I move quickly, ignoring the drag of the bodies behind me as I go. I should feel worse than I do about pulling them along, but I don’t want to use more magic and risk alerting people that something’s amiss. I don’t know how my scream and pulse of magic have so far gone undetected, but I’m not going to push it. Someone could round a corner and slam into me at any moment. The need to get out of here is riding me too hard to care about anything else.
My pace is steady, silent, and I find myself hoping that I’ll somehow run into Rogan as I make my way through the windowless building. Did he know I’d come back? I mean, he did ask me to, right? Was that just something whispered in the loss of the moment, or did he mean it? But if he knew, then where is he? Why isn’t he waiting nearby to intercept me?
My suspicions begin to harden with each step I take. This has to be the work of the tether, otherwise Rogan would be here. He probably doesn’t even know I’m back. I reach for the tether inside of me, but I quickly realize my magic feels like a frenetic mess. It’s as though my power is a newborn faun, all wobbly legs and spastic unsteady moves. There’s so much strength to it, but it feels untrustworthy too, like it’s not all the way awake and focused yet.
Maybe dying reset things and my magic needs a moment to wipe the sleep from its eyes and deal with the morning breath and bed head before it’ll be up and ready to go. I push my power and search for the tether, but all I can seem to really focus on is the hold I have on the bodies behind me. I look over my shoulder to find them following me like obedient baby ducks.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to them.
They don’t answer back. Let’s hope this coming back from the deadthing isn’t a onetime shot, because otherwise I’m probably going to hell next time for this. I pass a door and then back up, reading the sign next to it: Showers.I pause next to the door for a moment, debating. I don’t feel any magic, or sense any amulets or protections on anything around me. I don’t think I’m at a magical facility, but what the hell do I know? It doesn’t make a lot of sense that I’d be at a human morgue either, but wherever I am, I’m not sticking around to ask questions about how I got here and why.
I press my body snatched accomplices against the wall of the hallway and then withdraw my magic. “Stay,” I order them, just in case.
Slowly I press against the door to the room marked showers, holding my breath as I look inside. Swanky looking walnut lockers take up two walls. A couple of them have belongings tucked into the cubby above the closed cabinet below, but I don’t see any locks on anything. The look of the space is less high school locker room and more something I’d expect to find in the home arena of a revered sports team. I step into the room, moving in the direction of the occupied cubbies, when a trilling whistle fills the air. I freeze. Adrenaline explodes inside of me, and I look around frantically for the source. The light birdsong morphs into a tune I know but can’t place, and I realize that someone is in the showers on the other side of the wall to my left, whistling away as they clean up.
Crap.
I hesitate, questioning if I should still try to steal some clothes or get out of here as quickly as possible. My panicked gaze lands on a row of shelves, green stacks folded neatly in columns. I stare at the organized piles for a beat before recognition slaps me across the face.
Scrubs!
As though I’m some cartoon character sneaking around with exaggerated movements, I quietly stalk over, reading the labels on the shelves for the one labeledsmall. As swiftly as a striking viper, I pull down a top and a pair of matching bottoms, quickly pulling them on and listening for anyone who might be headed my way. I look for anything that I can put on my feet, but all I see is a pair of sneakers tucked under a bench. They look entirely too huge to be of much use to me, so I sayfuck itand opt to head back out barefoot.
The telltale squawk of a shower knob being turned urges me on. I’m out of the locker room and back into the now dark hallway before the water in the showers can so much as stop dripping. Once again, the fluorescent lights above me flick on as I move, but this time I don’t flinch in alarm. The hallway ends at a trio of elevators. I press the call button and hold my breath as I watch the numbers count down. I must be in a basement.
The ding of the elevator is alarmingly loud as the steel doors part, revealing an empty carriage. I call the bodies to me, stepping into the stainless car. Cold flesh rests on one of my feet, and I try not to gag. Maybe I should have gotten them scrubs too. No, there’s no way I can make what I’m doing better. Naked and dead or dressed and dead, I’m still stealing them.
I make sure all three of my accomplices are in, and then hurriedly start poking the button that closes the doors, while eyeing the panel and the floor options. I scan the carriage for a camera, but I don’t see the telltale sign of a red light or a placard telling the rider that they’re being recorded. I selectG, hoping it spills out to a garage. It’s probably a safer bet than the lobby or the ten floors listed above it.
It’s all I can do not to shush the elevator as it dings loudly again and opens up to an almost empty parking area. Relief whooshes through me as I step over a body and out onto the cold pavement. It’s dark outside, but a hint of early morning is lightening the horizon and reigniting my urgency to get as far away from this place as quickly as I can. Rubbing the chill from my arms as I go, I speed walk my ass away from the elevator. My escape partners sweep closely behind me, the light making their pallor even more sickly.
Yep, definitely going to hell if I ever die again and stay dead.
I scan the area for a good place to hide three bodies. I never thought that would be something I would ever think to myself, but alas here we are. Thankfully, it’s as though the universe landscaped around this building, knowing I would need hiding places someday. There are plenty of tall bushes that are surrounding several groupings of trees. The clusters of foliage dot the property evenly all around me.
I instruct my magic to relocate my littledeath ducklings, and then I slam a hand over my mouth with shock when my power goes overboard and practically launches the bodies. It’s like that attraction at a circus where they shoot someone out of a huge cannon, only so...so much worse. In a blink, each of the people I’ve stolen streaks across the ground into different groupings of brush. I cringe as they settle fully hidden away, whipping my head around to make sure no one is nearby to witness the depravity I’ve stooped to. I’ve never felt more selfish and messed up in all my life.
“I don’t know who you are, but I will, and I swear just as soon as I can, I will give all three of you the most beautiful funerals ever,” I whisper into the chilly morning air. Streaks from the rising sun start to glow brighter as though the universe approves this message, but I still feel like shit. “Headstones!” I whisper yell, my eyes darting here and there, ensuring that I’m still alone. “We’re talking the most regal headstones you three have ever seen. The kind of stuff you find in hundred-year-old cemeteries in Europe,” I tell them. “Tall, unbreakable, moss-covered even if that’s your thing. You want it, you got it,” I reassure them as if it somehow makes my theft and fucked up game of hide-and-go-seek okay.
They’re dead, Lennox, I remind myself.I mean, what do I expect, that they’ll spend their time hiding in the bushes, thinking about how I can make this up to them? I press my palm against my forehead and tuck my guilt away with a sigh.
“Best funerals ever,” I promise one last time and then hurry away without trying to look like I’m hurrying. It’s easier than I thought it would be to make my way out of the parking garage, hide three bodies, and then scurry away like the cockroach I now am. So easy in fact that I start to question if this isn’t some sort of setup.
What if the Order or High Councildohave me and they’re letting me sneak away on purpose so I can lead them to Rogan and Elon? Suspiciously my gaze darts all around as though threats and danger are instantaneously waiting at every corner, but I don’t see anyone or anything that makes me feel as though I’m being watched or followed.
I stroll quickly but casually out of the shadow of the building I’m fleeing from and discover I’m in a city. As clear as that revelation is, none of the surrounding buildings spark any kind of familiarity, and I feel just as lost as ever. I’m definitely not on the block the Order occupies in Chicago, but that’s about all I could say for sure. I hasten my steps, hoping I’m not drawing attention to myself. I probably look like some patient escaping from a psych ward, but so far there’s been no one around to side-eye me.
My feet pad quickly across the cold ground. Ignoring the small rocks that occasionally prick my soles as I go, I scan everything around me, scared and frantically trying to figure out what to do now. I need to get home, to Rogan, but I have no idea if it’s safe or how I’m going to manage it. I have no money, no shoes, no phone or way to get a hold of anyone to come get me. The surrounding skyline is unfamiliar; I could be anywhere, although I’m hoping I’m in the US, based on the fact that I made a phone call to a US number without any issue. I thought that evil church was maybe overseas, but now I’m not so sure. Or maybe they transported me to wherever I am.
Damn, how long have I been dead?
Magic flares out of me uncontrollably as my distress builds. Swearing, I hurry to yank it back. It’s as though I’m roping a wild horse and pulling at it with all my might for control. Something strange flares through my chest, a searing heat cutting open my depths like a welding torch. I gasp at the shocking sensation, but my attention flashes away as I suddenly feel the call of magic. Magic that is the very answer I’m looking for.
I close my eyes and thank the stars and my ancestors as incredible power pulses invitingly toward me like a long forgotten friend.
A ley line.
That’s it. That’s my answer.
