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“Is that all?”
He offered her a very cool, catlike smile. “What greater power is there?”
“Hey! What about us?” chimed in the same loudmouth Greensoul from before. “Is anyone gonna tell us what’s going on?”
The other Afterlight hit him again, harder this time.
“All questions will be answered,” Mary announced. “Just as soon as mine are.”
Mary looked around to take in her surroundings. They were standing in the middle of a street on the outskirts of a city. By the look of it, they had been marching away from the city. Living-world traffic would occasionally barrel right through them, causing great distress to the Greensouls, who were yet to understand any of this. She turned to address all the Afterlights.
“Thank you all for taking care of me in this difficult time,” she told them. “Now I think it’s best if we all go to a deadspot to sort everything out, for I can see so many of you struggling to keep yourselves from sinking into the living world.”
“Back to the Alamo basement?” suggested someone. Well, at least now Mary knew what city they were in.
“No,” said a girl toward the back of the crowd. “There’s a closer place. I was one of Avalon’s scouts. I know all the deadspots in this city. There’s one just south of here.”
“Wonderful!” said Mary. “Lead the way!” The girl, thrilled to suddenly be important, marched off and everyone followed.
Mary walked with Jix and Jill on either side of her. “Now,” she said to them, “why don’t you tell me what happened while I slept. Start from the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”
“All right,” said Jill. “But you’re not going to like it. . . .”
The deadspot was a miniature golf course that had been bulldozed by the living world, thus crossing it into Everlost. As it came with a fully stocked ball shack, the Neons, who had been sequestered in the Alamo for so long, were more than happy to entertain themselves playing a few rounds of miniature golf. The Bopper made all the Greensouls act as caddies, as if this were some fraternity initiation.
Jix and Jill sat in the shadow of the pint-sized windmill as Mary processed everything they told her. She began to make some decisions, although she didn’t share all of them. Not yet, anyway. The hardest thing to swallow was the news about the train, and how so many of her children were lost.
“Only some of them were pushed down,” Jill told her. “A lot of them just scattered.”
“Well,” said Mary. “We’ll just have to gather them back, won’t we?”
Although Jix did not respond, Mary could tell that he was not pleased by the suggestion.
Milos was apparently still in San Antonio looking for her. She was pleased by this, if only because she might have a chance to reprimand him for the horrible job he had done . . . but then, perhaps she should be more gracious and charitable to him. After all, Milos had courage and loyalty enough to bring her back to Everlost by his own hand. She could still remember the intense pain of his cold steel blade in her chest—indeed there was a tear in her dress in that exact spot over her heart—and she remembered the conflicted look in his eyes when she died. She also remembered the joy in his eyes when he tackled her from the tunnel. He was clearly in love with her, although her own feelings toward him were still not entirely defined. She did love being loved, though. As for whether she could forgive him for losing so many of her children . . . well, she supposed she wouldn’t know the depth of her forgiveness until she looked into his eyes again.
“We think Milos is with the Chocolate Ogre now,” Jill told her, which was, of course, impossible. Mary had seen Nick dissolve into a pool of dark liquid. He was gone. And yet, the very idea that he might have come back from that horrible end sent the memory of her heart fluttering with the faintest of fear. Not fear of Nick, but fear of the love she once had for him. Mary told herself she felt no such love for the boy anymore. And if she told herself enough, perhaps she might believe it.
“If Milos is here with some refugees from the train,” Mary said, “we will seek him out and bring those Afterlights back into the fold.” Again, Jix stared at her, not giving a hint of a reaction, and so she said, “I trust I’ll have your full cooperation.”
Jix didn’t answer her right away. He thought about it, then he said, “I think instead you should come with me to the City of Souls.”
“I have no intention of voyaging to some distant land,” said Mary, “when I have so much to accomplish in this one.”
Jix nodded. “How might I convince you?”
In spite of her desire to just dismiss the idea, Mary gave the question serious thought. In Chicago, she had come to a dictator, only to be thrown into shackles and humiliated. Of course, Mary eventually rose above all that, and took over his petty dictatorship. But this Mayan King sounded a much more formidable foe than Pugsy Capone.
“I think you should go to the City of Souls,” said Jill—which surprised Mary. Jill never had an opinion unless there was something in it for her. Then Mary realized there was: Jix. Jill was in love with him. Mary smiled at her realization and patted Jill’s hand ever so condescendingly.
“You two go. I’m sure you can skinjack your way there in no time. And you can give my regards, and my regrets, to this king of yours.”
“I can’t return without you,” Jix said simply. “And I know that you can’t be forced. Therefore you will have to go of your own free will.”
“I will do no such thing,” Mary said, with some indignance.
Jix had nothing further to say about it.
With their conversation done, Jix gathered the Afterlights from their golf games. “Mary will speak to you now,” he told them. It was all he gave as an introduction. Then, just to make sure there was no question as to who was calling the shots, he said, “Our plans are still the same.”
