Before we can take the conversation further, I hear a sound in the house. The slamming of a screen door.
“You should go. You shouldn’t be here,” he says quickly. The sadness in his eyes is replaced by fear, making me wonder what he’s seen in this place.
“She will use you. Turn you into something you’re not. Think of Nathair. Go,” he urges.
Think of Nathair. Is that what she did to him? Did she somehow change him into something he wasn’t? Force him to join her? Does that possibility make me think more of Nathair or less of Mara? I’m not sure.
I can’t help reaching for him, but he pulls away. “Come with me,” I beg, knowing he won’t.
“I can’t. You know I can’t. The mists won’t come here.”
Before I can ask him how he knows that, the bedroom door abruptly opens. I stand, turning to block Shiloh’s soul with my body.
But it isn’t Mara standing in the doorframe. Nor is it Nathair.
Quietly, the man closes the door behind him and turns to face me.
The shock nearly keeps words from forming. But, eventually, I find my voice. “Webber. What are you doing here?”
Seven
Penn
I see her. The anger she feels is almost overwhelming. When you combine it with the grief and desperation, I’m almost taken in. Almost. Sympathy threatens to form in my mind, but I push it back. This woman is responsible for trapping eight innocent souls in hell. Eight. One wrongfully trapped soul is far too many. Eight is a tragedy that can’t be tolerated, not to mention the massive amount of ghosts on Earth this whole mess created.
I see her driving. Nathair sits next to her in an old pick-up truck. I think it was yellow at one time, but age and rust have made it hard to tell.
“Did you take care of the girl?” Mara asks. There’s no empathy in her cold voice. I can feel the love she holds for her own child. But it’s clear she holds no affection for this girl she’s talking about.
“I did.” Nathair shifts in his seat, as if he’s uncomfortable. “Mara,” he finally says, “why can’t we just let them go to heaven after we cut their threads?”
She slams on the brakes in the truck, and Nathair only stops himself from crashing into the dashboard by bracing his body with his long legs.
“You dare to question me? You know there was no we when I started this. There was only Shiloh. And if you’re not in this for the right reasons, I can do it without you.”
Shiloh. Her son. I’m slowly putting the pieces together. This is about Shiloh. I struggle to remember the boy. His thread was terribly short, but that’s all I can recall off the top of my head. Suddenly, I have the urge to break away and find Shiloh’s thread, but I need to know where they are.
“True, it was harder without you. It wasn’t easy to bend the Reapers to my will, but it got me to the heavens…and my memory-erasing spell ensured they were none the wiser. But it was a challenge I mastered as time went on. I can do this without you.”
Nathair sits quietly for a moment. But something is bugging him. I can tell from all the sidelong glances he’s making at her.
“But why the prison, Mara? They are suffering. You know what happened to Nysa. Isn’t there some way we could—?”
She cuts him off. “Nysa got what she deserved. She didn’t want to help my Shiloh. She had the audacity to tell me to let him go in peace.” She pauses as she makes a turn down a dirt road. “The others…are unfortunate.”
“But if we correct it, maybe we can save them.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. He wants to save them. He’s not invested in this the same way she is.
“My, my, Nathair. You are a softie, aren’t you? In fact, I think your Reaper is showing.” She smiles playfully at him and puts her hand suggestively on his knee. “I like this soft side I’m seeing. But no, my sweet. There’s nothing I can do for them now. Their threads have been cut early so if they go on to heaven, their threads become…unviable. I found that out the hard way. So they must go to the prison.”
“But they’ll all just vanish.”
“A casualty of war, I’m afraid. A sacrifice I’m willing to make. Aren’t you?” She bats her eyelashes up at him and stares at him with her huge green eyes. I want to shout at him. She’s manipulating you, you idiot. Listen to your instincts! But he wouldn’t hear me. I am nothing more than an observer. Once we set a thread’s fate in motion, that soul is out of our hands. And Mara is so far out of reach, I fear we may never find her.
Instead of answering her, Nathair turns his attention out the window. I do the same, trying to see down the road. The thick forest makes it hard to grasp exactly where they are, but I can see a log cabin up ahead. A few more moments tells me that’s where she’s heading. And that must be where Michaela is hidden too.
I pull back from the tapestry abruptly. Shiloh. My eyes dart up Mara’s thread until I find where Shiloh’s branches off it. It’s actually hard to see. As it is expertly woven back into the tapestry, I have to work hard to free it. Once I do, I’m shocked at what has happened to it.
“Horatia. Look at this.”
I trace his thread with my finger. It’s unnaturally long. It changes from the vibrant blue to a myriad of colors, including what looks like a bit of a sparkler. Is that Kismet? I can’t tell for sure. It’s woven back into the tapestry, so I can’t quite see where it ends now.
“Do you remember this boy?” I ask.
She scrutinizes his thread. “Yes. His thread was shorter than this when I gave it to Webber.”
Galenia peers over my shoulder at it. “He was supposed to die from cancer ages ago.”
“Indeed.”
When I peer into his thread, the boy is lying in bed, inside the home. I can hear voices outside the door. One of them is female. The sound is muffled and hushed, but I recognize it in an instant. Michaela.
The urge to go to her is overwhelming. She’s so close, but I’m not really there. I try to silently send her strength and encouragement. I’m coming for you, I whisper. Yet in some ways, I’m as far from helping her as ever. After all, I can have no effect on the people or events I see through the tapestry.
It’s time for us to take our next step, whatever that is.
“I know where she is,” I say, pulling away again. Or, at least I think I do. No need to let the others in on my doubts. At least not yet.
“Where?” Horatia demands.
“In some isolated log cabin in the Pacific Northwest.”
“Be more specific. Do you have coordinates or anything?” she asks.
“No.” I’m starting to feel dumb.
Horatia folds her arms over her chest and looks me up and down. “So how do you plan to extricate her?”
Galenia puts a hand on her sister’s shoulder, and she relaxes a bit.
“Same way I figured out where she is. Follow my gut.”
Eight
Michaela
Webber is breathless as he sinks to the floor just inside of Shiloh’s room, leaning his back against the door.
“Who’s that?” Shiloh’s soul asks. He seems very intrigued by the new soul in his room. “I’ve never seen someone like him before.”
“That’s Webber. He’s a Spinner. One of the three Fates. He creates those threads that are…” I stop, instantly regretting that I’ve drawn attention to the very threads the boy’s mother is using to anchor him here. “He creates the threads of life.”
“Wow! Really? That is so cool! Can you show me?” he asks with the type of wonder only a small child can possess. His eyes are sparkling as he looks at Webber, and it’s obvious Webber isn’t quite sure what to do. He’s clearly not used to this level of admiration. Particularly not considering the way things are going.
He raises his knees and rests his arms on them. “I can’t show you right now, kid, but I tell you what, you get to heaven and you can come watch me spin any time you like.”
Of course, it’s an idle promise—the souls taken to heaven w
on’t ever see the Fates’ workroom, but it’s the gesture that counts. Shiloh gives him a huge grin. “Deal!” he says.
Webber looks at me, and I can see his confusion beyond the smile he’s put on for the boy. His eyes dart to the rope connecting the body on the bed to the soul in the chair, and his expression turns serious. When he realizes what they are, he abruptly rises to his feet.
“What’s happening here, Michaela? Who is this boy?” he demands, as if the boy’s soul weren’t right here in front of us.
“This is Shiloh. Mara’s son.”
“Mara?” he asks. “The human? The one responsible for trapping the souls?”
His eyes are focused on the crudely constructed rope, and it’s as if he’s forgotten the boy attached to either end. “She’s keeping him here? That’s what this is about? Saving her son? So many lives—”
I cut him off. Shiloh doesn’t need to hear about the ramifications of his mother’s actions. I suspect he already knows what she’s done, but the reminder will only hurt him. “Webber. What are you doing here?”
He finally takes his eyes away from the rope and looks at me. Smiling smugly, he shrugs. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to rescue you.”
I smile. I can’t help it. “I knew you were a gray thread, Webber.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I go to him and kiss him on the cheek. “It means you’re not all bad.”
He rubs his cheek where I kissed him and mumbles, “I always kind of liked the darker threads.”
I nod, but my response is interrupted by another sound in the house. There are voices, a man and a woman’s, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing.
Shiloh’s soul isn’t excited anymore. He’s terrified. “You have to go. She can’t find you here.”
Webber puzzles at the boy for a moment. Rather than wait for Webber to come to his own conclusions, I nod and take Webber’s hand, trying to give him a sense of urgency. “I will come back for you, I promise.”
But instead of saying the kind of things a little kid should say, such as, ‘You better,’ or ‘I can’t wait,’ Shiloh turns sad. “I’m afraid no matter how many times you come back, I’ll still be beyond your reach.” He sounds a million years old now.
All the urgency to save myself drains when I hear the exhaustion in this child’s voice. I let go of Webber and take a step toward Shiloh. “I will build a bridge to you, Shiloh. I promise. Come hell or high water, I will not abandon you.”
He looks at me, but I can tell he’s battling with himself. He feels guilty for hoping that I’ll succeed. Despite what she’s done, a big part of him doesn’t want to leave his mother. I can see the struggle on his face. I smile reassuringly at him, knowing that’s all I can do for now, and turn toward the door.
Just as I take a step in Webber’s direction, the door flies open, hitting him hard before bouncing back. I freeze in place, knowing exactly who’s on the other side. Only one person would open the door with that kind of violence and fury.
Webber is in a heap on the floor, holding up an arm in defense in case the door should swing open again. Some knight in shining armor. I shake my head as I look at him, not quite cowering, but not exactly rushing forth to defend me either.
Slowly, the door swings open again. I see her arm first, and then the rest of her steps into view.
“Well. Funny meeting you here,” Mara says as she glares at me with such hate that I’m not sure she even remembers how to smile. It’s then I know the woman she was died when her son should have.
Nine
Penn
We leave the weaving room in silence just before the workday is scheduled to start.
The girls wander into the workroom, and I follow them automatically. Webber has yet to arrive, leaving the three of us to our thoughts.
“Did you actually see Michaela?” Horatia asks, looking for comfort, or maybe assurance that we’re on the right track.
“No. But I know she’s in that house.”
“How?”
“I heard her. Listen—we find Mara, we find Michaela. Besides, this isn’t just about finding Michaela, or freeing Kismet and the other souls. Mara has ruined a lot of lives, and we can stop her.”
“And how do you plan to get there? Jump off the edge of the heavens like you did the last time you went to Earth?” Horatia asks. I don’t miss the sarcasm in her tone.
“Well, I…” I stammer. Galenia comes to my rescue.
“The mists. Why not use the mists?”
“That would be the simplest solution, but we don’t have a Reaper at our disposal…” I trail off, racking my brain to make it work, to fit the pieces together.
“Why don’t we head over to the Reapers’ wing to see if we can follow one down to Earth?” she suggests. It’s not a bad suggestion. Except we might end up across the world from Mara and Michaela.
“Because we have our own work to do,” Horatia said, glancing at the door. “Where is Webber?”
He isn’t typically late. According to Horatia and Galenia, he tends to show up early to get a head start on the day. You can’t fault his work ethic.
“What do you want to do? I can always go alone,” I say.
The daggers shooting from Horatia’s eyes make me shrink back behind Galenia, who smiles comfortingly at me.
“Did he say he’d be late today?” Galenia asks.
“No.”
“Let’s go look in his quarters for him,” Galenia suggests.
“To what end?” I ask. “So you can get to work? Or so you can invite him to come?” I’m not really on board with either option, to be honest.
They’re both silent. “The more time we waste, the further Michaela gets from us. The further Mara gets from us.”
“Penn,” Horatia scolds. “We can’t just disappear.”
“Why not? It seems like Webber has.” To my mind, it’s a valid point.
Horatia shrugs. “It’s not like we have to go back to hell to look for him. Let’s just walk by his room.”
“Then what? If he’s there, you’ll either have to pretend everything’s normal, which means you, Galenia, and Webber will have to work today, or we’ll have to bring him with us.”
“Penn’s right,” Galenia says with a sigh. “Looking for him seems to be a lose-lose situation. Besides, I can’t bear to spend another unproductive day in the workroom. Not when everything’s so shaken up.”
Horatia lights up. “Penn, you go knock on his door. Galenia and I will hang back so he doesn’t see us.”
This is basically the worst idea ever. “I don’t even want to check on him! Why should I knock on his door?”
“Tell him we’re waiting for him, but we’re going to leave for the day if he takes much longer. That way he won’t think anything of it when we’re not here.” She’s clearly more of a fan of her genius than I am.
Galenia is nodding in agreement, though, and I know I’ve lost this battle. But if it means we’re going to get Michaela, I’ve won the war.
I take a deep breath before knocking on Webber’s door. I’ve never felt so conflicted in my life. I don’t want him to be there, but I also don’t want him to be in any real danger. Although it’s not something I’d admit to my sister Fates, I do think it’s odd that he didn’t show up. Webber’s never missed a day of work, so why would he start now?
Before I can talk myself out of it, I knock hard on his door. I look down the hall at my sisters, who are peeking around the corner, watching anxiously.
Shifting my weight, I look back at them and shrug.
Horatia waves me on. She wants me to go in.
“No,” I whisper. “What if he’s busy? Naked or something? No. I’m not going in there. If he doesn’t want to answer the door, that’s on him.”
Horatia approaches fast. “Fine. I will.” She reaches for the door, but before she can ruin everything, I open it and go in. She stays just behind the doorframe, out of sight.
To m
y surprise, the room is empty.
“Happy? He’s not here,” I say, but I feel just as unhappy as Horatia and Galenia look.
He’s not here.
“Where is he?” they ask simultaneously, barely speaking above a whisper.
I sigh. “One lost heavenly being at a time. He’s probably just brooding in the observatory. We don’t have time to search for him right now. He’ll turn up.” Although I don’t know that for sure—and I’m a little concerned too—I can’t let anything keep us from Michaela.
“We need to get Michaela,” I add.
I can tell they’re more worried than ever, but they both nod.
“Okay, then. Let’s see if we can’t find our way through the mists.”
The workday is now in full swing, so you’d think the Reaper’s wing would be teaming with activity, but no one’s around when we walk past the glass walls of the naming room.
Honestly, I’m relieved. I have my Keeper’s uniform on, but my sisters are a bit conspicuous in their glittering gold robes. We walk silently down the stark white corridors to the golden gate. The gate is mere yards away when someone stops us.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The words echo down the empty hallway, making us all freeze where we stand—or crouch. Even her steps sound angry. I wish she would quiet down. We’re so close. I don’t want other Reapers to join her crusade.
Galenia turns and flashes the sweetest smile she can conjure. Her smiles are so irresistible, I find myself smiling along with her.
“You’re Fates,” the girl says in surprise. “What are you doing here?” She’s small, much smaller than Michaela, and the long, black-and-white Reaper’s gown seems to dwarf her even more.
“We have some business…in the mists. I think it would be best for you to move along,” Galenia suggests sweetly. I’m not used to seeing this assertiveness in her. I have to say, I like it.
The Children of Wisdom Trilogy Page 35