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He looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms, and made a decision. “I want to be there when she wakes up. I want to be the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes. Then I’ll ask her for forgiveness.”
The wild-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
Jix gently lifted the spirit of the sleeping girl onto his shoulder. “Take me to the Eastern Witch.”
The five of them made their way back to the train, everyone but Squirrel carrying a sleeping spirit.
“It’s not my fault,” complained Squirrel. “I couldn’t hold on, my hands were greasy.”
“Your hands are always greasy,” Moose pointed out.
“Right—and it’s not my fault!”
Jix spoke very little on the journey, but even so, he was still the center of attention. They all stared at him, some being more obvious about it than others. Jackin’ Jill didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was staring.
“I’ve seen a lot of freaky Afterlights, but I’ve never seen one like you,” she finally said.
Jix was not bothered. He prided himself on his ongoing transformation. He hoped that in time his form would match that of his animal spirit. These eastern Afterlights knew nothing of animal spirits. They were like the living, disconnected from the universe, seeing themselves as solitary. So self-centered. Yet Milos had asked him if he wanted to be part of something larger than himself, which pointed to some higher purpose. These eastern Afterlights certainly warranted closer observation.
“There is art to what you have done to yourself,” Milos said to Jix, and Jix nodded his acceptance of the compliment.
“So, are there any others in your litter?” said Jill. He didn’t have to see her face to sense the sneer in her voice.
“Only me,” Jix said, offering her as little as possible.
“You are the first Afterlight we have seen west of the Mississippi River,” Milos told him.
“So, you’re all on your own?” Jill pressed. “No leader? No friends?”
Jix considered how he’d answer the question before he spoke. “Cats are solitary animals.”
They arrived at the train just after dawn, still carrying their sleeping souls. The kids who Jix had seen playing the day before were all in the train cars, but now that the sun was up, they would soon be out, and playing their games again. Jix had seen the train only at a distance, so as he drew closer with the skinjackers, he took note of everything.
First, and most obvious, was the little church, curiously blocking the train’s progress. He had seen instances of jamnation before, although he had no such fancy word for it. This predicament made him smile. Such a little, unassuming building standing in the way of a mighty ghost train. It reminded him of a picture he had seen in a library book during his living days. A man standing in front of a giant tank in someplace Chinese. He suspected there was more to this church, however, than met the eye.
The demon was still tied to the front of the train, and now he could tell that it was a she-demon, perhaps La Llorrona—the crying woman—although she didn’t appear to be crying. Not that Jix had actually ever met a she-demon, or knew for sure that such things existed, but he’d heard stories.
The next thing he noticed was a caboose at the other end of the train, decorated with Christmas lights and shiny baubles that reflected the rising sun. He made a note to ask about it when he felt sure he’d get a truthful answer.
And then there was the fourth passenger car. All of the other passenger cars seemed crowded with children, but the fourth car was crowded in a very different way. In the windows, Jix saw faces pressed up against the glass. It was quite literally crammed with Afterlights—there had to be a thousand souls stuck in that cramped space. Jix recalled one time when His Excellency had commanded a group of Afterlights to squeeze themselves into a large ceramic vase that had crossed into Everlost. In the living world it had been big enough to hold no more than two or three—but Afterlights, who are pure spirit, and have no true physical substance, can fit just about anywhere. They kept climbing in, and his Excellency got bored when the count reached fifty. There was no telling how many souls were shoved into this train car.
“Wild, huh?” said Moose, looking at the crammed car. “Like clownsh in a car.” The faces in the window didn’t seem in distress, and Jix figured they had been in there quite a long time because they had gotten used to it. At most, it looked awkward and inconvenient, but they were still having conversations with one another as if this was just another normal day for them.
“Why are they in there?” Jix asked. “For someone’s amusement?” That made Squirrel laugh, which was not a pleasant sound.
“They were an enemy army,” Milos told him. “We defeated them a few months ago, and now we hold them in there for safekeeping.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Squirrel. “Prisoners of war.”
“Bet you’ve never sheen sho many Afterlightsh,” said Moose.
For a moment Jix wanted to brag about the great City of Souls, but decided to keep that to himself.
The skinjackers brought their four slumbering spirits to an Afterlight who waited by a sleeping car.
“Leave them with me,” the kid said, but Jix was reluctant.
“It is all right,” said Milos. “Sandman will tag them, and mark them with the date they will awake.”
