to keep going. None.

  I could not even utter the words, for speaking them—even forming a coherent thought in my brain—would give it power. Would make it real.

  And this could not be real.

  Not my Daniel.

  Not him.

  I would not get to say good-bye. I would never touch his face or hold his calloused hands. I would never look into his grassy-green eyes or hear him say “Empress.” I would never howl at him in rage or kiss his lips with need.

  Because he is gone, and I cannot bring him back.

  The words flickered through my brain, and with them came the truth. It engulfed me. Submerged me. I had no idea which way was up or how to draw in my next breath—not without Daniel to dive in and show me.

  Back and forth, we had saved each other. He had rescued me, and I had rescued him . . . but not this time. I could not save him this time.

  And he could not save me.

  Because he was gone.

  It confounded me. How could someone be alive one moment and then simply dead the next? When I had left, he’d been beautiful and vibrant. When I had returned . . . lifeless and cold.

  And I knew with sick, disgusting certainty that this was my line. My limit: I could not take away what Daniel had chosen—not when I loved him. Not when his choice had been an honest, pure one.

  “You have to go back now,” Clarence said, his voice a gentle whisper.

  I stared at the wood. “No.”

  “You have to,” Elijah agreed. “It’s time to say good-bye to us . . . and it is time to end this.”

  “No.” My head shot up. “Not yet.”

  Clarence smiled sadly. “There are people waiting for you, Miss Fitt.”

  “Jie,” Elijah reminded. “Joseph, Oliver—”

  “Oliver is gone,” I snapped. “I broke our bond, and he left me.”

  “Oh, El.” Elijah knelt beside me, his hand cupping my elbow. “Oliver came back.”

  I blinked—and then blinked again. But Elijah’s face held no deception, and when I glanced at Clarence, he was motioning behind me.

  “Look,” Clarence said. “Your demon has returned, and he has brought you an army.”

  I whirled around.

  And a cry writhed in my throat. The curtain was only twenty paces away, and though a battle raged beyond the golden glow, Oliver stood at the forefront.

  He punched against the curtain, a noiseless scream erupting from his mouth. Again and again he tried to heave his way through the obelisk.

  And tucked into his belt was a set of ivory clappers—they were smaller and less ornate than the ones I had carried. But they were clappers all the same, and the army that raged behind him was one of lithe mummies with swords.

  Oliver had summoned the queens’ guards.

  “Go to him,” Elijah whispered. “Go back and save those who remain.”

  I nodded, and with the power of my own arms and my own legs, I rose. I tipped my chin high and drew my shoulders back, and I inhaled.

  But when I turned to say good-bye to Elijah and Clarence, they were gone.

  And in their places were a jackal.

  And an ibis.

  I started. Then panic set in. “No. No. If you have lied about Daniel’s soul—if this was all a trick to—”

  The jackal and ibis have not lied, they said together.

  “But . . .” A sob shivered over my lips. “My brother? Clarence? Were they ever really here?”

  No response came, and behind me, the sounds of battle raged.

  Retrieve the clappers, the Annunaki said. Return them here.

  Teeth clenching back tears, I glanced into the earthly realm. To Oliver’s bloodless face—to his palms beating against the obelisk. Then I flung my eyes back to the gods. “I will do this, but not for you or your goddamned balance. What I do is for me. And what I do is for Daniel—the one you took away from me. The one I can never have back.”

  Then I twisted toward the curtain.

  And I marched ahead.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The battle thundered over me. In the space of a gasping breath, my eyes took in everything: clashing swords, hammering feet, and Jie’s wailing sobs. The queens’ guards swirled their swords faster than my eyes could follow.

  But they were severely outnumbered.

  I stumbled into Oliver. His face was flushed with relief, but I spared him no words, only a nod of soul-deep thanks before I staggered the two steps to Daniel.

  His body was already stiffening. His lips blue. The blood on his chest was brown and congealed. And his head stayed on Jie’s lap as she continued to rock back and forth, screaming for him to wake up.

  I couldn’t watch. Instead, I honed in on Jie’s face. On her weeping eyes.

  “Where’s Joseph?” I shouted.

  No response—I wasn’t even sure she heard.

  But Oliver did. “Marcus has him.” He motioned into the fighting guards. “He collapsed right before I arrived, and Marcus reached him before I could.”

  “I have to get him.” I swooped down and hefted my sword off the blood-covered sand. Daniel had died to protect Joseph; I would not let that sacrifice be for nothing. “You stay here and keep Jie safe.”

  “No.” Oliver yanked the clappers from his belt. “I will get us through.” He thrust the ivory toward the attacking queens’ guards. Then he snagged my sleeve and yanked me onward.

  The queens’ guards opened a path.

  And we stepped into the battle.

  Imperial spears stabbed at us; queens’ swords arced up. Tattered arms and shriveled skin blurred. It was an endless roar of slamming bodies and clanking weapons. Each step brought bronze armor and spear tips into my face, but always, swords would streak up and sling away the attacks.

  On and on we moved, until I finally caught sight of Marcus. Just as he had done in Philadelphia all those months ago, he had Joseph by the collar, and he dragged. Joseph’s feet left two long trails in the sand. His eyes were closed.

  I couldn’t tell if he was still alive. It didn’t matter; I was coming for him.

  But the queens’ guards weren’t fast enough for me.

  I shoved into the fray alone. I thrust and parried and screamed at th
e mummies to sleep. My magic blazed over my sword, blue and brilliant, and Oliver’s power scorched around me. Each mummy I met blasted back, briefly frozen. Each spear I hit snapped beneath the fury of my blade and my magic.

  Until we finally reached the edge of the battlefield. Mummies gave chase, but Oliver’s magic and the queens’ guards kept them at bay.

  I lurched into a run. Marcus was almost to his balloon two hundred paces away. He was almost to the boulder on which it was fastened.

  And Joseph’s eyes stayed closed.

  I screamed Marcus’s name. My heels kicked up sand. Moonlit dunes and crumbling ruins melted within my vision. But I wasn’t fast enough. Never as fast as I needed.

  Marcus reached the boulder and slung Joseph across it. Then he knelt to his boot.

  Silver flashed in his hand. A knife. Which meant Joseph wasn’t dead yet—and Marcus was finally doing what he’d planned all along.

  But just as light glimmered on the blade, a second shimmer caught my eye. A movement in Joseph’s hand.

  A crystal clamp.

  Marcus stood, his back to us.

  “Stop!” I shrieked.

  “Attack!” Oliver bellowed beside me.

  But slow. We were so slow.

  Marcus reared back with the knife.

  Not again, I thought. I would not let this happen. So with all the strength and soul I could summon, I threw my sword.

  Tarnished and ancient, my magic carried it in a perfect line through the air. . . .

  It sliced into Marcus’s back. All the way to the hilt.

  His knife fell. He staggered into the stone . . . but immediately shoved himself back up. When he twisted around, blood bubbled from between his teeth.

  For the tiniest space of a breath, I saw him as Elijah. My brother impaled.

  But then he smiled, and his hands rose. This was not Elijah.

  Magic rammed into me. Cloying and putrid, it charged over me—over Oliver and the queens’ guards.

  I swayed back . . . and then clutched my throat.

  I couldn’t breathe. Magic coated my throat, choked off my airway. My lungs heaved and fought, but there was nothing coming in. Nothing going out.