The Fifty-Seven Lives of Alex Wayfare (31 page)

“Oh, I know all about reincarnated Transcenders. I've known my fair share.”

I winced, my head spinning, and spoke through held breath and rigid muscles. “I'm the only one, idiot.” Exhale. Short inhale. Exhale. “So you don't know shit.”

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head. “Who handed you that load of bull? Was it Levi? Are you still working with him?”

Levi? Did he mean Porter? I winced again. “It's not a load of bull.” I was the only one. Porter told me so. Unless Gesh reincarnated someone else.

Something in Judd's muddy eyes flickered. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. “I guess you're the idiot, Princess.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. I wanted to claw the smirk off his face. “Yeah? Well you're a dick.”

His nostrils flared. He bent down and pressed the muzzle of his gun to my temple. “Tell. Me. Your. Name.”

“What are you going to do? Shoot my ears? My toes? My elbows?” A chill spasmed through me. The ground was so cold. I thought of Audrey's favorite movie, The Princess Bride. “To the pain.” That was the line I remembered.

To the pain means the first thing you will lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists. Next your nose.

I laughed at myself, a gurgling little giggle.

The pain made me delirious.

He pressed the gun harder, pinning my head to the ground. “I'll make this easy on you. Just your last name. I already know your first.” I must have made a face because he added, “It's not like I didn't overhear you and Lover Boy back there. How else do you think I knew your favorite tune?” He dug the sight at the end of the barrel into my temple until it broke the skin. Blood pooled around it. “I thought the whistling was a nice touch. Added some flair. Some suspense. Don't you think, Alex?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. Yellow spots danced before my eyelids and swirled with the red. “Alex was my name in one of my other lives,” I said, which wasn't exactly a lie.

“See? Now you're just pissing me off.” He knelt down and the muzzle lifted from my skin. I heard him de-cock the hammer. “There are other ways of making you talk. More painful ways that have nothing to do with flesh and blood.” He leaned closer, his breath on my cheek. “Remember, it didn't have to come to this.”

I braced myself for something to happen, something horrible, but he didn't make a move. The wind gusted in the bare branches above us. The crow cawed again, angry that we were keeping him awake. My blood seeped into the soil.

After a while, I noticed my pain subsiding. I felt my soul rise from my host body as the black enveloped me. Limbo tugged at my edges, calling me home. I scrambled for the black, desperate for it, so ready to be done with the mission. So ready to leave all that pain behind, collapse in Limbo, and let myself recover.

I should've known he wouldn't let that happen.

 

 

The moment I land in Eremus – the black, nothingness wasteland outside Polestar – the Descender's soul slams into mine like a wrecking ball. I fly through the air (or what I perceive as air) and smack hard into rocky ground. The wind bursts from my lungs.

Why didn't Porter tell me souls could battle in Limbo?

I push myself up on shaking limbs and lift my head to see my opponent. Like a flash, he disappears in the distance and reappears beside me, the perception of his soul looking like a plume of nasty gray smoke. When he moves, he sounds like a flag rippling in the wind. I briefly wonder if this is what all souls look like in Limbo, or if this is just how I perceive him because I don't know what he looks like in Base Life. But then, wouldn't I perceive him looking like Judd?

The smoke slides under my torso and lifts me into the air. It coils around my chest like a snake, steadily squeezing, crushing my ribcage inward like an iron clamp. I grasp at it, smack at it, but there's nothing to grab hold of. I end up beating at my own chest.

It coils around my neck.

Squeezing.

It stuffs into my mouth.

Suffocating.

Any minute now, my ribs will snap and puncture my organs. I can feel them start to crack and splinter. I try to tell myself there is no air. I have no lungs. No ribs. But it doesn't do any good. I'm too panicked.

“Your name.” His voice hisses inside my head. It scrapes against my skull.

I struggle against his hold. I claw at my own neck. I beat at my own face. There is nothing I can do. I have no idea how to defend myself. Porter never taught me.

I'm going to die. He's going to kill my soul.

Without a soul to sustain it, will my Base Life body die too? Will Gran find me lying on my oval rope rug when she comes to tidy my room? Or will Afton find me first? Will he curl up next to me to keep me warm? Will anyone at school even notice I'm gone? Will any of them come to my funeral?

Will Porter? Will he reincarnate me?

Throughout all those thoughts, one overshadows them all: I can't let my parents lose another child. I can't be the reason for more pain and suffering in their lives. I can't leave Audrey even more alone in this world than she already is.

I can't let Gesh win.

My mind races. How can this lower level Descender have the knowhow to beat me? I'm a Transcender. Porter said I was more powerful than all the Descenders combined.

Then it hits me. I do know how to defend myself. Porter had taught me after all.

I may not remember how to battle, but that doesn't mean my soul forgot. If I learned anything from Shooter Delaney's stubborn host body, it's how to let go and give in to my past instincts. My soul can't be any different. The first time I traveled to Limbo, Porter said I'd get used to it eventually, that soon I'd be bounding around like a young colt.

Just like I used to.

The knowledge is inside me. I just have to let go and give in to the motions. Like riding a bike.

The moment I stop struggling, I drop straight through the plume of smoke to the ground. Sharp pains shoot up through my heels to my thighs, and I falter forward to my hands and knees. I try to suppress the pain. It's not real. It's just my perception of pain. What I expect to happen. Just like my need for air. I suppress my impulse to cough and gasp for breath. Instead, I use what strength I have left to push myself to my feet, my back straight, chin lifted. I let go and let all my instincts take over.

My soul expands. My body thickens from the inside out, growing stronger. There's a buzzing sound in my ears. The smoke plume slithers around me again, circling, but it can't make purchase. The black of Limbo arcs toward me, bending like a black sail caught in a gust. All the soulmarks swaying gently at Polestar bend in my direction. I can feel their energy roll out like a rug toward me as my soul tugs at them from across Eremus. Their energy pours inside me, healing me, making me stronger. Bigger. Powerful. The plume can't touch me now.

But I can touch him.

With fingers outstretched, I reach into the darkest part of the smoke and summon his soul into my hand. I pull on his energy. I inhale it into my skin. He shouts and struggles, but I bear down on him, draining his energy with all my might. The smoke dissipates, and the plume grows smaller and smaller until it condenses into a small, swirling ball of dark fog, hovering just above my open palm.

I let out a puff of breath. The buzzing in my ears stops. Limbo gives one last stretch toward me, then sighs and settles back into place. I let the Descender's soul hover above my hand, small and defenseless, while I wonder what I should do with him.

I never get the chance to decide.

Over a dozen more plumes of fierce gray smoke suddenly materialize and surround me. There are so many that the thunderous sound of rippling flags is deafening. Like a freak tornado, they force themselves upon me, swirling, pressing, squeezing the energy out of me, disorienting me until I lose my grip on the little ball of fog in my hand. My hair whips at my face. It tangles around my neck and stings my skin, blinding me. I try to scream, but the savage gray wind sucks the sound from my throat like a vacuum.

Then, in the midst of the cyclone, Porter appears at my side, orange cap and all. He seizes my wrist. We vanish from Eremus.

CHAPTER 25

 

 

We land face down in my garden. Porter's hand still clutches my wrist. The fountain he built me gurgles in the background. I don't even realize I'm crying until he gathers me up into his arms, his weathered hands smoothing my hair from my forehead.

“I'm sorry, Alex,” he says, rocking me. Sincere guilt coats his words. They tremble on his cigar breath. “I am so sorry. I had no idea Gesh would retaliate so soon. I knew he would send a Descender to derail us at some point, but not this soon. Not after only one mission.”

I breathe in the faint cigar smoke on his collar, and it calms me. I'm safe now, in my garden, hidden away where the other Descenders can't find me. Why hadn't I thought to leave Eremus and step below? What if Porter hadn't been there?

He keeps rocking me. I cling to him like a child.

When I've calmed down enough to form words, I ask, “Why did their souls look like smoke?”

He rests his cheek against my forehead. His stubble stings my skin. “Souls can take on many forms in Limbo. They can trick you into perceiving them as all sorts of things. The smoke is just one of a Descender's more formidable forms. Very difficult to fight against smoke. But you did so well. I felt the surge of energy across Limbo and knew right away what happened. I'm sorry I left you alone. I should've been with you, protecting you.”

He holds me there, our breathing in unison.

“It doesn't make sense,” he says after a while, mostly to himself. “It should've taken several missions for Gesh to figure out you were traveling again.” He pauses, his eyes squinting at some unseen thing in the horizonless, black distance. “He can't have known we were behind the Raphael discovery. He would've suspected, yes, but he would've waited until he saw a pattern. Until he had proof. He wouldn't have sent a Descender after the first time. He wouldn't have burned up a soulmark on a hunch. Not unless...”

There's a sharp inhale of breath through his nose, and I feel his shoulders stiffen.

I lift my chin to look at him. “What?”

His eyes flick to mine. “Not unless someone told him you were traveling.”

“But no one else knows. You and I are the only ones who…” The words crumble to dust in my mouth. All the breath seeps from my body, leaving my gut feeling like a yawning, sickening pit.

Blue.

Blue knew I was near the Raphael in 1961. Blue knew I was with the Carters in 1876.

“My God,” I say, pushing away from Porter's arms. “It's Nick. Jack. Heath. Whatever his name is. He's a reincarnated Transcender like me, isn't he?”

Porter's lips part. Fear slants across his brow. “You saw him again?”

“Answer my question.”

He rubs his pinky knuckle with his thumb. “Alex, listen to me. He wasn't supposed to be there. In all my research, not one record says he went with the Carters that night–”

I scramble to my feet. “You son of a bitch,” I say, shaking my head, glowering at him. Porter winces, the words piercing his chest like bullets. “How could you not tell me?”

He pushes himself up, his hands palm-out like he's trying to calm an unruly colt. “There are several reasons why I kept it from you. Several very worthy reasons–”

“You told me I was the only one. The only soul Flemming reincarnated. Why would you lie about that?” My voice skips a few octaves. “You said you weren't a liar.”

“I didn't think you would run into him. At least not–”

“How many are there?” I demand. “How many souls did Flemming reincarnate?”

“Only two.” When I scowl at him again, he quickly adds, “It's the truth. When Flemming intercepted your soul in Polestar, he intercepted this other one as well. Your soulmarks were born at the same time. Flemming set you up as a team. He placed your Newlives in the same eras, the same vicinities. He wove your timelines together.” Porter sighs and drops his hands. “You used to be partners at AIDA. You worked on the same missions.”

My brow is drawn down tight. “Is that why it felt like I knew him when we first met in Chicago? When I sat with him in the alley, and it felt like I recognized him? I knew his face. His eyes. I had the same feeling when I first saw you in the cafe.”

“Yes, most likely. But there's more.” Porter frowns, looking apologetic. “Your connection to him is stronger than your connection to me. When Flemming reincarnated you at the same time, it fused your souls together. I can't explain why or how, but when you descend, he descends, and vice versa. It's why your travels have always seemed so random in the past. At times, you were descending because you experienced déjà vu. The cat. The Ferris wheel. What you didn't realize was that you were also pulling him along with you. You just didn't see him. You didn't know he was there. The other times you descended, when there seemed to be no explanation at all, those were times when he experienced déjà vu. He took you with him to the ship crossing the Atlantic. To Jamestown. Your souls are universally linked across time. When you die, he dies. When he is reborn, you are reborn. He is your soul mate in the very literal sense of the word. That is why you felt so connected to him in 1927, and that is why I tried to keep you from meeting him.”

Angry tears form in my eyes as I try to make sense of it all. Why would Porter betray me like this? “Why didn't you tell me this when I came back from Chicago?”