May Bird and the Ever After

  May looked at the floor, guilty. At home it had been easy to want to help a mysterious person in trouble. It had sounded nice to be needed.

  But the reality was very different.

  “I don’t want to anymore.”

  The Undertaker sighed. “You won’t be able to help it. She is more powerful than you can guess.”

  “I just want to go home.”

  The Undertaker frowned again. Her eyes flashed through scenes too quickly for May to make them out. “Your future profile is very confusing. I see great fear. You fear too many things. You even fear yourself. Why?”

  May stared at her blankly.

  “Oh, yes. You don’t believe in your heart. You doubt yourself. It’s a great failing.” The Undertaker gazed at her solemnly. “But there’s also great courage.”

  May looked at her feet. She was the least courageous person she knew. “Maybe I can help the Lady from home. Maybe I can be courageous there.”

  The Undertaker sighed. “No Live One has ever left the Ever After.”

  “Arista said I came through a portal. I can go back through.” May crossed her arms.

  The Undertaker smiled indulgently, then tucked one hand into the neck of her cloak and pulled out a necklace with an Earth-shaped pendant. It was divided into four corners.

  “There is one portal in each corner of your globe that connects to each one of the corners of our realm. There’s one in a hot spring in Japan, in the ocean near Bermuda, one in Europe, and one in the mountains in West Virginia.”

  May nodded.

  “The portals have been there since ancient times, created by the natural order of things for the spirits of the dead to pass through, you see. And they only go one way.”

  The Undertaker looked at May for emphasis here. “It’s been that way since Earth and the Ever After have existed. Now, in the old days others occasionally slipped through. Live Ones, like you.

  “But things have changed since then. A couple of hundred years ago Bo Cleevil—you’ve heard of him?”

  May nodded.

  “He decided that Live Ones were dangerous. Some say he did so after reading the Book . . .”

  “The Book?”

  “I will get to that. But first, he placed water demons at the four portals. Their job was to guard the entrance into the Ever After, so that no living souls could make their way through. The few that did, the Bogey got them.

  “That was about the same time that animals were banished from the Ever After—all of them except for the Black Shucks. Those that were found afterward were sent to the animal realm, except for cats, of course.”

  May swallowed. “What happened to cats?”

  “Oh, Bo Cleevil hates cats. All the cats were destroyed.”

  May thought of Somber Kitty and how she’d sent him away from the lake. Maybe it had been the right thing to do. She didn’t want to think about what the water demon would have done to him. Much less Bo Cleevil.

  “Are you paying attention, dear? The point is water demons get very mischievous. Sometimes they snatch people just to play with for a while, and then they eat them.”

  May gulped. The Undertaker patted her hand. “I don’t blame you for getting caught. The water demons have been killing people for years. Your town has no doubt lost many to the lake. And, of course, you must have a lot of spectral traffic coming through your home on account of the portal. But that’s beside the point.

  “The demons are very beautiful and very crafty. They entice their victims. They’re good at it.”

  “So . . .” May cleared her throat. “So the lake in Briery Swamp is a portal, and the water demon pulled me in?”

  “Yes”.

  “But. . . I lived.”

  “Somebody must have helped you.”

  May thought back to the moment before she’d gone black. “Pumpkin,” she said quietly.

  The Undertaker shrugged. “Any that make it through are destroyed by the Bogey. All portals are equipped with Life Detectors, though usually the water demon finishes what it starts, even if the Live One makes it that far.”

  May stared. “But Arista’s globe said there are Live Ones here?”

  The Undertaker did not answer at first. “There are some. Hiding out in the Northern Territories perhaps. But they don’t have long. Bo Cleevil’s power is growing. Most spirits don’t know it yet, but they suspect it, they feel it. Even your Arista feels it.”

  “Arista says there’s nothing that can be done.”

  The Undertaker frowned. “Arista is a very intelligent spirit. If that is his attitude, then we are certainly in bad shape.”

  May felt the tears trembling. “But I’ve got to get home. My mom . . .”

  The Undertaker patted May’s hands gently. “I know.”

  She pulled May onto the couch. “There is one possibility. I was just getting to it.” May sat up. “What?”

  “Well, I don’t recommend going against the Lady’s will. But if you feel you must. . .”

  The Undertaker seemed unsure whether to continue, and tapped one earthworm-bedecked fingernail against her bloodred lip before continuing. “The Book of the Dead lies in a vault in the City of Ether, in the Eternal Edifice. It was written by the Spirits in the North. In fact, many believe the Spirits of the North also built the Edifice, which is very old. The Book holds the answers to all questions for both the living and the dead. It can tell you much more than I can.”

  “Do you think it’ll tell me how to get home?”

  “If there’s any thing that would, it would be that book. But, May, you must beware. You may notice spirits can twist themselves to drift through small spaces—cracks and such. But the Edifice itself is airtight. And among the few who have made it to the book, even fewer have been able to open it. It chooses those who can read it. I, myself, tried to open it once, to find out my own future. It didn’t let me. And now Bo Cleevil has control of the Edifice.”

  They stared at each other. “He may already know of your arrival. If the Lady of the North Farm is watching you . . . I don’t know. I can only see shadows.”

  “I saw a book in the shop window, outside. It said T see you.’”

  The Undertaker shrugged. “A parlor trick, most likely. It probably does that to everyone. Helps to keep spirits fearful. But be wary.”

  The Undertaker sighed. “If you do choose the dangerous path to the Edifice, you’ll need help. There is a spirit by the name of John the Jibber, in a town called Nine Knaves Grotto. If it is indeed possible to get to the Book, he’s your specter.” She surveyed May doubtfully as if she were about to act against her better judgment. “Here . . .”

  The Undertaker reached into her cloak and pulled out a handful of dust. She blew on the sand, and it scattered out in front of her, separating into various mounds and dips and curves. A tiny set of black cliffs formed alongside a big, black spot. A tiny road wove along the other side of the cliffs, and tiny towns popped up along it. Each town had one little house marked with a tiny cloaked person.

  She traced a path with a jagged fingernail. “This is the way, via the road. But if you choose to do this, you must stay away from the towns. Most spirits have learned to fear Live Ones, and they’ll call on the Bogey if they so much as set eyes on you. You were very lucky at the Spectroplex, because you were surrounded by the newly dead. But the road is full of danger and is not an option.”

  She pointed to the miniature slate gray cliffs that rose above the road. “The cliffs are faster, but they hold many villages, on account of the view being so nice. It’s prime real estate and will leave you almost as exposed as the roads.” She paused thoughtfully. Her pointy finger drifted along a stretch of thin shore beside a strange black blotch.

  “Yes, the best way is along the beach. But you should stay within the shadow of the cliffs so that no one will see you from above. The cliffs are filled with caves—the Catacombs—and some of these would lead you to the grotto as well. But do not be tempted into taking them. Avoid them at a
ll costs.”

  “Wh-Why?” May asked.

  “We don’t know what lurks inside, but I fear whatever it is is treacherous. I haven’t found an Undertaker yet who is willing to investigate.”

  May nodded. Everything in the Ever After seemed treacherous. She was beginning to feel dizzy. Each word the Undertaker said made getting home sound more and more impossible.

  The Undertaker continued tracing the path along the beach with her finger to a dip where the cliffs pulled away from the sea.

  Then she grew grave again. “May, I must tell you again that if the Spirits of North Farm want you, I don’t believe you will able to resist them. So I need to warn you. I hear things have changed a lot up beyond the city. It could be that things with your Northern Spirits have changed too. I can’t make it out—all I see are shadows—but I hear strange reports. It could have to do with Bo Cleevil. I see dark things ahead for all of us.”

  The Undertaker was very grave, shaking her head. “And I see danger all around you. I can’t see details very far ahead. There will be heartache. You will lose friends. I’m sorry.”

  “But I don’t have friends . . .,” May whispered, ashamed.

  “You have more than you think.”

  Tears trembled on the edges of May’s eyes. She surveyed the map, the vastness of it. She had never felt more alone. “I can’t do it. I’ll never be able to do it. There’s got to be something easier.”

  The Undertaker only stared at her with beautiful, sympathetic eyes.

  A bell sounded through the clouds. The Undertaker, under a heavy mood, patted her shoulder. “I’m sorry. But your time is up.” She stood up, stretching her arm toward the May-shaped hole, which had opened up again.

  The tears began to dribble down May’s cheeks. “I can’t. Please.”

  “May.” The Undertaker touched her chin and lifted her face, staring deeply into her eyes. “Do you remember?” She held up her hand, and in it appeared the photo of May and Somber Kitty in the woods—the one that had fallen out of May’s book and caused her so much humiliation what seemed like a hundred years ago. Somber Kitty stood beside her protectively, like a bold, hairless lion. May reached out and touched the picture. It was real.

  “Take it. It’s a gift.”

  May did. She held it tight.

  “You were a warrior, remember? This is to remind you that you are that girl. You are braver than you know. Please remember that. Only when you forget it will you be lost.”

  May nodded her head decidedly as the Undertaker leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, then pulled the hood back over her head. Her face disappeared into darkness.

  And then May was standing all alone.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Bogey Arrives

  May followed the exit signs into a dark alley where Pumpkin and Arista were waiting with the laundry basket. May couldn’t look Pumpkin in the eye, now that she knew he’d saved her and she’d been so mean to him. She hunched her shoulders as she passed him and crawled inside the basket.

  “What did the Undertaker say?” Arista asked.

  “I have to go to the City of Ether.”

  “Oh. Oh, my,” Pumpkin said, nibbling on his fingers.

  Arista frowned. “How on Earth does she expect you to do that? The city is probably the most dangerous place in the Ever After you could be!”

  “I have to find something there.” May wrapped her arms around herself.

  “What in heaven’s name could be good enough to justify going to the city?”

  “The Book of the Dead”

  “‘The Book of the Dead.’ Never heard of it.”

  “She said I need to go to Nine Knaves Grotto first.” May added quietly, unsure now, and already losing her nerve. “There’s a man there who’ll help me.”

  “Nine Knaves Grotto! Indeed! Well, you’ll certainly never make it up there alone. You’ll never make it, period. You don’t know anything about the spirit realm. Even if you did, Nine Knaves Grotto can be deadly enough on its own—to any being.”

  Arista and Pumpkin hoisted the basket up and moved down the alley, Arista buzzing thoughtfully.

  “I’m of a mind to say someone should go with you.” He buzzed twice more. “Pumpkin, you must escort May.”

  “But, I—”

  “No bats.”

  “But. . . can’t you do it?”

  “I certainly can’t do it. I’ve got bees to raise.”

  “But I’m scared of the city. And I think what happened at the lake really took it out of me. . . .” Pumpkin began to fake a cough. “I think I have a sinus infection too.”

  “Pumpkin, you don’t have sinuses! Zzzzz. You’re going. You can come back as soon as you’ve helped her get to the Book. Now, zzzz, let’s stop talking about it or someone will notice.”

  May ducked farther into the basket as they got to the end of the alley and emerged onto the boulevard. She could feel Pumpkin’s side of the basket shaking.

  “Now really, Pumpkin. Get ahold of yourself. You’re drawing all sorts of attention to us.”

  Pumpkin’s hands continued to shake. “Yes, sir.”

  May could see through cracks in the clothes that they were making their way through the town square. Around them on all sides, the spirits hustled and bustled.

  “You there, horseman,” Arista’s voice called. They stopped, and then started moving in another direction, toward a waiting black carriage. May could just make out the wheels, and then—

  “Watch where you’re going, Pum—”

  On her right Pumpkin slammed into something hard. The basket went tumbling forward, and May went tumbling out of it, onto the street, landing on the ground with a thud. She quickly jumped up, looking around.

  In the square you could have heard a pin drop. In every direction, all the spirits had come to a standstill. All eyes were squarely trained on one spot. May started to back up to where the basket had fallen, as if she could crawl back in and everyone could forget the whole thing.

  Suddenly a scream rang out from one lady in a dark gray dress. And chaos broke loose.

  Spirits started screaming, moaning, groaning, screeching, and wailing. Everywhere they were knocking into one another, banging into carriages and walls, scurrying through the doors of buildings to hide, while others hung out of the windows above to see what all the ruckus was about. The awnings over the shop windows began slamming down all over the place, the carriages peeled off and down the rock road, and one souvenir vendor lifted the whistle from around his neck and, meeting May’s eyes, blew on it, then crawled under his booth.

  “Oh, we’d better hurry,” Arista said, grabbing the basket and zipping forward, then freezing in midair to turn back and look at May and Pumpkin. “Well, what are you waiting for? Run!”

  As May tried to keep up, Pumpkin and Arista zipped along in front of her, a trail of clothes spilling out behind them. Arista shoved the basket into Pumpkin’s arms and fished through his pockets. “I always keep one teletoken on me, just in case,” he was saying. “If I can just—”

  “There,” he said, interrupting himself and motioning to the glowing blue phone box May had noticed on the way in. They turned toward it now, Arista digging at himself frantically as he floated. They stopped outside the booth.

  “What are you looking for?”

  Arista ignored her, but Pumpkin stuttered, “We c-can’t make it home on f-foot. We have to t-teleport.”

  “But. How do—”

  May’s voice caught right in her throat at a faint sound in the distance. She and Pumpkin looked at each other.

  “Oh, dear. Oh, dear, it’s the Bogey. Of all the times to misplace it. . .” Arista clasped at himself.

  Sure enough, the sound got louder and more pronounced, separating itself into faint barks and yelps. May and Pumpkin looked out across the hundreds of miles of sand at the edge of town. There, in the distance, and so small it almost seemed like she could be imagining it, the tiniest cloud of sand rose up above the
horizon.

  “Get in!” The force of Arista’s hands pushing her through the door of the booth knocked the wind right out of May. Pumpkin squeezed in behind her, then Arista.

  “Oh, these things are always too small,” he said, still digging frantically in his pockets. “Oh.” He looked out at the desert, his antennae twitching wildly. May peered out through the window of the booth and across the sand. The Bogey had to be moving fast. Already May could now clearly see the cloud of sand looming larger and larger.

  “Drat!” Arista reopened the door of the booth and squeezed out. “I think it was in my other robes!”

  He started following the long trail of laundry that stretched across the sand into town, frantically yanking up this and that robe and rifling through its pockets.

  Crack crack crack. May moved to the door of the booth and leaned out. She could now clearly make out several dark spots on the horizon.

  “Arista, hurry!” May looked over her shoulder and watched him pick up another robe, then another, and another. She looked through the door of the booth, leaning over Pumpkin, who had curled into a ball.

  Beyond him, the Bogey approached. The specks had enlarged into dogs. Though they were still probably a mile away, May could tell they were humongous—the size of horses, with red gleaming eyes and huge teeth dripping with drool. But somehow they weren’t nearly as frightening as the figure riding on the sled behind them, cracking a long black whip. He wore a dark suit and a top hat. A fireball of fear shot into May’s stomach.

  “Found it!” Arista cried, floating back toward them, then freezing at the sensation of the Bogey and his dogs. His antennae twitched wildly. Then he started moving again, floating toward them at top speed and slamming into May with a shock. The whole booth shook. It began to fall to the side.

  May could see the Bogey clearly now, the sand flying out behind him in a great whirlwind. Snow white hair tufted out from under his hat. His chin stuck out long and curved at the bottom, like a hook. His eyeballs were completely white.

  May felt dizzy.

  And then, as May’s legs began to sway, the Bogey smiled at her, revealing rows of pointy teeth. He lifted his odd, knobby fingers to the side of his head and tipped his hat. He would be upon them in seconds.