I sighed deeply and managed to find the ground again, the soles of my feet tingling as I pushed myself up on my toes to kiss him. Our lips met, and the entire world disappeared. It didn’t matter that people could see us. It didn’t matter that we were under the eyes of friends and strangers alike, nor that we’d been bewitched by whatever energies emanated from the white fruit.
Nothing mattered, because in the madness of this moment, in the sweet folly of our disrupted existence, in the heart of the nightmare that had unexpectedly thrown us out of our own homes, Jericho and I had found our way to each other. He’d tugged, I’d pulled, he’d poked, I’d prodded, and finally… we were inching closer and closer. His lips were dangerously addictive. His smile a joy to behold. His strength reassuring. His fire… oh, so exciting.
I had never allowed myself to feel this way for anyone—though I wasn’t sure I could actually control such emotions. I’d deluded myself into thinking I could. Well, that lost its virtue, too. It was devoid of meaning, for only one thing had emerged from this storm—the certainty of how Jericho felt about me, and the speed with which I was falling for him.
“You taste like summer,” I whispered against his lips.
“And you taste like heaven,” Jericho replied. We giggled and bathed in the pure light of diamonds in the sky, hugging and kissing, welcoming the sweet joy of this moment and hoping that it might last forever.
I heard Astra sigh somewhere close by, but I couldn’t be bothered to peel myself off Jericho. It felt too good. “I wish we could stay here forever,” she said.
“We could, if you wanted to,” Brandon replied, his voice soft. Oh, the Berserker was head over heels with our glowing girl, and he’d recently become a free agent, too. I wondered what it would be like for the two of them to be together.
The Time Master’s voice cut through the veil of wondrous sensations with a hearty dose of unforgiving reality. “You were banished from Purgatory,” he reminded Brandon. “And one of your sisters went AWOL and uber-crazy in the realm of the living. We’re wasting precious seconds here.”
“You keep forgetting… there are no seconds here,” Brandon shot back.
My eyes opened slowly, finding Jericho’s fixed on me. Hues of deep blue danced in the turquoise pools framed with jet black lashes. “That’s right, there is no time,” I murmured, as if waking from a dream.
“But it’s all still real,” Jericho replied, dropping a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Time is right… We have to keep moving.”
I blinked several times just to get the rest of this world back into focus. And just like that, the fun fizzled out, and only the truth remained. We were in Purgatory. We were headed to summon Baldur, Father of Berserkers. And Hrista had stolen our island, among other horrendous things.
“Way to spoil the moment,” I muttered, looking at the Time Master, and for the first time since I’d met him, I noticed his ghoul, Aphis, smiling. That was a rare sight.
“Wait, you said earlier that you experience your past and your presence at once,” Astra blurted and sprang to her feet while Brandon scrambled to get back up, confused by the sudden change in tone. “How is it, then, that you cannot remember your history as a living creature?”
“None of us remember much from our lives,” the Berserker replied. He looked to Edda and Myst for backup. “Tell her. Please.”
Astra followed his gaze, and Myst was compelled to oblige. “When we are reaped, we leave our mortal lives behind. The memories begin to fade, ever so slowly. Those who move on get to keep it, but Valkyries and Berserkers, we… we lose it all, eventually. And yes, we experience time differently, that is true. But the memory of life still fades. I believe Brandon when he says he can barely remember, because I can say the same about myself.”
“Well, you still have a notion of who you were,” Edda said.
“Right. But that is more or less it.”
Brandon lowered his gaze. “In my case, it might also be a case of choosing to forget and not wanting the past life to spoil this one. Especially now.”
“Come on,” Thayen said, breaking the conversation altogether. “Time may not flow the same way here, and the white fruit may be deceptively sweet and wonderful, but we still have work to do. It’s been a weird day so far, and something tells me it’s about to get weirder.”
None of us could object. One by one, we pulled ourselves together and went back to the main trail that crossed this deep valley. Thayen, Edda and Myst stayed close to Brandon and Astra, while Hammer led the way. Jericho, Time, Aphis, and I were last, often looking back to make sure we wouldn’t get any unpleasant surprises. This wasn’t a good place, and it wasn’t a bad place, either, so we didn’t know what to expect.
Jericho took my hand in his and gave me a smoldering, dark look. We’d had our fun. And I promised myself that I would do everything in my power to make sure we’d have more fun back home in The Shade, once we’d destroyed Hrista and pulverized the clones. My priorities were shifting, some flocking around Jericho. I didn’t mind. I liked the idea of a future with him in it.
My ice was rock solid, but I welcomed his fire with arms wide open. We’d need every ounce of strength against this new enemy.
Thayen
“Why can’t you just teleport us to Baldur?” the Time Master asked after we left the orchard valley behind and braced ourselves for a long walk through a golden desert. There was nothing else around us for miles and miles. Nothing but rippling dunes of gold sand slowly baking in the heat. Even without an actual sun, warmth permeated throughout Purgatory.
“The Mother and the Father demand that we walk to find them,” Brandon said. “It’s an ancient tradition. They may find us anywhere in Purgatory, but we must go the distance if we wish to see them.”
“That’s a little bizarre,” Time muttered.
Edda shrugged. “Yeah, we kind of dropped the ball on a few things around here, but with the realm shifting and fundamentally changing every now and then, we lack the stability we’d need to establish better traditions. Our focus is to herd the souls into their respective afterlives, anyway. Everything else here is just… fluff.”
I didn’t mind the walk. It gave me time to put my thoughts in order. We were slaves to the mechanics of the universe. My only hope was that we wouldn’t miss anything important upon our return. Of course, our goal was still getting to the real island. I trusted Astra would come through for us, but she needed a bit more breathing room for now. It had been pretty intense for her, not just in terms of opening and holding a shimmering portal—although to a different destination by mistake—but also as far as her dynamic with Brandon was concerned.
They’d gone through a change, at least from my perspective, a fundamental shift in how they perceived each other. Brandon had been a killer during his living days. A killer ruthless and evil enough to warrant Order’s attention in Purgatory. The thought chilled me to the bone, yet I failed to reconcile it with the Berserker walking just a couple of steps to my right. Brandon was not a model of good behavior, nor the most noble entity I’d ever come across—on the contrary. But I still couldn’t see him as a murderer.
“What’s on your mind?” Myst asked as we walked between the dunes, which got taller with every mile we put behind us. We were following a clear path on a low level, while the desert rose around us with its shiny sea of gold.
“Quite a lot, actually,” I replied, almost laughing. “I’m amazed by how much my mind can process at once. But I guess the dominant feeling is disappointment. With Order, I mean. That meeting was… anticlimactic.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” she sighed. “I had no idea until Edda told us, and I am still utterly dumbstruck. Order is powerless beyond this realm, and it just… it doesn’t make sense, because the world of the living thrives on… well, on order. On the principle of action and reaction. On species and subspecies. On specific formulas that lead to specific results. On justice for crimes committed. One would think Order herself would thrive
in such realms.”
“If the forces of the universe were too absolute and all-powerful in every single layer of its endless domain, we’d have a mess on our hands, don’t you think?” I asked, noticing I’d earned a faint nod of approval from a half-smiling Edda. “I think things are the way they should be. The Word in life. Order in Purgatory. Death as dual as ever, the beginning and the end of everything, I guess. And I don’t know what else there is beyond this realm.”
“By that logic, everything is where it belongs. Myself included, here, in Purgatory,” Myst replied, and for some reason, it sounded wrong. Well, it sounded right, but I didn’t like it. “And Brandon, too. But Brandon has been kicked out. Sooner or later, one of us will have to eject him. Where does that leave him and the alleged order of things?”
For a moment, I stared at her with a mixture of admiration and sheer awe. Her wisdom had enlightened me more than once. She’d carried herself with a whiff of self-righteousness that may have gotten on my or others’ nerves at some point, but in the middle of Purgatory, absolutely everything about Myst the Valkyrie suddenly made sense. The glorious attire, the superb sword, the explosion of light coming from within her, the timelessness of her words. Yes, I could see it now.
“Nothing is written in stone,” I concluded with a deep exhale, almost losing myself in her eyes. “As long as we have strength in our souls, I think we can pull anything off.”
“Your optimism is endearing,” Edda snickered, giving me a curious sideways glance. “Myst, this one is definitely special. I can smell the death on him.”
I almost blushed. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”
“I kind of do, actually, just by looking at you,” Edda replied. “There is death in you. As a vampire, and as a carrier of one of Spirit Bender’s soul shards. I told you, I smell it.”
“In a sense, vampires are closest to Death’s realm,” I said, unable to hide the pride that accompanied my statement. “Unending, her first Reaper, or who we thought was her first reaper, she’s the source of vampirism.”
Edda sighed, shaking her head.
That got my attention. “What is it?”
“Nothing. It’s just… I’m reminded of how comfortable Death is with lying,” she said, then pointed ahead. A forest sprang from the gold sand, with black trees and a sprawling obsidian canopy that stretched for days, enveloping everything beneath it in profound darkness. “Here we are.” Edda seemed glad to change the subject.
I would’ve liked to follow up, but a strange presence emerged somewhere nearby—I could feel it humming in the center of my chest. Whatever Edda was holding back about Death and Unending would have to wait. Baldur came out from the strange forest, and I fell silent.
My throat closed up. Darkness poured off him like thick ink and not in the usual wisps I’d seen on Brandon and the other Berserkers. Baldur was tall and muscular, with long arms and broad shoulders. His hair was a mess of black and indigo blue, braided and tumbling down his back in an imposing mane. His cold eyes cut right through me as they met mine. Leather covered his torso and legs. He wore an ornate breastplate made of silver and steel, tied on both sides with hide strings and covered with mother-of-pearl and watermelon-colored tourmaline inlays. His thigh and calf armor pieces were made from the same material, enriched with runes that glimmered like the sky of diamonds overhead.
Our group came to a sudden halt as Baldur clenched his square jaw and revealed his weapon, a monstrous axe with a long handle made of sculpted bone and wrapped in slick black leather. Its blade shone hungrily and sharp, aching for blood and pain most of all. I never wanted to find myself in its way.
Myst’s hand found my wrist and gave it a good squeeze. There wasn’t a need for words between us. I knew this meant that she had my back, calmly urging me to let her and the other beings of Purgatory take the lead. Baldur saw me first, though, and he seemed a little too curious for my comfort, so I doubted I’d manage to sail through the incoming conversation unnoticed.
“Hm. Four beating hearts. Plus a Reaper and a ghoul. This is strange,” Baldur said, looking at each of us carefully. He narrowed his eyes, for good measure, just to make it clear that he was studying us.
“Baldur, my brother. I come in peace,” Edda replied, taking a step forward. “We need to talk. It’s important.”
“Sure, but first… I need to know who this wondrous being is,” Baldur retorted, confidently walking toward Astra. Instinctively, I moved to get in front of her, and so did Brandon. Even Jericho and Dafne were about to step in, and Hammer was already restless and growling—but none of us stood a chance.
Myst pulled me aside, while Aphis yanked the dragons back with a low hiss. Baldur waved Brandon and Hammer away like a pair of bothersome flies, a cool grin slitting his face from ear to ear as he beheld Astra. He stopped mere inches from her, taking a deep breath to capture her scent. He groaned softly. “You smell of life and light, little jewel, and I cannot make sense of you.”
“She’s a Daughter-Sentry,” Edda said firmly. “And my guest here.”
“Your guest? Don’t be ridiculous,” Baldur snorted a laugh. “She’s an intruder, much like the rest of these breathers, plus the gloomy fellas. Oh, and let’s not forget you, Brandon. You’re not supposed to be here anymore.”
“I take it you heard the news,” the Berserker muttered as he picked himself up off the ground. Hammer shook off some of the sand but didn’t make another move toward the Father of Berserkers. Astra, the poor soul, stood frozen and speechless and wide-eyed.
“You’re exceptional,” Baldur said, ignoring Brandon and the rest of us. The leader of punishers was absolutely shameless, and irrevocably smitten. “You’re a work of art, a marvel of the universe, a most exceptional accident, Astra Hellswan. And now, you’re here, in front of me… within my reach.”
He tried to touch her pink hair, but Astra had the sense to pull back. “Whoa, there… do I know you?”
“No, but he’s already read your soul,” Brandon interjected, his shoulders slumped. “It’s part of his power. He just looks at you, like Order would, and he knows everything, though not as deeply as her. Enough to creep you out, for sure.”
“Did I allow you to speak? Shush, rogue,” Baldur cut him off. “The only reason I haven’t ejected you yet is because this wonderful girl seems to like you, which is a terrible shame. I hope to rectify that.” He smiled at Astra. “Give me your heart and your body and you will never experience emptiness or sadness or darkness ever again.”
Edda scoffed. “Oh, enough with the syrupy garbage. You’re the Father of Berserkers. The epitome of darkness. If she lets you do anything to her, she invites shadows that will haunt her forever and probably into the afterlife, as well. Stop it.”
“I can’t help it. Can you not see how gorgeous she is?”
Baldur was quite the character. And judging by how Myst pressed her lips together so as not to smile, I began to worry. Was the father of Berserkers all bark and no bite? They would’ve said something prior to this meeting. No, that didn’t make sense. Was he insane?
He sure looked like he had at least a streak of madness going on.
“You are creeping me out,” Astra replied dryly and crossed her arms for good measure. It made Baldur throw his head back with laughter.
“What a firecracker you turned out to be. There are legends about you, Astra, of life and death bonding in a body,” he said. “Legends that transcended the realm of the living and made it all the way to my curious ears.”
“Baldur,” Edda snapped, her voice thundering across the black woods. Their obsidian leaves rustled with troubled clinking, like wind chimes made of glass. “Hrista has taken over a living realm. She will inevitably provoke the powers that be with such actions.”
Suddenly, the humor vanished from his face.
There it was. The shock. The anger. It flared like nuclear sapphires beneath his dark eyebrows. “Damn that firefly. I told her not to do anything stupid,” he grumbled.
Baldur had seen this coming. He’d at least suspected that Hrista had the potential to do something awful. We’d brought him bad news, and his fascination with Astra subsided as quickly as it had emerged. There were bigger problems to deal with, and finally… I saw the real Father of Berserkers, the force that Edda would need to help us. Our world was not yet lost.
Unending
I had lost track of time.
The claustrophobia was eating away at me, a stark reminder of my imprisonment on Visio. Granted, this was just a cell made of stone and iron. It was warded against all kinds of magic, yes, but it could still be torn down. A rune or a sigil could be broken. There was a solution to it. This was my way of avoiding despair. My own self-healing reasoning to stop me from going mad.
My darling Tristan was helpless. Hrista had taken the silver cube with all my memories. We didn’t even have access to that. It wouldn’t have helped, anyway. If I died, I died. If I shed this body, I would forsake everything. I would never be Unending again. I would shuffle right into Purgatory, my powers lost forever.
Hrista had done an impeccable job of destroying me.
“There hasn’t been much movement outside,” Tristan said after a long, heavy silence. He’d spent the past couple of hours observing the clones through the small window of our cell, expertly fitted with steel bars and more magic to keep us from escaping. “I assume we only have the two guards outside, by the door. I haven’t picked up any other scents, either. No additional heartbeats.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, knees under my chin as I tried to see a path forward through this awfulness. It was hard to shake the feeling that I had been incredibly stupid. What a ridiculous emotion to have, and the body just made it worse. Neither Tristan nor I could have anticipated this. We’d gone over the chain of events. The decision. Nowhere had Anunit given any hint that she wasn’t who we’d thought she was. There was no room for me to blame myself. Well, actually… there was. I could have processed my anger better. I could’ve told Death about Biriane. She would’ve had enough sense to stop us, and the World Crusher would not have been released.
A Shade of Vampire 91: A Gate of Light Page 21