Everfound (Skinjacker 3)

“There are difficult decisions to be made,” Mary told Milos, as they reluctantly rested on the second night of their march. It was an overcast night. Rain pelted the living world tickling their insides, and the Greensouls claimed to be exhausted, refusing to believe they didn’t really need sleep. Their combined afterglow made them a target if the scar wraith was in pursuit, so Mary posted lookouts in all directions, and wandered through the resting horde, giving comfort and courage to those in need. Through all of it, Milos kept her company.

“What are your thoughts on the City of Souls, and this so-called king?” she asked Milos, as they did their rounds.

“I think the ruler of an ancient kingdom will treat you as a piece of furniture,” he answered, clearly having given it plenty of thought himself. “Bringing you there will serve only one person’s interests, yes?”

“Yes,” agreed Mary, knowing exactly to whom Milos was referring. “And Jix is hardly a ‘person,’ is he?”

She looked around to make sure Jix was not in earshot. He often turned up when one least expected him to, dimming his afterglow to make himself even more stealthy. “Jix already has the loyalty of those belligerent ‘Neon Nightmares.’ He may betray us if he’s given the chance.”

“He may,” Milos quietly responded. “But I have every faith in your ability to turn even betrayal to your advantage.”

Milos’s undying faith in her through these dark moments of doubt was just what Mary needed—and so she had no qualms about giving Milos what he needed as well, which was her affection. When he put his arms around her, she allowed it, and when he kissed her, she kissed him back with just the right amount of intensity she imagined a boy such as he would want.

“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.”