“You saw the River Styx? That could be another sign.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The River Styx. In Greek Mythology, it leads to the portal of hell. Of course, that isn’t the only river. The River Styx is actually a convergence of waterways, which implies there are other portals.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of Styx, but we were at a lake. Although since it had mermaids maybe it was an ocean.”
“The myths are riddles. They often leave out the most pertinent information.” Martin chuckled. “Imagine those who didn’t know a coin was required to cross the River Styx. Those people had no way to pay for passage and had to wander the shores...or worse.”
The myths weren’t the only thing that left out information. Martin was already several feet away and drifting fast. “Where are you going?”
“To the river, of course. Can’t let something like that go by without inspecting it.”
Figures. I describe a dangerous body of water filled with creatures likely to eat him, and he acted like it was a tourist attraction. I hadn’t even told him where it was located. Not that location was all that meaningful here. Martin would either stumble across it or he wouldn’t.
By the time I made it back to my own shelter, my form was as faded and distorted as if I had spent a week fighting the weave.
Troy was waiting for me just inside the cave, looking as bad as I felt. Whoever he had witnessed coming across must have required his help and a lot of energy.
Spook sat very close to Troy, guarding him fiercely. If that dog had been able to, he’d have merged his energy with Troy. I only wished I had something to offer him, but there hadn’t been much to harvest on my way back. The one or two sparks I’d seen had gone out instantly when I picked them up. They were so small, my ghost absorbed them like sugar dissolving in water.
“I think we should find Cinderspark,” Troy said.
“I know. Why did you wait for me? I’d have come looking for you sooner or later.”
Troy kept his head down, too tired to lift it. “I dunno. It’s what we were doing before we heard the call, and your place was closest after we were done watching the soul cross over.”
We sat, unmoving for a span of ghostly time. Whether it was a day, an hour or minutes didn’t matter. It was a form of rest and meditation. We didn’t need sleep, and we didn’t generate any real energy without an outside source, but it still helped.
Getting to his tree took longer than usual because we were both drained. Spook stayed close instead of testing the gray ahead. He walked between us, but it was impossible to say if he was offering me support or keeping me away from Troy. It wasn’t like I ever hung on Troy like Amy did. Even if we touched accidentally, I was always careful not to drain energy. I wasn’t some demon or ghoul feeding off of anything and everything.
The route we followed was familiar, which was both good and bad. While we could reach the tree faster, we weren’t likely to spot any energy unless we detoured close to the edges where something might have drifted through.
“Was the other death bad?” I asked.
Troy nodded. “It was awful, a little girl hit by a drunk driver. Thankfully, Martin showed up. He took care of her.”
“Oh, that is bad.” I was silent for a bit, contemplating. “I’m glad Martin was there.” But if Martin had been the one to help with the crossing, it begged the question of why Troy was so feathered out and weak.
Instead of offering an explanation, all he said was, “I was glad he showed up too.”
When we arrived at the juniper, he said, “I’m going to cross.”
“Now? Troy, you don’t look so good.”
“I don’t think I can wait for Cinderspark.”
Stress caused my face to thin. “What do I do? What if you get stuck? I can’t cross! You know I can’t!” Panic made my legs scrunch up into my chest cavity until I was a head sitting on a ball of foamy gray. The tree was his entry point, but go across? “It can’t be safe!”
“The animals do it. I’ve done it before. It’ll be okay.”
There was something special about the animals he helped. They were a merging of both sides, not just ordinary ghosts. Well, some were, but those were the ones that faded the quickest. The others stayed around Troy, keeping him company.
Before I could protest further, he said, “I was in a car accident. Maybe that’s why the little girl’s death hit me so hard.”
“What? That doesn’t make sense.” Watching someone die was hard, but I’d never been drained by a death. Then again, who was I to argue with Troy? When a child crossed over it was always more difficult. Children had so much life. They were huge, multicolored beacons, beautiful and precious lights. No matter how they came through, it was horribly sad. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing. Just be my backup. If it goes well, I’ll return with some energy. If it doesn’t...well, it will be fine. I’m sure of it.”
I followed far enough to watch his tired form as he approached his tree. Going to the other side could kill him. Even an attempt had to be painful, whether or not he was somehow attached to this portal.
When he touched the juniper, color burst out in a star pattern. His jeans suddenly turned a light blue, his hair darkened, and his high school football jacket glowed briefly before he was gone.
I held my breath, watching. Then I remembered I was supposed to be his backup. Color meant energy. If anything had noticed, trouble would arrive in a flash. The hounds weren’t likely to be attracted, especially by something so instantaneous and lacking in emotion, but there were other creatures to be feared In Between.
I edged closer to the gray branches and like Spook, began to inspect the surrounding boulders and shapes.
The flash of color had been brief. We probably weren’t in any more danger than usual.
Unable to help myself, I drifted next to the tree. There was no feeling of the edge of the bubble, no pressure, no weave. Close to the edge, the fog was always thick enough to see and feel. Here there was just a split trunk and gray limbs.
I put my hand out, but when it came in contact with the foggy bark, I remained as gray as ever. I was more transparent than usual, but I was tired and had no reserves.
The tree did not emit any energy. Its jagged, bent form easily blended with the surroundings. The driftwood side was shiny, and the sheen made it appear damp.
It was natural to want to run my hand along that smoothness, and for a moment, I forgot myself. I forgot that I couldn’t “feel” things like a living person. We ghosts could surround or push objects, but there was rarely real tactile feedback.
Surprisingly, the driftwood felt slick, but not slimy. There was a warmth to it that was not gray. Although my hand remained ghost, the colors around me darkened. Looking behind me, everything was gray. Peering down at the driftwood, I could see sparks like stars.
The darkness inside the tree was not unlike night. It smelled different too, now that I was touching the trunk. The tree held the rich scent of earth, something other than the gray of In Between.
I realized that the portal had remained open when Troy crossed. It probably wouldn’t close until he returned.
The colorless world was behind me, which meant there was something different in front of me. Warily, I stepped into the darkness, wondering if I’d be able to escape.
Well, you only live once, but you can die many times, many different ways.
Chapter 7
The darkness inside the trunk of the juniper was nothing like the weave. I drifted through the breezy blackness, very leery about what might be here. There was light ahead; probably the living world. I checked behind me to make sure the gray opening was still in sight. There was no need to be completely stupid.
There were rocks scattered alongside a path, mostly small pebbles resting on darker ground or tree roots. The area was more a tunnel than empty space, but if there was a ceiling, I couldn’t discern it.
The light source, when
I reached it, was not the world of the living. It was a river. The beam of brightness flowed in and around roots, not radiating very far into the darkness. Streams of varying colors splashed along, with power surging like a heartbeat. The electricity rippled across my gray. The energy reminded me of Cinderspark’s wings; colors, light as air, pulsing in a steady stream.
Had I not thought of her then, I may not have seen her. She matched the mixing dance of light exactly, flickering in time with a silent music. She was color, but she was an unmoving pattern against the flow behind her.
Cinderspark was always a huge beacon of brightness. Being In Between had to be unnatural for her because she retained her youth, her beauty and her aliveness. When she flew, sparkles bounced off of her, and bluish-green swirls followed her like moving lights in a photograph. The sparks, if I caught them, would feed me. Troy called them fairy dust.
“Cinderspark?”
“What are you doing here?” Cinderspark’s wings reflected her namesake, shooting tiny bits of fairy dust in multiple directions. She was angry.
“I followed Troy. He came to visit dirt-side.”
Cinderspark frowned mightily. “If he came here searching for me, you can tell him I won’t be visiting anymore.”
“Oh no! Did you get in trouble?” Disappointment radiated from me. I quickly gathered it back.
Cinderspark sniffed, waving at the wisp of emotion that floated close to her. “No.”
“Oh, Cinder. He’s going to miss you. Me too,” I said. “He went dirt-side to ask you about the number of demons we’ve seen lately.”
Her wings stilled, but she didn’t fall. “Troy is different now. Something is wrong.” She fluttered back and forth, pacing. “The thing is, he’s there now, waiting as if he’s expecting roadkill. He used to only show up when there was roadkill, helping the animals across. But lately it’s as if he can’t tell when there is roadkill and when there isn’t. It’s all wrong!”
“What’s wrong? What is this place?” I asked. “Does this river belong to the fairies?”
Cinderspark giggled. The joy of it hit me gently. She shared it with no thought, and it required no effort on my part to gather it. Like a drink of water, it quenched.
“No, silly. It’s just a ley line. This one is much more accessible than most, because of,” she looked guiltily upward, into the dark. “Well, because of Troy.”
“Oh.”
“If he knows about the demons, why is he—” she stopped. “Have you seen the demons too?”
I nodded. “The last one I saw didn’t make it through. About two day cycles ago, maybe three. We were coming to ask you about it when we were called to help someone come across.”
Cinderspark stopped her fluttering again. She plopped on a rock that jutted out from the side of the cavern. “Troy used to help a lot of people across. He still helps the animals, but he doesn’t have the energy to do it properly most of the time. I thought I could help him.”
“You do help! Your energy is very special!” I spread my ghostly hands. There were no proper words for what Cinderspark provided.
Cinderspark shook her head. “I want to ask my mom what has happened to Troy, but if I did, she’d be very upset with me.”
“Because she’d find out you come here and forbid you to return?”
Cinderspark nodded. “Troy’s problem isn’t exactly a demon mark, but he’s been marked. If I continue to give him energy, that mark will eventually lead to me. That’s the way it is with a demon mark, or even a fairy mark for that matter. But his mark isn’t a demon mark, not precisely.” Her words tumbled out so rapidly, it was hard to assimilate the information.
“Demon mark?” Her words sent a chill through me that was colder than the ice of another ghost.
She bobbed up and down. “I don’t know exactly what it is! That’s the problem. What if...what if it’s just a demon type that I haven’t seen? I can see the mark. I didn’t really notice it at first, but now it’s growing.”
“Oh, no.”
She nodded, flying every which way so quickly, I stopped trying to track her. “It’s true!”
“I believe you.” I stared into the swirls of the river, the ley line. Guilt consumed me. “He rescued me from a demon. He must have gotten hurt or marked. I had no idea.”
Cinderspark shook her head, sparks flying. “No. That isn’t how a mark happens. It’s not a battle scar. It has to be accepted for the binding to take place. Uh-oh. I have to go.” And she did.
In the blink of an eye, I was left alone with only the glow from the ley line running through the rock. Given Cinderspark’s sudden exit, I gathered myself into a tight ball and drifted back towards In Between. There was no point to further exploration. Waiting around to see whatever it was that scared Cinderspark would be worse than foolhardy.
* * *
I didn’t have any experience with fairies, demons, demon marks or magic of any sort before I died. Turns out, In Between lacked libraries or the internet. Maybe I should try to contact someone dirt-side and see if they’d run a quick Google search for me. Of course, there was the small problem that even on the side of the living, there was probably only a handful of people who would know anything about demon marks.
When stumped, I usually asked Troy questions because he’d been here longer than me, but in this case, it didn’t seem like a great idea. Maybe Martin would be able to help me.
I waited outside the juniper while sorting my options, pretending to be Troy’s backup, pretending I hadn’t just infringed on his territory.
When he finally slipped out of the trunk, he was filled with energy, virtually bursting with life, except that he was still dead. I studied him meticulously from head to toe while he was still close to the tree, where colors were most visible. Since he wore a school jacket and jeans, there wasn’t much flesh visible. Then again, as ghosts, maybe a demon mark didn’t have to be on his flesh. His face and neck were clearly formed as he approached. There were no weird, detectable marks.
“I couldn’t find her.” His voice was strong now, barely ghosting at the edges.
I didn’t answer. My attention was completely focused on examining every piece of hair, every bit of visible flesh, including his ears. He hadn’t worn earrings; there was nothing there but gray ear. The jacket looked like any high school jock jacket. Embarrassed, I forced myself to inspect his legs, all the way to his shoes. He was nicely built. Right now he glowed.
I sighed in defeat. I wouldn’t know a demon mark if it floated in front of my face.
Noticing my preoccupation, he asked, “You okay?” His eyebrows were raised.
Who could blame him. I’d been fixated on him like some kind of lovelorn groupie. “Fine. I, uhm, found some leaves that must have floated through.”
“That’s good. There wasn’t much to bring back. There was no roadkill either, but I managed some blades of grass.”
“You keep them. You tire so easily lately. You might need them later on.”
I stared at the blades clutched in his hand.
He nodded. “You’re right. I don’t know why, but the energy doesn’t last long anymore. Maybe it’s because I’ve made my peace topside. It isn’t as easy to slide through anymore, and I don’t feel the call like I used to.” He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket.
“What changed?” My heart beat faster. Maybe he knew what had happened.
“I said goodbye to my parents.”
That didn’t sound right. “What?”
He nodded. “I made my peace with them. I let them know it was okay that I had moved on. But that was a while ago. A new sapling started growing in place of the huge tree that the vehicle crashed into. The new growth is causing the opening here to narrow, and there just isn’t as much energy available.”
But Cinderspark had said he was marked. “Did you see anyone else? Was there anything bad there?”
He focused on me then, instead of staring into the gray. “No. I guess I forgave the people responsib
le. They kidnapped Cinderspark because they thought she could spin gold. I helped her escape. That’s how we became such great friends, but she’s been around less frequently lately. It’s like I insulted her or she’s afraid of me for some reason, but that doesn’t make sense.”
I had to tell him what Cinderspark had said, even though it meant confessing I’d invaded his privacy. Why hadn’t Cinderspark told him the truth? Maybe I could avoid the whole truth. “She came through while you were in there.”
He blinked and his form wavered in surprise. “She did?”
“Troy, she is afraid, but not of you, for you. She said you were marked by something.” I gave him as much detail as Cinderspark had given me without admitting I’d gone into the tree. I felt like a burglar who had taken his secret stash with no ability to return it. I owed him the truth, but wasn’t brave enough to admit my transgression. If the energy here was fading, I’d just pillaged some of the last dredges. “She wants to help, but she’s very afraid of the mark, whatever it is.”
Troy shook his head. “I can’t put her in any danger.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets and clenched his fists before shoving them back in. His fingers were their normal gray, although one hand was less formed than the other. That could easily be the whim of In Between or lack of concentration.
“Can you see anything? Any mark at all?” he demanded.
I shook my head. “I don’t see anything unusual, but I don’t know what to look for, and she didn’t have time to tell me!”
“Maybe I can figure it out.”
“We have to figure it out! The way she described it made it sound like it was a mark that would draw a demon, or whatever marked you, right to you.”
“No, not we. If Cinderspark is avoiding me, I should be avoiding everyone.”
Cold fear filled me again, and it had to be worse for him. Loneliness might be just as bad for some people still alive, but I doubted it was as screamingly miserable as it was here. People talk about cold spots, well, wait until you’re on this end. Those spots reach the land of the living because the kind of pain that comes from being a lonely ghost can’t be stopped by a murky curtain. You walk near a lonely ghost, and you’d have to be a serial killer to miss the vibe. It’s a physical pain that, since I’m dead, shouldn’t be felt anymore, but the hurt is real.
Ghost Shadow (Moon Shadow Series Book 4) Page 5