The body heals.
But in the soul, some scars have no end.
—Benjamin Barker, “Unfortunate Truths and Their Practical Uses”
In the lightof my lantern, the patterns of the wraith’s countless souls wept to the floor of Henry’s cell. So many occlusions—wounds, failings, and the bitterness that comes from living forever in a prison of painful memories. And inside every soul’s gleaming notes, I saw the same pattern I’d seen inside Jimmy’s shadow, Lynn’s, and my own—the circle with the sweeping cross through it, like the sign for coda. It had to be the mark of a songwriter.
I held that thought as I played a soft, revelatory stroke on my lantern. The light gently brightened the wraith’s shadow, and I thought I saw harpsichords, violins, sheet music, people in audiences.
Suddenly, a smoky ribbon of the wraith plumed toward me. It brushed my cheek like fine sandpaper, and I felt our thoughts begin to merge, as though our souls were intertwining. It yearned for someone to love who would love it back. Its many jumbled voices began to quiet, like distant chatter, while one rose above the rest.
Thank you for freeing us from the schemes of an egotist, the wraith spoke in my mind. When it did, one of its patterns flared, its gleam notes pulsing slow and languid like Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.”
“We need your help,” I said. “Please?—”
We will go to the Ancient Stratum for ourselves. To finish it. And you will join us.
The wraith’s smoky ribbon slipped inside me, brushing now against my soul. I started to go numb and couldn’t move. It would consume me, make me another of the many souls inside it, and I began to feel like that might be okay. Part of me even wanted to. There’d finally be rest . . .
Then I thought of Henry.
“No!” My scream steamed in the chill air. “I have more to do!”
I felt a sudden rush of doubt from the wraith. It recoiled, separating itself from me, pulling through my flesh like steel wool, and disappearing down through the floor. I staggered back against the bookshelf where Church had finally gotten to his feet.
Lakshmi rushed to me. “Are you all right?” “I’ll be fine,” I told her.
Then I glanced around the room. Chuey was sitting up, rubbing his head. Cassius hadn’t moved, but his semblance remained intact.
“Jack.” It was Lady, hunched over Henry’s body. “Over here, please.” I rushed to Lady’s side. Henry lay holding his chest with one hand.
Light seeped from between his fingers. In his shadow, a fiery red scar had torn open—it looked like pleading hands holding a tobacco leaf circled by a chain. Henry looked up at me with a strained smile. “Jack, my boy.”
I took his other hand. “You hang on.” Then to Lady, “What can I do?” Lady put a hand over mine and shook her head.
“You can’t give up.” I grabbed her hand. “There’s got to be something—” She squeezed my fingers. “Don’t waste another moment.” Then she leaned close to Henry and kissed his forehead. “You gave me purpose, dear, and I love you for it. I will never forget.” Henry smiled.
Church eased down on one knee next to us. “What’s this, old chap?
Lying down, just when we need you to stand up. I never took you for a slugabed.”
Henry took Church’s hand. “Help me up, then.”
Church and I gently eased Henry into a chair at his Formica table. He spared us each a look, then turned to face the old solicitor. “I’d like one Who song, preferably ‘Behind Blue Eyes,’ performed every Saturday night,” he said. “Write it into the Iron Horse deed if you have to. Think you can manage it?”
“Legislate our music, would you?” said Church. “You’ve been too long in the Strata.”
Henry chuckled, and the two shook hands. Then Church and Lady withdrew, leaving me alone with my friend.
We stared at each other for a long moment before I finally asked, “Why didn’t you tell me? About thanaturgy, the Iron Horse, all of it?”
He nodded as if he’d expected the question. “You deserved the chance to live a life of your own choosing. It wasn’t my place to influence you in one direction or another.”
“But you knew I might come back from the Meadows.”
“A marker in your shadow showed me as much,” he replied. “But you still had to choose even that. Besides which, I knew if I asked, you’d have said yes out of hand, and put away your music.”
I thought about Wembley. “I think I’ve left that part of me behind.” “Nonsense, Jack. The way you’re able to see a thing, give it a voice, is going to open doors you’ve never imagined.” He paused. “And you’ll find your new band, sure enough.”
