Mary ignored him and began her speech, making sure she addressed these Afterlights by looking into as many eyes as she could, and smiling, always smiling, so that they knew she only wanted the best for them . . . although sometimes it took convincing, for so few Afterlights really knew what was in their own best interests.
“Some of you have been lost for quite a while,” she began, “and some of you for only an instant. Well, I am here to tell you that no matter how long you have been lost, you have all been found—and I promise you that I will make your deaths joyful and fulfilling from now until the end of time. That’s why I’m here. And if divine providence saw fit to awaken so many of us before our time, then there is a reason for it. Together, we will find that reason.”
Then, as if by that same divine providence, something extraordinary happened. More Afterlights began to arrive! They looked a little haggard, as if they had been running. They would have been breathless, had they been alive.
“Mary?” one of them said. “It’s Mary! Look! Look! It’s Mary!”
They ran to her, pushing past all the others, and hurled themselves into her arms, nearly knocking her over. She recognized many of their faces—these were her children—or at least what was left of them. There were a few dozen at most. Some spoke of a tentacled monster that had chased them away from a playground, but she didn’t give their tale much credence. If there was one thing she learned about Everlost, it was that tales often grew very, very tall.
If the other Afterlights had not yet been won over, this did the trick. How could they not see her as their salvation? The devotion of her children was a better testimony than anything she could say.
“All is well,” she told them. “All is well.” And it was only going to get better.
“We should just leave,” Jill said to Jix as they hid behind the miniature golf Taj Mahal, making sure Mary couldn’t hear them. “We don’t have to go to the City of Souls, we can go anywhere we want.”
“No,” Jix told her, and it just made her furious.
“Who cares about your stupid mission? You failed. It’s over. Deal with it!”
Jix took a long look at her. He reached out to touch her face, and although he thought she would pull away with anger, she closed her eyes and purred.
“Please,” she said, using the P word she once claimed was not a part of her vocabulary. “Please, let’s get away. Just you and me. I’ll even start furjacking if you want me to.”
Jix had to admit that it was tempting, but he couldn’t leave now. He had to see how this would all play out. “Maybe soon,” Jix said, “but not yet.”
Now Jill pulled away, returning to her fury—which was a much more comfortable place for her. “Why not?”
“Because Mary is right, I think. Maybe there is a reason why there was this ‘Gran Despetar,’ this ‘Great Awakening,’ but it may not be the reason she thinks.”
“So what? Why does it matter?”
“It matters if it convinces her to come with us to the City of Souls. I still have faith she will choose to come.”
Jill laughed bitterly. “You don’t know Mary.”
“No,” said Jix. “But I know the only thing more seductive than power . . . is greater power.”
A few miles away, Milos paced the bank floor, kicking everything in sight—the account desks, the teller windows. Nothing broke, but he kicked it anyway. He wished it would break. Destroying something—anything—would give him great satisfaction at this moment.
On the floor, just in front of the closed vault door, sat Moose, who had not stopped crying since he heard about Squirrel’s tragic end. “He didn’t desherve it,” Moose wailed. “He didn’t do anything wrong. He jusht did what you told him to do.”
“Do not be such a tearbaby! It happened, it’s over, and there is nothing to be done.”
“Itch ‘crybaby’!” yelled Moose. “You get everything wrong!”
Milos kicked over a chair, sending it flying past Moose, but Moose didn’t flinch and the chair didn’t break. “Save your anger for Mikey,” Milos told him. “He’s the one who told the scar wraith to extinguish Squirrel.”
At the mention of Mikey’s name Moose clenched his fists and his Afterglow turned a furious red. “I hate Mikey,” Moose growled. “I want him dead.”
“He is dead,” Milos reminded him.
“Then I want him worse than dead. I want him extinguished too!” Then he began to cry again. “I can’t believe Squirrel’s gone. What am I going to do without him?”
Milos gently patted Moose on the shoulder. “We will have our revenge,” Milos told him. “I promise.”
Moose’s sobs soon subsided into muffled cries, and now Milos could hear the faint voices and pounding coming from behind the thick vault door, which now held almost two-hundred Greensouls that should have been sleeping Interlights. Milos had no explanation for the awakening. It terrified him—and all of them were now banging around in there, demanding explanations. Milos was not ready to let them out. He was simply not in the frame of mind to fight the miserable battle to win them over, convincing them to trust him. Let them stay in the vault for all he cared.
He longed to go back to his old ways, skinjacking for profit, selling his services to whatever Afterlights he came across—and there were plenty of them east of the Mississippi. He could leave all this behind and forget it had ever happened. That’s what he was thinking when he heard someone rattling the bank doors.