Milos nodded, hanging on her every word.
“My vision was of a war. Not in Everlost but in the living world. And happily, it will be the last war ever fought. In fact, it will end war in the living world forever. Isn’t that wonderful? No more pain, no more bloodshed. The living world will finally know true peace from now until the end of time.”
“It is a spectacular vision,” said Milos. “I can think of none better.”
“And here’s the best part,” Mary told him. “You and I have been chosen to make it as short and as painless as possible. You and I and your team of skinjackers will bring a glorious end to this war, and usher in a bright new day. Not just in the living world, but also in Everlost.”
Milos kissed her again. “What do I have to do?”
But she didn’t answer him quite yet.
“Do you love me, Milos? Do you love Everlost?” she asked him, as if she and Everlost were one and the same.
“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.