Rock, Paper, Shivers

by Sara C. Roethle

  The key remained quiet all the while, to my great relief. It hadn’t chimed in for ages, as if afraid . . . or else it was just waiting for the right moment. Perhaps I was doing just as it wanted.

  The thought gave me pause, momentarily severing my connection from nature, but it was too late. A final burst of energy erupted between our bodies, blowing our hair away from our faces in perfect unison.

  The energy grew between us, but nothing else was happening. No phantoms came into existence.

  Mara suddenly pulled away from me. I reached out for her, surprised. She hadn’t said anything about pulling away during the ritual.

  A gleaming knife appeared in her hand, held steady as the loose fabric of her clothing whipped around her like a mini hurricane. I reared away from her, fearful I’d been betrayed, then she plunged the blade through her ribcage, directly into her heart. I felt it as the blade connected with the vital organ, like I had been stabbed myself.

  I coughed, thinking that it was only my empathy affecting me, but my hand came away with blood. I fell to my knees, mirroring Mara. Blood trickled from her lips as her eyes met mine.

  “The ritual connects us, and it calls for death,” she croaked. “Take my energy,” she instructed. “Finish this.”

  We simultaneously coughed up more blood and I reached out for her. My hands connected with her bloody chest. I could feel her frantic life force reaching out to me. It had nothing to do with whatever life had previously been in the corpse. It was all Mara, the same energy that had travelled through the spectral tree and into Sophie. I didn’t understand how I could release that much life force, a life force capable of surviving on its own, and jumping from host to host.

  Our faces were only inches away from each other. “I have grown too weak to maintain myself. Give me form when it is time,” she whispered. “You are much stronger than I ever was.”

  Her life force rushed into me. The pain left me, and I knew just what I was supposed to do. I sent a wave of energy into the ground, just like I had done when I raised the corpses that initially protected the key. Something answered, a distant echo in my head, as Mara’s body slumped to the earth beside me.

  Misty shapes emerged from the soil, surrounding me so that I could barely see past them. They wore cloaks that seemed to be made of swirling smoke. Inside the cloaks, spectral features slowly formed. They were all women, with long, incorporeal hair swirling in the breeze to meld with their cloaks.

  “Why have you awoken us?” several voices asked in my head. It felt like when I “spoke” to any other dead. There really were no words, but the point was conveyed regardless.

  I opened my mouth to instruct the banshees, but was cut off as the key came to life inside me. I was held immobile as something that wasn’t me said, “To spill the blood of my enemies.”

  “As you wish, Morrigan,” the banshees echoed in my head.

  I didn’t know if the banshees were talking to me, the key, or the Morrigan’s energy still within me, but I didn’t have time to think about it. The three energies fought against each other, making me feel like they might burst through my skin any moment. I couldn’t contain such immense power in my mortal form. There was no way.

  As the energies collided with each other in one final shove, I screamed, clawing at my face in agony.

  Still on my knees, I fell the rest of the way to the ground. The damp soil was moist and soothing, even though distantly I knew that my cheek was resting against a gravestone.

  Beyond the immense energy within me, I could feel the energy of the earth below me. I reached out, focusing on that calm force instead of the war inside me. It soothed the three of us, as it called out to each form of energy equally. We were all different, yet we were all a part of the earth. We could work together. We were supposed to work together.

  Suddenly all felt still. The earth, life, death, emotion, and chaos had suddenly found balance, just as they had found a purpose.

  10

  James and Alaric had been led to the Oslo Airport, where they now waited to board their flight. It was the same airport that had first welcomed them to Norway, and it brought back nostalgic memories for Alaric.

  On that original flight, Madeline had slept on his shoulder almost the entire way, giving him hope she would forgive him. It had been one of the happiest moments he’d had in many years, and he’d always remember it fondly, especially because it was one of the last days before Madeline came in contact with the key. He wished he could rewind to that flight right in that moment. He doubted his upcoming flight would be anywhere near as enjoyable.

  “What are you doing?” Alejandro demanded, walking up beside Alaric.

  Alaric startled. He hadn’t heard Alejandro’s approach in the noisy airport boarding area. He raked his fingers through his hair and offered Alejandro a lazy smile, pretending he had just been daydreaming, when really he’d been trying to drop a note in a trash can for Sophie. He knew she would be somewhere near the airport, and would be able to smell out anything he left for her. She would not be pleased about digging through a trash can, but it seemed his best option if he didn’t want Damon, Alejandro, or Tallie to notice the note before they departed.

  He glanced over at James, relaxing in the first of several rows of waiting room seats. His muscled arms were spread out onto the seats on either side of him, taking up way more space than was necessary. He was so still he could have almost been asleep. It was hard to tell for sure with the dark sunglasses shielding his eyes. Either way, he wasn’t likely to be much help.

  “Just wondering why I’m not allowed to hold my own ticket,” Alaric replied, letting his irritation show in his voice.

  Really, he had no need to hold the ticket. Even though he’d had to wait near the airport’s entrance while Tallie purchased plane tickets for all, with his heightened hearing he’d heard her booking their flight to Dublin, Ireland. That was what he’d written on the crumpled napkin that was now back within his pocket.

  “You’ll find out where we’re going soon enough,” Damon grumbled as he came to stand on Alaric’s other side, nervously pushing his honey blond hair back from his face. “For now, we’d rather like to delay the moment where you try to kill us.”

  Alaric dramatically lifted a hand to his chest. “Do you truly think so little of me?”

  Before Damon could reply, Alejandro smirked. “We are all on Aislin’s bad side. This is our last chance to come through for her. If it’s a trap, you’ll just be saving Aislin the trouble of killing us herself.”

  “Shut up,” Tallie ordered as she joined them, a large, soft pretzel in hand.

  “What does it matter?” Alejandro sighed, glancing over at Tallie. “I’m sure he already figured out where we’re going. We can fight to the death now, or later. What’s the difference?”

  Though Alejandro was correct, Alaric didn’t quite feel the need to rub it in. Instead he kept quiet, hoping to keep the trio in an argumentative state where they might give away more information. His hopes were dashed as James chuckled from where he sat behind them, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

  “What is so damned funny?” Tallie asked hotly, turning away from Alejandro to aim her dark eyes at James.

  James smirked, remaining in a relaxed, seated position. “You’re all so worried that Aislin has purposefully put you into a position to be killed. Imagine what she’ll do to me if I somehow end up fooling all of you. A quick death would be a reward compared to what might be in store for me. You all should be grateful.”

  “Is that an admission of guilt?” Tallie growled, turning away from the rest of the group to stalk toward James.

  James grinned, though it was more a bearing of teeth, predator to predator. “Not quite.”

  Annoyed with the entire situation, Alaric looked up at the flight board. They were congregated in the wrong section of the airport, a weak attempt by Tallie to keep him and James in the dark. He knew which plane they needed to board, and when. Their flight was the next
in line, and he hadn’t managed to leave any clues for Sophie. With how Alejandro was watching him, he doubted he’d be given any opportunities.

  “Why even try?” Alaric muttered, more voicing his own frustration than anything.

  Tallie turned away from James to eye him dangerously. “If we succeed, we will be back in Aislin’s good graces. If we fail, we will die. If we don’t try at all, or if we run, we will end up with fates far worse than death. I have no doubt Aislin would find us, no matter where we hid, or with whom.”

  Damon and Alejandro silently nodded in agreement. Alaric was beginning to think Estus wasn’t the only Doyen who didn’t really care about the best interests of other Vaettir. He flashed back on the nervous blonde guard in Aislin’s Salr, followed by the wary glances of her people as they walked through the halls. A tyrant is a tyrant is a tyrant. They might have come in different packages, but Estus and Aislin were very much the same.

  A little beep sounded as the airport’s intercom came to life. A voice announced it was time to board the flight to Dublin.

  Alaric feigned surprise as Damon shoved him ahead of the rest of the group. They crossed the center hall to the correct waiting area. Damon smiled smugly as they filed into line with the other passengers. Alejandro moved up to Alaric’s other side, giving him a look that said, drop the act. Alaric smiled knowingly at Alejandro and nodded.

  Turning his gaze forward, Alaric fingered the napkin in his pocket. Since they were surrounded by distracting humans, he briefly considered dropping it on the ground, but it was too risky. If one of the others found it, they’d know the trap was coming that they already half-expected. He needed a more finite location on Madeline before that confrontation took place.

  Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he boarded the plane.

  I had no idea how much time had passed since the earth’s soothing energy overcame me. When I finally sat up, it was still dark, and the banshees still watched me with hollow eyes.

  Mara’s dead body was beside me, and I knew I better high tail it out of the cemetery before any humans decided to visit their loved ones. As I looked down at her corpse, her words echoed in my head, Give me form when it’s time.

  I had no idea what she meant. The body she’d “killed” had already died once. It wasn’t her real body, so maybe she’d just find a new one . . . but then, why had she asked me to give her form? Had her essence weakened too much for her to simply find another body, or was her last body’s death some sort of sacrifice? Did she give up more in the ritual than just her borrowed form?

  The questions were making my head spin, especially since I’d likely never get a definite answer. I rose to my feet as the banshees watched me curiously. Now that I was able to fully focus on them, I could tell their faces were actually very different, though they were all female. They floated above the earth in diaphanous robes, but I could still tell that some were taller than others, and some had larger or smaller frames. These were real women once, and now they were tortured souls. I could feel them just like I could feel the remaining energy in one of the Vaettir after their body had died. The banshees were trapped, anchored to the earth. It kept them from moving on.

  I felt a connection to them, just like I did with other dead. I knew I could command them. I could sense their desire for a purpose. Thoughts suddenly flashed through my mind, and I wasn’t sure if they came from the key, or from whatever part of the Morrigan was now inside me. It was confusing trying to decipher the difference, so instead I just listened to what the thoughts were trying to convey.

  Our army must grow, they said.

  I frowned. It was a thought both the Morrigan and the key would have, but I only wanted to listen if it was Mara telling me to do it. Anything the key wanted would be evil . . . yet it seemed to be going along with our plan. It had shown me it still had the ability to take over, to make me speak words that were not my own, yet it had kept quiet as we planned to summon Freyja, perhaps knowing we would get the Morrigan instead. Then it had kept quiet as Mara and I planned the ritual to summon the banshees. I was obviously playing right into what the key wanted, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “I don’t know what comes next,” I said out loud.

  Realistically I needed to get out of that graveyard, and I needed to grow an army, but I didn’t know how to do either of those things.

  We know the way, one of the banshees chimed in, her voice an eerie whisper in my mind.

  We can take you, another explained, her voice far deeper than the first.

  “I need to find Alaric,” I replied out loud.

  No, not yet, a voice echoed in my head. It wasn’t one of the banshees, rather a voice from within me. It made me dizzy to listen to so many forms of input directly into my brain. I clutched at my stomach, feeling nauseous.

  “I need to do this on my own,” I muttered, surprised, because I was pretty sure that it was my thought.

  This fight had become extremely personal, especially with two foreign entities in my head, and one growing in my belly. It was the latter that made me realize I needed to step up to the plate.

  My daughter would have Alaric, Sophie, and perhaps even others to protect her eventually, but right now, what she had was me. I needed to be strong enough to not only protect her, but to eventually show her that she could protect herself.

  The banshees edged closer to me. I noticed a light swooping back and forth in the distance, and I realized with a start that someone was walking toward the graveyard with a flashlight. Someone had probably heard me talking to myself, and wanted to make sure no one was out here defacing the graves.

  The banshees were suddenly very close. We must go, one of them urged. The image of a woman turning into a crow swept through my mind, but I shook my head. I wasn’t the Morrigan. That gift was beyond me.

  They seemed to sigh, then suddenly I was enveloped in mist. I had the sensation of flying, though I couldn’t see nor feel much else. It wasn’t as frightening as when I’d traveled with Mara. My body still felt whole as I was lifted into the air, just somewhat incorporeal.

  The next thing I knew, I was standing in another dark graveyard. This one was deep within a forest. Most of the gravestones were nothing but chunks of stone on the ground, but I could feel the graves underneath. They weren’t like regular graves. They were . . . restless.

  They are not like us, one of the banshees explained, but they will come if you call. They will fight.

  I felt confused again as reality seeped in. It was like I was alternating between a trance state, and the real me. The banshees’ energy was overwhelming, as were the energies inside me. The spirits in the ground called out to the part of me that was death, but that was not all that I was. I was also life, and I couldn’t forget that.

  We only recognize death, one of the banshees whispered through my mind. It holds us in its eternal embrace. It is all that we are.

  I sensed the truth in her words. The banshees would bring death and darkness, because it was all they knew. They followed me because they recognized one of their own, at least in part.

  Call to them, the banshees instructed as one.

  I did as they bade me. It hardly took any effort, since the spirits were already reaching out to me, begging to be released. I had a moment of worry over what might happen if I lost control of the dead I was collecting, but the thought washed away as the spirits joined us. Most were barely visible, but the change in energy was dramatic. It radiated through me, making me want more.

  I could feel the key’s excitement. It was no longer bothering to shield itself from me. We had a dual purpose now, even if we were acting for different reasons. It was sure it could take over if I faltered, though I didn’t entirely agree. I was frightened by the idea, but I thought that maybe, just maybe, I’d be strong enough to fight it. The dead were mine, after all. They did not answer to the chaos that was the key.

  Without another word, the banshees closed around me. After several dizzyin
g moments, we reached the next set of ancient graves. These had no headstones at all. They’d never had them. It was a mass grave. The spirits were all tangled together underneath the earth.

  I called to them, and they answered, pleased to be released from below.

  We continued on, from graveyard to graveyard. I began to get a sense that all of these spirits recognized the Morrigan. She had used them before, and they had waited for centuries, anxious for the moment she would come again. Phantom Queen indeed.

  They weren’t normal spirits, either. Normal spirits found their peace and moved on. These wanted more. They could not let go of the lives they had once lived, just like the banshees.

  We moved on to the next graveyard, traveling a much greater distance, then on to the next, growing my army every time my feet hit the ground. Eventually other creatures began to join us. Creatures that shouldn’t exist in the modern day world flocked to the gathering energy, awoken from what should have been an eternal slumber.

  I couldn’t make them out clearly in the night. Most often, I would just catch a glimpse of bat-like wings in my peripheral vision, or perhaps a glowing set of eyes here and there.

  As our communal power grew, I began to feel like we might actually succeed. We might win against Estus, and Aislin. My child and I might survive.

  As I stood in another graveyard, looking around at the army I had amassed in record time, I felt almost smug. There was a new Phantom Queen in town.

  11

  After arriving in Dublin well after midnight, Alaric, James, and Aislin’s trio traveled by car to the North. Far North. Tallie drove, still unwilling to give away Madeline’s location.

  She seemed overly anxious during the car ride, giving Alaric the impression that more was wrong than previously stated. He hoped the wrongness had nothing to do with what Tallie could sense of the key and Madeline. At the very least, it could be that Madeline had already left wherever she had been, leaving Tallie to trace only the residual energy of her prolonged stay. At the very worst . . . well, he didn’t like to think about the worst. He couldn’t think about the worst.