No, that way lies madness. She was trying to escape from that.
She was in a covered alleyway with Jake, as evening fell on a school night. They couldn’t go to her home because her mother was there, and he flatly refused to take her to his apartment. So they snuck here, out of the way of the main street, where they wouldn’t be readily seen.
Jake was getting freer with his hands the more they had their secret rendezvous, but she let him; it made her feel wanted.
Lately though, she couldn’t keep her mind on task, as it were. She broke off.
“What’s the matter?” he said, nuzzling her neck, leaning forward to kiss her again.
She pulled back again. “I’m not really in the mood this evening.”
“Hey,” he said, suddenly serious. “You know how hard it is to get here without anyone knowing?”
Which was true, but it still irritated her. Couldn’t he see there was something bothering her? “I’m sorry for being such an inconvenience,” she said, a little hotly.
“Whoa there, where’s that attitude coming from? There’s plenty other girls I can spend my time with. You weren’t like this a few weeks ago.”
“People change.”
“So it’s like that, is it? Well, you let me know when you change back.” He pushed off her and walked off without a second glance.
And now there were tears in her eyes. She’d gone and ruined something else.
Well, shit.
“Are you going to mope around all night?” her mother asked as they were eating their dinner.
“If I want to,” she replied curtly.
“Are you going to tell me what’s the matter?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Then if it’s nothing, stop sulking like a child.”
“What?!”
Her mother pinned her with her eyes. “I didn’t raise a grouse. If you have a problem, deal with it, otherwise, let it go and move on with your life.”
She was tempted to retort, you didn’t raise much of anything, but stopped herself. It was too easy to say things in the heat of the moment that would ferment between them; her books had taught her that.
Besides, her mother was right; it was time to deal with her problem.
It all boiled down to two simple questions. Was it all real? And if so, how could she get back?
She did her research at the library, as she had no internet, and it was much easier than carrying books home.
She spent a few hours searching the net for any hint of the people she’d seen in Limbo, but it was quickly frustrating. Even just focusing on those that she guessed were in the same country, she had few details to go on; a name, a job. On top of that, it needed to be a relatively newsworthy death for there even to be a report somewhere. The closest she’d gotten were a few lines in local news posts about different men executed by lethal injection. Any one could be her serial killer.
Or none of them.
Strike one.
That left getting back into Limbo, where her luck was a bit better. Apparently, travelling to the underworld was relatively common in mythology. Enough to make her believe that there was a grain of truth there. Or perhaps she just wanted to believe so.
It was something, anyway.
However, she didn’t know if Limbo and the underworld were the same place. Perhaps they were linked, and the way to one would hint at the way to the other, but she couldn’t be sure. There was also the problem with the how. She couldn’t find many stories that mentioned the actual way they entered the underworld.
She could always die, as that was one constant way to get there, but perhaps it was better to call that Plan B.
She eventually pulled out two stories, one that mentioned a chasm, and one that mentioned a cave. Unfortunately, there was a distinct lack of chasms and caves around the city. Both of them had doors guarding the boundaries between the worlds though, and at the mention, she felt a thrill inside.
That night she lay in her bed. She realised she was nervous, and more than a little hopeful. She’d find out one way or the other if what she’d experienced was real or a psychosis.
The idea seemed plausible. It came to her after she’d half-remembered something that her maybe-father had maybe-said when she was in maybe-Limbo.
Right now, you come here when you sleep.
That surely implied that it was possible to get there without sleeping, right?
She closed her eyes, settled her frame of mind, breathing slow and deep. The same frame of mind that she went to when opening the door to deliver a soul.
In her mind, she turned around.
There was nothing there.
Grief threatened to flood her and wash away her precious concentration. She firmed her resolve.
I am a Shepherd. I know who I am. I am not crazy!
She turned again.
Behind her stood an ornate door, richly carved and twined about with ivy. A sob of pure relief escaped her lips.
She reached for the handle. The door looked heavy and thick.
She focused; she was born to open doors like this.
It took effort, but the door swung open, and beyond it, the familiar colours greeted her. She’d never seen anything so beautiful. Long grass spilled over the threshold, inviting her in.
She stepped forward.
19
She was back. She was finally back! She found herself in the same place as when she originally arrived; before the river. It was a glorious morning, mirroring her mood. The knee-high grass rippled with a multitude of colours, brushing softly against her. All around her, trees, more types than she could name, pushed and fought each other for which of them could put on the most magnificent display. Flowers and petals floated through the air currents, slipping through the lances of sunlight that breached the canopy around her. She breathed as deeply as she could. While she’d originally found the air to be almost thick, she came to realise that this was the way it should be, and what she breathed in the real world was only a thin copy, lacking the same nourishment. No wonder most people walked around with sour faces, bored with the everyday mundane. Here, the air filled her lungs and flowed through her body, making her feel more aware of everything around it.
She looked behind her. The ornate door still stood open, though it was hard to see through it. She got the impression of her room, but it was like looking through thick oil, and the image fluctuated and swirled, breaking apart and warping around itself.
But this was not the time to be looking behind her! She felt like a child again, full of wonder and awe. She snatched some blossoms out of the air; they tasted as sweet as before. She twined her fingers through the sunlight until it looked like her hands were glowing. She put one foot in the air, solidified it, and stepped up to fly; before pitching forward on her face. She hadn’t quite got that balance yet. Instead, she rolled around in the deliciously soft grass. Yeah, this is what she’d meant to do all along. Nice save.
She seemed to have more control over the world than before, as if she was stronger. Perhaps it was because she’d finally made her way here properly. Where before it had been a strain to create whatever she was imagining, now it came easily, and she delighted in making random creations appear in front of her.
She made her way slowly, choosing her direction based on whichever route looked the nicest. But even though she meandered at will, she still came upon the river. It flowed fast and swift, bubbling silently over the stony bed. She was about to cross over when she heard singing.
It was so out of the ordinary that at first she wondered if it was herself, singing under her breath. But no, there was definitely someone nearby.
She rounded a thicket at a bend in the river, and there in front of her, she saw a young woman kneeling barefoot in the shallows beneath the vivid blue sky, washing what looked like sheets. Around her, on the rocks, some more were stretched out to dry in the sun. She was singing in a language that Aisling didn’t recognise, all while wringing, slapping, and scru
bbing her laundry in time with the lyrics. Aisling didn’t understand it, but the singing was beautiful, if a bit sad.
She walked down to her. The woman didn’t look up, but continued her work, twisting the sheets until the muscles in her forearms stood out. She was very beautiful. Shamefully so, in fact. Aisling felt inadequate compared to her.
The water flowed around the woman, coming up to just below the bend of her knee. She showed no sign of discomfort, yet it bothered Aisling. She didn’t know why, but she knew that if she touched the water, it would go very badly for her. How was this woman able to do so? Aisling stood well back from it.
“Hello!” she shouted out.
The woman looked up and gave her a little smile, though she didn’t pause in her washing, nor in her singing. Presently, she refocused on her task.
Well that’s rude, Aisling thought.
“What are you doing?”
The woman gave her an amused look that said any fool should be able to figure it out. She sang on.
Aisling’s good mood was rapidly fading.
“Who are the sheets for?”
The woman stopped what she was doing, and sat back on her haunches with her back straight. She seemed bemused. When she spoke, it was in the same language as the song, her voice soft and melodic, patiently explaining what apparently was obvious. To Aisling, it sounded something like, “Vur nah-her.”
She looked at Aisling, waiting, though Aisling had no idea what for. Aisling gave her an embarrassed smile. “Oh. Right. Okay, then.”
The woman smiled back, and nodded her head as if to say, there you have it! She lifted the sopping sheets from her lap and started singing again. She paid no more attention to Aisling.
That seemed to be that. Aisling backed away slowly, then turned and walked rapidly away without looking back. Her meeting with the washerwoman had weirded her out. There was something off about her, but it was only when she was well away from the shallows of the river that she figured it out.
The woman, she had no Shade.
A puzzle for another day. Aisling had to stop wasting time; it was time to find her father. She concentrated, stretching out her senses, filtering through the threads that she could find, then farther out still. She sifted through them until she came to her father’s. How she knew it was his, she couldn’t tell, but there was no doubt in her mind. It pulsed erratically; something she’d never seen before.
She set off.
Aisling found him where she thought she would; underneath the world tree, resting with his head against the bole, eyes closed, as if he had all the time in the world. Her heart had leapt when she’d first caught sight of him, and she realised just how much she’d missed him. Still, his current nonchalance irritated her.
“Where were you?” she demanded as she arrived. Beneath her, the ground hummed with the passages of power.
He opened his eyes and tossed her something, which she caught on instinct, without looking at it. “Apple?”
It was from the tree, the same kind as she’d first eaten. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Delicious as they were, she pocketed it for later; he wasn’t going to distract her.
“Where were you? I was gone for days! You could have called, emailed, something. Anything.” Sudden tears were forming at the back of her eyes, and she willed them away, concentrating on her anger. She didn’t want to break now.
The smile dropped off her father’s face as he sobered and pulled himself up, a little disjointedly. Probably stiff from sitting so long, she dismissed. “When I realised you’d come back,” he said, referring to before her collapse, “when I found you there, I thought I was too late, for you weren’t responding to anything. I hope you never have to go through that; wondering if your child is dying in front of you.
“I knew you were alive though,” he continued, after a pause where he was lost in thought. “I would have found you here otherwise. I would have found you.”
She heard the fear in his voice, and she found her face to be wet. “And afterwards? Nothing? I was afraid that this wasn’t real. They made me think that this wasn’t real.”
“I’m sorry, kiddo,” he said, touching her face, wiping her tears away. “I wanted to, but it had to be your choice to come back. In the end, we always have to make the choice. You accepted who you are, what you are, embraced it. And now you have control.
“But you must learn to exercise that control,” his voice became stern. “What you did was foolish and reckless! I warned you before about the dangers of overdoing it. I warned you! You don’t feel your body while you’re here, but it still takes its toll. More, even; for everything you do here, that energy has to come from somewhere. If I hadn’t have found you when I did…I don’t know, you were very close. So very close.”
“I know,” she said, hanging her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to just leave it after Mia - we started so well! I wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted to be proud of myself.”
“I am proud of you, Aisling,” he said, taking her in a fierce hug. ”But pride is no good to the dead.”
She hugged her father back as hard as she could. She didn’t know how long had passed when they finally separated; her perception was different here. She was feeling better though. Cleansed.
Her father sat back down, though collapsing might be more appropriate for the last bit. He looked tired. Apparently, her disappearance had affected him more than she realised. “Come sit with me,” he said.
“You’re beginning to show your age, old man,” she jibed. She got down beside him, leaning back against the bark of the tree, enjoying the frisson that spread out from her spine with each flow of power. Before them, the land spread out, undulating gently. From here, it was more obvious that all the plants arranged themselves around this tree; she could almost follow the pathways.
The sun was climbing higher, bathing the sky in deep oranges and blues. She soaked up the rays, accepting their warmth, allowing them to recharge her. She looked over at her father. He was staring ahead, not really seeing anything, a small frown on his face.
“You can stop worrying, Dad. I’m fine.”
He looked at her solemnly, eyes tracing her face as if seeing it for the first time. She didn’t like that look.
“I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Aisling. I didn’t know if you were going to make the choice or not, but now, it’s sure, and I’m glad. I’m glad you did.”
“What are you talking about?”
He took a slow, deep breath.
“I’m dying, Aisling.”
Her contentment shattered. “What?”
“I knew it when I first felt your presence here, because that’s how it works; there’s only one Shepherd at a time in a family. I got tests done, but it was to know how long I had, rather than confirm anything.”
“Wait, what? What do you mean ‘how long’?” But he looked fine! Tired, but as healthy as any other day.
“It’s hard to be sure with these things. Maybe a few days, maybe a few weeks. It’s aggressive. I can feel it approaching. Heaven help me, but I can feel it coming.”
“No.” This had to be another test, surely.
“Yes, kiddo,” he said gently. “Why do you think you’re here? Why do you think you learned all about this - Limbo, Shepherding, everything - now?”
“I…bu-…” She’d never really thought about it. She supposed she’d just assumed it was just something that activated with age.
“I was older than you when I found out. I learned from your grandfather. It was just before he passed away. You might not remember; you were young.”
Of course she remembered her granddad’s death. Her father had left a few months later. That sort of combination left an impression on you.
“No, you can’t be sure” she whispered.
He looked at his hands, turning them this way and that. “I’m losing my abilities, Aisling. It’s getting harder to know who’s next. I struggle to open doors now, and each time takes more effort,
more out of my body. I come here for the apples,” he said, holding one up. “They’re better nourishment than ordinary food; they let me push on a little bit harder, a little bit longer.
“I can’t see Shades as well anymore, and that scares me. When I first found you and drove off those surrounding you, it was all I could manage.” He clenched his fist. “If I’d been your age, I’d have blown them back! Now, I need to run.” He sagged while admitting that.
He looked at her again, a sad smile on his face. “But I’m glad you made the choice, I’m glad that you’re going to be here with me. I can’t think of a better way to spend the time I have left. I’m going to need you at the end.”
“No, I don’t believe you!” She couldn’t lose her father just after getting him back. It was monstrously cruel.
Her father put a hand on her own, and she snatched it away. “Only a Shepherd can open the door, Aisling. I can’t do it for myself.”
The thought of that dead, grey place filled her mind. Of the crying and screaming, only this time, instead of Mia, it was her father beating at the invisible barrier trying to get back through. And she was the one that would have to deliver him there. “No! I won’t!” she cried, scrambling up. “I can’t!” She shook her head rapidly, trying to drown him out. She turned and ran.
“Aisling!”
She ran harder. Harder even than the time she’d been running for her life from the Shades.
This was much worse.
“Aisling!”
20
She fled, using a combination of running and jumping, trying to move faster and faster. She was half blind with tears, and had no idea of where she was going, just so long as it was away from what was behind her.
Her father’s voice fell quickly behind; either he wasn’t making much of an effort to catch her, or he had been telling the truth about how little he was capable of now.
She cursed herself, her father, fate, everything. She’d been so happy to get back here! To see him again. And to find out the only reason she was here in the first place was because he was dying. Or perhaps her coming here was the cause? Her mind threw one guilty thought after another at her. And to top it off, she had the choice of delivering her father to that dead realm, or condemn him to wander Limbo, getting slowly devoured until he was a mere shadow, ready to drift apart on the wind.
Shepherds: Awakening Page 10