They were there again, at the line. The exact spot on the road shimmered slightly, and the air in front of them was distorted, just a little. Like a heat haze, though the day was cool.
They stood abreast, the four of them. No one spoke, no one moved. Tristan thought they might stand there all day, until the appearance of wraiths would finally force their hand.
He clutched Dylan’s hand in his, but he didn’t look at her. If he did, he thought he might plead with her to stay. They could be happy here, in the wasteland… right up until his attention slipped and a wraith stole her from him.
So he stood there, and he stared at the line, and he waited.
“This is it,” Susanna said unnecessarily.
“What do we do?” Jack asked.
“You just walk through.”
Jack nodded, but he made no move towards the line.
“Go on, Jack,” Susanna urged. “Go.”
She sounded firm, encouraging. Anyone who didn’t know her wouldn’t hear the quiet edge of desperation, or despair. Tristan did, and he knew Jack did, too. Her soul didn’t move from her side.
Tristan clung more tightly to Dylan. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. If he thought it would make any difference, he’d curse the powers that controlled the wasteland, but he didn’t dare. Not when anything he did might have consequences for Dylan.
“Why do you think you can’t go through?” Jack asked suddenly.
“Because we can’t,” Susanna replied. She sounded exasperated, but Tristan suspected the truth was that she, like him, was struggling to keep her composure.
“Have you ever tried?” Jack argued.
“No, but that doesn’t matter, we c—”
“I have,” Tristan said suddenly. “I’ve tried. It didn’t work.”
“When?” Dylan asked quietly beside him.
He looked down at her, offered her a sad smile.
“Oh.” She gazed up at him, her heart in her eyes, and he knew she was remembering the moment. She thought he’d tricked her, lied to her and betrayed her. The hurt and agony had been written all over her face as she knelt on the floor in front of him, within touching distance but completely out of reach.
Now, knowing that he’d tried to come with her, to stay with her like he promised, the expression on her face was bittersweet.
“I would have followed you, if I could,” he told her quietly.
“You said that you assumed ferrymen could never go to the real world before Tristan did it,” Jack reminded Susanna.
“I told you,” Tristan growled, annoyed that Jack wouldn’t let this go. He didn’t want his and Dylan’s last moments together to be ruined by a stupid argument. “I tried. It didn’t work.”
“But that was before you were in our world,” Jack went on doggedly. “Maybe things have changed.”
“They haven’t.”
“They might have.”
“They haven’t.”
“We should try!”
“Look—” Tristan rounded on Jack, ready to compel him into shutting his mouth if that’s what it took, but Jack was already moving. Grabbing Susanna by the arm, he yanked on her, spun, and then shoved her backwards – towards the line.
Susanna’s face was a mask of shock and surprise as she hurtled backwards. She reached out, but the force with which Jack had thrown her propelled her out of Tristan’s reach. He winced, waiting for her to slam into the invisible wall… but she didn’t.
She flew straight through.
Tristan stared, astonished. Beside him, he heard Dylan give an audible gasp.
“That’s impossible,” he burst out.
Susanna, utterly thrown, stumbled and tripped, landing heavily on the ground. She spun, twisting from her hands and knees to her back, staring out at them – from the other side of the line. Tristan saw her eyes widen, panic etching itself across her face.
“Jack! Jack, where are you!” Her gaze darted from side to side, moving sightlessly over them.
“She can’t see you,” Tristan told Jack, but the soul had already worked that out. He stormed forward and the next moment he was kneeling beside Susanna, helping her up and dusting her off. Susanna still hadn’t managed to wipe the amazement off her face before she was pulled into a fierce hug. Tristan watched her bewilderment morph slowly into an astonished smile.
Tristan turned to Dylan the exact moment she turned to him, and he knew the shock must be as clear on his face as it was on hers.
How? It wasn’t possible.
He knew, he knew it wasn’t possible, but it had happened.
Jack had to be right – their journey into the real world had to be what was allowing them to cross over.
Dylan grinned at him. “If she can…”
“…I should be able to, as well.”
He thought. He hoped. God, he hoped.
Jack and Susanna were laughing now, their sounds of relief and happiness ringing crystal clear in Tristan’s ears. As if they stood right by his side, and not on the other side of an almost invisible barrier.
“Are you ready?” he asked Dylan. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand, held on tight.
“Yes… I—” But the expression on her face was at odds with her words. She bit her lip. “Tristan, if this doesn’t work—”
“It will.”
“But if it doesn’t,” Dylan persisted. She drew in a deep breath, her eyes fixed on his face. “If it doesn’t work, I want you to know that I love you. And if… when you’re bringing souls to the line,” her voice cracked a little, “if you feel someone’s eyes on you, it’s me, watching over you.”
He thought his heart might burst. Drawing her into his arms, Tristan held her close. “I love you, too,” he managed. “But it’s going to work. I know it.” He let her go, her hand still clenched in his, and smiled. “Now?”
Dylan nodded. “Together?” she asked.
“Together.” He moved forward, thinking to kiss her in this, their last moment in the wasteland, but she stopped him, pressing a hand to his mouth.
“Wait,” she said, laughter in her eyes, her doubts quieted. “Kiss me on the other side.”
“No,” he replied, sharing the memory from the last time they had stood in this very spot, this moment too joyful to be tainted by the pain of the past. “Now.”
She laughed, stepped forward and tugged. Together, they stepped through the veil, out of the wasteland.
Tristan couldn’t wait any longer. With one hand he pulled her in closer to his body, with the other he cupped the back of her neck, sliding his fingers into her hair. Letting his eyes slide closed, he pressed his lips against Dylan’s. He felt her fingers twist into the fabric of his jumper, her hands shaking slightly against his sides. Her lips parted, moving against his. He heard her utter a tiny moan, and the sound sent a ripple into the pit of his stomach. He squeezed her tighter, mouth pressing harder against hers. His heart was crashing against his ribs, his breathing ragged. The only thing he was aware of was the warmth of her, the softness. He felt her grow bolder, going up on her tiptoes to lean further into him, lifting her hands from his side and gripping his shoulders, his face. He copied the movement, his fingers trailing down her hairline, around her chin—
“Welcome.”
Tristan jerked his mouth from Dylan’s at the low, musical voice that floated through the air: something had been waiting for them on the other side of the line.
He tensed, thinking the being was an Inquisitor. He waited for his body to lock down, for control to be stolen from him, but it didn’t happen.
“Caeli!” Dylan said beside him. Then, more hesitantly, “Are you Caeli?”
“I am.” The being inclined its head, and after Tristan’s initial moment of panic had passed, he saw that it was nothing like the Inquisitor. If the Inquisitor was made of darkness and terror, this being was light and warmth. It wasn’t cloaked, but it still seemed strangely faceless, apart from its welcoming gold eyes. The features were there, but blurred slightly. Tristan couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t tell if its nose was bulbous or blade-like, its mouth wide or narrow. It hurt, trying to figure it out, so he forced himself to relax his eyes, to let everything stay smudged, just out of focus.
“You have returned, Dylan McKenzie.” Tristan felt the being, Caeli, sweep its gaze across the four of them. “This is highly irregular,” it said.
That didn’t sound good to Tristan.
“Are you going to try and stop us?” he demanded.
“No.” The being seemed to smile, a sense of puzzlement crossing its strange face. “I am here to welcome you.” It bowed its head. “Welcome home, Dylan, Jack, Tristan, Susanna.”
Welcome home. The words rang in Tristan’s ears and he scarcely dared believe them.
“Please, come with me.” Caeli moved to the side, revealing a metal gate. It was closed, but there was no fence on either side of the gateposts, so anyone could simply walk around. Tristan stared at the gate and then at Caeli, confused, but Dylan started walking.
Of all of them, she was the only one with experience of this side of the line, and she didn’t seem afraid. Moving quickly to catch up with her, Tristan followed Caeli, the quiet sound of feet crunching on dirt behind telling him that Susanna and Jack, too, were following. When Caeli reached the gate, it swung it open and Tristan ground to a halt, astonished.
It was as if Caeli had cut a hole in the world. In the space where the gate had been, was now a window onto a whole other place.
“What the hell…?” he heard Jack gasp.
Dylan took Tristan’s hand, and when he turned to look at her, her eyes were twinkling.
“I want to show you something,” she said.
Walking past the beautiful, glowing being, Dylan led Tristan into the strangest room he’d ever seen. Everywhere he looked the walls seemed to morph and change, expanding, adding nooks and crannies and extra corridors filled with bookshelves.
“This is the records room,” Dylan said.
Jack and Susanna were looking around with awed faces, but Tristan only had eyes for Dylan.
“My book,” he said. Dylan had told him all about it when she’d come back for him last time.
She smiled, a secret smile, and looked towards the being, who had followed them in. “Can you show him?”
It should have worried Tristan that this creature was shadowing their every move, but he didn’t sense any sort of threat from it. On the contrary, it seemed pleased, the warmth emanating from it making Tristan think it was happy to see him and Susanna just as much as it was to see Dylan and Jack.
“What book?” Susanna asked, her curiosity piqued.
“You’ll see,” Dylan said. She towed Tristan along behind her, following Caeli until they were stood at an ornately carved wooden desk, a faded green leather-bound book with pages gilded in gold resting on the surface. The corners appeared worn, soft, as if a thousand fingers had lifted the cover and leafed through.
Tristan wanted to reach out and flip the cover back, reveal what was inside, but at the same time he also wanted to run away from it.
Dylan took the initiative and opened it to a page at random. There, in tiny writing, was a list of name, after name, after name. All the souls that Tristan had ferried.
“My souls,” he croaked. It was incredible, to see them all written down. To see just how many were there. The souls he’d saved… and lost.
Two of the entries on the page, he could see, had been scribbled out, heavy ink almost completely obscuring whatever name had been written there.
“You should be proud,” Dylan told him. “Look how many people are here, because of you.” She smiled. “But you’re finished now. It’s time to live, at last. Here, with me.”
He huffed out a breath, still not quite daring to believe it. Glancing at the book, he looked again at those crossed-out names. “I’m not sure that I deserve it.”
Dylan lifted her hand to the book, her fingers skimming down the list until she hovered over one of those names, a soul who loitered still in the wasteland, turned into a mindless, hate-filled creature.
“You do deserve it,” she said.
“What about those souls?” he whispered. “They deserved it, too.”
“It’s not too late for them,” Dylan reminded him. “We know that now. And we can help them: we can figure out who they are, and then we can find their loved ones and let them know.” Her gaze turned to Jack, who was watching warily, half his attention on Dylan and half on Susanna, who was staring at the book with a mix of emotions on her face. The same ones Tristan was feeling: triumph for all those names written there, and shame for the ones removed.
“Let them know what?” he asked.
Dylan grinned at him. “Let them know that their souls aren’t really gone. That they can be brought back.” Her gaze shifted to encompass Susanna, too. “That if they’ve lost loved ones they really, sincerely care about, and if they’re willing to risk their souls for them, that they can go and get them. They can bring them back.”
Tristan stared at her, pride filling his chest and a new sense of purpose taking hold of him.
“We’re going to let everybody know,” Dylan went on, “that nobody’s truly gone. They’re only waiting to be saved.”
“This is why I love you,” Tristan told her, reaching up to cup her cheek. “Your compassion, your strength, your determination to do the right thing.”
She blushed, her eyes flickering away in embarrassment at the compliment, but a heartbeat later her gaze returned to his. “I hope so,” she said, “because now you’re stuck with me, for ever!”
“Trust me,” Tristan murmured, moving closer so that she was near enough to hold, to kiss, “it won’t be long enough.”
Feeling, finally, that he was right where he belonged, Tristan pressed his lips to hers.