Original Souls (A World Apart #1) (38 page)

What was left of this particular Keeper's white hair was combed back. His balding head shined against the light of the golden sun directly overhead of them both. Cris realized that things were beginning to look more like the real world again. Excepting the fact that he appeared to be standing on a cloud as he looked down at the endless skies beneath him.

"If I start free falling again," he looked this new Keeper dead in the eye as he spoke firmly, "I'm taking you with me!"

"Oo
h—
l
a—
la! You're quite aggressive
,
” he leaned forward over the gold podium
,“I’
ll have you know I like a strong man, but
,
” he pulled back, now with less enthusiasm
,“
free-fallin
g
… tha
t’
s not so good for my hair. I just got new plugs, you know!"

He ran his translucent fingers through what was left of the white, comb-over-mess he tried to pass off as a hairdo. His face was old and cracked. His white skin looked red on more than half his visible body. The white cloak he wore didn't cover his neck, head, lower arms, or lower legs. Cris noticed that in all those exact areas, the Keeper wore gold bangles that were actually rather beautiful. His gold sandals didn't look like they had ever been walked in. Though they were currently on his feet as he lowly hovered behind the open bottom podium, with his judging eyes on Criston.

"So, how are you enjoying revisiting your past?" Cris assumed it was a rhetorical question, but the Keeper didn't budge. His face seemingly said, you can answer at any time.

Cris figured if it would move things along, he'd just answer the stupid question. "It is what it is," he firmly stated. "One massive guilt trip."

"You are exactly right, my friend!" He glided from behind the podium, closer to Criston, moving almost identical to Gavin of the tower. "This place is termed the Halls of Sorrow for that reason. To have people face their past deeds, so that they aren't bound here in eternity with the weight of that guilt forever leaning on their shoulders. That would be quite a burden! If not for this place here, of course." He motioned his loose skin hands all around the white cloud city. "This place alleviates all that for even the most horrid of human beings." He looked down to the endless sky beneath the clouds. "That's, of course, if they can truly accept and forgive themselves for all their misdeeds." He looked back up to Criston, who stood in front of him with a perplexed stare. "Can you accept that these visions yo
u’
ve seen, and the deeds yo
u’
ve done our yours to own? And yours alone, to forgive?"

"How can I forgive myself for things I haven't done wrong? Or worse, things I couldn't control?" Criston put his hand to his chest as his emotional level soared. The Keeper floated back over to his podium, like he had seen this sort of thing before.

"Denial," he said solemnly. "Denia
l—
is not the only thing you're feeling. Confusion is a huge part of what's going on here. So
,
” he said in an upbeat tone, looking down at his book -on the podium,
-“
the doggie then?" He extended his hand and tilted it to the side, asking whether they were on the fence with that one.
-“
Are we
?
”

Cris got it, and responded promptly. "Yeah," he said shaking his head. "I get that one. I was just a kid, but it was still a terrible thing to do to a defenseless animal."

After Criston said those words, the Keeper picked up the quill laying in the crevice of the book on the podium. He took down a note or two. Cris inched up toward the podium to see what all the fuss was about.

"Uh-uh
,
” he scolded
,“
no peeking, or else I'll have to put in a call to security. Ha-ha!" He laughed playfully at Criston, but Cris' face said, no dice. The Keeper quickly closed his mouth from hanging wide open in laughter. "I'm sorry," he said in an honest tone. "If it makes you feel any better ... I've actually got no security whatsoever." He nervously grind his teeth together, thinking he should
n’
t have let that curious cat out of the sack.

"So, you're vulnerable?" Cris asked as he took an intentionally wide step forward.

"Yes, some might say so," the Keeper admitted, while looking Cris up and down for signs of aggression. He saw none. But he noticed something else. Cris had gotten what he wanted. A peek at that book. "What a naughty boy you are!" The Keeper snatched the book off the podium, and then smiled slyly. "No one's ever been able to pull such a simple trick over on me." He was bright and cheery with the Fate Forger. "You may not be Sena. Hendrix worst endeavor ever, young human."

Cris turned back into his serious self. "What do you know about my mom? Better yet," he paused, thinking the reversal would be more appropriate. "What does she know about you?" He looked around with his hands up in the air. "For instance, where exactly are we?"

"Oh yes! I knew I had forgotten something." He extended his hand out flimsily. "I'm Russell, and you are, only technically speaking, a dead man!" Russ had tried that shocking bit on many before Cris. But he did
n’
t know just how well Criston knew his Keeper brother, Gavin.

"I know that if I try to shake your hand, it'll just go right through," Cris smirked, though he wasn't too interested in the gag right then.

Russell pulled his hand away smiling. "You're not nearly as stupid as your mother has been telling us all these years, Sen. Gambit."

"Please," Cris pleaded, "do
n’
t keep me in the dark about all of this. I came, because I need to know everything."

"Well, even if I knew -
everything
, I wouldn't tell you. But! I vowed to help your mother and those above her. So, that I will do, by informing you of all you need to know." He seemed to be very cooperative with Criston's needs. "Bu
t—
I won't do any of that, until you can assure me that you can check off the rest of this list here."

Cris couldn't possibly understand how helping the Deaves geeks made him a bad guy. He didn't see anything wrong with a fun card game.

"Criston, you are looking at the wrong issues." It was as if Russell read his thoughts. He wasn't reading them though, he simply paid attention to Criston's mannerisms, which always gave away all his thoughts. "You weren't wrong for helping those in need, but the way you went about it? Especially considering the fact that you don't know why your mother so desperately wanted to end the program in the first place."

"She'd never say!" he yelped in frustration. "Believe me, I've asked several times. That whole thing only cost me a life's worth of education, just not to get the degree." He turned away. "One year, and I would've been out of there," he mumbled while walking to the edge of the cloud. He figured he'd stop right there. Free falling again was not on the agenda he and Sena. Hendrix set back at Corinth's dorm.

"Well, perhaps taking ownership over the poor way in which you behaved is your only solace?" he proposed, while leaning forward over the podium. His voice tender and sweet. "Sena. Hendrix is just as imperfect as the next human, but you know her not to be a foolish woman, right?"

Cris wasn't sure about that, but he was certain that he was tired of this conversation. He turned back to the Keeper of the Halls of Sorrow and said, "I understand, and I do accept and forgive myself."

Russell looked him over for quite some time, surveying his face and body language. Cris didn't think there was chance in hell that he'd believe he truly understood that easily. But he figured it was worth a shot anyway. Russ rubbed his chin. Deep in thought about the eager and impatient man standing before him. "I believe you," he said without question.

"You what?" Cris blurted out, surprised.

"You may not know why you were so wrong in your actions, but still you question your own knowledge of yourself. This is what I seek. Not finite endings, but new beginnings for those with their imperfect secondary soul intact," his voice suddenly became serious and stern as Criston looked on with a glimmer of hope shining in his bright blue eyes. "You may now enter through the gates of Eterna."

There were nothing but clouds behind the Keeper, yet somehow, a gate emerged out of that nothing. A sparkling emerald gate. The light was blinding, but Cris was ready for anything at this point. He half-covered his face as the light intensified, and then he began walking as Russell motioned for him to move onward ... into eternity.

<*>

He was informed of so much that he couldn't keep his head on straight. "So, yo
u’
re telling me that the Great Eight, those who created the Worlds I come from, have total control over Eterna."

"No," Russell said, pursing his lips and tilting his head. "Not total control, and certainly not all eight."

"Well, then how many are we talking!" He was frustrated because he felt in over his head. Sena. Hendrix had only pretended to give him all the information she actually knew. Russell attempted to explain to Cris why she was such a secretive woman, but he was raised by that woman. So, that crap wasn't going to fly with him.

He was now glad that he, once again, prevented Hendrix from confronting Corinth as the boy's grandmother. When she brought it up back at the dorm, he quickly substituted her news with the fact that his new fate forging hand would make it very easy for them to see Julia again. They would
n’
t have to wait for her to build a new gate. Hendrix was disappointed, but chose to respect Criston's decision. She felt like she had undermined her son's life enough. H
e’
s a man now, so she wouldn't intrude on the choices he made on Corinth's behalf.

The emphatic Russell interrupted Cristo
n’
s thoughts abruptly. "Well, there's the usual five who are making all the trouble. The one from Hyperborean is obviously aligned with the side of good. The ones from Lirio and Arco haven't yet declared their allegiances." Russell spoke tentatively. Once again, Cris' body language was giving him away.

"Assuming they have allegiances," Cris said. Russ shook his head in understanding. "They could be in it completely for themselves, or waiting to be swayed to either side."

"Swayed, you say?" the Keeper didn't quite get the insinuation.

"Yeah," he retorted like a cop. He sat in a wooden chair with his legs stretched far apart. His macho stance was a dead give away to how inferior he felt to those he was up against. "They could be waiting to be paid off, you know." He took a sip of the drink Russ had given him.

Russ watched him carefully as he consumed the beverage whole. "And I'd assume, though I'm no officer of any laws, that we wouldn't want the help of those that can be swayed by monetary values alone."

Cris threw his finger up, pointing out Russell's assumptions as reality. "Precisely!" Cris snapped. "There's no guarantee anyway. If we pony up the cash, or whatever dead guys value, we'd assumedly be trusting them. Then the other side offers them more. Well, now the
y’
re just undercover spies in our midst."

He gently tapped the mug on the oak wood table in Russell's old style home. That was his way of asking for more to drink. Russell smiled politely, and lifted the mug without even touching it. It glided along with him into the small kitchenette, just a few yards away from the sitting area.

"Perhaps, some other refreshments are in order. Food of any kind can be ready before you can say; yes, please!" Though old and withered, he smiled like a young, lighthearted gentleman.

"You're really kind," Criston told him in a breezy tone. "I've always loved a good double cheeseburger and fries." As soon as he said fries, a bell rang.
DDIINNGG!
It was more like an unbearably loud buzzer.

Out of a microwave looking machine, Russell pulled a cheeseburger and fries ensemble. He didn't actually touch it, but it levitated with the guidance of his nearly transparent hands.

Cris watched him put together the meal for him while behind the tiny counter. Everything was painted mustard yellow in the kitchenette and living room. The floor had a nice and plush beige area carpet in the middle of the room. The two sofas were covered in plastic. Just like at his grandmother's house. He remembered that as he rubbed his hand across the couch beside the chair he sat in. All this centered around the large oak coffee table.