The Ghosting of Gods (5 page)

10
no help is coming

Above me there’s another howl-scream, ending in a ragged cry.

“They are flagellants, reveling in their raucous prayers, begging the weregod to come out of hiding,” Bethany explains loudly, I assume for my benefit. “Every night, it’s the same. I do wish the council would act. Nasty werewolves.” She holds up a hand. “No, George, do not lecture me on ethnic slurs. I call things as I see them.”

So they’re not coyotes. But flagellants? People who scourge themselves for God?

Several minutes more of Bethany and George and their inane talk convince me I’ll receive no heavenly communication from these two.

I look up. For a sign to guide me.

Shadows shift where cliff meets sky. Are the flagellants there, or across the river in the town? I can’t tell. Screams echo around the canyon, bouncing off the smooth stone of the cliff walls. Watching the occasional patch of brush on outcroppings, I see movement. Lots of it. I hope it’s only the breeze.

If Ava’s out there, she must be scared to death for Leesel. Are they in the town? Held captive? We’ll have to cross the river to get to them. Watching a tree limb soar along in the current, I see it get pulled under. It pops up again several yards downriver in a spurt of gray froth before submerging for good.

Poe is tearfully describing to George and Bethany what happened to Ava. He mostly believes she is dead, but in heaven, where of course his Annabel Lee would be.

I stare at the town and think she is not.

George speaks in a lowered voice so that I have to move closer to the fire. The rush of the river is hard to hear over. The flagellants
too.

“Do they need a priest?” Poe asks.

George instructs him not to ask such questions, so Poe asks about the transformation from human to wolf. “Does it happen only at night, or can the wolf characteristics, such as fur or claws, be seen at any time of day?” he queries.

Bethany hoots with laughter.

No one comments when I sit down with them, though Bethany offers me a brilliant smile. She’s young. Close to my age. George looks to be about thirty years old. I don’t like it when he smiles.

The fire, at least, warms me.

Poe offers the gospel to George and Bethany. They look confused. I try to think as Poe sincerely quotes lengthy scriptures. I try to be logical. It’s true we need help, and these people are the only ones to give it. Maybe Poe—Mr. Macabre—knows better than me what we should do under the circumstances. Maybe God sent Poe to be here with me for a reason. To help me find what I’m looking for.

“Is this where the dead go?” I ask.

Poe answers. “I know what you’re thinking, Jesse. No. Emmy isn’t here. George and Bethany here explained it to me already. This is another world entirely.”

Bethany cracks her knuckles. “My goodness, we’ve enough dead, we certainly don’t need yours.”

Poe sees my face. Apologizes for bringing up Emmy.

George is saying something again about coven scientists.

“Who are these scientists, and where do they have Leesel?” I ask as seriously as I can.

“The forest, of course, the dark Eden,” George answers. He points back across the river, past their town. “Intellectual types. They steep themselves in matters of the spirit. It is tragic, of course, that you are certain never to arrive at their village alive.”

“Why not?” Poe asks.

George glares at him. “I told you. There are witches.”

“Coven scientists,” Bethany corrects him, sweetly.

“Why would they kidnap Leesel?” ask. The idea of some cult holding Leesel prisoner freezes my heart. “What are they doing with her? Will they hurt her?”

Bethany responds this time, twirling her hair through her fingers. “Do not fret. As I said, witches love little girls. Everyone knows this. I hate to be rude, but why did you abandon this Leesel? It was unwise, not to mention irresponsible.”

Poe places a steadying hand on my shoulder. He does the talking. “We didn’t abandon her. We didn’t mean to come here.”

Silence.

“So,” George says at last, his demeanor despondent. “You truly have nothing to do with the Holy Ghost at all?”

Bethany pats George’s knee. “Do you see, Beloved? It is as the headlines report. You were silly to expect the Holy Ghost to possess that chapel.” Her face is flushed, without any pinching.

George stirs the fire. “Only saints take their bodies from world to world without dying. These two boys are therefore saints, bilocated. That is my final logic on the matter. At least they shan’t be missed on their world. Grief is a burden.”

Saints? I’m no saint. And bilocation? I’ve had enough. “We need to find Ava and Leesel. We need your help. Would this coven have Ava as well as Leesel?”

George and Bethany talk it over. “I think not,” George whispers to her.

“Depends on her intelligence, darling.”

“Should we pray?”

“Yes, yes, we must assume the worst at best. Either way, a wake with lilies makes a statement, does it not?”

They bow their heads together for more whispering. Bethany sniffles and turns to me with a pout on her face. “Such a tragic loss. But could their hair have been lovelier than mine?”

George’s delighted laugh turns to coughing when he sees
Poe’s watery eyes. “The coven could possibly have taken this Ava as well,” he says kindly. “However, she is likely dead by now. A practical approach to such matters is best. I can recommend the most delightful undertaker. As we are without the body…perhaps a substitute corpse for the service?”

There’s a prolonged silence. I wrap my arm around Poe. Give him a look.

“Obviously no one is coming to our assistance!” George shouts, now glaring across the river to the town. “Cowards! Let us see. We shall make two trips on our little raft. Perfectly safe.”

We turn to find the raft has floated away.

“Tsk, tsk,” George says. He taps his forehead. “I have it. I will lead everyone through the mud tunnels beneath the river and to the other side. A brilliant plan!” Bethany gapes at him with clear disbelief. He ignores her and leans toward me and Poe with a concerned expression on his face. “You boys aren’t given to claustrophobia, are you?”

Bethany closes her eyes, makes fists.

George takes her aside. They have a heated conversation about tunnels. Bethany comes apart, insisting she can’t do it. George shakes her a bit. Biting her lip, at last Bethany nods, but she weeps.

“Stay close to me,” I tell Poe under my breath. “Be careful, it will be all right.” I want to reassure him, but he only looks at me with a befuddled expression on his face.

“Come along,” George shouts. “I shall lead the way!” Once his back is turned, Bethany’s tears shut off.

She winks at me.

11
the screams fade quickly

Mumbling about a location of ascension, George sets off along the shoreline. I want to talk to Poe privately, but Bethany brings up the rear, slowing when I do, so that she stays behind me and Poe. This gives me a bad feeling—like maybe she and George don’t want us to get away. Instinct tells me to grab Poe and escape, but I think these people are liars.

I think they have Ava and Leesel over in their town.

The mustard moon obliterates a good portion of the sky. Its light is frigid. George is in a hurry, and it’s hard keeping up with him because of all the rocks along the shore. Poe’s ankles keep twisting, but the occasional flagellant howl spurts him forward at regular intervals. We hike a kilometer before coming to a diagonal staircase of stones cut into a taller, but less steep, hill flanking the river.

“But, aren’t the werewolves up there?” Poe asks George, who only claps Poe on the shoulder.

Poe gives me a sick smile, like he’s trying to encourage me, then he climbs up after George. There’s no safety rope this time. My feet won’t fit on the shallow steps, and so I climb slowly, concentrating on my balance. I’m careful not to look down. Determined. I do look
up
, to see how much farther. George is a goat, carelessly sprinting up the staircase and wildly gesturing at the panoramic view of the town that’s been jaundiced by moonlight. Poe is keeping up better than I am and asking George questions about the architecture, so Bethany hangs with me, laughing every time I slip on a loose stone. At last, I reach the top, crawl on hands and knees to a nice, flat spot, in the grass, and recover from the ordeal.

George holds a licked finger to the wind. “Storm coming
soon,” he announces.

I scan the sky. Nothing.

“I commend you all on placing your faith in my leadership,” he continues. “Exhilarating, is it not? And, now that we have ascended this most treacherous cliff, we shall find a suitable hole for ourselves.”

A hole.

What the hell?

“Our robes,” Bethany moans. She picks up her hem, revealing slim black boots with yards of coarse laces. “The mud will be awful. Dirty.”

“Poor dear,” George says, tracing her trembling chin with his finger. “Everyone will understand. Our standing in the community is impeccable.”

I want to know what’s the big deal with getting messy. If these people are so concerned with appearance, why does their town look like someone dumped soot all over it?

More howling shoves Poe into George. “Don’t we need to keep moving, George?” Poe asks. “I’m ready to go on. Aren’t you ready, Jesse? I’m pretty ready.”

George orders us to scatter and find the best hole we can. Bethany prances about. Flits her arms, even. Poe sticks beside George, who paces back and forth, gradually working his way back from the slope of the hill. He’s organized. Gives tips.

“Stomp a bit, like so,” he says, hoofing the ground like the goat he is. “A hole may present itself.” Bethany immediately halts her prancing and stands perfectly still, staring with disdain at the ground. After a few moments, she begins to tip-toe in a circle with a radius of half a meter.

Poe yelps, and out of the corner of my eye I see him dropping. George catches him by the collar at the back of his neck, pulls him back up. “Brilliant work, young lad,” George praises. He kneels and has a look at the hole Poe just punched through. “An excellent choice. We shall not find a better hole than this one. I
shall go first. Once we stop sliding it will be a short stroll to the town gate. I am most certain of it. I know a great many things.” He works at widening the edge of the hole, I presume to give us more room to fit inside.

I, of course, have no intention of getting in the hole.

“But where does it go?” Poe asks. Kneeling, he sticks his head down farther than I’d like. I move close to him, in case George is thinking of helping my friend into the earth. Poe whistles. “Whoa, Jesse, it’s really a tunnel. The moonlight reaches way down there, and I think it keeps going, but it curves away…Did the townspeople dig this hole?”

An image of the freakish Digging Man flashes in my mind.

“Poe, get back!” I blurt.

“Townspeople do NOT dig,” George says. He sounds insulted. “It belongs to the tunnelers. Revolting, of course, but they fail to intimidate me. You are quite safe in my presence. And so you know, I refuse to believe any of the talk about iron ghosts haunting the tunnels. Ridiculous headline.”

I’m feeling progressively pessimistic about George’s sanity, wondering what in the name of God he imagines iron ghosts to be. Wheels are obviously turning in Poe’s head too, and he opens his mouth to question George, but there’s no time. George stands, brushes off his knees, executes a jump like a kid on a diving board, and drops straight down into the tunnel feet-first.

Poe sucks in his breath and sticks his head in the hole. I grab him around the waist to keep him from falling into the earth.

I listen. Nothing. Just the wind that’s picking up. Even the flagellants are silent. I look around, making sure they’re not creeping up on us. I feel like I’m being watched.

Poe pulls out of the hole, looking distraught. “He’s gone,” he says. “What will we do? Should we go in after him?”

“Are you crazy?” say. I point. “We’re not dropping into that. What if we can’t get back out? It falls straight down.” I look at Bethany. She’s touched a finger to the rim of the hole and is
scrunching her nose at the mud that’s stuck beneath her fingernail. “There’s got to be another way, don’t you think, Bethany? Is it possible the townspeople will send help after all? A bigger raft? Then you wouldn’t have to get dirty.”

Her face brightens. I coax her back towards the slope so we can look down at the shore. Their raft is there, washed up right by the campfire. I’m willing to take it as a sign. It doesn’t look so small and dangerous, now that I’ve seen the tunnels.

Bethany chews her lip. Cracks her knuckles. “Oh, George will be disappointed…” Her voice trails off and she stares blankly at me.

With George gone, it occurs to me I could coax this girl to help us. I grab her arm. “Bethany? Do you know where Ava and Leesel are? Tell me. Tell me now. Please. Are they in the town?”

“What? Oh. I don’t know…” Cocking her head to the side, she regards me with an odd expression.

I turn and look back at Poe. He’s dangling his feet inside the hole, sitting on the edge.

“Crossing the river is not a good idea,” Bethany states emphatically. She turns with an anguished cry, the back of her hand to her forehead, and flounces back towards the hole.

Poe shakes his head, says, “I can’t see the bottom of it, Jesse, and it plummets…”

She rushes forward—catching me off guard—and shoves Poe. I throw myself to the ground, reaching into the tunnel, but he’s gone, already out of sight.

His screams quickly fade.

My name. He’s screaming my name. Oh God oh God oh God…

Bethany eyes me. She shrugs. “I can see you’re upset, but I pushed him for his own sake.”

Frozen, I can only stare at her. I say nothing.

I don’t know what to do.
Poe
. I want him back.

She sighs. “Do you really wish to stay behind by yourself?
Your friend is down in the earth, is he not? So. I am ready. You?”

The hole is dark. Cold. Bottomless.

Poe is in the earth.

I nod.

“In you go, then.”

Sweat beads my forehead despite the cold. I dangle my feet the way Poe did, feel the empty space below, and allow Bethany to creep up behind me.