Never

by K. D. McEntire

  “Let her be, Wendy,” Piotr said. “If you try to ease Elle's pain at this time, she will grow enraged. When Elle is angry, upset, it is imperative to leave her be, to let her calm and center herself. Without Lily…this will be harder.”

  Wendy, reluctant, nodded and curled into Piotr's side, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her and kissed her temple, rubbing his chin against the edge of her jaw and squeezing her fingers.

  “This moment is almost nicer for being stolen,” Piotr admitted. “I have hardly had any time to hold you.”

  “But Lily—”

  She felt his arm tighten around her shoulder, felt the fine trembling of his fingers as Piotr drew her closer. “Yesterday…or the day before—I've lost track of time, to be honest—Lily and I fought. About you.” He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled. Untangling their fingers and gently cupping Piotr's face, Wendy could feel the wetness sliding down his cheek.

  Though Wendy hated to ask, she could sense that Piotr wanted to get this off his chest. “Why did you fight over me, Piotr?”

  “Lily…Lily…was…a good friend.”

  Piotr wrapped his other arm around Wendy and hugged her tightly, speaking rapidly, his face buried in her curls. “She knew that I was being stubborn about you, about contacting you. She did her best to make me see reason, to guide me to the proper path of contacting you. Lily knew that I did not want to leave you. It made me a selfish person, I thought, to stay with you when we could not be together. Just being close to me was…is…dangerous. When you are in your body we draw energy and will from one another but Lily thought that we could control ourselves. She was…disappointed in my choices and the reasons I offered to back my decisions.”

  Wendy chuckled damply. “That sounds like Lily. Faith for miles.”

  “I already miss her,” Piotr admitted, voice trembling. “Was it…was she…how did she…”

  “She fought to the very end,” Wendy replied. She bit her lip, troubled. “Are you sure you want to hear the details of how she died?”

  “I owe this to Lily,” Piotr said simply. “After so many centuries of friendship I must honor her by hearing the tale of her end.”

  “She and Jane were—”

  The car swerved as Jon slammed on the breaks. Then it swerved again, left, right, left, the tires screaming on the interstate. Elle, beside the window, was yelling something that Wendy couldn't make out over the blaring music. Wendy shoved forward halfway through Jon's torso and halfway through the emergency brake, meaning to grab the steering wheel and help guide Jon, to keep him from overcorrecting, but her hand went right through it.

  “WHERE IS IT?” Jon screamed, his voice cracking in Wendy's ear as he struggled with the wheel. “WHERE'D IT GO? SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT FUUUUUCK!”

  Next to them, Chel had grabbed the handle over the passenger door, her other hand jammed out and shoved against the glove compartment. The loose corner cracked open under the force of her fist, some of the change that had gathered at the bottom of the compartment spilling out and showering Chel's knees in a rain of silver and copper.

  “NO! NO! NOT AGAIN!” Wendy screamed as the car swerved again, the front wheels hitting a patch of black ice and spinning out, flinging them into an uncontrolled spin on the 101. Wendy spied the twisted shape of the creature galloping down the highway beside them as the vehicle spun and spun. Then they hit the divider and the car was airborne. Grabbing Piotr, Wendy closed her eyes.

  Silence.

  The winter water was ice cold.

  Wendy surfaced, gasping and treading water, as the waves slapped her harshly, the riptide sucking at her feet. On the beach a white figure stood bathed in light, holding a lantern high as the wind howled and screamed.

  Above the hole in the sky was devouring the moon.

  “I'm dreaming. I have to be,” Wendy said and a wave slammed into her, cutting her off and shoving her roughly under the frothing chill. Wendy struggled to the surface and, keeping the shore to her left, set out parallel to the beach, swimming with all her might.

  Wendy didn't know how long she swam but when she finally dragged herself, coughing and sputtering, onto the shore the moon was only a thin sliver in the sky, the stars were purple and bright, and being pulled into the gaping wound in the heavens. The stars were exploding like fireworks across the cup of night.

  Spitting the filthy saltwater onto the rocky shore, Wendy lay on the damp sand and, for one brief moment, prayed. She wasn't a religious person—being the Lightbringer for so long had stripped her from all desires to follow any kind of deity—but she knew she needed the guidance, even if only for a few minutes.

  “I know I'm not really into that whole ‘creator’ thing, but if you're really up there,” she murmured to the dissolving sky, “a little help would be appreciated. Thanks. Amen or something.”

  There was a discreet little cough from behind Wendy as pale white light washed across the rocks by her outstretched hand. Wendy sighed and, squelching, rolled over.

  “Hello Elise. Long time no want to punch in the face.”

  “I am having a most productive nap, Winifred,” Elise said, settling on a convenient piece of driftwood Wendy didn't recall being there moments before. “How about yourself?”

  “I think I've been knocked unconscious,” Wendy said conversationally. She wasn't sure why she did so, but she added, “Nasty beastie chasing us.”

  “Hmm,” Elise said noncommittally. “I wonder, have you managed to catch up with my granddaughter yet?”

  “Which one? The one who was hauled out on a stretcher or the one who's been trying to kill me for shits-n-giggles?”

  “Jane, of course.” Elise held out a hand and Wendy marveled at the shining rings that appeared and disappeared from the ether as Elise skillfully shaped the dreamscape around her body. Around her neck a lovely golden necklace appeared and reappeared, flickering in the light. “I am quite aware that you have nothing whatsoever to do with Emma's collapse. It was, however, a convenient excuse. I did warn you that I intended to bring you to heel, Winifred, in any way necessary.”

  “How generous of you to tell me of the screwing me over up front,” Wendy replied snidely. “As for Jane, yeah I saw her. Of course the last time I saw her, I'm fairly sure several strong security systems did too. So she might be busy for a while.”

  Elise eyed her for a long time before nodding once, thoughtfully. “I do believe you're telling the truth.”

  “OF COURSE I'M TELLING THE TRUTH!” Wendy exploded. Then she spotted the slight quirk of Elise's lips and realized the woman was baiting her. “Jane's locked in a mansion, Elise, after trying to capture me. On the orders of the Lady Walker, I'm sure. If you want her, you're going to have to pull some of those strings you bullied ghosts for and go get her yourself. She can't pass through the walls on her own.”

  “A mansion? Oh, please, Winifred, any Reaper worth sipping from the Good Cup knows how to walk through dense walls in the Never,” Elise sneered. “Just because you cannot—”

  Wendy allowed herself a taunting smirk. “Not these walls. You might say this place is one hell of a tourist trap these days. Ghost trap, too.”

  Elise paused, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “Surely you don't mean the Winchester—”

  “I do, actually,” Wendy said, laughing in Elise's face. “Locked her in.”

  “Please, dear,” Elise said, relieved, the condensation practically dripping from her tone. “All she has to do is request that Clyde—”

  “Clyde. Clyde,” Wendy said. “Funny you should mention him. Guess who Jane reaped earlier tonight? I mean, yeah, he was getting irritated with her, threatening to throw her out on her blue-tinted ass but—”

  Elise paled. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No! No-no-no!” Elise screamed, grabbing the hair at her temples and yanking hard. “Oh that stupid…idiotic…moronic little…bitch!”

  Overwhelmed by Elise's unexpected reaction, Wendy took a step
back. “Okay, officially weirded out now. That's a little overkill, don't you thi—”

  “Oh shut up, you pitiful blood-traitor!” Elsie snapped, stalking off toward the surf. “You have no idea what we're dealing with!” she yelled over her shoulder.

  Troubled, Wendy started to follow her. “I don't? Fine! So tell me then!”

  “Jane will try to blast her way out of the Winchester House. She will use all the Light at her disposal to force a hole in the Never, to not be taken by the police! We are ruined! And you…you are clueless! Pointless, clueless, an albatross hanging round my neck, dragging me down when I most need my wits to face…to face…oh, never mind! You're untrained, you're ignorant of the real dangers here. You're worse than useless. You're a babe in the goddamned dead woods.”

  Wendy, shrugging, began to run after her, digging her feet deeply into the sand. At first catching up with Elise was difficult, but then Wendy remembered that this was her dreamscape and suddenly the sand beneath her feet spread outward, becoming a flat, grassy plain. A nearby pier jutted out of the grass, a small rowboat tied to it resting atop a swell of water turned into feathery bushes. Gulls screamed in the distance, startled and loud. A fish-turned-snake slithered across Wendy's foot as she slowed, approaching Elise.

  “You mean the hole in the horizon?” Wendy asked as she reached Elise's side. “That big ol’ opening to the great deep? The grosser than hell creatures coming out of that thing who then take over souls and warp them into something truly nasty? Is that the big ol’ nasty danger that has your panties in a twist, Elise?”

  “Yes,” Elise replied, nettled, glaring around at the lush greenery with a sour, puckered mouth. A gull, confused as to the change, hopped across the grass and hopefully poked its beak into a largish hole in the ground, jerking back as the crab within snapped at it with claws that shifted into tiny paws as the crab dropped, grew fur, and became a groundhog before their eyes. “Yes it is. How do you—”

  “Does it matter how?” Wendy asked. Then she smiled, warmth spreading across her chest. “That's…that's the wrong question to ask.”

  “Fine,” Elise growled. “What is the right question?”

  Wendy was ready. “Why did you have my grandmother and my aunt killed?”

  Elise raised an eyebrow, startled. “Clyde?”

  “And Frank. Lots of people have been quite forthcoming tonight and we've put a crapton of miles on Dad's car getting alllll the answers. But maybe, in the interest of hearing all sides of the story, I want to hear it from your lips, Elise. Maybe I want to hear your side of things.”

  “Top of the Mark to the Winchester House. You have been getting around,” Elise murmured. “I assume they were the ones that told you about the—”

  “Who doesn't matter. Why did you do it?”

  Elise didn't roll her eyes, but Wendy could sense that she desperately wanted to and only refrained out of some sense of superiority. “Why? Think, you silly girl! Your grandmother was a natural—a secret natural—who was questioning everything about how we'd done our jobs for centuries. At the time we could not allow naturals to live, specifically one who was comfortable lying to us for so long! She was too much of a danger—”

  “She was a danger?” Wendy interrupted, abruptly furious. “Really? Because, the way I hear tell it, she had kept herself hidden long enough to have a nearly thirty-year-old daughter. Remember her? Tracey? So that doesn't seem like a lot of danger there. Seems like my grandma wasn't struggling that badly, possibly because she, oh, I don't know, actually had her powers under control?”

  Elise narrowed her eyes at Wendy. “She reaped a soul every night like clockwork, true. Specifically a Shade, usually the weakest Shade we were aware of. Never more, never less. Honestly, I thought her a coward, too afraid to challenge herself with a normal spirit or a Walker. But then—”

  “But then—?”

  “But then she was forced to reap a Walker one night, and the subsequent blowout of unbridled energy killed the cousin patrolling with her in the process. She lied about that too, or didn't Clyde pass that little tidbit of information along? A family killer. Blamed it on a strong Walker. We believed her. At first.”

  Wendy flushed. “I didn't know that part.”

  “As you just said, there are two sides to every story, girl,” Elise said. “I have many, many faults, I'll admit. I do not like reaping. I don't wish to give up my life to send on the ungrateful dead. Furthermore, I feel that if we are going to be such unnatural abominations of nature then we ought to be compensated well as such. What we do is a curse, it goes against the will of God.”

  “Seriously?” Wendy asked. “You really believe—”

  “What I believe is of no concern to you,” Elise said sharply. “All that matters is that your precious ‘right’ questions are answered. Speaking of—your aunt, Tracey? She was condemned to death because she was dealing with the dead.”

  “So what? You made deals with them all the time. In fact you, what, actively threatened them? So, not so much making deals as bullying them around.”

  “That is quite different. I deal with normal spirits. Tracey dealt with the Lady Walker,” Elise said coldly. “Frequently, over and over again, after her mother's demise. It was brought to my attention that the Lady Walker and Tracey had plans beyond simply getting me out of town the way your mother did—though I'm still uncertain how exactly she managed to get us to all agree to leave so readily.”

  Wendy stilled, sighing. “I knew that. I was hoping it wasn't true. The one thing I don't get is why. What could Tracey have to share with the Lady Walker? That's the only part that still makes no sense to me.”

  “Is that all?” Elise asked. She threw her head back and laughed, clapping her hands. “All your work, all your sleuthing and you still don't know what this is all about? What the core boils down to? For shame, Winifred! I thought you were smart!”

  “Enlighten me then,” Wendy said dryly, ignoring Elise's derisive laughter.

  “Tracey and the Lady Walker wanted to end the world, Winifred,” Elise said flatly, waving an arm to encompass the dreamspace. “The lovely little limbo your beloved Rider friends are wandering around in? They wanted to destroy it. Rip it end from end. That is what I was trying to stop by killing your aunt, Winifred. I wanted to stop the utter destruction of the Never and every soul in it.”

  Elise looked up to the darkening sky above them; the clouds were back, flashing lightning and booming thunder rolled across the pristine blue, crashing so loudly the grass shook.

  “Not that it matters now.” Her lips twisted. “As we all shall suffer for Jane's misdeeds tonight. Surely even you've felt the earthquakes by now. The hole between the worlds is gaping, and if Jane has done the damage I believe she has—”

  “Damage? You mean reaping Clyde?” Wendy began covertly looking for a seashell door. She knew there had to be one somewhere close, even if the dreamscape beach was nothing but grass now. Her mind flicked briefly to the dream of earlier, she and not-Mary walking along the beach, Mary explaining how to build a shell door out of only the best pieces…

  “I mean that by reaping Clyde, Jane has made the hole in the sky that much worse,” Elise growled. “Clyde was allowed to remain the gatekeeper of the Winchester Mansion for a reason. He was an important piece holding together the tide surging behind a dangerous dam.”

  “But…Clyde said it was because you couldn't catch him. He had too many hiding spots—”

  Elise snorted. “Nonsense. Do you really believe that enough money passing the right hands couldn't get a large group of Reapers into the mansion for a private tour? That if we walked those halls, Light shining, that Clyde wouldn't be easily drawn from whatever pathetic hidey-hole he'd settled into, to beg for the Light? No, girl, hardly. We left him untouched because Clyde happened to be sitting on one of the thinnest spot in the Never for a thousand mile radius. We—the Reapers—built the original farmhouse that stupid old woman turned into the Winchester Mansion. We needed a sou
l with Reaper blood, with special abilities, to maintain the property.”

  Wendy couldn't help but be simultaneously impressed and surprised.

  “We did it to plug a hole, and the result is that everything above it grew solid in response. The Winchester place, like Alcatraz, like several other locations around the City, is a spiritual sponge. All of them are, due to the holes at their core, the ridge—the surrounding buildings near them—are particularly strong.”

  Wendy swallowed. “Like the Palace Hotel?”

  “Exactly,” Elise said, startled. “Yes, the Palace Hotel is one such location, though none are as strong as the Winchester.”

  “And what happens if Light…goes off…in one of those places…?” Wendy swallowed heavily.

  “At first? Nothing. But depending on the force of the Light, the quality of the Light…the edges of the cork would crumble, allowing a hole to open from the darkest, coldest places into the Never and subsequently into our world.”

  Wendy blanched, remembering the powerful pulse of Light that had blasted out of her as Piotr shoved her soul-orb back into her body. She'd destroyed the White Lady and all her henchman, not to mention one of the Riders and all thirteen Lost in the room…but she'd also caused an earthquake and blasted out the power in the living lands for a very large radius.

  Carefully examining a small pile of rocks, Wendy reached down and picked the top one off the pile. It crumbled in her hand. No. No good. The quality of the sediment here was terrible.

  “A blast of Light in a sensitive location would open a hole,” Wendy whispered, heart thudding hard in her chest. “A hole between the worlds.”

  “Originally Tracey had planned, with Mary, to gain access to Alcatraz,” Elise said sharply. “They'd planned on becoming bosom buddies with the spirit who'd taken up residence there, and to set off a blast of Light that would crack a hole in reality itself.” She was talking about Ada, Wendy realized.

  “But Mom wasn't a natural. How could they have set off a big enough blast?” Wendy wondered, examining a tree nearby. The branches were thick but crooked. They felt off, wrong. Not strong enough, the material wasn't good enough. She moved on. “That's an awful lot of power.”