Chapter Eighteen The Nova
Chapter Eighteen
The Nova
The call came at the witching hour, my brother’s voice ragged on the phone, absolutely elated.
“Be decent and ready outside in twenty-five minutes,” Maxim panted, a clattering in the background, the jingle of keys.
“Where are you calling from?” I mumbled. “You’re bold for asking me to be decent in such infant hours of the morning.”
“You’ll understand the need for modesty. You’ll be happy about it, I promise,” he laughed. “Go be ready, I’m coming.”
Maxim wasn’t the type to be sporadic. He had rigid routines, was a rule follower, unable to step off the ant line he’d drawn for himself. For him to be this manic, whatever it was must have been important. It worried me, but his attitude seemed in good spirits, so that dampened my concern.
I dressed in day clothes, not bothering with putting my hair up. I heard a wagon pull up as I laced my boots, fluffing the skirt and putting on gloves before I went to see.
My brother sat on a covered wagon, his horse no more awake than I was.
As soon as he spotted me, he shifted over to the side to make room on the bench.
“Have you done something?” I asked, sliding next to him and glancing behind us.
“You could say that.” He clicked his tongue at the horse, and we took off with a jolt. He even tapped the sleepy gelding on the behind.
“Is it legal?”
“Partially,” he admitted, “but it is just.”
Knowing his propensity for the lawful good, I chose to accept that answer.
The city of a million starry windows and a culture of noise well into the night slowly traded its man-made idols for nature. Buildings turned to trees, people turned to fauna, the lights of living quarters turned to stars in the sky as clear as glass.
Our path turned rougher, the pavement faded to dirt, and soon even the tree line opened up to the oceanic horizon.
Out east was quiet, eerily so. Among nature, occasionally you’d get the cracking of wheels on pebbles, sometimes a call of a steamship out among the fog.
Even so far from the city, the smell didn’t change. It was the low-settling fog. The cliff overlooked the sea, but I could only see the cool mist. The humidity from the bad air made the fog hang low over the water.
The wagon stopped before the peak, the moon lending its light for our mischief.
Little did I know, what we were about to do was a sacred duty, the most important type of ritual in our world.
We disembarked from the wagon and opened the back.
I thought it was a dream, pure disbelief.
“I told you we’d make it up to him,” Maxim said, placing his hand on my shoulder.
Unblinking, my vision adjusted to the dark to see the coffin.
“We buried him.”
“We buried a casket. Never said he would be in it,” he said. “No one will know he is missing unless they dig him back up.”
“You did this for him?” I turned to my brother, his face dark in the night.
He leaned down, both hands on my face. “I can only hope someone will do this for us. It’s only right. It’s what he wanted, you said.”
I couldn’t help a grin. “You are not afraid of breaking the rules? The law?”
“There is no need to be afraid when your heart is true,” he laughed, “but I think I’ve expelled a few times on the way over, from motion sickness and adrenaline.”
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” My knuckles shoved against his chest playfully.
“It feels”—he paused, glancing over the ocean view—“it feels right.”
“Well, let us begin, then.” I yanked at one of the handles of the funeral cart, heaving it once before gasping. “By the stars, we should have thought about employing a couple more hands.”
“Just roll him out,” he said with a sigh, hopping into the back to grab the other end of the cart to unlock the wheels.
The first two wheels dropped to the ground, then the last two, the metal creaking as the weight shifted. With more care this time, we wheeled it to the ledge.
I unlatched the coffin, heaving up the lid. Maxim stood at the head, holding it open.
The smell of alcohol and, briefly, something putrid. But with the strong breeze and the cold air nipping my nose, I forgot the scent swiftly.
In the dim light, he almost looked as if he were sleeping. A gentle, breathless nap under the moonlight. I couldn’t even tell the reconstructed parts from the natural.
“Should we say some words?” Maxim suggested.
“I suppose it would be proper,” I muttered, still surveying the body.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
The task was somehow more daunting, now that the opportunity had been presented to me. One thing people didn’t consider in their wills was logistics. I supposed we’d get it done, but did I have the stomach to actually send him off?
My brother and I settled in, taking in the map of stars peeking through infrequent clouds. The fog was like a separate horizon, concealing the waters below.
I cleared my mind, then my throat.
“A lot of people see things that are different, and they grimace,” I started, looking up at my brother before my gaze lowered to my hands as I touched Dorian’s.
They were just as cold as when I’d last held them.
“My natural brain knows there’s some biological explanation for why people flee from change, from unfamiliarity.
But not Dorian. Never him. He ran headfirst into any enigma.
” I rubbed my thumb against his, half expecting his hand to close around mine.
“When you don’t limit your worldview, possibilities appear as plentiful as wild thyme.
His only regret would be not exploring them all.
Now, I hope, he can. An eternity to discover, and I may join you someday, and you will burn brighter than any star while telling me all about the wondrous things you’ve been up to. ”
I looked to Maxim. He smiled. Possibly the glistening of his eyes meant he knew my words were true.
I laughed; I couldn’t help it. A self-deprecating laugh as the wind wiped my tears.
“Are you ready?” My brother cast his eyes over the horizon.
With a nod, I closed the lid, stealing one more look at Dorian’s death mask before latching it shut.
I’ll fix this, I have to.
With a heavy, heel-digging heave, we rolled the funeral cart off the ledge.
Mere seconds elapsed between its disappearance and then the splash that melted with the clash of high tide.
Was it a risk to look?
Glancing over the edge, I knew it was just to confirm he was gone, for closure.
The waters lapped against rocks, not even the shore in sight. Dorian was taken by the tide. He would be in safe hands now.
A small, whispering voice called for me to join him. It took only thirty seconds to make a secession, three seconds to act on it.
Not today, I decided.
I would see him soon.