by Rachel Aaron
How could I forget? Marci said, rolling her eyes, or where her eyes should have been. You tried to make me your pet human. But you had good reason for feeling that way. You’d just woken up with no help and your domain screaming at you to fix things. Of course you were angry and confused.
“So is she,” Ghost said. “Only she’s much bigger and has far more reason to be enraged. She is not a kind city, Marci.”
I know that, she said. But she’s my city. I didn’t run to the DFZ just to get away from Bixby. I’d always wanted to live there, because it was the place where anything was possible. That’s the dream of the DFZ. It’s the city where anyone can start over, and anything can happen. Myron can’t put a chain on that. No matter how mad she gets, if she’s still the DFZ I know, I’m betting I can talk to her.
“I’m sure you can,” he said. “I just don’t know if she’ll listen.”
That’s a chance we’ll have to take.
The Empty Wind heaved a long sigh, and then he started moving, whisking her through the dark at what must have been ludicrous speed. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
I don’t, she confessed. I can’t. We’re in brand-new territory here. There is no knowing. We’ll just have to give it a shot.
That was a terrifying truth, but in a way, Marci was used to it. From the moment she’d bound Ghost, everything had been new and strange and unknown. She’d been making things up as she went for months now, but that was the price of being at the cutting edge. She just hoped being on this one didn’t cut her to bits. But there was no turning back now. Ghost was already slowing down, his wind buffeting her gently as they reached the edge of the dark.
Like everything else in this place, the Empty Wind ended at a cliff. It rose from his depths like a wall. Unlike the hole at the top of Marci’s death, though, there was no upside-down pool of liquid dark or barrier of any kind. It was just a stone lip, the place where the floor of the Sea of Magic fell off into the chasm that was humanity’s fear of being forgotten, and over it, pouring down into the abyss below like a thousand-mile-high waterfall, was the swirling magic.
Wow, Marci said, staring in awe as her spirit lifted her over the silent spectacle of a black sea pouring into an even blacker chasm. Is that the magic filling you up?
“Trying to,” he whispered as he pulled her into the space above his vessel at a much slower speed. “It’s been flowing like that for a long time, but I am a very big hole to fill.”
So I see, she said, tearing her eyes off the waterfall of magic to look at what was up top instead. Or try to. They were definitely flying over the floor of the Sea of Magic, but there wasn’t actually much to see here. The chaotic swirls and nauseating waves that had made her eyes cross earlier were now so small she could barely see them. She was trying to figure out if this was because the magic had changed, or if she had, when Ghost explained.
“The magic is thin here,” he said, sweeping them low over the stony floor. “The Sea of Magic is still filling. That leads to uneven spots, especially in places where many Mortal Spirit chasms need to be filled. The magic pours into us faster than it can be replaced, creating localized shallows.”
Is that why we’re going so slow?
“No,” he said, setting them down on the sea floor. “We’re slow because we’re here.”
Marci jumped. Now that she was down, she could feel the stone beneath her feet, which meant she had feet again. A quick inventory revealed she had hands, too, along with the rest of her body. She still couldn’t see anything in the dark, but it was an enormous relief just to feel her physical parts, or at least the illusion of them. She was turning to ask Ghost if this was due to their leaving his domain or if he’d done something to put her back together, but the question died before it could form in her mind when she looked down and saw where they’d landed.
They were on the edge of another chasm with magic pouring over the edge just like Ghost’s, except this one wasn’t empty or dark. It was vast and shining, a Grand Canyon of glittering light below them that stretched down and out as far as she could see.
What am I looking at? she whispered, kneeling at the edge of the sea floor.
“What you asked me to show you,” the wind whispered nervously in her ear. “The city.”
Marci’s eyes went wide. It was so bright after the emptiness of Ghost’s void, she hadn’t realized until he named it that all that glittering shine below them was a city. An impossibly huge, double-layered city that stretched out in all directions.
With the exception of the sea floor they were standing on, every angle inside the canyon below them was filled. It was like staring into a mirror box. Look to the side, and it was all superscrapers rising to infinity. Look down, and there were infinite warrens of stairs, underpasses, and sewer pipes descending to the vanishing point in a neon-lit tangle. And if she looked straight ahead, it was just city. Miles and miles and miles of buildings and overpasses and advertisements and cars racing from elevated Skyways down to the grid streets below. But for all its impossibilities, every view was familiar, because this wasn’t just any city. It was her city, the one she’d come to think of as home, despite only living there for a few weeks.
It’s the DFZ.
“It’s the ideal of the DFZ,” Ghost said.
It would have to be. In addition to existing in a crack in the floor of the Sea of Magic rather than the shore of Lake St. Clair, the city in front of them was orders of magnitude larger than the actual DFZ. It was also architecturally impossible, not that that mattered here. The laws of physics only applied to the physical world. This was the realm of spirits, of magic and ideas, and this was humanity’s dream of the new Detroit: an endless metropolis where anything could and did happen. She was staring into the vessel of the Mortal Spirit of the DFZ. Not the rat it chose to represent itself. That was no more her than Ghost’s cat. This was the real DFZ, the heart of the human dream of the city itself, and now that she was here, Marci knew what she had to do.
I’m going in.
“I can’t go with you,” the Empty Wind warned. “That’s her domain, the place where all magic is hers. I can’t—”
I know, Marci said, smiling him. Don’t worry. This was the plan, remember? I’ll be fine, I’m just going to talk. Wait here. I’ll be back before you know it.
It was clear from his shaking that Ghost was not fine with this, but he didn’t fight her again. He just swirled tighter around her, his icy hand gripping the bond of magic that flowed between them with all his strength.
“I’ll pull you out if things get bad.”
If things went bad, there wouldn’t be much left to pull out. She was walking into the lion’s den. She was just a soul, the leftover magic of a human life. Once she dropped into the DFZ’s domain, she’d be at the city’s mercy just like all the other magic in there. But she knew her spirit well enough to know Ghost wasn’t holding on for her. He needed their connection, so she let him cling, giving the magical link between them a final reassuring squeeze before stepping off the edge.
The change was instantaneous.
The moment her foot left the ground, everything—the dark, the swirling magic, her Empty Wind—vanished in a flash, instantly replaced by bright sun cut up into thousands of reflections from the superscrapers overhead. She wasn’t falling, wasn’t floating, wasn’t anything strange at all. She’d simply stepped from being a soul on the edge of a magical crevice to being a normal person again, standing in the middle of a crowded square somewhere uptown on the Skyways under the blinding midday sun.
Ghost?
The word was soft in her head, which suddenly felt very small. Small and empty. Their connection was still there in her hands, but her spirit’s voice was gone from her mind and her ears. Just as she’d been in her death, Marci was alone in her head again, but not anywhere else.
Just like in the real DFZ, there were people everywhere. They crowded in around her, tourists and office workers, street cart vendors and kids c
utting school. Normal people, the sort she’d seen every day, laughing and talking and going about their lives. That was what made the crowd so odd, because these people didn’t have lives. They were shadows, aspects of the spirit that ruled this place. The spirit who had to know she was here.
Sucking the city air deep into her lungs—which were also whole and normal again, just as they’d been in her death—Marci turned in a circle, scanning the crowd for a sign. Something that would out this for what it was: an illusion, an ideal, a home for a spirit.
But the more she looked, the more real the city felt. Down here on the ground, she couldn’t even see the weird infinite skyline anymore. The people looked and sounded like any other crowd on a sunny afternoon on the Skyways, and the smells coming from the street carts were delicious and nostalgic, exactly as she remembered. If she didn’t know better, she could almost have believed she was really—
“Home.”
Marci jumped a foot in the air. The voice sounded like it was right behind her. When she whirled around, though, Marci saw she was actually across the street, looking at her through the unknowing crowd.
When she’d first seen it crouched behind Myron in the dark, the spirit of the DFZ had looked like a giant, evil sewer rat. When he’d sicced it on Ghost, it had just looked like a monster. Now, though, the thing staring at her looked almost human. A very sickly and tragic human with a hunched back and a black cloak made from trash bags. Its bowed head was covered in a deep cowl from which huge eyes shone out like street lights in a dark alley. For all this, though, the thing staring at Marci still looked far more human than the monster that Myron had ordered to attack, and that gave Marci hope.
Hello, she said, hiding her wince at still being a disembodied voice behind what she hoped was a friendly smile. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Marci—
“I know who you are,” the spirit murmured, her voice soft this time, like the white noise of a crowd. “I saw it all when you jumped in. You’re a mage of the DFZ. One of my own.” She smiled then, her orange eyes gleaming. “Welcome home.”
Thank you, Marci said nervously. But I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. It’s true I lived in the DFZ, but I’m not yours. I belong to the Empty Wind.
“Not anymore,” the DFZ said. “You came to me. You live here.” She pointed at the street under their feet. “That makes you mine. Someone must come home. A city can’t be empty.”
But you’re not empty. All these people, the buildings—
“They’re not mine,” the spirit snarled. “He put them here.”
The raw disgust and hatred in her voice went through Marci like shrapnel. Given that Ghost read her mind all the time, she really shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was impossible not to flinch at the sudden rush of bitter, toxic anger flooding through her thoughts. The only good part was that at least she didn’t have to wonder whom the spirit was talking about. The moment she spoke, Myron’s face appeared on every floating billboard and projected sign in the city, leering down at them like a hateful god.
“He chained me,” the DFZ snarled up at the pictures. “They did it together. The lake has always been my enemy, but I never thought a mage would turn. I am their city, their freedom.” She reached into her trash bags, scraping her clawlike fingers over the silver ribbon wrapped around her throat. “How could he chain me!?”
What he did was monstrous, Marci agreed. That’s why I’m here. I can help you.
“I know,” the spirit said, darting through the crowd like a rat until she was standing right in front of her. “That’s why I let you in. You’re not a coward like he is.” She smiled at Marci. “You walked with death, but you were not afraid. Now you can walk with me.” Her smile grew sinister. “I’m going to make you mine.”
No, Marci said firmly. I’m flattered, but I already have a spirit.
“But I’m better,” the DFZ argued. “I’m the best city in the world! Everyone wants me, including you. You lived here. That makes you mine, and if you’re mine, you can break this.” She pointed at the silver noose around her neck. “This is good business for both of us. Free me, and I’ll give you what he wants. We’ll tear down the door he’s obsessed with and make you Merlin instead. Then we will have power, and he will have nothing.”
Again, the spirit’s anger sliced through Marci like a rusty knife, but far more worrisome than the feeling itself was what it signified. She’d been with Ghost long enough to know what that sort of raw emotion meant. The spirit of the DFZ might be full to bursting, but she was still just as new and lost as Ghost had been when she’d found him. Unlike the Empty Wind, though, the DFZ had had no one to help her work through it, not even cats. She’d been born to Myron and his chains. No wonder she was so unstable. What she needed was a real Merlin, someone who could be her partner through all of this. But while Marci couldn’t be that for her, it didn’t mean she couldn’t help.
I don’t have to be yours to give you freedom, she said, looking the spirit in her glowing orange eyes. I’m sure he didn’t tell you this, but Myron had no right to chain you in the first place. Mortal Spirits are supposed to choose the human who suits them best, not the other way around, and it doesn’t happen through chains. I don’t know what he did to bind you so thoroughly, but if you’ll let me get close, I might be able to break it, and then you’ll be free to do whatever you want. You can go home, go back to your city and find a mage who won’t abuse you, and you don’t have to break anything.
That was more hope than fact. Marci had no idea if she could actually crack whatever insanity Myron had pulled off to subjugate a spirit this enormous. But as he’d put it himself: anything man built, man, or woman in this case, could break. She just had to convince the DFZ to let her get close enough to try. But it looked as though Marci’s play was working even better than she’d intended. She’d barely made the offer before the DFZ lurched forward and grabbed her hands.
“Yes!” the spirit cried, her voice as roaring and chaotic as a rioting crowd. “Do it! Free me, and I will make them both pay for what they’ve done.”
The hatred in her voice at the end was a new and terrible thing. It wasn’t as sharp as the anger, but it was bigger and stronger. It rose through the city like a haze, dimming the lights and turning the crowd that was still walking around them into a mob. The sudden roar of their angry voices was so terrifying that even Marci—who’d died herself as a direct result of the Lady of the Lake’s actions, and who’d suggested this idea in the first place—hesitated.
“What are you waiting for?” the DFZ demanded, clutching her silver noose with both hands. “Free me!”
I will, Marci promised, though she made no move to get closer. It wasn’t that she begrudged the spirit her anger. So far as she could tell, the poor thing had been bred in blood and chained the moment she woke up. Algonquin and Myron both had treated her like a tool, a crowbar to pry apart the Merlin Gate for the sole purpose of eliminating the DFZ and every other Mortal Spirit like her. She deserved to be angry. Marci was, too, but unlike the city, she hadn’t been born today. She knew that lashing out in fury, no matter how righteous, always came with consequences.
I’m not forgiving Myron or Algonquin anything, she said cautiously. You have every right to want their heads on a platter for what they did, but you’re a very large spirit. If you rage, you could destroy a lot more than just your enemies.
“So what?” she cried. “I am the DFZ! Whatever I destroy, I can rebuild. Everything can always be rebuilt.”
Not people, Marci said. Places and things can be restored, spirits can be reborn, but mortals just die. Look at me. She placed her hands against her chest. I’m dead. The fact that I am here talking to you right now is entirely due to a miracle named the Empty Wind. If I ever get back to the land of the living, it will be because I’ve had miracles on top of miracles, but not everyone gets so lucky. The rest of your city, your people, they don’t have what I have. If you lash out at Algonquin, it will be w
ell deserved, but there’s nothing in it for you if you destroy your own domain in the process.
“If you won’t help me, you are useless,” the spirit snarled, getting closer. “I don’t have to let you be here, you know. You’re already dead. I can finish the job.”
I’m well aware, Marci said angrily. You think I don’t know what I risked by coming here? My spirit is worried out of his mind. But I did it because I can’t let Myron and Algonquin win. That makes us allies, and I never said I wouldn’t help you. I’m just trying to make sure you understand what’s at stake. Algonquin already flooded Detroit once.
“You think I don’t know?” the DFZ cried. “I was the one who was drowning! But things are different now. You talk like I’m walking into a trap by attacking, but Algonquin’s the one who should be afraid. Of the two of us, I am the larger spirit, which means I’m not her city. She’s my lake, and the only thing keeping me from putting her in her place for good is this.” The DFZ yanked the silver rope taut against her neck. “We both want the same thing. Free me from this binding, and I will strike Algonquin down so hard, she will never rise again.”
That was a very tempting offer. There was no question that unleashing a young, angry, and uncontrolled Mortal Spirit into the world was a very bad idea. At the same time, though, the DFZ was exactly the type of spirit Marci had been fighting for this entire time. She was a Mortal Spirit, human magic. Her rage wasn’t just the madness of a caged animal. It was humanity’s anger at Algonquin, the spirit who’d drowned them by the millions and taken their city for herself.
Unlike the humans who’d created her, though, the DFZ was big enough to push back. If Marci freed her, not only would she keep Myron out of the Merlin Gate, she might get Algonquin out of the DFZ as well. Permanently. Surely that was worth taking a risk.
Wasn’t it?
She bit her lip, trying desperately to think through everything logically, but it was impossible. Everything was too powerful, too volatile to be certain. In the end, it came down to the spirit in front of her. The spirit of the city whom she’d come to think of as hers, who’d been unfairly abused, bullied, and imprisoned. The spirit who, if Marci didn’t do something, would be used to kill all others, including Ghost. There was also the selfish but still terrifying fact that, if Marci didn’t get the DFZ’s help, she was likely never getting out of this city again.