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“If only you could skinjack,” he would tell her. “In living flesh we could feel deeper, truer passion than this.”
But Mary was quick to respond. “There is no truer passion than passion of the soul.” Each time they were together, his afterglow would turn the lavender blush of love, but Mary’s would not.
“Someday Milos,” she told him. “Things are so complicated for me now, but someday . . .”
He accepted the promise of love, fully believing it would come—perhaps because Mary believed it might come too. Surely if he were to do all the things she hoped he would do for her, then she would love him with all her soul. And if not, he would, at the very least, have earned an eternity of heartfelt pretense.
Much later, when Milos had gone off to check in with the lookouts, Jix snuck up on Mary as she looked off into the night, stalking her as he always did.
“A fine night,” Jix said to her.
“Perhaps,” said Mary. “But the rain is a nuisance.”
“Rain gives life. The Mayans worship rain.”
“If you’re a skinjacker,” Mary pointed out, “then you are not Mayan. Wherever your body sleeps, it does so in a very modern world.”
“My ancestors were Mayan,” he told her. “The king has taught me to appreciate the old ways.”
“Yes, of course,” scoffed Mary. “Human sacrifice and bloodsport.”
Jix was not put off by her remarks. “There is none of that in the City of Souls. There can be no sacrifice, because no one dies, and while there are sports, there is no blood.”
Mary tried to imagine this “great city,” then realized she really didn’t want to. “Why aren’t you with Jill?”
“Every soul needs moments of solitude,” he answered. It got Mary wondering if perhaps their devotion to each other was just a matter of convenience. Perhaps they could be separated. They would both be much more effective skinjackers if their attentions were not focused on each other. Mary was still pondering this when Jix blindsided her with something she was not prepared to discuss.
“Una pregunta,” he said. “One question: Allie the Outcast told me you wish to end the living world. I want to know if it’s true.”
Mary looked into his invasive eyes, paralyzed for a long moment. She had not shared the full depth of her vision with anyone. But Allie, that horrid shrew, had skinjacked her and violated her mind, stealing her deepest thoughts. Mary knew she had to choose her words very carefully.
“I’m impressed that she would spread such a rumor,” said Mary, “that she would think me capable of such a remarkable feat.”
“I believe you could end the world,” Jix said, “with the right friends.” But there was no way of telling from his tone of voice how he felt about it.
“You have quite an imagination,” said Mary.
“Not really. But I see what I see.”
“And what do you see?”
“I see that you have absolute faith in the things you do. Sometimes the gods are pleased by an undying faith in one’s vision . . . and other times they are angered.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want to anger the gods,” Mary told him, trying her best not to be too condescending. “My aim is to protect my children,” she said. “Whatever Allie told you, I do not care about the living world in the least.”
Jix nodded, accepting her words at face value. “If the children are your only concern, I’m sure you will find all the safety you require in the City of Souls.” Then he left her to continue her soulful moment of solitude.
She was glad that she could put him off without having to lie—for what she said was absolute truth: She didn’t care about the living world, which is why she had no problem bringing about its end.
The following day, Mary was still reeling from her conversation with Jix. All through the day’s march, she was tense and preoccupied. At first she had seen Jix as a spirit filled with silent and small self-interest, but now she realized he could either be the key to the bright new future of Everlost, or the key to her undoing. It all depended on whether or not he had the capacity to truly see and understand her vision. If she went with him to the City of Souls, he could make or break her, depending on whether he believed his gods were pleased, or angered by her intentions. No Afterlight should have that kind of power over her.
That night, with the lights of Corpus Christi, and the Gulf Coast just a few hours away, Mary took Milos aside before dawn. Before she left, she made sure that Jix was occupied. He was with Jill and one of the younger Greensouls—a Hispanic girl that Jix had a soft spot for. Jill, Jix, and the girl were like a little family now, which was fine as far as Mary was concerned. His attentions to his little pride made Jix less aware of Mary’s actions, which meant he was less likely to catch her by surprise.
“There is something I must tell you,” she said to Milos, when they were far enough away to be sure no one else could hear. “Something marvelous that I can share only with you.”
He kissed her and brushed her hair from her face. “I’m listening.”
“I had a vision, Milos. I had a vision at the moment of my second death. As I died in your arms, as I transitioned, it came to me. I wanted to tell you the moment I came into Everlost but sleep came too quickly—but I held on to it, I remembered it, and I can’t keep it to myself any longer. But if I tell you, you must promise to keep it our secret.”
