Elysium Girls

by Elysium Girls (retail) (epub)

  “Yes, sir,” Zo grumbled.

  “You hear that, Judith?” said Cassandra from the stairs, where she had stuck her skinny head through the railing.

  “Shut up!” Judith said.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said. “I’ll take it from here.”

  “Come on, let’s check out the kitchen, Mowse,” said Susanah.

  “I’m gonna go pick a room!” said Judith, heading upstairs. Cassandra followed her, and Zo disappeared with Susanah and Mowse into the kitchen. Only Asa and Olivia and I remained.

  “As for you two… Olivia Rosales and Asa Skander,” Mr. Jameson said. “Both of you have claim to the Robertson house, which is still… vacant. So which one of y’all wants to lay claim to it?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly—”

  “He can have it,” Olivia said, and she pushed past me, up the stairs. “Just tell me when I can go get Rosa.” And she was gone.

  “Well, I guess that settles it,” said Mr. Jameson. “I’ll arrange for an escort to be sent over in an hour.”

  In the background, there was a giant crash from the kitchen, followed by “Mowse!” from Susanah and “I’m SOR-ry!” from Mowse.

  “I’m going to go check on that,” said Asa. Then he too disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Mr. Jameson.

  “Well, I got a lot of preparations to do, so I’ll leave y’all to settle in,” Mr. Jameson said, pulling the door open. “Be ready tomorrow at sunup. We ain’t got time to lose now.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  Mr. Jameson turned, then he stopped.

  “I really am glad to have you back, you know,” he said. “I just wish I could have done more for you all these years. God knows I tried. I guess I just didn’t try hard enough.”

  I felt a lump grow in my throat, and before I could stop myself, I hugged him. He stood still for a moment, shocked, maybe, then returned the hug, and when he did, I could feel the loneliness and pain and loss and hope he felt for his family back in Texas. His daughter, Doris, who must be my age now.

  “It’s all right, Mr. Jameson,” I said. “Everything is going to be all right.”

  “I sure hope so, kid,” he said. Then he turned and walked out of the house, his footsteps echoing as the door swung shut behind him.

  Back in the Robertson house, Asa laid himself out on his old bed and looked up at the ceiling in the dark, trying to quiet the panic that beat along next to his own, temporary heart.

  Only a week. They had only a week to prepare, and either way, the same fate awaited him.

  Fear reared up in his chest. In his mind, the smell of mercury and petrichor rose.

  What would he do now? What did that mean for him? Even if their plan did work, he was still a creation of Theirs, and he doubted either of the Goddesses would be pleased with him when the Game ended.

  There was the sound of a footstep, and Asa bolted upright. He climbed quietly out of bed and tiptoed to the hallway. Through the darkness, a figure was visible in the kitchen.

  “H-hello?” he said, his mind reeling with images of Dust Sentinels and their gaping mouths. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” said the figure. “It’s just me.”

  The figure struck a match and lit an oil lamp on the table.

  Olivia’s beautiful face flared into light. “Hey,” she said simply.

  “What are you doing here?” Asa asked. “How did you get past the guards?”

  Olivia shrugged. “I borrowed some magic from Mowse,” she said. “The ones at Sal’s house are asleep. So are the ones outside your door. It was pretty easy, really.”

  “But I thought you didn’t want this house?”

  “I don’t,” said Olivia. “I just wanted to… see it again and see if any of our things are left before Rosa comes back. That’s all. So she doesn’t have to see it.”

  “They still haven’t called for you?”

  “Not yet. But they said they will soon. They’d better.” Her dark eyes swept over the countertops, the stove, the table, the cabinets. “It’s different somehow,” she said. “It even smells different.”

  Something about her had changed. The flirtatious demeanor she usually had with him was gone, replaced by an odd… hollowness. She was wearing an expression he hadn’t seen her wear before, sort of serious and almost sad, but not quite. He wasn’t sure what human emotion corresponded to such an expression, but he could tell that it wasn’t a good one. He could tell that it was all that she could do to contain it. And suddenly his worries seemed minuscule in comparison.

  “I’m going to give it one final look through, if that’s all right with you,” she said.

  “Be my guest. I’ll stay right here.”

  “Thanks.” Olivia lit another kerosene lamp. “I’ll just be a second.”

  Olivia scanned the kitchen one more time, then started down the hallway, her lamp illuminating the dark with a ball of dim gold light, then disappearing again. He heard her walk the length of the hall, duck into the bathroom, her old bedroom, every room except the one with the bloodstained floor. He heard a drawer slide out, then a soft fumbling. The door slid shut again, and he heard her footsteps coming back up the hallway.

  “You want a smoke?” she said to him, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket as she came out of the dark. She sat down next to him at the kitchen table.

  “Why not?” he said, and took one. But his eyes were on her.

  They sat in silence for a moment, sending up clouds of thoughtful smoke.

  They had shared cigarettes before. Smoking made Asa feel like he thought a dragon must feel, lungs hot and sulfuric, controllable. She had laughed when he’d smoked his first cigarette, coughing and going green at the gills. But this time, Olivia seemed to smoke without thinking about it or taking pleasure in it. But by this point, he knew that it wouldn’t help to ask her what was wrong. All he could do was wait.

  “I like what you did with the place,” she said finally.

  “Thanks,” said Asa. “Though I haven’t really gone into the one room with the bloodstain. It… feels bad in there.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “It always did.” She blew another cloud of smoke. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out what looked like a doll carved from pale, soft stone and a chain with a heart-shaped locket dangling from it. “I had to get these,” she said. “Rosa and I had our hiding places in the house. The bathroom, our room. I wanted to give them to her if they were still there. And they were. Thanks.”

  “No problem,” said Asa. “If there’s anything else hidden in the walls, feel free. I found a dead rat once. It’s probably still there if you want it.”

  That did it. Olivia smiled.

  “You’re really something, you know?”

  “Yeah,” said Asa. “Though exactly what that something is is becoming blurrier by the day.”

  She glanced back down the hallway, toward Asa’s bedroom—her old bedroom.

  “You’ve met Her?” Olivia asked, her voice quiet. “Death?”

  Asa’s heart thudded once, painfully.

  “You could say that,” Asa recovered. “I’m more Her Sister’s creation, though.” Asa paused, decided to take a gamble. “But, of course, you’ve met Her too. I’ve seen the wall in there.”

  Olivia looked down at the table. Let her cigarette burn.

  “I didn’t know what else to do,” she said quietly. “I needed a way to stop it. To stop him.”

  “She is good for ending things,” said Asa. “Of course, She never does anything for free.”

  “That’s what’s bothering me,” said Olivia. “You know how you were sent here on behalf of Life? Well… do you think Death was helping me so I would help Her win the Game? Help Her end Elysium?”

  She seemed younger as she looked at him then. All her toughness and grit had been peeled back, and this is what she was at her core—just a girl who loved her sister—and Asa’s heart seemed to swell so much it ached. He knew then that he’d g
ive anything to give her peace. But peace was not what he had to give. Only truth.

  “Yes,” Asa said. “I believe She did choose you, just as Life chose me. And for the…” A wisp of smoke curled up out of his mouth, blending with the cigarette smoke. “… the reason you guessed. I’m sorry, Olivia.”

  Silence fell. Olivia’s eyes were on the table.

  “But what does it all mean?” she asked, her voice taut. “I’m supposed to… to help destroy Elysium? To help destroy all of us?”

  “It means that you could,” Asa said. “It means that you are capable of it because your decisions have been given more weight than those of others. But it doesn’t mean you will.” Asa stood. “Look at me! I’m a Card too, and I certainly haven’t helped Life’s cause at all.”

  “But everything I do… everything I have done… it’s only helped Her. Death, I mean. When I killed him… when we attacked Elysium. All of it only pushed Elysium closer to collapse. Like I wasn’t even trying. Oh, God…”

  “That’s how it works,” Asa said. “There’s likely something She wants you to do, some mission you have that only you can accomplish, like mine.”

  “But what could it be?” Olivia asked, her eyes on the table, her brows furrowed.

  “I have no idea.” Asa shook his head.

  “Are you sure I’m the one?” Olivia asked.

  Asa thought about this. He had felt a growing sense of dread as he had headed toward the settlement, felt a tug of significance on his heart when he had first laid eyes on her, first fought her. But now that dread was gone. Now talking to her was as natural to him as breathing.

  “No,” Asa said honestly. “But I know that Death’s Card is female, and that she uniquely proves the greatest threat to me.”

  Olivia looked up, her dark eyes on him.

  “What do you mean I’m the greatest threat to you?”

  “The two Wildcards can…” Another wisp of smoke, a burning in his chest.

  Thinking fast, Asa made a hand motion of two cars colliding and exploding. Olivia watched with a grim expression. “Do you get it?” he said.

  Olivia nodded.

  “And if I think about it… I think it may be why we’re drawn to each other,” Asa sighed. “We are each most vulnerable to the other.”

  “It’s more than that, what’s between us, and you know it,” said Olivia.

  “I know,” said Asa. “But we cannot ignore what we are, our parts in this. All we can do now is fight.”

  “Can we fight something like fate?” Olivia asked.

  “Of course,” Asa said. “Humans do nothing but fight fate every day. Humans are the most blessed and cursed of all creatures because humans can choose. Humans can change. For this reason, they cannot completely be used. That’s what I think I’ve envied for so long: the ability to be… not just a person, but my own person. Someone who can’t be used.” He paused, hoping desperately that she understood. “Death has positioned you based on your potential to be useful to Her. Nothing more. Your choices about what to do are completely your own. And it’s not like you, the strong, patient, ingenious girl I know, to bow before something as insignificant as fate.”

  Olivia turned to him, her eyes so dark and wide and beautiful. Asa found himself leaning toward her, drawn, again, as though magnetized to her and she to him. But this time, they didn’t stop. They didn’t pull back. Their lips met and it seemed as though an explosion went off somewhere within him. A very un-daemon-like explosion of affection, of urgency, of several thousand other things at once, but this time Asa didn’t care to quantify them. He shut his eyes and fell into the moment, into a cigarette-tasting frenzy of kissing, heat, closeness, passion, and he couldn’t really tell if this was all one kiss or more than one, but he didn’t care, because her hands were in his hair and she was nearly in his lap and—

  A knock on the door. Asa and Olivia sprang up as though burned. “Olivia Rosales!” a deep voice said. “Are you in there?”

  Adjusting his clothes, smoothing his hair, Asa went to the door and opened it to find two guards standing on the doorstep.

  “We’re here for Olivia Rosales,” one guard said. “We were told she might be here?”

  “I’m here,” Olivia said, coming to the door beside him. “Is it time?”

  “Yes,” said the guard. “Your sister is ready to see you.”

  Asa could see the happiness and apprehension rise within Olivia. He couldn’t imagine what she must be thinking, finally being able to see her sister again after so many years.

  “Can he come too?” Olivia asked, to his surprise.

  “Fine by me,” said the other guard after a moment. “But come on. Miss Iba—I mean, your sister—has been making a racket all day.”

  The guards led Asa and Olivia to the church and stopped them before the door.

  “Wait here,” they said. They went to the door and knocked.

  Asa felt Olivia slip her hand into his.

  The door opened, and Mother Morevna appeared, stooped and sunken. But power still emanated off her like heat from a summer road. She nodded once to Olivia, then opened the door wider.

  “Come now, girl,” she said. “Your sister is here to take you.”

  Asa heard Olivia catch her breath.

  A girl in a long white nightdress stumbled forward then, hair long and mussed, but clean. She was a thin imitation of the girl from the picture. She looked like Olivia, but pale and sallow from years spent locked indoors, and she was so frail that she seemed nearly insubstantial. She blinked once as though waking from a dream. Then she saw Olivia and light leapt into her eyes.

  “¡Olivia! ¡Has vuelto! ¡Has vuelto!” she cried, running into Olivia’s arms. The two collapsed there in the dust in front of the church, holding each other and weeping.

  “Rosa! Mi hermana, mi hermana… ¿Estás bien?” Olivia asked, stroking her hair as she held her close. “¿Te lastimó? ¿Era cruel contigo?”

  Asa stood back and watched the two of them there in the dust, so similar, yet so different. Olivia was so gentle with her. There was such love, such tenderness in every weeping syllable the two uttered.

  He loved her, he knew then. Completely, irrevocably, with a love so doomed and impossible that he suddenly understood all those Shakespearean characters with their monologues and knives, ready to be plunged into their own hearts. It hurt, terribly. But he knew then that even if he’d known how it would turn out, he’d have chosen this again and again and again.

  “Come on,” Olivia said, putting her arm through the crook of his elbow. “Let’s take Rosa back home.”

  “Olivia… ¿quién es el?” Rosa asked, wary eyes on Asa as she held Olivia’s other hand.

  “Asa Skander,” Olivia said. “Él es mi… novio.” (Asa’s heart gave a fluttery thrill at the last word.)

  “Buenas tardes, Rosa. Mucho gusto en conocerte,” he said, smiling his friendliest smile. Then he pulled a thornless rose from behind her ear, much to her delight, and handed it to her as she marveled.

  “I didn’t know you could speak Spanish,” Olivia said, tucking the flower behind Rosa’s ear.

  “You never asked,” Asa said. He tried to smile, to keep things lighthearted, for Rosa’s sake, but he became aware of Mother Morevna then, watching from the doorway. Her eyes were not on the Rosales sisters. They were on him, scrutinizing him, as though he were a puzzle to be completed.

  “Come on,” Olivia said, beaming. “Let’s go see the others.”

  And, with a glance back over his shoulder at Mother Morevna, Asa followed the Rosales sisters into the dark, back to the house where the other girls waited.

  CHAPTER 22

  When Olivia and Asa arrived with Rosa behind them, we weren’t sure at first how we should act. I worried that Judith or Mowse would scare her, she seemed so timid. But as Olivia introduced Rosa to all of us and she hugged each of us in turn, we found our voices lowering to match pitch with hers. To my surprise, it felt natural having her around. And to my su
rprise, when she was close, I could feel magic emanating from her too, faint but present, hanging around her like perfume.

  Asa, ever the performer, was surprisingly good with her, for not being truly human. He spoke to her in fluent Spanish and always made sure to communicate with her as clearly as possible without talking down to her like I’d seen nurses do to a deaf man once at the hospital. And whenever he made Rosa laugh, I thought Olivia’s own face might split in two, her smile was so wide.

  “He’s going to take care of her tomorrow, while we train the guards,” Olivia told me as we watched Asa entertain Rosa with his sleeves full of colored scarves. “There’s no use in him coming until the horses are ready to be powered up. And, anyway, she adores him, don’t you think?”

  Asa turned a scarf into a doll and handed it to Rosa, who, delighted, held it to her chest, murmuring to it in Spanish.

  I met Olivia’s eyes. “She’s not the only one,” I said. “What about you? What are you going to do when this is over?”

  “I know,” Olivia said, a note of pain in her voice as she watched the two of them laughing together. “I know that whatever happens, the Goddesses won’t be happy, and I’ll probably never see him again. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Until then, I’m just gonna take what happiness I can get, and prepare to give them the fight of my life.”

  We settled in, putting Olivia and Rosa in one of the upper bedrooms, Asa went back to the Robertson house, and all drifted into slumber, lulled to sleep by the rumbling of our temporary earth.

  The next morning, we were awakened at dawn and taken to a barn on the south side that I had never seen before. It was empty, save for a long table, three feed sacks hanging from ropes, which were probably intended to be used as punching bags, and boxes of ammunition and weapons. It had an acrid, dusty man smell to it.

  “All the guards trained in here,” a short, pimply guard said to me. “But we cleaned it out as well as we could last night.”