Penult (Book Four of The Liminality)

  “Does it involve Karla?”

  “I would suppose, indirectly.”

  “What do you want?”

  “We would like … very much … for you to consider becoming a Freesoul.”

  “Fuck! You came to kill me? That’s the offer?”

  “In a nutshell. But not now. Not even today. Of course, you need to get back to the Liminality and get yourself beyond the influence of the core. New Axum does not suffice. Not enough altitude. I’m assuming you got there safely?”

  “Yeah. I’m there.”

  “Good. The reports we get are kind of sketchy.”

  “You guys have spies?”

  “Informants. Volunteers, mostly. All Hemisouls, of course. But listen. Here is our offer. Let me put it this way. If you want to remain a Hemisoul, there is nothing we can do for you. Karla will remain out of your existence forever. But if you do things our way, perhaps we can arrange a reunion. On the other side.”

  “You guys have her right now?”

  His face was as scrutable as a slab of granite. “I will not confirm or deny that. Not until you agree to our conditions.”

  “How the fuck am I supposed to get beyond the core? Those Penult fuckers took down the fucking mountain.”

  “The Liminality is a big place. There are other mountains. You have access to air transports. And not just bugs anymore. I heard you made yourself a nice pair of angel wings.”

  “You’re an assassin. You came to set up a kill.”

  “A facilitation. It’s not like you don’t benefit. You get to see your girl again.”

  “Can you guarantee that she actually wants to see me?”

  The man’s eyes flitted about. “That’s between you and her. Was there some trouble between you two?”

  “Shouldn’t you guys have figured that out before you came to pitch me a deal?”

  “You want to see her again. I saw you perk up when I mentioned the reunion thing. So it doesn’t matter if she doesn’t want to see you. All that matters is that you want to see her.”

  I felt queasy. “She doesn’t want to see me?”

  “I said no such thing. I’m just a messenger. Besides, I wouldn’t be privy to anything like that.”

  “You’re more than a messenger. You’re an operative. An assassin.”

  “Maybe. But at the moment I’m just a messenger. I did not come here to harm you, Mr. Moody. Not today. Though, I would be honored to be the man who eases you through the transition when the time comes. You’re our future. Our last, great hope. Since Frelsi fell, business had slowed to a trickle. Thanks to Penult, there’s very few Freesouls getting made these days.”

  “F-f-f-fuck this! I’m not ready to die.”

  “But don’t you ever want to see your girl again?”

  “Yeah, but….”

  “Priorities, Mr. Moody. I’ve offered you a means to make that happen.”

  He glanced up as the door to the car opened and the ladies of Brynmawr came bustling through all giggling over some story Helen was raucously relating.

  “Ah, your friends are back. Excuse me. You have Wendell’s number. Get in touch with us when you’re ready.” He returned to his seat across the aisle.

  Jessica spotted me first. “James! He’s awake.”

  The ladies rushed over and swarmed the booth.

  “How are you feeling dear?” said Helen. “You haven’t taken any nourishment in over a day.”

  “Where are we? Why are we still on the train?”

  “We were delayed overnight,” said Britt. “A train derailed in Oxenholme.”

  “We walked you through the station like a zombie,” said Fiona. “Did you realize that you’re able to respond to verbal commands when you’re in one of these trances?”

  “Good to know, next time we need someone to scrub the toilet,” said Jessica. Britt and Fiona giggled.

  “No worries dear, we’ll be in Glasgow soon,” said Helen. “Why don’t you have a bite of your bun? It’s fresh. We bought it outside the station.”

  With a wink and a nod, Wendell’s associate gathered his magazine and a brown leather satchel. He nodded to me, put on a ball cap and passed down the length of the car, heading for the first class compartment.

  “Who was that nice man keeping you company?” said Helen, smiling.

  Chapter 32: Visitors

  The train finally reached the outskirts of Glasgow and to Helen’s great relief I polished off that egg salad sandwich. As we clunked around, switching tracks for the last leg into the station, the ladies argued over the best place to stay on a limited budget.

  “Guys. I can pay. Pick someplace nice. Money doesn’t matter.” I held up my ivory credit card.

  Fiona and Britt looked at each other, but Helen stared me down.

  “Put that thing away!” she said, as if I were brandishing a dildo.

  “An old college mate of mine lives here,” said Fiona. “I’m sure she has a spare room or two. She inherited an old terraced house from her grand mum.”

  “No,” said Jessica. “We’re dealing with Sedevacantists. Violent ones. You really don’t want them to find out where she lives.”

  “What would they do? Burn her house down?” said Britt.

  “They just might,” said Helen. “They just might.”

  “I think some form of public lodging would be more suitable,” said Jessica.

  So Jess went on her iPhone and Googled up a cheap tourist hotel within walking distance of the train station, reserving one room with two double beds and a rollaway.

  I was still deep in a funk brought on by that encounter with Wendell’s associate. I felt as nauseous and heavy as in my old bouts of depression, the ones I used to get that brought the firsts roots writhing after me. It had been so long since I had this feeling.

  I was in a no-win situation. Trade this life for the mere chance of seeing Karla in the afterlife? What kind of deal was that? We would both end up in the afterlife sooner or later. If I did nothing I would achieve the same result. And yet I felt so horrible I knew the roots would come looking for me soon. I didn’t have to agree on any deal.

  Though we walked down pavements strewn with vomit and on a day with clouds thick enough to halt all photosynthesis, it was still a day on this precious Earth. The sparrows didn’t seem to mind. Neither did the weeds. I, as well, wasn’t anywhere near ready to give up my foothold on this existence.

  Particularly since they could offer no proof that they had Karla in custody or even knew where she was. But I knew better than to push for more evidence. Wendell was the type who might just chop off one of her fingers and deliver it gift-wrapped.

  We passed a chalky-faced man with deep grit-filled creases and scraggly, unkempt hair, his outer clothing reduced to shreds of rag. He stopped me in my tracks. I turned and watched him shamble away, lurching and swaying like a ferry boat in a swell. The guy could have passed for an Old One. Were there Old Ones about in this world?

  “What’s wrong?” Jessica called back. The other ladies walked on, not even noticing that we had paused.

  “Nothing,” I said, skipping ahead to catch up.

  ***

  The hotel offered the sort of value you might expect for thirty-nine pounds. The cramped lobby reeked of fungus and cigars. The elevator was out of order. The fourth floor room was dark and oddly shaped, too narrow for two double beds. The toilet had a hairline crack that seeped.

  Helen went to war with a rag and a borrowed broom, striking down ancient cobwebs, vanquishing dust bunnies the size of small rats. I retreated to a wobbly chair in the corner, cradling my chin in my hands. Jess came over and whispered.

  “James, the girls and I are thinking of making a sortie to a church. We thought it might be good to reconnoiter, check some message boards and parish bulletins and such. St. Aloysius is right here in the city centre. Would you like to come along?”

  I could only stare back at her. A tingling had begun in my extremities, quickly spreading to my core. br />
  “Uh-oh, he‘s got that look again,” said Fiona, coming up behind Jess.

  The roots this time did not dilly-dally. They ripped my soul right out of this world. My friends’ faces receded down a long, dark tunnel.

  ***

  I snapped awake in my quarters on my bed of mats and rushes. A thick and nappy flannel sheet was tucked around me. It was dark outside my doorway but a faint glow emanated from an orb on the floor.

  Someone, a woman, was sitting in my wicker chair. I thought at first it might be Urszula. But no. She was too tall. Too stiff.

  Victoria.

  She held a joint from a Seraph’s wing. Over and over, she nudged the business end with her finger and watched it leap through its full cycle.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “Ah, he’s back.”

  “Is that one of mine?”

  “Yours? It was salvaged from a wreck.”

  “Detmar? Is he—?”

  “He did not survive … this present realm, anyhow.”

  “Shit.”

  “And how are you doing? “How goes the wunderkind? Feeling better?”

  “Wunderkind? Excuse me?”

  “You are the boy wonder, are you not? The old soul? The chosen one? That’s what they all say about you. Who knew? I remember you, from your days with Luther. Never suspected you might be a master.”

  “Master?”

  “Stop it with the false humility.”

  “What are you doing in my room?”

  “I came to see the boy wonder. And see how receptive he might be to some ... alternative … pathways.”

  “Huh?”

  “You don’t want to be here. I see that. And you don’t need to. This is not your battle.”

  “Wait a minute. You guys wanted me here.”

  “Zhang wanted you here, but only because the Old Ones insisted.”

  “I don’t understand. Aren’t you part of them … the resistance?”

  She shrugged. “I adore my friends. My sympathies remain with Frelsi. But this … impasse … with Penult … is unsustainable. New Axum will fall. It is inevitable. And I hate to say … the sooner the better. I have seen what is coming this way. The sooner New Axum falls the better it is for all concerned. Many more souls will be saved from the Deeps and worse. Zhang knows this, but sees no other choice but to fight. But you and I, we have the power to sway the outcome. If I can make you understand. You don’t even have to lift a finger. Just … do nothing. Your injuries are excuse enough. Just stay put and let what happens happen. No one will blame you. The results will be gentler than … otherwise.”

  “Holy crap. You’re on their side. They turned you.”

  “Sides? What sides? There are no sides. We are all human. We all have souls. We’re in this together. The Lords simply want to restore the old order.”

  There was something absent from her eyes now. Part of her seemed not just altered but missing.

  “My God, what did they do to you?”

  Her brows pinched together in annoyance. “Do to me? They did nothing! I was treated well and fair. Better than I deserved after all the havoc I wrecked on them. I fought hard to defend my city from their shock troops after it had already crumbled. But now … let’s just say I understand the bigger picture now. I appreciate the perspective of the Lords. They don’t attack us out of evil. On the contrary. They want every soul to succeed. There is a right way and a wrong way. There needs to be order.”

  “Not evil? Did you hear what they do to those Cherubs? Olivier says they got rid of their souls. Just ripped them out. Discarded them. Kept only the bodies.”

  She sniffed. “Souls can’t be destroyed. Not here, anyway. Their souls still exist, just in another receptacle.” She shrugged. “And yes it seems awful, I cannot deny it. It’s terrible what they have to do to make a Cherub. But don’t think it doesn’t pain the Lords. They do these things only out of necessity. They are people, James, not monsters.”

  “You’re one of them. They made you one of them. You’re a Seraph or a Hashmal.”

  “One of them?” Her jaw stiffened. “Why not one of us? What do you know of them? They know more of you, James than you know of their ways. Of course, they don’t know everything, but they are aware of your significance. You need to understand that I have our people’s best interests at heart. Like I always have. It’s just that now I see things more clearly. There is a reason we have Root and the Deeps and all the other realms that filter and vet souls. There needs to be order. Many souls are simply not ready to exist in the upper realms. Sadly, some will never attain them. It’s the way of the universe.”

  She leaned forward in the chair, studying me, probing my reaction. “Careful, James. Learn who it is you’re fighting before you dive in too deep. There are reasons for why things are the way they are.”

  Her eyes widened. Her head whipped towards the open window. “Someone is coming.” She rose abruptly from the chair. “Excuse me, but I am not in the mood for company.” She hurried to the door. “I trust you will be discrete about our conversation. There will be further overtures. All I ask is for you to keep an open mind. When the time comes, when this mountain crumbles, and believe me, it will fall. Find me. Follow me. I can take you to the Lords.”

  ***

  Moments after she left, a figure appeared at the door, cloaked in shadow. With careful, cautious steps the man entered until the glow from the orb illuminated his form and face. Olivier.

  “Hey guy! What’s up? You’re looking a lot better. How do you feel?”

  “Um. Okay, I guess. A little confused.”

  He glanced out the window. “Did you just … have a visitor?”

  “Yeah. Uh. Victoria.”

  “Really? Huh. Well, I guess people are excited about you coming here, and not just the brass. Everyone’s talking about you, even in the camps. I know I should let you rest, but I was getting antsy. We’ve got lots to talk about. Nice to see you stuck around. I wasn’t even sure you’d be here.”

  “I actually did go back … for a little while.”

  “Oh? Where are you hanging out these days?”

  “Glasgow, at the moment.”

  “Any luck … with Karla?”

  “Nah. But … I’m thinking … Zhang’s people might be holding her.”

  Olivier scrunched his face. “What? Why?”

  “Extortion. They want me here. They want to keep me here, so they keep me miserable.”

  “Shit. You mean to tell me Zhang is pulling this crap on you?”

  “I don’t know if it’s him specifically or if it’s just the Facilitators.”

  “Sounds like we need to have a talk with them. That ain’t right.”

  “Yeah, well. I’m not sure I know what’s right or wrong anymore. But if I had my druthers, I’d rather work with the Dusters. They don’t mess with my head, and at least I know where they’re coming from.”

  “Yeah, well. We’ve got no choice but to work with Frelsi in the short term. But I know what you’re saying, kid. The Deeps changes you. Anyone who’s ever been there understands. There’s no pretense, just … brotherhood. The Frelsians, they don’t understand. But they’re just one step from the Deeps themselves.”

  I reached for my blood-stained hoodie. “I want out of here. Off this mountain. I’ll fight, but not here. Can we … when can we leave?”

  “Hang on, kid. Hold your horses. I get what you’re coming from, but we can’t do this without the Frelsians. They have something. Something big. And it might make the difference between winning and losing. They need your help to make it happen.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He looked out into the darkness. “You fit to walk? Let me show you.”

  Chapter 33: The Grotto

  I could have used another forty winks but Olivier was chomping at the bit. I peeled off the covers and dragged myself off the sleeping mat.

  My shoulder throbbed and tingled, but it was nothing that would
hold me back. I was feeling pretty good for a guy who had just been impaled by talons as thick as railroad spikes. The old arrow wound in my chest actually hurt more, but that ache was ever-present. I had gotten used to it on both sides of existence.

  I reached for my hoodie and pulled it on, still damp with blood, but someone had repaired the punctures the talons had made in the cloth.

  We left my room and turned the corner into the warren. I knew instantly that I could never find my way back here on my own. My room was but one insignificant nook buried amidst a baffling network of lanes and corridors and courtyards with no discernible pattern or plan.

  Orb-like footlights cast their soft glow along the base of every wall, but did little to illuminate the logic of the place. Alleys veered off and doubled back seemingly at random. I suppose if I stayed here long enough the place would eventually reveal itself, but I had no intention of sticking around long enough for that to happen. This was not my place. I was a stranger here.

  I’m not sure how Olivier knew where to go, but somehow he found his way. As we maneuvered through this bewildering puzzle of a city, the sky began to brighten. The warren gradually shed its burden of shadows.

  We passed through a gap in a tall wall that surrounded the warren like it was some shameful ghetto. Crossing a broad avenue we entered a neighborhood of larger dwellings with more spacious courtyards. They had taken the brunt of a bombardment, however, so only hints of their former glory remained amidst the rubble.

  There were plenty of souls out and about already engaged in their restoration, clearing debris, fitting bricks and stones together and fusing them without the need for mortar.

  It startled me to see so many Dusters and Frelsians worked side by side. Whatever had separated them on the front lines, segregation was clearly not an issue here.

  Here and there, occasional Old Ones sat or reclined in diverse corners. The workers took pains not to disturb them, allowing them to remain in their resting places unless a particular renovation absolutely could not proceed without moving them.

  Without much warning, we arrived at the brink of the upper terrace. A broad retaining wall separated a promenade from the cliff’s edge. The wall was breached in many places. This damage all looked recent.

  I peeked out over a jungled plateau. Giant insects flexed their wings atop the trees, catching the sun, and refracting it through their prismatic membranes. The forest was riddled with many gaps from Penultian artillery rounds that fell short of their mark.