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“You know I do.”
“Then when the time comes, you must do whatever I ask you to do without question or hesitation.”
His answer was to glance at the knife-tear in her dress. “I already have, remember? I would hand you the universe if I could.”
Which was nothing less than she was asking.
In her book My Struggle: The Quest for a Perfect World, Mary Hightower writes:
“Every Afterlight fears the ocean, and well they should, for Afterlights have zero buoyancy, and plunging into a living-world sea means a trip to the center of the earth. In Everlost no one walks on water—and yet it never ceases to amaze me that Everlost boats still float simply because it had been their purpose in life.
This proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that everyone and everything blessed to be in Everlost has a divine purpose. I have found mine, dear reader; it is to reach out to you! Together we can make Everlost the shining world of glory it is meant to be. All it takes is a willingness to leave behind that which is old.
My hand is outstretched to you across treacherous waters, but I know you have the courage. Come to me!”
CHAPTER 32
The Hand of Judgment
Mary and her vapor of obedient but anxious After-lights found eight tall-masted racing yachts in the Corpus Christi marina that had crossed into Everlost, thanks to a hurricane that had devastated the Gulf Coast. Jix had calculated that a five-day journey across the gulf of Mexico would land them in the Yucatan Peninsula, and Chichén Itzá, the great City of Souls.
Naturally the Afterlights were wary, but Jix assured everyone there was nothing to fear. As jaguars are one of the few cats that love water, Jix had often sailed on scouting expeditions for the king. He acted as if he was a master of the mast, and it helped put the others at ease. He was the first to climb aboard one of the yachts, then he turned back to speak to Mary and her entire vapor.
“We are here at the start of a new journey,” Jix announced. “All that remains is for you to accept my invitation, on behalf of all your Afterlights . . . and travel with me to the City of Souls.
“Well,” said Mary, offering him a smile, “since it appears the Good Lord has granted us eight vessels for the voyage, how could I say no?” And although it was expected that Mary would be in the lead yacht, Mary politely deferred to Jix.
“You should lead us, Jix,” Mary told him. “It is your vision, your leadership that will bring us to the City of Souls. I insist that you take the lead vessel.” Then Mary announced, “All those who wish to travel with Jix should join him now in the lead yacht.”
Many of the Neons joined Jix on his vessel, and so did Inez, the girl that he had unintentionally brought into Everlost. He was pleased that she chose to join him, for although it wasn’t forgiveness, it was at least a moment of healing trust. Jill made a move to join him, but Mary held her back.
“Milos, you go with Jix,” Mary said. “I’d like Jill to come with me. We’ve barely spoken since I’ve been awake, and we have so much to discuss.”
And although Jix longed to have Jill with him, he knew he needed to allow Mary to call the shots to strengthen the illusion that she was in control.
Jix positioned his crew around the yacht, and to every-one’s amazement, the yacht sailed out of its slip the moment the various posts were manned. There was no wind to fill the sails and yet the yacht moved through the water, for the sails themselves held within their canvas fibers a memory of every race in which they had competed. Although the living-world water left no wake behind it, the ghost-yacht rode joyfully on the powerful memory of its purpose.
“You see,” Jix called back to the others still waiting on the dock. “There’s nothing to worry about!”
Jix took his yacht out of the marina, doing simple maneuvers in the bay just to demonstrate to those on shore how easy this was going to be . . . but the moment they were in open water, something went wrong.
The boom swung wide, capturing the memory of a transverse wind, pulling the entire yacht into a sudden starboard lurch. When Jix looked back at Milos, he saw the rope coiled tightly around Milos’s wrist to keep him tethered to the mast. Although it couldn’t be seen from the dock, he was the one pulling the boom out of line.
“I am truly sorry for this,” Milos said. But clearly he was sorry about nothing, for he pulled the rope even harder, forcing the yacht past the tipping point. The Neons on board screamed and grabbed for one another, but it was no use. They were hurled off the yacht into the sea, disappearing beneath the living-world waves without the slightest splash. Foul-Mouthed Fabian didn’t even get the chance to utter a single four-letter word. All of them plummeted with the full force of gravity toward the bottom of the bay and into the depths of the earth. Jix tried to hold on to little Inez, but she was tossed out as well. The last he saw of her were her pleading eyes before she disappeared beneath the water.
Jix tried to stay on the yacht, but the force and the speed of the sudden capsize was too great for him. He lost his grip and plunged into the unforgiving water, and all he could feel now as he dropped deeper and deeper in the water of the bay was the depth of the betrayal, and how badly he had underestimated the ruthless, diabolical Eastern Witch.
No one watching from the dock saw the cause of the “accident.” All they saw was a swiftly capsizing boat, and more than fifty Afterlights lost. There were gasps and wails from all those assembled—but no one’s cries were as loud or as pained as Jill’s.
Mary gathered as many children as she could into her arms. “Turn away,” she told them. “Don’t look. You mustn’t look.”
In a few terrible moments, all the Afterlights that had set out with Jix were gone. The yacht was still floating, but now it floated upside down. Then, in a moment, a hand appeared from beneath the water, climbing to the upturned hull. It was Milos.
“Look at his arm,” someone shouted. “It got tangled in a rope!”
“Thank goodness!” said Mary. “Let’s see if there are others.”
But there were none . . . and in a moment, Milos skinjacked the driver of a passing motorboat and was powering his way back to them.
