* * *Darkness enveloped them, and Vicky wondered how stupid of a decision she’d just made. She’d met Gaia before, walked with Damian, and no harm had come to her. But at that time he’d still held the hand of Gaia. He was the rightful heir to the mantle of Anubis. A seventh son, and heir to a power she would never have.
But even as those questions roared through her mind, stars appeared in the distance. A dim golden glow formed beneath her feet, and motes of brilliant yellow light drifted down to the stump of the hand she held. Vicky waited in silence, watching as Gaia’s body took shape, until finally the serene face of the Titan came into focus.
“You are not Damian Vesik, and yet…” Gaia frowned. “And yet there is much of his power about you.”
“We met before,” Vicky said, feeling Terrence’s grip tighten around her shoulders as if she were the last shred of sanity in a mad world.
“I remember,” Gaia said. “I can only obey the orders of those to whom I am bound.”
“Damian would like us to have safe passage to Rivercene,” Vicky said, willing to try anything at this point to get out alive.
“I am afraid words are not how this works. Ask me where you wish to go, and we shall see if the compulsion acquiesces.” After a brief pause, Gaia added, “Or if you must find other means.”
Even as the Titan said, “other means,” a tentacle resolved itself just off the edge of the path. And beside it another and another, until their entire right side was flanked by a towering, writhing wall. It moved in slow motion, but that made it no less unnerving.
Terrence cursed, but he fell silent shortly after when Gaia looked upon him.
“Take us to Rivercene,” Vicky said, the words coming out rushed, like she just wanted it to be over. And in some ways, the waiting was far worse than anything else.
Gaia tilted her head to the side and a slow smile crawled across her face. “I shall do as you ask.”
Vicky blew out a breath. “Fucking hell. At least something went right.”
“Such coarse language is not becoming.”
“Are you serious?” Vicky asked, blinking rapidly. “Have you met Damian? I mean, have you seriously listened to that man talk?”
Gaia smiled. “Nonetheless, that is no excuse for you to be so crude.”
Vicky stared slack-jawed at the goddess, and said no more.
“Damian has been injured,” Gaia said after studying Vicky’s face for a time. “Has he been lost?”
“If he was lost, I’d be dead,” Vicky said. “So I guess that’s a pretty good gauge.”
Gaia inclined her head. “That must be why responding to your orders is bringing much of the same enjoyment as helping Damian. Some part of him is inside you.”
“I think we established that after our little adventure in the Burning Lands.”
“Of course, but it is good to know that you may call on me. I will be here should you need assistance. I fear our time together has come to an end for now. Rivercene awaits you. You need only release my hand.”
“Thank you,” Vicky said. She glanced back at Terrence. “Hold on. If you don’t like roller coasters, you’re probably not going to enjoy this.”
“What’s the—”
But Terrence didn’t get to finish his question. Vicky released Gaia’s hand, and they fell.
* * *
Vicky had walked out of the Abyss before. She knew what to expect as the stars vanished from her vision and the stomach-churning sensation of falling at an impossible speed overcame her. She thought she should have warned Terrence a bit more thoroughly. Almost as fast as the thought had come, light returned, and the evening blossomed before them.
The horizon was a brilliant red and purple, giving the Old Mansion an enduring, if haunted, look. The nearby trees stood as shadowy sentinels, and Vicky would have called it serene if it wasn’t for the shouted curses from the ghost wrapped around her.
They crashed into a shallow river a second later. Darkness enveloped Vicky once more as she closed her eyes against the current. She hadn’t learned how to swim before she died. Her mother had taught her how to float a bit, so she wouldn’t be at a high risk of drowning. It had been the Ghost Pack that taught her to swim, but that had been in the Burning Lands where water didn’t behave exactly like water in the commoners’ plane.
Here, each stroke felt like she was pulling against a massive force. As if the water itself resisted her, wanted to hold onto her and keep her in its depths forever.
Vicky’s head broke the surface and she squawked. Something had grabbed her back, and just before she lit a soulsword to run it through, she recognized the face of the green man who had lifted her from the water.
“Stump,” Vicky said, awkwardly brushing a clump of fiery hair away from her face while she dangled from his hand.
“You appear to be damp,” Stump said. “That is not a healthy state for your kind.”
Vicky caught sight of Terrence standing beside Stump. He held the backpack, and Jasper shook himself dry before weaving in and out from between Terrence’s legs. Vicky had a brief moment of panic as she looked down at her hands. Had she dropped the hand of Gaia? But no, it was still there though she hadn’t remembered holding onto it. That explained why swimming through the current had been so hard.
“You’ve been in the goddess’s presence,” Stump said. “It is a place of high honor. A place I one time hope to stand as well. Her magicks can have an odd effect on commoners.”
Vicky shook her head out as Stump set her down. “I’m not exactly a commoner.”
“I suppose you are correct in that,” Stump said. “Perhaps it would be more accurate to say her magicks have a strange effects on humans. For example, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen Damian traverse the Abyss. But every time he exits, he screams like a newborn babe, or as some of the locals like to say, a stuck pig. It’s quite piercing, one might even say disturbing. I was not aware such a high-pitched sound could emanate from a fully grown man.”
Vicky let out a slow laugh. Once they finally got Damian out of this mess, she had something new to tease him about. Even as her mind tried to say if they got him out of this, she choked it back. They’d win or they’d die. There was nothing in between.
Terrence looked the green man up and down. “You’re like Dirge.”
“There are a great many differences between me and Dirge,” Stump said. “I would never deign to compare myself to the forest gods. It is, as the commoners say, like comparing cats to oranges.”
A look of utter confusion crossed Terrence’s face. He stared at Vicky, as if begging for an explanation. Instead, she just gave him a grin.
“Come now,” Stump said. “Friends of Dirge are welcome here. Let us get you inside so you can dry off and get warm. The innkeeper has been expecting you. Though I don’t think she’s very happy about the fact you walked through the Abyss without Damian. It was risky. And though she may say it was even stupid, I understand the need to hurry.”
Even as Stump said the word “hurry,” he took slow steps toward the mansion. Vicky followed patiently in his wake, although perhaps patiently wasn’t the right word. The thought of getting chewed out by the innkeeper was not a pleasant one.
Vicky eyed Terrence. The ghost didn’t have a speck of water on him other than the waterlogged backpack. “I guess you can’t get wet. You can still hold the backpack though, which is interesting.”
“Oh, I got wet,” Terrence said. “I’m just glad the water was fairly warm.”
“You’re bone dry,” Vicky said.
Terrence looked down at his uniform. “It dries off instantly. I can’t explain it. I can feel the water, the moisture. Or least I’ve been able to since Damian changed me. But it doesn’t stay.”
“It is a memory,” Stump said. “It is why you thought the water was warm, and Vicky is shaking from the cold. I suspect your last memory of water was one of a warm river. Things like that linger, never truly leave. It is an impression that will survive far beyond death.”
As if it had been his cue, or his reminder Vicky could get cold, Jasper rolled up to her feet, quickly climbed her side, and nestled his warm fur against her neck. Vicky believed Stump’s words. How else could you explain the visceral knowings when she touched a ghost? Damian experienced much the same, and from what she’d learned, most necromancers did.
They passed the embankments and a dip beyond it. Vicky knew this was where the river had once run, so close to the front of the mansion. The captain who built the place had been smarter than most. He researched the floodplain, and he knew what the highest mark was for any flood in history. So in the end he showed up all the doubters, and his home did not flood in his lifetime.
She remembered the story Damian had told her once about a terrible flood that happened in the 90s. That had been enough to reach the Old Mansion, but it had stood for over a hundred years without being touched by the water. It was only when the commoners moved the river that the home was at risk. The fact it was still around, still thriving, said a lot for the bones of the old place.
Vicky ran her hand along the iron horse head that sat atop a waist-high pole as they reached the driveway to the mansion. It was a beautiful place. Three stories, a turret on the right side of the house, and a steep roof that loomed over the windows and tiles. Stump stepped cautiously around the concrete of the sidewalk. He took such care around the house that it made Vicky smile.
She led Terrence up the three steps to the front door and looked at the doorframe. It didn’t seem all that interesting to her, carved like a braided rope, but she remembered Damian liked it. Vicky reached out to the old metal, a distant sadness settling in her chest, and twisted. As fast as she moved, the bell echoed inside the hall.
“Doesn’t anyone just knock anymore?” the innkeeper’s gruff voice said from inside. Her footsteps fell heavy on the hardwood, and it was only a few seconds before the deadbolt snapped in the door and the old wood swung inward.
The innkeeper eyed the trio. She gave a nod to Jasper and a frown to Terrence, but her eyes lingered on Vicky. There was kindness there, a sympathy, and Vicky didn’t want it.
That sort of kindness was a weakness, a blade to her armor that cut where she thought she’d guarded her heart closest. And even as Stump nudged her forward, Vicky couldn’t stop the tears that spilled over from her eyes.
“Come in,” the innkeeper said. “We’ll get you a hot drink and set you by the fire.”
“They fell into the river,” Stump said. “The ghost dried off, but Vicky did not.”
The innkeeper gave Stump a flat look and then ushered the three inside. Once she closed the door behind them, she said, “One day I’m going to turn him into kindling.”