The Ghosting of Gods (22 page)

49
mix brilliance with horror

We’re freezing to death.

Leesel has lost her way inside the blizzard. Trees are sparse at this elevation. If there are any caves or other shelter, we can’t find them with the driving snow. My elbows are so stiff that it’s easy to carry Leesel. She’s buried inside my robe, her little face pressed into my neck. Her breathing rattles. She’s feverish.

From the moment the vortex dropped us in Memento Mori, a small hope took hold in my mind. Faith. It’s hard to hold onto, but if I don’t, I won’t be able to do this anymore.

The undisturbed surface of ice is so beautiful, but my steps are ruining it. I pray silently.

I’m desperate to save Leesel.

Ava has become too exhausted to cry. Poe prays aloud:
Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the age
.

I’m afraid. I’m afraid God didn’t send us here, afraid there’s no meaning to this journey. And that makes me alone. It makes me responsible for saving my friends. What if I can’t do it?

I look up into the whirling sky and imagine a vortex there to take us home.

Nothing happens to save us, and my prayer ends. I lift a boot, pitch it forward, grunt as it sinks deep into snow again. I was wrong. This landscape is wretched, not beautiful at all. This is no divine journey. There are my steps, and the steps of my friends, but that’s all.

Poe’s wrong. Jesus does not walk beside us.

I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you
, my friend prays on.

No. We’re alone.

Leaning into the wind, trying to keep my balance, I catch
sight of a dark form moving in the blizzard, pacing us. An angel. Flitting in and out of view among the trees. Damned things are everywhere, hiding and watching, eager to reap.

“What’s that?” Poe yells over the screaming wind. With difficulty, I twist my upper body, see his blue face. He’s pointing at the ground.

Silver spoons.

A trail of silver spoons.

“Elspeth,” I yell. Poe nods his head. Ava stumbles forward, bends to see the spoons.

“She’s a healer,” Ava reminds us, her eyes moving to Leesel. We follow the trail of bread crumbs to find the witch.

It’s too late when I lift my face and see angels huddled against a wall of ice in front of us. One of them steps forward, and I realize that this one, at least, is no angel. He has no wings. Staring at me, he lifts a hand and motions the others behind him to come forward.

None of them are angels.

“We see you are freezing,” the first one calls out. “Come. There is a hidden passage into the City. A warm passage. Come.”

I exchange looks with Ava. Poe, stiff with cold and hugging his skinny arms around himself, nods at me. We follow the man and his brooding companions inside the wall of ice.

It’s a cave. With the howling of wind left behind, my shoulders loosen. It’s warm. Leesel squirms loose from my arms but leans against me as she stands.

Torches are spaced along a jagged corridor. I run my hands along the wall. It’s smooth, balmy, and reflective of the torch flames. The corridor ends, and I face a spectacular cavern. Poe, Ava, and Leesel crowd around me.

Pungent incense burns. Glistening with gold in the torch light, stalactites and stalagmites grow together to form walls where thin streams of water trickle down, pooling in bowls carved out of the cave floor. Statues sculpted from the walls depict persons
kneeling in prayer. They hold chains, not beads, in their clasped hands.

What is this place?

Poe stops, shakes his head. I have to pull him after me.

A single small fire burns. Several men, wrapped in torn sackcloth, crouch beside the flames. A single fish fries in a pan on the grate. Leaning over their dinner, the men inhale deeply. One of them sees us and quickly turns his scarred face away. A sick yodel comes from his throat. I can’t help gaping. He wears white. A headband runs around the top of his head, and attached to it, at the back, is a stick topped with a halo.

Angel werewolf.

He sees my staring, glares, and shifts position so that my view of the fish is blocked. It doesn’t matter. I can still smell it. My stomach rumbles with hunger.

The others take notice of us. Blue moons cradle their eyes, their cheeks are sunken, and their robes fold on a crease over their angular shoulders. They’re starving. Close by, in shadows, cries of pain follow the sound of leather whipping the air.

Ava and I both have hold of Leesel. Her eyes are wide. “I don’t like this place,” our little girl whispers.

“Come,” our escort says. Picking up a lantern, he motions us forward. We leave behind the other men, their fish, and the self-scouring of the flagellants. Our guide pauses at a jag in the stone corridor and dims the lantern’s glow. “I apologize for the lack of torches the rest of the way. The ones who cage themselves prefer darkness.” Glancing over our faces, he looks concerned. “Do flagellants in cages make you uncomfortable? The City will be unpleasant for you, then.”

Poe breathes hard. He trips up Ava when he stumbles. She swears at him.

I hear rattling up ahead. Sounds like the jingling of keys. A chorus of voices reverberate on the walls around us.

Pray with doused light
.

Bring darkness to hide me
.

The Holy Ghost is a jealous ghost!

The last voice I know. “It’s Saint Thomas,” I blurt.

The man pushes me forward. “Here. Take the lantern. Go to him.”

Ava, Leesel, and Poe crowd around me as I crank the lantern high and push through a hanging, ragged shawl, which I suspect is a shroud. Loose threads brush my face like spider webs as I step into a cramped space.

Cages.

Haphazard metal bars form six small cages. A solitary prisoner resides in each one. Flagellants. One of them sits naked, his back to us, shivering in the cold dampness of the cave. Others shield their eyes against the light of the lantern. They’re frail, bruised, moaning. I quickly dim the light of the lantern and push Leesel behind me. I don’t want her to see this.

Movement catches my eye. I swing the lantern to the left. A girl in a thin dress and bare feet throws up her arms to block the sudden bright light. Slowly, her arms lower.

Elspeth.

She’s healed, in part. Her cheeks and eyes are no longer sunken. The gray is gone from her hair. Yet bruises remain.

No surprise shows on her face. She knew Leesel would bring us this way, knew we needed to get to the City of Sacristies. Keeping tabs on our progress must have been easy for her. She’d simply been waiting for us.

For me?

Here. In a cave.

Elspeth’s eyes flit from me to the others, and her face softens when she sees Leesel. “Do not be afraid, my pretty,” she says. Her voice is weak, her eyes red. She’s been crying. Her hand opens to the flagellants. “Please, they are to be pitied. I do not agree with their religious practice, but we have in common a desire to find the Holy Ghost. You needn’t be afraid. They harm only
themselves.”

“Leesel’s sick. Help her, please,” Ava begs.

Elspeth beckons to Leesel. “My pretty,” Elspeth coos. “Oh, my pretty. This altered world does not agree with you or Jesse, does it?” She kisses Leesel’s forehead, as a mother would do. “The fever is advanced,” she says, her voice suddenly clinical. She signals our escort. He vanishes, reappearing a moment later with a syringe.

“What is that?” I demand to know.

Elspeth looks at me in surprise. “Do you believe I would harm Leesel?”

I’m surprised to feel ashamed. “Of course not. We…need your help.”

Busily running her hands along Leesel’s neck, she suddenly and deftly pricks Leesel’s shoulder with the syringe. “My most powerful medicine,” Elspeth murmurs. “Ava, hold her still in your lap. I must examine her.”

Ava complies, her jaw clenched, her eyes shining with desperate hope.

Elspeth sits. Her eyes close. A moment later she sags against the cave wall.

Leesel sighs heavily.

“What’s Elspeth doing?” Ava asks, panicked.

“Looking inside the girl,” the man with us says. “There’s no need to be alarmed. Elspeth will not truly possess her. It isn’t necessary.”

A sigh escapes Leesel’s lips, and her fingers twitch slightly.

“She’s come back out of her already,” I assure Ava, who appears ready to faint at the idea that the witch is inside Leesel. I place my hand on Ava’s shoulder, squeeze. She reaches up to place her hand on top of mine.

Her fingers are slim. Fragile. I wish I could comfort her, make everything better. Us being here is my fault. My lips part to say her name, to apologize, but instead a sigh escapes my lips. My
fingers twitch slightly.

I know what’s happening.

I hear her voice.
Fate has brought you to me again. Do you not see? Do you not believe? Have ye so little faith?

My eyes close. I feel her.

Oh, Jesse. Believe in me. Believe in us
.

I sigh again as she moves within, exploring me. The idea of her within me…it’s intimate. It’s more than erotic. I want more of her, and in response, I sense her connecting to me in a way that’s never happened before. I’m aware of my body relaxing. She’s moving through every part of me.
I want to know you
, she says, and I want to tell her the same, but I’m unable to speak.

Tell me your secrets, Jesse
.

My heart beats faster.

I’m resisting. I don’t want to reveal my spiritual secrets.

But it feels right, to not be alone, to hear another voice within me. It’s normal for me.

We’ll save your sister. We’ll save Thomas. We’re meant for the spiritual revolution. And then death will come…

Something’s wrong. My pulse is throbbing in my neck. My heart is beating too fast. This isn’t normal. It’s like the ghost that possessed me outside the coven forest. “I don’t want to die,” I mumble, but my voice sounds strange.

“You’re not going to die, Jesse,” Ava’s voice says. I can’t see her. Her slim fingers squeeze mine, but as Elspeth connects more fully to my body, my hand jerks back. “Jesse?” comes Ava’s concerned voice.

Elspeth abruptly leaves me. Vision returns and my body heaves a sigh.

“You’re exhausted, trembling,” Ava tells me. She looks alarmed as she rubs my arms vigorously.

Clasping my hands together, I massage my tingling fingers. “I’m okay.” My eyes go to Leesel. Then to Elspeth. She’s back in her body. Her eyes flutter open.

“No need to worry,” she says, sounding a bit drunk. “There is no damage to Leesel. The illness will quickly pass with the mixture I injected. A second dose will not be necessary, which is good as I have none to offer.” She nods at the man with us, and he goes away.

I look away when she tries to hold my gaze.

Saint Thomas holds his key ring through the bars of his cell. “You can’t have these,” he taunts, rattling his keys.

Elspeth reaches for him. Pats his hand. “I can’t get him to come out of his cage. He—” Her voice breaks. Our escort brings her water. She sips. “So I stay with him. He has lucid moments, moments where he comes out of the past. It is hard. His chains are heavy. He needs to be freed, Jesse.”

Saint Thomas jabs a finger in my direction. “I know what you are. Or what you
think
you are. What grandiose ideas you have about yourself! I doubt your sanity. Where is your shame? Humility is not your virtue. Believe me. I can see.” As if to offer proof, he plucks threads from his eyes.

Poe stifles a noisy gasp with his palm.

“We should go,” I say.

“It’s too bright in here,” Saint Thomas complains.

Elspeth dims the lantern and moves to stand beside me. “Do not fear me, Jesse,” she whispers in my ear. “I need you. Yes, Chastity betrayed me. She tricked me into bringing an exorcist to the coven camp. I was very angry. It frightened me to think what you might have done to Thomas.” She leans closer, and I avoid Ava’s intent stare. “But I think you know, Jesse, that if you try your talents on him, I will never forgive you. But that is not all. The ghost possessing me may harm those you love. No, do not pull away. I am honest, always, wanting to hide nothing from you. Do you want to hear more truth, Jesse?”

She’s frightening. But I can’t look away from her.

I want to know her truth.

There’s brilliance there, mixed with the horror.

50
presence and presence

“Everyone may hear my story,” Elspeth announces. “This is fair, is it not? Then you may pass judgment.”

Saint Thomas scoots forward on a stool, eager to listen to Elspeth. Poe and Leesel shift uneasily. Ava takes my hand.

“It is no secret that I often possessed Bethany, my favorite,” she begins, making Poe grasp his crucifix. “William, traitor of Memento Mori, approached me, believing me to be Bethany, and asked me to steal the clock of the Holy Ghost. He believed his brother George to be in possession of this clock.”

Saint Thomas whimpers.

“I agreed to William’s proposal,” Elspeth says as she pries loose Saint Thomas’s fingers from the bars of his cage.

“But why?” I ask. “What is the value of this clock?”

“Ghosts often keep proximity to the clock that was used to mark the time of their deaths. They turn the clock backwards, trying to turn back time, attempting to escape death. At least, this was common for ghosts of long ago, before the New Beginning, before the resurrection of bones. Now, only those ghosts not captured in crystals are free to turn back their clocks. But the Holy Ghost is without chain or crystal. William therefore presumed if the Holy Ghost Incarnate were truly dead, the Presence would be found at Its clock.”

Poe forgets his crucifix. His head moves in grooves. “Rapture,” he says. “So that’s why clocks run backwards in haunted houses. It’s so sad.”

Ava takes deep breaths, her impatience with Poe evident.

“So were you going to keep the clock for yourself?” I ask Elspeth. “To contact the Holy Ghost and learn the secret of how to break the chains of ghosts, like the ones Saint Thomas wears?”

Her gaze is even with mine. “Yes. That is true.”

Water drips in the cave, echoing.

“You’re holding something back, Elspeth.”

She offers me a smile. “Shall I continue my story? George possessed no such clock. William and I parted ways. Then, behold, strange celestial happenings across Memento Mori! Spirals in the sky. Thomas discovered the City of Sacristies to be the most affected. Though the New Beginning defied the release of dead to other worlds, vortices suddenly appeared with regularity. Memento Mori assumed the death of the Holy Ghost Incarnate. And then, word of exodus, of spiritual revolution, drifted into the coven village.”

“Treason!” warbles Saint Thomas, inciting the flagellants to howling.

Once they quiet, I ask Elspeth another question. “These vortices…they’re caused by the missionaries, right?”

“Yes. I traveled to the City and sought out William, whom I knew lived there. He knows more about what goes on in Memento Mori than does Thomas. I needed someone to tell me the truth about the Holy Ghost. What I heard pleased me.”

“And what was that?” Poe eagerly asks.

“The missionaries plan to take the Holy Ghost with them on the exodus. But they can’t find the Ghost. The Ghost eludes them.” She brushes my face with the back of her hand. “That’s why I needed you, Jesse.”

“Because Chastity told you that I would see the Holy Ghost face to face.”

“Yes.”

“But what is your fascination with William? You told Chastity he stole your crystal. Is that why you used Bethany to direct us to William? So we could get it back? Or is something else?”

Her smile evaporates. Her face flushes. “I see that you share secrets with Chastity.”

“She’s jealous,” Ava says aloud, to no one in particular. Until
her eyes move to me.

Elspeth ignores Ava. “Yes, my former ghost is lost to me. I no longer care. Truly. I’ve become quite fond of the one which possesses me now.” Hugging herself, she turns in a circle, a dreamy look on her face. She begins to spin. Faster and faster she goes, until suddenly her arms fling out and she laughs with glee.

“You see why I love her,” Saint Thomas says.

Stumbling with dizziness, Elspeth grins like a child.

“Hell,” Ava says. She tugs on the sleeve of my robe. “Can we go now? She gives me the creeps. Why are you so fascinated with her?”

“I want to go too, Mommy,” Leesel says.

Elspeth sobers. I expect her to fawn over Leesel, to coax affection from her, but she doesn’t. Leesel’s eyes have defocused. There’s no mistaking this demeanor of Leesel’s. She’s gone to a place where Elspeth doesn’t exist.

Keys rattle. Saint Thomas shuffles to the back of his cell, taking his stool with him. He sits on it, and it creaks with his weight. Puffing out his lower lip, he begins to cry. Tears falling from his cheeks soak into his robe sleeves. As if the tears were real. “Holy Ghost have mercy on me,” he cries out to the stone ceiling of his cell.

Ava bangs on the bars of his cage to get his attention. “Can the Holy Ghost get us home?” she demands to know. “Where is he? Is he in the City?”

“You like the Holy Ghost better than me,” he whines. He shifts mournful eyes to Elspeth. “Your prejudice against my chains is unkind. All you can think about is breaking my chains.”

“Because I love you. Aren’t they heavy?”

He thinks a minute. “Very. But I don’t believe you love me. I’ve no flesh for you to sew on, Saint Frankenstein.”

“Don’t call me that.” Anger flashes across her face, and her eyes flit to mine.

Saint Thomas lurches to his feet, pointing at me. “The doppel-ganger
has no chains!”

Everyone stares at me.

“I don’t know what that means,” I snap, defending myself. “What’s a doppelganger to do with me?”

“A doppelganger’s a double,” Poe explains, as if I’d asked for a definition. “Like when you see a ghost of yourself right before you die.” The implication of his explanation occurs to him. He shakes his head, looks upset. “But, Jesse, I don’t think…”

Saint Thomas jabs his finger at me again. “I’m not the only one He’s jealous of. The Holy Ghost is waiting. Waiting for you to die.”

Elspeth sighs. “He knows that already, sweet Thomas.”

“Then why doesn’t he get on with it?”

“Excuse me?” Ava says. “What’s this about Jesse dying?”

Elspeth speaks in an apologetic tone. “I told Jesse. He’s come to Memento Mori to die. This is the prophecy of Chastity. It is real. I saw it in the crystal myself.”

Ava barks harsh laughter. “I can’t believe this. Everyone’s insane. Poe, what are you praying about now? You infuriate me with those beads.” She grabs Leesel’s hand. She sounds angry, but her chin trembles. She’s afraid. “Let’s go. Now.”

“Why do you resist this prophey?” Elspeth asks her. “It’s good for Jesse to die. Release your anguish. He won’t die until it is safe to do so.”

“What does that mean?”

“He won’t die until he discovers the secret of saving ghosts. The salvation will be his own as well. We are ghosts, Ava, in our essence. You know this. The ghost is our identity. But it is not meant to be chained to bones. The revolution of tunnelers is tragic. But Jesse will be their savior too. Chastity foresaw this as well; she spoke of it in her sleep.”

“You’re insane,” Ava hisses at her.

Poe watches me, his arms folded tightly over his chest. I shake my head, let him know I don’t believe Elspeth’s words.

“Nowwwwww…” Saint Thomas intones. My flesh crawls at the change in his voice. Though he physically appears unchanged, his voice is no longer just aged, or warbling, but
otherworldly
. Creeping forward, he squints at me, looking hard, like he’s trying to see something on my face. Suddenly he stops. Slowly, he looks up. “I sensssse a Pressssenccce…”

His lips are out of sync with the words he speaks. Like the iron ghost from the tunnels.

Elspeth grabs the bars of his cage. Her face lights up. “Where is this Presence? Can you make contact?”

“Afraaaaid…I knoooww trrruuuththth…about…Holy

Ghossssstttt…afrraaaid…”

Elspeth reaches for him. “Thomas. It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. Make contact.”

Confusion is plain on the faces of the flagellants, who now stand clinging to the doors of their cells, eyes riveted on their fellow prisoner.

“The Holy Ghossstttt is jealousssss…”

“Shush,” Elspeth says, trying again to soothe him. “I am here. I am not jealous.”

Saint Thomas goes catatonic.

“Do you see a Presence?” Elspeth fervently asks me, dropping Saint Thomas’s hand.
“You will see the Holy Ghost face to face
. That is the prophecy!”

The flagellants close their eyes and raise their hands. “Prophecy,” one of them says, his face rapturous and his voice surprisingly resonant. He waves his scarred palms at the ceiling. “We are blind…suffering without your Presence…caged without Presence!”

His fellow flagellants screech with heads thrown back. I cover my ears.

“Presssenccce…” Saint Thomas curdles, silencing the howls. Threads grow, scabbing over his eyes. With a cry, he throws himself face down on the hard stone floor of his prison cell. “My
destruction!” he shrieks. His voice is back to normal. He turns his face up at me. “Get away from me! I do not want your presence. No presence. No presence.” He grabs a pale rock and begins scratching on the cave of the wall. The words appear as white chalk on the black stone.

presence

Presence

Unclenching his fingers, he lets the rock fall from his hand. He goes to sit in his chair. I hear rattling, but it’s not his keys. I realize a chain has dropped to the floor at his feet, slipped out from under his robe. He doesn’t notice. Taking a deep breath, he booms. “Wilfred. Leonard. Percy. Brayword. Maria…”

“What’s he doing?” Leesel asks. She strains against Ava’s arms, trying to get closer to the action.

Elspeth sighs. Disappointment clouds her eyes. “Nothing, my pretty,” she answers. “He recites the names of his disciples from when he was alive. He will be lost to this present world for awhile.” She approaches him. Reaching into her robe, she pulls out a silver spoon.

He doesn’t take it.

“I’ve had enough of her.” I startle at Ava’s low and menacing voice behind me. “The tunnelers will help us. In exchange for Saint Frankenstein.”