The Triad of Finity (8 page)

Her shrieking scream tore through the room. The whole restaurant turned. Dean exploded with laughter. Oliver smiled, too. It was something to see: the whole table jumping up in a single spasm, the girl slapping at her mouth, the tough-looking crowd of teen vampires nearby pointing and laughing, the girl sprinting for the door in shrieks and tears. And yet …

She would think this was awful, too,
Oliver thought. But whatever! Emalie wasn’t here. She was never here, anymore. So who cared?

We do.

Oliver felt himself yanked backward, as if through the plastic booth itself, and the world suddenly washed away into gray.

There was a burst of pale light, and he found himself standing on the gray, boulder-strewn beach of the Shoals, Jenette’s hands on his shoulders.

She stepped around him, to where the restaurant was still visible through a filmy window, though the sound of it was gone, and she grabbed Dean and dragged him through as well.

Guh!
Dean exclaimed as he toppled back to the sand.

Jenette darted around and stood before them, arms crossed. Here in the Shoals, something like her former human self was visible: a small delicate face and long chestnut hair that reached almost to her waist, the white flannel pajamas with tiny smiling frogs on them that she’d been wearing on the night she’d died in a house fire. While her facial features were still human-like, she no longer had eyes exactly, but rather smoky hollows where eyes would be. Still, it was easy enough to decipher the meaning of the glare she was aiming at Oliver and Dean.

That was awful what you were doing!

What’s the big deal?
Oliver snapped back.
We’re just having some fun.

That’s not fun. It’s cruel!

Whatever! That girl will be fine, and even if she’s not, who cares? My cohesion’s started! She’ll be dead in a few weeks! Everybody will be! It doesn’t matter.

It does to him.
Jenette nodded over their shoulders. Oliver turned to see Nathan hovering at the edge of the inky black water, stars glowing beneath its depths. He had his back to them, slinging stones out across the calm sea, each skip making rings.
And,
Jenette added,
it matters to me, too.

Oliver threw up his hands.
Great. You guys are like having a second set of parents!

Why, because we care about you?
snapped Jenette.
We’re supposed to be trying to save the world and you’re acting like—

Like it’s going to end, I know!
Oliver couldn’t help shouting.
I should know, I’m the one who’s going to end it!

Oliver—

But Oliver couldn’t take it anymore.
No, Jenette. Illisius is coming. Any day now. It’s OVER.
There’s no magic Triad, no Emalie, no nothing!
Oliver hated saying these things, but it also felt like some kind of terrible relief. To shout out the black thoughts he’d been keeping inside.
So, guess what?
he went on,
I’m a freakin’ vampire. He’s a zombie. At least let us have some fun.
He started to step around her.

Where do you think you’re going?

I’m going back. Get out of my—

Jenette’s hands thrust out an energy burst into Oliver’s chest, sending him soaring backward. He tumbled through the air and landed with a splash in the edge water. His shoulder cracked on a black boulder, sending a tremor of pain through his barely healed collar bone.

He lay there for a minute, dazed, staring up at the featureless gray sky, feeling the strange, lukewarm liquid seeping into his shirt. Then he felt a warmth spreading inside him. He looked up to see Nathan bending over and pulling him up by the arm. Oliver almost wanted to yank his arm away. He didn’t even want to feel that warmth anymore, the sense of being whole that Nathan gave him, because it only made the truth worse, the awful truth—

When you do things like that, it makes me feel like our connection is fading,
said Nathan.

Oliver looked away and shrugged.
It’s going to.

It’s not over yet,
said Nathan.
And if you act like it is, then they’ve already won.

Nathan sat down on the sand, arms around his knees. Oliver crawled over and sat beside him. His clothes were dripping wet but he didn’t really feel it, as this water was more energy than liquid. His feet were still in the lapping breakwater. It made little white sparks when it touched him.

We have to keep up hope,
said Nathan. Here in the Shoals, his facial features were visible, and he looked almost like Oliver’s twin.

Oliver huffed to himself. With Nathan beside him, he could feel that resolve, that hope, returning. It was like the opposite of what he’d been feeling since the first cohesion dream, almost like Nathan and Illisius were opposites. Made sense, he guessed: a soul and a demon.

And with that warmth, he could see how Nathan was right. There was still time.
But …
Oliver threw up his hands.
I have no idea what else we can do
.

Nathan shrugged.
Yeah. That makes two of us.

There was a plunk in the water. Dean had started skipping rocks.
Hey Nathan, want a shot at the record?

Nathan stood up.
You mean my record?
Nathan was perhaps the greatest rock skipper in this world. He’d had plenty of time to practice, as he’d spent most of Oliver’s existence here at the Shoals.

Not for long,
said Dean.

Nathan got up, leaving Oliver with a shuddering cold feeling. He pulled his knees up, wrapped his arms around them. His anger had soured to guilt. It wasn’t any better.

Jenette came and sat down beside him.
Sorry,
said Oliver.

It’s okay. I mean, I get it.

Oliver nodded.
Have you been to see your mom lately?

No,
said Jenette. Her voice tightened.
She’s getting worse. It doesn’t do any good, me going there, if I’m just going to scare her. Still, I might try again soon.
She glanced up the beach.
Some of the other wraiths have started visiting their loved ones and saying goodbye, too, you know, in case we go.
Oliver followed her gaze and saw the other wraiths standing here and there. They all looked human here, at least somewhat, and stood, barefoot, most gazing out to sea.

Oliver knew that the wraiths would survive the opening of the Gate, though their grief would likely intensify, as the humans they loved would be destroyed. This only made Oliver feel another wave of guilt. Still more beings whose fates were tied to his destiny.

That must suck,
said Oliver.

Yeah, but … there’s another way for a wraith,
Jenette said quietly.
I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.

What’s that?

Well, a wraith can free itself from earth. Become energy, like a freed soul … if they find someone to take their grief.

What does that mean?

Someone absorbs the wraith’s grief as part of their own. They become responsible for it.

How do you get someone to do that?
Oliver asked.

There’s an enchantment,
said Jenette.
And also, I have to invite the person. My grief is mine to give.
Jenette sighed.
But it’s tough. Nobody wants more grief, you know? Everyone already has enough of their own sadness to bear.

Yeah, I guess,
Oliver agreed. On a night like tonight, he couldn’t imagine having to manage someone else’s grief, too.

I chose someone anyway, though,
said Jenette, and the thought seemed to lift her spirits.
I did the ritual and everything … but I haven’t asked them yet.

Oh.
Oliver wondered if she’d tell him who it was. He thought about asking.

But then she said,
You know what else is neat?

What?

Grief is powerful. The person who takes on a wraith’s grief can use it.

Yeah, what for?

It has the power that all grief has, to bind things together. The same power that traps a wraith here. There’s an incantation and everything. It’s pretty cool.

Huh,
said Oliver. That was pretty cool, and he could think of one person he would like to bind to himself, or at least to this time and space. …

The view of the beach flickered around them.

Time to go,
said Jenette with a sigh. It took a lot of energy for the wraiths to hold Oliver and Dean here.
Too soon, as usual
.
Oliver, promise me you won’t just go back and start terrorizing humans again. Promise me you’ll keep trying to have hope.

Oliver stood.
All right, I promise. But I don’t know how that’s going to help. It’s not like anything we’ve tried has worked.

Well, maybe something will come along when you least expect it.

Yeah.
Oliver turned.
Dean, let’s go.

See ya,
said Nathan.

Sure.
Oliver didn’t want to say what he was thinking, which was:
hope so.
Because would he? Was there still time? When Illisius arrived, that would be that. Oliver would get his demon, and he and Nathan would be separated. Nathan would be freed into energy, his warmth gone forever.

They headed back up the beach to the round window where the Kid Valley was visible, and Jenette pushed them through. They returned to their booth in the busy restaurant.

“Okay, well,” said Dean, “now what do we—” but he didn’t finish.

There was someone sitting across from them.

“Hello, Mr. Nocturne. Mr. Aunders.” The man sitting on the other side of the booth was tall, with neat black hair and a black suit. He looked at them blankly with eyes that were solid black, no iris or pupil. And he had no mouth, just smooth alabaster skin. The voice was coming from a speaker, a copper box with a round wire mesh center. It protruded from the man’s chest, through a neat hole in his clothes.

“Aeonian Parcel Services would like to inform you that we have a package delivery for you.”

Dean spoke sideways to Oliver. “Um, what is this?”

“I don’t know,” Oliver replied, but he thought the company sounded familiar.

“To accept delivery, please touch two fingers to the countersign on your inner left wrist.”

“The—” Oliver glanced down. His inner left wrist … there was the small black tattoo of a leaf that Emalie had given him and Dean for transporting to and from the Delta, where they had met to plan in secret before Emalie left. Over the last two years, Oliver had pressed it any number of times and tried to close his eyes and travel there again, but it hadn’t worked.

Oliver’s head snapped up to Dean.

“Do you think?” asked Dean, his eyes wide like he was thinking it, too.

Oliver felt a burst of nerves, of hopeful fear. He held up two fingers to Dean. “Let’s find out.”

“To accept delivery, please t—”

Oliver placed two fingers on the tattoo and closed his eyes. There was a rush of wind and darkness.

Chapter 7

The Post Office at the Edge of the World

When Oliver opened his eyes, he saw the fog-shrouded borderland of the Delta, where the black river Acheron flowed out of the world, delivering souls and energy into the universe beyond. He and Dean were standing on the high wooden platform, in the thick branches of an enormous tree where they’d once met with Emalie to plan. The river was far below, hidden beneath the canopy of a lush rainforest. Strange birds and creatures called through the perpetual folds of mist. Here and there, other giant trees sprouted up through the jungle and atop these were more platforms, orange fires glowing, indicating secret meetings in progress.

Oliver instinctively looked around, but their fire was out, the platform empty—

Except for a giant winged creature. It had charred, maroon skin and thick, muscular legs that ended at pearl-white talons, bat-like leathery wings, a wolf-like face, and giant yellow eyes.

It looked down at the two of them and screamed. “
Keeeeaaatchhhhhh!
”

“Um …” said Dean worriedly.

“
Please don’t be alarmed.
”

Oliver spied another square copper box with a speaker implanted in the creature’s chest. “
This Hermesian demon is highly trained and skilled at its task. To continue your delivery, please say ‘Okay.’ ”

“Okay,” said Oliver.

The creature leapt into the air, beating its wings, and snatched Dean and Oliver, one in each giant claw.

“
Please hang on,
” advised the voice.

The creature vaulted upward and soared out over the forest. Mist left a cool film on Oliver’s face. The creature’s huge wing beats made it undulate up and down like a wave. It banked left and right to avoid the enormous trunks of the towering meeting trees. Oliver watched the forest canopy blur by below, now and then catching a glimpse of movement and hearing the roars of the hidden creatures that fed on the river’s souls.

All at once, the trees gave way to smooth rock. Below, Oliver could see Acheron, its dark waters striped by blurry luminescent spirits. The river was now hurtling through a shallow rock canyon. Ahead, it cascaded off a sheer cliff of black, volcanic basalt, into what seemed to be an infinite void below.

The Hermesian flew out over this abyss, then tucked its wings and dropped into a completely vertical descent, shooting past the edge of the cliff, the smooth beginning of the falls, then down and down alongside the frothing spray. Below, Oliver could only see black and the flickering of stars, as if they were hurtling down into the universe itself, off the edge of the world completely.

Out of the corner of his eye, though, he noticed that the sheer black cliff face to either side of the raging falls was developed, crisscrossed by one wooden walkway after another. Orange magmalights were strung along the railings, illuminating doors of varying sizes that were carved into the rock, each with a gleaming gold handle. There were doors stretching up and down and in either direction: thousands, maybe tens of thousands.

The creature flapped its wings viciously and they came to a hovering halt. Oliver craned his neck to see up. The top of the waterfall was no longer even visible.