Everfound (30 page)

“Mary?” one of them said. “It’s Mary! Look! Look! It’s Mary!”

They ran to her, pushing past all the others, and hurled themselves into her arms, nearly knocking her over. She recognized many of their faces—these were her children—or at least what was left of them. There were a few dozen at most. Some spoke of a tentacled monster that had chased them away from a playground, but she didn’t give their tale much credence. If there was one thing she learned about Everlost, it was that tales often grew very, very tall.

If the other Afterlights had not yet been won over, this did the trick. How could they not see her as their salvation? The devotion of her children was a better testimony than anything she could say.

“All is well,” she told them. “All is well.” And it was only going to get better.

“We should just leave,” Jill said to Jix as they hid behind the miniature golf Taj Mahal, making sure Mary couldn’t hear them. “We don’t have to go to the City of Souls, we can go anywhere we want.”

“No,” Jix told her, and it just made her furious.

“Who cares about your stupid mission? You failed. It’s over. Deal with it!”

Jix took a long look at her. He reached out to touch
her face, and although he thought she would pull away with anger, she closed her eyes and purred.

“Please,” she said, using the
P
word she once claimed was not a part of her vocabulary. “Please, let’s get away. Just you and me. I’ll even start furjacking if you want me to.”

Jix had to admit that it was tempting, but he couldn’t leave now. He had to see how this would all play out. “Maybe soon,” Jix said, “but not yet.”

Now Jill pulled away, returning to her fury—which was a much more comfortable place for her. “Why not?”

“Because Mary is right, I think. Maybe there
is
a reason why there was this
‘Gran
Despetar,’
this ‘Great Awakening,’ but it may not be the reason she thinks.”

“So what? Why does it matter?”

“It matters if it convinces her to come with us to the City of Souls. I still have faith she will choose to come.”

Jill laughed bitterly. “You don’t know Mary.”

“No,” said Jix. “But I know the only thing more seductive than power . . . is greater power.”

A few miles away, Milos paced the bank floor, kicking everything in sight—the account desks, the teller windows. Nothing broke, but he kicked it anyway. He wished it
would
break. Destroying something—anything—would give him great satisfaction at this moment.

On the floor, just in front of the closed vault door, sat Moose, who had not stopped crying since he heard about Squirrel’s tragic end. “He didn’t desherve it,” Moose wailed. “He didn’t do anything wrong. He jusht did what
you
told him to do.”

“Do not be such a tearbaby! It happened, it’s over, and there is nothing to be done.”

“Itch ‘crybaby’!” yelled Moose. “You get everything wrong!”

Milos kicked over a chair, sending it flying past Moose, but Moose didn’t flinch and the chair didn’t break. “Save your anger for Mikey,” Milos told him. “He’s the one who told the scar wraith to extinguish Squirrel.”

At the mention of Mikey’s name Moose clenched his fists and his Afterglow turned a furious red. “I hate Mikey,” Moose growled. “I want him dead.”

“He
is
dead,” Milos reminded him.

“Then I want him worse than dead. I want him extinguished too!” Then he began to cry again. “I can’t believe Squirrel’s gone. What am I going to do without him?”

Milos gently patted Moose on the shoulder. “We will have our revenge,” Milos told him. “I promise.”

Moose’s sobs soon subsided into muffled cries, and now Milos could hear the faint voices and pounding coming from behind the thick vault door, which now held almost two-hundred Greensouls that should have been sleeping Interlights. Milos had no explanation for the awakening. It terrified him—and all of them were now banging around in there, demanding explanations. Milos was not ready to let them out. He was simply not in the frame of mind to fight the miserable battle to win them over, convincing them to trust him. Let them stay in the vault for all he cared.

He longed to go back to his old ways, skinjacking for profit, selling his services to whatever Afterlights he came across—and there were plenty of them east of the
Mississippi. He could leave all this behind and forget it had ever happened. That’s what he was thinking when he heard someone rattling the bank doors.

He spun to see who it was, fearing that Nick had led the scar wraith to them. If it was the scar wraith, they would never get in; the glass doors, which had crossed into Everlost along with the rest of the bank, were double-locked from the inside. But instead of an enemy at his threshold, the visitor was the most welcome sight he had ever seen.

It was Mary standing there behind the glass, framed by the door, the way she had once been framed by the glass coffin. He should have realized she would have awoken when all the other Interlights had. Milos had come to believe she had been spirited somewhere far away by the Neons, but he had held on to the hope that he would be able to find her once she awoke. He never dreamed she would be the one seeking him out.

Milos stood there, still afraid to make a move toward the door, not knowing how angry at him she would be . . . but no one kept Mary waiting. He went to the door, fumbled with the locks, and opened it.

“Hello, Milos,” she said. Her voice was neither warm nor chilly. He had no idea how to read her. Behind her was a large vapor of Afterlights, but Milos wasn’t concerned with them. “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?”

He let her in, locking the door behind her. For a moment he was at a loss for words. All he could think to say was, “Sorry about your dress.”

She brought her hand to the tear in her satin gown, directly above her heart. “It couldn’t be helped,” she said.
“But it’s an important memory to keep. It reminds me of the good you’ve done.” She paused for a moment, then said, “I heard about the train. Jill told me everything.”

Milos had played this moment over and over in his mind dozens of times, all the excuses, all the explanations he would give her . . . but when the moment finally came, there was nothing he could say except this: “I’m afraid I’ve made a mess of things.”

“Yes, you have,” Mary said. Then she turned to Moose, who hid his weepy eyes in shame. “Why is he like this?” Mary asked.

“Something happened to Squirrel,” Milos explained. “He was extinguished by a scar wraith.”

Mary snorted in a most unladylike way. “There is no such thing. You should read my books again and refresh your memory.”

“I’m sorry, Mary, but there is. I saw the scar wraith with my own eyes, and I saw Squirrel extinguished. I think that is what made all the Interlights wake up.”

Mary allowed all this to sink in. “So . . . scar wraiths are real . . . and one is loose in this city. Is it seeking out Afterlights to extinguish them?”

Milos shook his head. “It just wants me,” Milos told her. “And now I think it will want you, too.” Then he added, “It is controlled by a boy who used to travel with us named Mikey.”

At that, Mary’s eyes shot to him, looking as wild as Mikey’s had, almost as if there was some sort of resemblance. It was so unnerving Milos had to look away.

“You say his name was ‘Mikey’?”

“Yes.”

“And did he have a last name?”

Milos only shrugged, but Moose, through his sobs, said, “McGill. Mikey McGill. Like the monster. He said he
was
the monster. He also said he was related to you. He lied about a lot of things.”

“Of course he did,” said Mary, seeming a little less confident than she did a moment ago. “Anyone unstable enough to use a scar wraith to do his dirty work would lie about anything.”

Once again, there came more pounding from behind the vault door.

“And who is in there?” Mary asked.

Milos offered her the slightest of smiles. “I’ve been reaping for you,” he told her. “You wanted more Afterlights . . . so I have been creating accidents, forced crossings.”

Mary put her hand against the vault door, perhaps to feel the vibrations of those pounding on the far side. “How many?”

“A hundred and eighty-three,” Moose told her. “I’ve been keeping count.”

“You did want me to gather new souls, yes?” Milos asked.

She took a long moment to consider it, looking at the closed vault door almost as if she could see through it and into the hearts of every Afterlight within. Then she turned to Milos and at last she smiled. Then she gently took him into her arms, and whispered into his ear.

“You’ve done a wonderful thing,” she said. “I can forgive you for all the rest now, because I know your heart is in the right place.”

Milos felt a wave of relief wash over him. He never realized just how much he needed her forgiveness.

“A hundred and eighty-three . . . ,” said Mary, still pondering the vault door. “Well, it’s a beginning, but I think we’ll need to start thinking on a grander scale.”

“Grander scale?” asked Milos.

She gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek but said no more about it. “Open the door, then close it behind me, Milos. I’ll need some time to quell their fears. Do you have any of my books handy that I might give them?” But Milos sadly shook his head. “Just as well,” she said. “Things have most certainly changed in Everlost. Perhaps it’s time for me to write something new.” Then she went into the vault, determined to make these new children her own.

Jix waited with Jill just outside the bank with the Neons and their Greensouls. They had no idea what was going on inside, and Mary took an uncomfortably long time.

“What if Mary doesn’t come out?” the Bopper asked. “What then?”

Neither Jix nor Jill had an answer for him.

When Mary finally did come out, she was not alone, but came with Milos, Moose, and a huge vapor of Afterlights—more Greensouls, who looked uncertain, but clearly had already put their trust in Miss Mary Hightower.

Jill would not even look at Milos, and he had nothing to say to her either.

“Let us hold no animosity toward Milos,” Mary told Jix and Jill. “He has worked hard to create crossing opportunities, and to save as many souls as he could from the living
world. Whatever bitterness is between you, it must now end.”

Jix agreed, and Jill nodded a bit more reluctantly.

“Good,” said Mary. “Now, Milos has given me some grave news. He has informed me that a scar wraith has come to San Antonio.”

The Afterlights close enough to hear gasped, and word of the scar wraith spread, blending with the rumors of the tentacled beast.

“A scar wraith,” said Jix. “Interesting. Such a creature would be a living vortex between worlds. It could explain many things.”

“And,” Mary continued, “it poses mortal danger to every Afterlight.” The next part seemed a bit harder for her to say. “Therefore . . . this might not be the best place for us to be.”

Jix sensed an unspoken request in her voice. There was something she needed from him. Jix knew what it was, and only now was he willing to give it. He bowed his head respectfully, and said, “I am at your service, Miss Hightower. Whatever you want to do now, I will make sure that it is done.” Then he added, “All these Afterlights are yours to command.”

“Thank you,” she said, “but I do not command, I protect.”

Jix bowed his head again. “My mistake.”

Mary looked out at the Afterlights all waiting for guidance, then she turned back to Jix, offering him a smile that seemed to him both warm and cunning. Very catlike.

“I want you to tell me about this king of yours,” she said, “and the City of Souls.”

T
hey’re going to find your son soon,”
a voice said loudly inside the woman’s head.
“I want to prepare you for the worst. . . .”

The woman was taken by surprise. When her son was not among the kids who had been rescued from the playground, she feared the worst, but hoped that perhaps he wasn’t on the playground at all. Perhaps he was in the nurse’s office or the bathroom. But no one had seen him in those places—and now there was this strange voice in her head.

“I can’t imagine your pain, but you’re not alone. I’m here to comfort you.”

“Who is this?”
the woman said to the voice in her mind.

“I’m a spirit sent to tell you that your son has reached his destination.”

“What do you mean ‘his destination’? Who is this? How are you inside my thoughts?”

“I’m here to comfort you in your time of sorrow. You can mourn your loss, and cry that you’ll never see him again in this life, but don’t mourn for his spirit—because I saw him go into the light with
my own eyes, and there was a smile on his face brighter than I’ve ever seen! He got where he was going . . . and he’s happy.”

A few moments later, a police officer approached the woman with a pale look of such sorrow, she knew the news was very, very bad. He took off his hat and she looked away from him even before he began speaking. Yet in that horrible, horrible moment the strange visitation had given her something that freed her spirit to soar beyond the here and now. Even as her body was racked with sobs from the news of her son’s death, her spirit soared with an absolute knowledge that he was now home in the truest sense of the word, and that there was something more than this.

When Allie pulled out of the poor woman, Mikey could only stare at her in amazement. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Allie looked at him strangely. “You could hear?”