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  The brisk wind whistled through our broken windows. Whitecaps topped the breakers rolling in off the North Sea. I half-expected to encounter a brigade of Cherubim scaling these bluffs. Even the seagulls make me look twice and count their wings.

  We got out. I left the car running, found a big enough rock to weight down the gas pedal, reached over the seat and threw it into gear. The car rolled over the edge and flipped over, crashing upside down into the rocks below. Unfortunately, the tide was out and the vehicle remained completely exposed in the rocky shallows. At least it hadn’t burst into flames.

  “Oh my, this is not ideal, is it?” said Jess.

  “It’s fine. When the tide comes in it’ll be underwater. Come on, let’s go catch that ferry.”

  ***

  It took us the good part of an hour to reach the ferry port. On the plus side, there was absolutely no one around to witness our approach. There was a farmer on the far end of one of the worked fields, but he was too intent on his haying to even notice us.

  Doubts began to harry me. “Are we doing the right thing? I mean, going to an island? There would be no place to run.”

  “It depends. I still don’t understand why they are chasing you. These … Friends … as you called them.”

  “Simple. They don’t want me meddling in … in … their business. In the afterlife.”

  “I see. Well … on the plus side … I suppose Stromness would be the last place they would expect you to go. I doubt very much I’m on their radar. And they surely don’t know my Aunt Meredith.”

  “I hate to say this, but if they were able to track me all the way to Aberdeen, they probably know all about you gals.”

  “Nonsense. I have no skin in this fight. I’ve never even been to this Root place. I’ve got no plans to go, frankly.”

  “You’re helping me. That’s enough to make you a target.”

  She stared out over the docks in the harbor. “Regardless.” She shrugged and gave a sneer. “I have no regrets. Seems a worthy cause, regardless of the consequences. Unfortunately, this means our search for Karla is over. For us, anyhow. I suppose the others will carry on. I didn’t get a chance to tell you, we have some solid leads.”

  I let my breath out in a burst.

  “Did you not you read my note? I’m all done looking for her. Turns out, she’s no hostage. She ran off on her own.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  I sighed. “Pretty damn sure. Turns out, she ran off to put pressure on me. To make me feel bad so … so I would cross over.”

  “Well now. That certainly sheds a different light on things.”

  “Listen, Jess. I’m just thinking … for your safety, it might be best if we split up.”

  That suggestion rattled her a bit. She frowned at me. “I’m not worried about safety, love. Honestly. I’m all in.”

  “But you don’t need to go to this island just for me.”

  “Honestly. It’s a good a place as any to hang out, now with the farm gone. And things were getting a little too cozy for my taste in Fiona and Britt’s little townhouse. Don’t get me wrong, they’re lovely gals. I just need my private space.”

  “Okay. Then … let’s go.”

  Chapter 53: Stromness

  We followed the road down from the bluffs, arriving at the piers of Scrabster Harbor Terminal just as the 1:15 p.m. ferry to Stromness was loading up. The black card Reggie had given me was burning a hole in my pocket, but I wasn’t quite ready to use it to book passage. Might as well blow the rest of my cash while we were still trying to remain incognito.

  I had never been on a boat this large before and worried I might get seasick. But I was fine. My stomach lurched a bit, but everything stayed where it was supposed to.

  Jess and I hung out on the upper deck by the smokestacks, staring at the surf. The water looked as impenetrable as steel. I was feeling down and defeated. There was a hole in my heart where my feelings for Karla had been and it didn’t seem fillable.

  I still loved this beautiful, ugly world. This was where I wanted to be, surrounded by this ocean, this land and this sky. The roots knew this, and that’s why they stayed away.

  An hour and a half later my ferry-conditioned legs were still yielding and flexing against imaginary swells as we walked the solid cobbles of Stromness. The island town was all narrow lanes and grey stone buildings. Every village in Europe looked like a fairy tale to a kid from Florida.

  Jessica led the way to the grassy heights above the town. We picked up some cheese and bread from a grocer along the way. Aunt Meredith’s cottage looked abandoned, its shingles retaining whitewash only in the deepest grooves.

  She fished a key out from under a heap of broken flower pots in an herb garden bursting with lavender, sage and thyme. The heavy oaken door creaked open to a musty parlor crammed with ancient furniture draped with crocheted afghans and doilies. Jess and I pushed open some windows to air the place out.

  I collapsed into an overstuffed easy chair in the main room while Jessica raided the cupboards of a tiny kitchen.

  “Do you like mussels? Smoked in a tin?”

  “Beats smoking them in a pipe.”

  She ignored my quip. “They might go nice with our cheese and bread. Ah! And it looks like Auntie has some spirits stashed behind everything. Would you fancy a shot or two of schnapps? Might take the edge off our nerves.”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  We lunched in the sitting room. Neither of us had much to say. But eventually, after her second hit of schnapps, Jessica’s curiosity got the better of her.

  “These Friends of Penult, I take it this man they shot was not also a ‘Friend?’”

  “Not of Penult, anyhow. You might say he was friend of Frelsi. One of the folks who help souls transition to the afterlife. Permanently. To become Freesouls. He’s kind of like a mercy killing assassin.”

  “Mercy … killing?”

  “You could call it assisted suicide. He kills people who really, really want to leave this world, but don’t want to go to the Deeps. You do it the right way and you could get stuck in the Liminality. But that’s a good thing. Or at least, used to be. It pays … really well.”

  “So, let me see if I understand this. The Friends of Penult kill mercy killers because they want to keep the people who want to die alive? That seems a bit non-sensical, don’t you think? Kind of like the pro-life folks who kill doctors.”

  “They believe it goes against the natural order not to let the Reapers choose who goes and who stays. There’s like a war going on between those who become Freesouls through the back door, against the rules, so to speak … and the Freesouls who did it the proper way … or so they say.”

  “These Friends of Penult might have a point, don’t you think? Suicide, assisted or not, is not what God intended … for anyone.”

  “Well … that’s assuming there actually is a God … and that He actually gives a shit about what any of us common folks do.”

  “You speak of angels and afterlives and yet you suppose there might be no God involved?”

  “I’m just saying … maybe there is a God but He gave up on us. Or maybe … He’s dead. No one seems to be minding the shop over there.”

  “Not even these angels of Penult?”

  “I keep telling you, these guys are no angels. And they’re not in charge of anything. They’re just sticking their noses into things that are none of their business. That’s why I’m helping out the other side. And that’s why these so-called ‘Friends’ are after me.”

  Jessica sat there, contemplating her glass of schnapps.

  “What will they do with you if they catch you?”

  “Kill me … most likely.”

  “And your soul … where then would it go?”

  “I’m not sure. The Deeps, I guess. Unless there’s some other place I don’t know about.”

  Jessica slid back her chair and went to a cupboard near the mantle.

  “My uncle used to own a handgun,
I remember. Auntie used to nag him to make sure the cupboard was locked when the nephews and nieces came to visit. If only I can find the key.”

  “Jess … I don’t need a gun. I have … other ways.”

  “So you tell me. But I don’t have any of these … ways. If you conk out again, I need to be able to protect myself.”

  She slid her hand along the mantle top. Her eyes lit up.

  “Found it!”

  She scrambled to unlock the cupboard, and removed a very ancient looking revolver, with a cracked grip and a tarnished barrel.

  “And there are bullets too!”

  “Jess. If these guys come after us. Just run away. Don’t try and mess with them. Don’t protect me. It’s not worth it.”

  “Yeah right. I’m just going to let them barge right in and assassinate or mercy kill you. Fat chance I’m going to sit idly by or, God forbid, run off if that happens.”

  “Jess, please.”

  “Will you shush? I am a grown woman capable of making my own decisions! I will assess the situation at hand and react appropriately.”

  “Not that I can stop you once I’m crossed over. Just … be careful.”

  ***

  Our schnapps-lubricated lunch went to our heads and made us both a bit loopy. Jess told me about growing up in small town Wales as a weird mix of tom boy and blue-haired emo artist. Not only did she collect and repair old lawn mowers, she liked to carve winged dragons from uprooted tree trunks. She showed me pictures of her work on her phone and they were amazing. I had seen her whittling off and on at Cwm Gyrdd farm, but I never suspected she was a sculptor.

  Every now and then, one of us would peek out a window to make sure no strange people were stalking us. We never found cause for alarm and never saw anything out of the ordinary apart from a stray pig that wandered by chomping on a corn cob.

  The cottage had no TV or radio, not that it mattered. I was completely out of touch with the world at this point. China could have invaded Hawaii for all I knew. The Miami Dolphins could have won the World Series.

  With night approaching, it was time to scrounge another meal from the well-stocked pantry. Jess improvised a dinner from pasta and tomato sauce and canned sausages that was worthy of a candelabra.

  We locked the doors and shuttered the windows. Jess gave me a quick and furtive hug before retiring up a narrow staircase to the loft that held her Auntie’s bed. I collapsed on an overstuffed sofa in the parlor.

  I was out in a flash.

  ***

  Simple dreams awaited me, but the Singularity’s flow never strayed too far from my subconscious these days. My dreams were jumbled. Me digging holes in my backyard in Fort Pierce, finding tangles of worms. Me driving north on the interstates, thunderstorms in the distance, huge insects splatting on my windshield. Not Lalibela huge. More like sparrow and robin dimensions.

  I fled these annoying dreams and escaped into the Singularity, surprising myself with the ease of my entry into its flow. I let the stream carry me wherever it wanted to take me. I was done with forcing it to hunt for Karla. But having no aim meant drifting aimlessly, flitting between heads with no discernible pattern.

  These souls I traversed, I could feel their longings and anxieties, but they remained strangers to me, their souls only briefly engaged and released. Hundreds of souls later, the Singularity finally found me a familiar face, and it was a notable one.

  Wendell.

  He was in London, standing outside a hotel, waiting for a valet to bring him his rental car. He instantly sensed my presence. He chuckled and winked into the void.

  “Hay, hey! No worries kid. Pay no mind to that Zhang. You’re doing just great. You stay put, right where you are. The cavalry is on its way.”

  And as quick as that I flitting back out of London. My mind might have been over her, but my heart still pined for Karla and the Singularity strived to serve me. But I drifted nowhere, circling, doubling back, before stalling. I don’t know whether the Singularity had abandoned me or had no clue where to send me. Maybe she was nowhere to be found. What that suggested about the status and disposition of her soul disturbed me.

  I tried to hang out longer and find out more but I had no more control of my direction than a minnow in flash flood. Uncertainty converged with fear and frustration. Despair sank its fangs deep. The roots came up and took me.

  Chapter 54: Volunteers

  For once, the roots dumped me in a comfortable landing spot—smack-dab on my sleeping mat deep in the warren. I was not alone. Ubaldo stood over me, goggle-eyed and gawking.

  “He returns!”

  Olivier burst in from my little walled-in patio. His eyes too were wide and excited.

  “Sheesh! You picked a fine time to fade, kid. But maybe that’s a good thing. Now that you’re back, maybe it means you’ll stick around long enough for us to finish. Yo, Baldo. Go tell the others we got the kid back.”

  The young Duster flew out the door and into the warren.

  “Finish … what?” I said, my head still foggy.

  “What do you mean ‘what’? You were there. You heard. We got the go ahead. We’re getting ready to raid Penult.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “Come on, we gotta get our asses moving. Cherubs hit the upper rim last night and it looks like they’re regrouping for another go. They’re throwing everything they got at us. At this rate, I’d be shocked if New Axum holds out another week. We’re lucky they’re out of columns. At least, I hope so. I suppose if they had any, they wouldn’t be shy about using them.”

  For some reason I was having a harder time than usual clearing the cobwebs from my brain. It didn’t help that I didn’t want to be here. I just wanted the Liminality to go away and leave me alone. I stared up at Olivier, unable to budge.

  “The rest of the assault party’s up on the plaza getting their shit together. We got eleven volunteers plus you, me, Yaqob and Baldo. Bugs for everyone, all saddled and provisioned. Three pairs of Seraph wings. Three cracker columns. And … uh … there’s something else up there … you gotta see.”

  “Three columns?”

  “You heard me. We’re taking three. And as far as everyone else knows, they all work. Got it?”

  “Okay. But I only made one replica. Where did the third come from?”

  He sighed. “I whipped one up while you were away. Pretty feeble. Not as pretty as yours, but we’ve got them all shrouded up so no one’s the wiser. I got a feeling your copy isn’t all that far off from being made functional. It just needs a little more inspiration and perspiration.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. Hey, does anybody know for sure where we’re going exactly?”

  “Of course. What, you think we would go in blind? This isn’t a suicide mission. We’ll be doing this in two jumps. First we head to the shore where we rest the bugs, get them fed. We’ll be setting down pretty close to where the Cherubs land their boats so it could get a little dicey. But it’s the shortest route across the strait.”

  “Penult’s … an island?”

  “You betcha. Yaqob sent scouts back in the early days when they first invaded and we didn’t know where the fuck these bastards came from. But it’s been awhile since we sent anyone back that way. I suspect the island hasn’t moved, but it’ll be good to have an update, see what we’re getting ourselves into. If all goes well, we should hear back from Urszula sometime tomorrow. It’s a half day flight, there and back. We’ll rendezvous on the shore.”

  I hauled myself off my slab of a bed, my stomach full of butterflies.

  “Urszula went ahead … on her own?”

  “Nah. She’s got Kitt and Tyler with her. No worries. Everyone’s got a bug. The Pennies don’t have anything that can keep up with a dragonfly.”

  I fished my jeans from a tangle of blankets and pulled them on. It was nice not to have to weave a new set from scratch, although these didn’t smell too fresh. I pulled on my hoodie, zipped it and grabbed my blackened sword.

  I reso
lved to go through the motions and do whatever Olivier wanted of me. What else could I do? I couldn’t just sit here and wait for the Cherubim come swarming through the warren.

  ***

  The plaza was arrayed with the strangest assortment of insects. Tigger was there, of course, along with three other dragonflies fresh from the bogs from the looks of their unblemished wings and cuticles. Yaqob and his aides were busy equipping a strange, two-winged creature with a long snout and a nasty-looking barbed tail. It almost looked like a winged scorpion.

  The shortage of dragonflies had apparently forced the Dusters to press other insects into duty. Ubaldo sat astride a lanky and menacing white-faced hornet. A pair of scarabs lapped at some brown slurry in a trough.

  I didn’t see any mantids around. It made sense. Though they excelled in battle, they were not at all suited for long distance flights. They were probably all down defending the rim.

  Reznak and Hailay came over with some Old Ones to huddle with Yaqob. The Frelsian brass strolled separately through the formation, reviewing the preparations. Victoria was looking a little more spry and alert and that worried me. She wore a sly smile that made her look like a cat about to kill a sparrow.

  Olivier I passed among the volunteers, who were milling about, strapping weapons to saddles, adjusting their armor. One stood apart from the rest, lacing up a pair of boots. I stopped in my tracks, not believing what I was seeing. My stomach dropped. My head swam. I wobbled.

  “Karla?”

  She looked up at me, her face all wary and stiff as if she were not particularly pleased to see me. The sheer coldness in her eyes stung me. She never looked more like her father. The essence of Edmund Raeth stared back at me, all smug and righteous and dismissive.

  “What are you doing here?” I said, my voice quavering.

  “Doing my part,” she said, calmly. “You did yours. So now I do mine.”

  “You’re going on the raid with us?”

  “Obviously.”