by J. L. Murray
The raven hopped off the railing onto the ground. It screamed at the wraiths, approaching them with wings outstretched. As one, the wraiths all moved away from it as if from the devil himself. The wraiths always veered away from ravens, but this seemed a more frantic fear.
"Enough," I said, and the raven immediately ceased its screams, cocking its head to look at me, as though it understood. I tore my eyes from it. I could feel other ravens soaring through the air to come to my side, and when I looked up dozens, hundreds of ravens filled the sky, darker than the gray clouds lit by the rising moon, moving, writhing as one creature, all screaming, crying, filling the quiet sky with chaos. Under my feet, I could feel darker things trying to squirm up to the surface. Insects and worms and all the slimy things that lived in darkness, all eager to come to my aid.
"You don't like my ravens," I said, moving toward them, stepping down the first step. The wraiths moved away. "And you don't like me. So why the fuck would you possibly think that I would do you a favor?" I stepped down the second step, and the wraiths shifted, seeming nervous.
"Frankie, be careful," said Dekker. I looked at him and he finally met my eyes, and I could see the shame there. I had felt its heaviness before, without understanding the source. Now something he held onto had become too heavy to bear. I looked back to the wraiths, who stared up at me, their faceless cloaks twitching and ever moving, shuddering in the air as if they weren't meant to be in this world. I realized they didn't belong. They were from the darkness. And what about me? Where was my home? I thought it might be with Dekker, but I couldn't say for sure anymore. I looked at him again, this man I thought I knew, but seemed like a stranger now. I hadn't thought of the word home in so long – had I ever thought it? Home wasn't back in a burned-down shack in Montana. I hadn't felt it anywhere I'd been. I felt unanchored, lost in the world. The realization surprised me, and my chest ached intensely as I looked away from Dekker. I felt the darkness inside twist as the boards on the porch started to shake.
"No," I heard Abel say behind me. "It's too early." I turned to look at him and he was staring at me, his eyes wide, breathing hard. His eyes traveled down to my hands and he shook his head. "You're not strong enough for this yet," he said. "It should have taken you longer."
I looked down at the backs of my hands and the power was jumping under my skin. I turned my hands over, palms toward the sky, and let go just the tiniest bit. As the ravens landed on the ground in front of me, moving the wraiths back ever further, screaming at them as they shook the shadows around them, I could see tiny tendrils of darkness floating into the air from the palms of my hands.
"Funny," I said, looking down at Abel. "I never thought I'd be the one to defend you. I'd rather kill you."
"Thank you," said Abel.
"Fuck you." But I descended the last step and faced the wraiths, my ravens in front of me, screaming. The shadows shifted, but this time, they moved toward me. I stepped toward the wraiths again. "Get the fuck out of here," I said, my voice low, impossible to hear over the chilling shrieks of a hundred ravens, flying overhead, surrounding the wraiths on the ground, flapping their wings all around them. The shadows moved toward me again until I was completely inside of them, a noise like fluttering fabric as they took me in. And as I blinked inside of the wall of shadows, the house behind me disappeared, the noise of the ocean disappeared, the screaming of ravens disappeared. And all I could see were the wraiths, all I could hear was static. But they weren't cloaked in shadows, they weren't covered by whatever darkness I was accustomed to seeing them in. They were small, and so pale that they looked like the underbelly of a fish, or a corpse dragged from the water. Their eyes were black, a startling contrast to the putrid, nearly transparent white of their bodies. I could just see their fragile bones through their skin, something dark running through their veins.
"We just want to know who we are, are, are," one of them said, so weak and pathetic now that I was really seeing them. "We are too long out of the darkness, but we cannot remember. Frankie, Frankie, Frankie. We cannot remember."
Another figure was shifting now through the solid shadow that surrounded us. I looked away from the sight of the wraiths, weak and putrid and barely standing. A woman walked between them, and when I saw her face, I felt the darkness wrench. She was completely naked with an owl on her shoulder, its talons grasping her bare skin. She wasn't bleeding, she didn't even seem to notice. Her skin was ebony, but it shone with other colors, a gorgeous collage of stars and brightly-colored clouds that passed over her face and body as if she were a shooting star traveling through the universe. She didn't speak, but as she moved through the wraiths, she touched them upon their sickly shoulders. And at her touch, each creature seemed to crumple into nothing, the shadows around it flickering and slowly dissipating. The woman walked through the wraiths, and I felt each sigh from the ugly creatures as they disappeared.
"What are you doing?" I said stupidly, transfixed by the woman. “That owl, I know it.” But I was transfixed by the woman. Her black hair was coiled around her head like snakes, wrapping around her scalp in plaits so intricate that I couldn't pick one out from another. She didn't speak, but as she touched another wraith, she met my eyes and I shuddered as the wraith vanished. The wraiths weren't running, rather, they seemed to be moving toward the woman, ready for whatever she was doing to them.
"Stop it," I said, raising my hands toward her, "leave them alone." The woman watched me, raising a willowy arm and caressing the face of the next wraith to step toward her. The wraith sighed as it crumpled into air.
"I'm not hurting them," the woman whispered, though I heard her perfectly. Her owl watched me, unblinking, frozen to her shoulder. "I'm sending them on their way. Into the darkness from whence they came." Her voice had an Irish lilt. She didn't take her eyes from me as she continued her task, slipping between the wraiths.
"Who are you?" I said breathlessly, watching her, unable to move my eyes away.
"You need your strength," she said, her voice never rising above a whisper. "You needn't be troubled by such as these, Frankie Mourning. Your task lies ahead of you. You must continue to kill the monsters. The safety of humanity depends on it. Kill the monsters and that is all. You made a promise."
"You're one of them," I said. "One of the gods. Those weren’t dreams, what I saw. They were real."
"Of course they are real," said the woman, stroking the spine of a wraith as it disappeared. "You walk between worlds, sweet girl. Even in your dreams, you travel. You cannot stop what you are to become." There were only two wraiths left now, and I stood frozen in my tracks, watching the ethereal woman touch them both, and they collapsed into nothing.
"And what am I to become?" I said. I realized there were tears running down my cheeks. The wraiths gone, we remained within a shadow, and I realized it wasn't the wraiths cloaking us, but the woman, the goddess, who was now walking languidly toward me.
"You mustn’t fight it, Frankie," she crooned. "One must do as one must to stop what is to come."
"The veil," I said, remembering Mr. Corvid and Coyote on a Greyhound. Not a dream. It was real. It was all real. "I have to repair it."
She nodded, coming to stand right in front of me.
"I have to die."
"Yes."
"Over and over again. And I won't be the same. I'll lose something. What will I lose?"
She watched me, no emotion on her face. A blank canvas of impossible beauty, the stars moving in her eyes as I watched her, the galaxies on her skin. "Your humanity," she said. "We are all born into the world, just like you. Just like everyone. But for us, we must make sacrifices. So many sacrifices. Lost loves, family, even our children."
"What sacrifices did you make?"
She closed her eyes and raised her face to the sky. "I lost one self," she said, "and gained another." She looked at me, opening her eyes slowly. "If you want to save us, Frankie, if you want to preserve everything on this world, you must give yourself."
"I have to di
e," I said again.
"You're the only one who can," said the woman, standing still as a statue, only her lips moving. Even the stars and clouds were suddenly still on her skin. "Even I am powerless. Death is my only tribute now. Rest for those who crave it, a constant companion in never-ending war. And there is always a war, sweet one. Nothing but death comforts me. You have taken everything that once made me great, and one day, your power will be taken from you."
"I didn't mean to."
"I know." She looked down at my hands, tendrils of darkness waving in the air. She put her hands around mine, wrapping her long cool fingers around my fists. "You're going to need everything inside of you. Don't run from it, but embrace it. It is part of you and always has been. You must continue your task, you must remember your promise, and in the process you can repair the damage that has already been done. But right now, you are tired.” She reached up and touched my cheek with a cold finger. "So rest, sweet girl. Rest now. The Morrigan still has some power yet." The eyes of her owl flashed and I felt a chill pass through me as I remembered another owl in another life, the sound of bird bones breaking. The Morrigan's owl shone with stars and I felt dizzy, confused.
“That owl,” I said again. “He killed my raven.”
“And you brought him back,” said the Morrigan. “Now you know another thing you can do. A gift. You must sleep now, to prepare for the trials to come.”
"I can't sleep," I said, "it's too much. I can feel it inside me, it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. It's more than I am now. I'm too weak to keep it all inside, I'm not strong enough."
"You are strong enough, Frankie," she said. "And the more you fail, the stronger you become."
"I don't want to fail."
"And yet," she said, the chill seeming to fill me up, her finger still on my cheek, "you must."
Then she was gone, and the walls of shadow dropped like a curtain, all the world coming crashing back at me. Dekker was screaming my name, holding Abel up by an arm. Abel was shouting, too, but in pain. The ravens around me were flapping and cawing. And then it all stopped as they all seemed to see me at once. Dekker froze three feet away, staring, Abel stopped shouting, seeming horrified by my emergence. And one by one, the ravens took to the air and quietly went on their way. All but one. The raven with the white eyes flapped its wings and landed on my shoulder.
"I don't want to kill anyone," I heard myself say over the pulse beating like a drum in my ears.
"I know, Frankie," Dekker said quietly.
"I don't want to die," I said, the chill of the woman's power growing more intense inside me. The Morrigan was so familiar. Like someone I’d met before.
"Good," Dekker said, seeming unsure how to respond. I'd never seen him look more worried.
"But I have to," I said. "It's who I am."
"Frankie, what the hell just happened?" Dekker said.
"She's seen someone," said Abel. "They're beginning to find her."
"Who?" said Dekker. "Who found you? Frankie? What the hell is going on?"
"Stronger beings than you or I," said Abel, watching me. "But not stronger than her."
"You don't have to die, Frankie," said Dekker.
"It's the end of the world, Tommy,” I said, and realized I was still crying. "Or whoever you are. I'm going to save you all." The darkness was shoving my ribs apart, trying to burst through my breastbone. And at the same time, the cold was taking me, making my head feel heavy, making me sluggish. I stumbled and fell to the ground. Dekker let go of Abel and came to kneel beside me.
"I'm so tired," I said.
"I won't leave you," he said, and suddenly his face was calm. My eyes were clouded with darkness now and I closed them, taking a deep, shuddering breath, blowing it out as ice even though it was warm enough out.
"I feel broken," I whispered. I felt Dekker's hands on my shoulders, and his forehead rested against my own.
"I'll tell you everything, Frankie," he whispered. "Just come back to me. Don't run away."
"That's what she told me, too," I said. "The Morrigan."
"The Morrigan," hissed Abel. He hadn't slinked away when Dekker released him, but stayed to listen, to watch me. Now he stared at me, raising a shaking hand to his face, straightening his glasses. He looked at Dekker, whose forehead was still pressed against mine. "If the Morrigan has come out of hiding, something is very wrong."
"Tell me I know you," I said to Dekker, my voice no louder than a breath. "Just tell me that. Say I know who you are."
"You know me," he said. "You know me better than anyone." I nodded and he backed away, giving me room to stand. I strained to rise on my own and he gently clasped his arm around my waist. Shakily, I turned to move toward the house. "Jesus, you're so cold," Dekker said, as my knees buckled. "Are you all right? What did she do to you?"
"She helped me," I said, the cold covering my skin, my belly, freezing even the darkness. And then I realized that was the point. The darkness would be still now, at least for a little while. Long enough for me to sleep. And as I grasped Dekker's arm, trying to stay awake, Abel came up on my other side, propping me up.
"You can run," I said weakly. "Now is your only chance."
"Come now," he said. "There isn't going to be anywhere to go without you."
And then I didn't hear anything, didn't see anything. My consciousness slipped away and I slept in cool, drifting darkness.
I slept.
SIXTEEN
I woke to the smell of decay, organic and thick, filling my nostrils. I sat up, trying to find my bearings. I was covered in blankets, and pushed them off, the stillness of not dreaming beating behind my eyes, the satisfaction of darkness without nightmares in my throat. But it was tempered with a panic, a manic feeling that I shouldn't be here in this room, sleeping. I should be elsewhere. Everywhere. That I shouldn't be resting, I should be fighting. Even when there was no fight left in me. Fighting until I died and even after, over and over again.
I could feel someone else in the dark and knew it was Dekker. It didn't surprise me when he spoke.
"It was a test," he said. "All this trouble, it was all a test. Those fucking wraiths. And I failed. I failed better than I've failed at anything – and I have failed goddamn magnificently so many times. I failed because I'm a coward. Not in the world, not in my life, that's not what I mean. It's just, when it comes to you, Frankie, my spine evaporates." I heard the sloshing of liquid and realized he'd found a bottle. "I see you looking at me, those eyes go right down deep inside me, and I get scared. More afraid than I've ever been."
"How long was I out?" I said, searching for a window to make sure it was still night.
A match ignited with a hiss and Dekker's face came into view. "Not long, a few hours," he said. He dipped the flame to light a candle and an eerie light filled the room. Dekker was watching me, a half-empty bottle on his lap. He was sitting on the floor, his back slouched against the wall. Above him, a window had been covered with a flattened cardboard box and fixed there with duct tape. Glittering glass spread out on the floor where Dekker was sitting, but he didn't seem to notice.
"Esme?" I said.
"Still sleeping," he said. "Alive. Unexploded. I tied Abel up, just in case. He's in the other bedroom."
I looked down to see he had made me a bed out of a pile of old musty blankets, using his jacket as a pillow.
"It's not a con, if that's what you're thinking," he said. "It was just a name. Thomas Dekker, a damn good name, don’t you think? It was just a job."
"Were you even a detective?" I said.
"That was real," he said pointedly. He shook his head. "Just not under my own identity."
"Whose identity was it?"
"I don't know," he said. "It was just a name."
"And that's why you're really on the run, isn't it?"
"No," he said, an edge to his voice. "All that shit about my partner was real. She was dirty. But, you're close. It's the reason I can't go back."
"That Intern
al Affairs guy," I said, "the one in the trunk. The one you killed."
"He figured it out," he said softly. "God knows how, it was all perfect. I was completely legit on paper. He just knew all the right people. And I knew all the wrong ones."
"The same people who helped you keep track of me."
"Yeah," he said, shrugging helplessly.
"So this guy who knew all about you," I said. "You killed him?"
"Before you leave, Frankie, will you just let me explain?"
"If I was going to leave, I'd have done it a long time ago," I said. "Of course I knew there was something weird going on. But here's the thing, Dekker, or whatever the fuck your name is: I don't give a shit what you've done. But I do think I deserve to know who you are."
He stared at me for a long time, speechless. Finally, he nodded, and seeming not to know what to do next, held the bottle towards me. I came and sat next to him, our knees touching, and took it from him, unscrewing the top and letting the vile liquid burn down my throat.
"Nothing like cheap vodka to confess your sins," he said.
"Abel drinks vodka?" I said.
"And craft beer," he said.
"Huh. I guess I expected Manhattans or martinis."
"Frankie," Dekker said, "I want to tell you. You should know who I was. Who I am. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. You're just so..."
"Horrifying?" I offered.
"No," he said sternly. "Amazing. Watching you through all this, I...I don't know how to explain it. It's like watching God realize what He can do."
"You really are delusional."
"Maybe," he said, "but not about you. I'm in awe of you, Frankie. I'm not afraid of you, though sometimes I wonder if maybe I should be. I'm afraid of what I'll be when you're gone. I'm afraid that this is the best I'll ever be, who I am with you, the way you see me. It's like with you, I'm finally who I was always meant to be, who I really am. And when you leave, I'll just be empty. I'll be this dry husk, hollowed out, just a shell that looks like me but with nothing left inside."
"Maybe I won't leave."