Chapter 7 #3
Quietly, he leads me through the field. I stay close to avoid disturbing the souls. Every few steps, my hand accidentally brushes the back of his. When it does, Cary’s eyes dart in my direction. Then look away.
To end our awkward silence, I say, “Do you come here a lot?”
“Sometimes.” The fingers on his other hand tickle the pointy petals of asphodels as we pass. “I do not have much free time.”
“Oh, right.” Embarrassment warms my cheeks “Because you’re the ferrier and all.”
“Ferrier and all,” he repeats almost wistfully.
A strange curiosity comes over me. I wonder what it’s like to have to travel the entire world constantly. To always be needed. Does he ever sleep? Is there freedom to do anything other than guide souls?
By the distant look on Cary’s face, I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it. I decide not to press him.
My eyes concentrate on the souls we’re not far from. Blue and gossamer and real. So many different faces. Young and old. From every region of the world.
A few of them pause to smile at Cary. One raises a hand to wave. Cary acknowledges her with a tiny nod.
I have a thought: “Do you remember all the souls you ferry?”
There’s an unexpected warmth in his voice, something like pride, when he says, “Most of them, yes. But not all.”
What if he remembers London? I consider asking, then quickly stop myself. I can’t seem too eager, too obvious.
Gradually, the crowd of souls grows. It’s nearly impossible to see everyone. I try anyway. But none of them look like the face I want. The one I need.
Disappointment wells in my stomach.
I turn to Cary. “Are there any other places souls go?” This can’t be all of Aides.
“There are…”
His eyes fix on a point beyond my head. I twist around, looking. Deeper out, a snaking river slices between this meadow and the next. Even from this distance, its vibrance is eye-catching. A glittery veil casts the land in gold.
With reverence, he says, “Elysium.”
Awe coats my voice. “What is it?”
Cary’s chin lifts. “Home of the exceptional. Of heroes. The selfless. Mortals who made great sacrifices for others.”
The cool breeze sweeps against the back of my neck. A smile kisses my lips. “It sounds amazing.”
“It is.”
I stare intently at the fields of gold. Elysium. I wonder if that is where London is, warm, happy, and safe. “Can we go?”
“No,” Cary says flatly.
My eyes widen, mouth open. He shakes his head. “I cannot take you there.”
“Why not?” The question comes out strongly, aggressively.
Cary’s eyebrows droop into that familiar scowl. “It is sacred. Forbidden for anyone other than the Deathless or the souls granted passage.”
Anger crests in my chest. London could be just on the other side of that river, but Cary refuses to take me. For a second, I consider ignoring him. I can see a path to the other meadow. I could leave him and his ridiculous laws behind.
The rules of Aides aren’t my rules.
One look in his inky eyes freezes me. A request instead of a demand treads the perimeter of his irises:
Do not make me do this.
I hate everything about this place. All the barriers and rules that keep me from London. I hate how much I need Cary’s help to get to him. But it’s the one thing that simmers the fight in me. I force out a smile.
Quietly, I say, “Okay.”
The wind ruffles Cary’s hair. Loose curls fall around his temples, framing him in that boyish look again. I imagine him much younger. Coming to the Meadows to sit in the grass and pluck asphodel petals, staring up at the sky. Wondering what’s next.
Was he ever that way? Curious and hopeful? Or has he always been an impassive ferrier?
“How old are you?” I ask him.
A knot forms between his eyebrows. “Come again?”
“You talk like you belong in a movie where everyone wears top hats and travels by horseback and no one’s ever heard of the internet.”
He glowers.
I laugh so loud, more souls turn to watch.
“Time works differently here. Much slower,” he explains through his teeth. “My existence has no true mortal equivalent.”
“So, what—seventy thousand–ish?”
A flush colors the tops of his cheekbones. It fades quicker than it came. “Once we accept our role, we become ageless,” he grits out.
My head cocks. “Accept your…role?”
“Enough questions.”
His glare crackles with fire. I don’t know why that excites me. Like maybe he’s capable of an emotion other than boredom. Or annoyance. At least it’s an improvement.
My mind stumbles back to my first time here. Wrestling with Cary on the beach. His hands pinning my wrists to the sand.
Him on top of me…
Before my thoughts have a chance to continue, Cary grunts, “We are leaving.”
He stomps back the way we came.
“Wait for me!”
I start to chase after him, sparing one more glance over my shoulder. To Elysium. Longing churns restlessly in my stomach. It’s like a hunger I can’t ignore. A persistent ache.
Secretly, I hope London’s not there. Because then I’ll probably never see him again. I’m the reason he’s dead. I’d never be worthy of a place like Elysium.
It’s selfish of me to want him to be anywhere else. That doesn’t make it any less true.
Turning away, I jog in Cary’s direction. That ember of hope inside me grows into an inferno. I’m not giving up.
I will find London, no matter what.