CHAPTER 29
The Great Awakening

Mary could see faces looking down on her, although it was all quite distorted due to the bottles, eyeglass lenses, and random glass objects that made up this strange box she found herself in. Her pallbearers had placed her on the ground and now just stared at her. Mary pushed on the lid, but it wouldn’t give, so she turned to the pallbearer with the sweetest face.

“Excuse me,” she said, “but would you be so kind as to undo the latch?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He knelt down, fumbled nervously with the latch, then pulled open the lid.

As soon as Mary stood up, about half the Afterlights knelt before her respectfully, as if they had been in the habit of doing so. The other half just stood about, looking lost, confused, and startled by living-world traffic that barreled past them.

At first she assumed the kneeling Afterlights were the children she had gathered, but none of their faces were familiar, and there were only about a hundred. When she had been so rudely dragged back to the living world and summarily killed by Milos, there had been close to a thousand.

Mary quickly surmised that the confused ones were all Greensouls—new arrivals to Everlost who had all just woken up from hibernation. But why had they all woken up at once? Clearly something out of the ordinary had occurred here.

“Thank you for the warm reception,” she said. “But there’s no need to kneel.” The kneeling Afterlights reluctantly rose to their feet. “Where is everyone else?” she asked. “Where’s the train?” But no one would field the question.

“Yeah . . . about the train . . .”

Mary turned to see a familiar face at last. “Jill!”

“Hi, Mary,” Jill said. “Uh . . . long time no see?”

Mary stepped out of the coffin and went to her, grasping her hand. Jill, she knew, was not an affectionate girl, but Mary believed everyone could benefit from a warm greeting. “It’s good to see you,” Mary said. “I have so many questions.”

“Yeah, me too!” shouted one of the newly awoken Greensouls. He was rapped in the arm by one of the more respectful Afterlights.

“Quiet! Show respect before the Eastern Witch.”

The Eastern Witch, thought Mary. Not a title she cared for, but for the time being it would do, if it brought her this level of respect.

Another Afterlight came up beside Jill—a strange one. He wore no shirt and his oddly colored muscular body bore spots and a velvety sheen. His eyes were vaguely nonhuman and where other boys his age might be sprouting facial hair, he was sprouting whiskers. Mary would have laughed, but he seemed way too serious for laughter.

“Jill, please introduce me to your friend.”

Jill opened her mouth to speak, but the spotted boy spoke first.

“My name is Jix,” he said. “And you should not be awake.”

“Well,” said Mary as politely as she could under the circumstances. “It appears that I am, doesn’t it.”

“It was not meant as an accusation, just a fact.” Jix said. “Things will change now. The three of us should talk.”

Mary studied Jix closely. “Are you the leader here,” she asked, “or some sort of mascot?” The question was meant not so much to belittle him, but to gauge his confidence. If he bristled, he was weak and easily manipulated. But if he let the insult roll off his back, then Mary would have to carefully finesse this relationship.

Not only didn’t Jix let the insult bother him, he chose to answer the question in a way that gave no answer at all, which meant that, in his own subtle way, he was a force to be reckoned with.

“They fear me because they know what I can do,” Jix said.

“And what can you do?”

“Skinjack.”

“Is that all?”

He offered her a very cool, catlike smile. “What greater power is there?”

“Hey! What about us?” chimed in the same loudmouth Greensoul from before. “Is anyone gonna tell us what’s going on?”

The other Afterlight hit him again, harder this time.

“All questions will be answered,” Mary announced. “Just as soon as mine are.”

Mary looked around to take in her surroundings. They were standing in the middle of a street on the outskirts of a city. By the look of it, they had been marching away from the city. Living-world traffic would occasionally barrel right through them, causing great distress to the Greensouls, who were yet to understand any of this. She turned to address all the Afterlights.

“Thank you all for taking care of me in this difficult time,” she told them. “Now I think it’s best if we all go to a deadspot to sort everything out, for I can see so many of you struggling to keep yourselves from sinking into the living world.”

“Back to the Alamo basement?” suggested someone. Well, at least now Mary knew what city they were in.

“No,” said a girl toward the back of the crowd. “There’s a closer place. I was one of Avalon’s scouts. I know all the deadspots in this city. There’s one just south of here.”

“Wonderful!” said Mary. “Lead the way!” The girl, thrilled to suddenly be important, marched off and everyone followed.

Mary walked with Jix and Jill on either side of her. “Now,” she said to them, “why don’t you tell me what happened while I slept. Start from the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”

“All right,” said Jill. “But you’re not going to like it. . . .”

The deadspot was a miniature golf course that had been bulldozed by the living world, thus crossing it into Everlost. As it came with a fully stocked ball shack, the Neons, who had been sequestered in the Alamo for so long, were more than happy to entertain themselves playing a few rounds of miniature golf. The Bopper made all the Greensouls act as caddies, as if this were some fraternity initiation.

Jix and Jill sat in the shadow of the pint-sized windmill as Mary processed everything they told her. She began to make some decisions, although she didn’t share all of them. Not yet, anyway. The hardest thing to swallow was the news about the train, and how so many of her children were lost.

“Only some of them were pushed down,” Jill told her. “A lot of them just scattered.”

“Well,” said Mary. “We’ll just have to gather them back, won’t we?”

Although Jix did not respond, Mary could tell that he was not pleased by the suggestion.

Milos was apparently still in San Antonio looking for her. She was pleased by this, if only because she might have a chance to reprimand him for the horrible job he had done . . . but then, perhaps she should be more gracious and charitable to him. After all, Milos had courage and loyalty enough to bring her back to Everlost by his own hand. She could still remember the intense pain of his cold steel blade in her chest—indeed there was a tear in her dress in that exact spot over her heart—and she remembered the conflicted look in his eyes when she died. She also remembered the joy in his eyes when he tackled her from the tunnel. He was clearly in love with her, although her own feelings toward him were still not entirely defined. She did love being loved, though. As for whether she could forgive him for losing so many of her children . . . well, she supposed she wouldn’t know the depth of her forgiveness until she looked into his eyes again.

“We think Milos is with the Chocolate Ogre now,” Jill told her, which was, of course, impossible. Mary had seen Nick dissolve into a pool of dark liquid. He was gone. And yet, the very idea that he might have come back from that horrible end sent the memory of her heart fluttering with the faintest of fear. Not fear of Nick, but fear of the love she once had for him. Mary told herself she felt no such love for the boy anymore. And if she told herself enough, perhaps she might believe it.

“If Milos is here with some refugees from the train,” Mary said, “we will seek him out and bring those Afterlights back into the fold.” Again, Jix stared at her, not giving a hint of a reaction, and so she said, “I trust I’ll have your full cooperation.”

Jix didn’t answer her right away. He thought about it, then he said, “I think instead you should come with me to the City of Souls.”

“I have no intention of voyaging to some distant land,” said Mary, “when I have so much to accomplish in this one.”

Jix nodded. “How might I convince you?”

In spite of her desire to just dismiss the idea, Mary gave the question serious thought. In Chicago, she had come to a dictator, only to be thrown into shackles and humiliated. Of course, Mary eventually rose above all that, and took over his petty dictatorship. But this Mayan King sounded a much more formidable foe than Pugsy Capone.

“I think you should go to the City of Souls,” said Jill—which surprised Mary. Jill never had an opinion unless there was something in it for her. Then Mary realized there was: Jix. Jill was in love with him. Mary smiled at her realization and patted Jill’s hand ever so condescendingly.

“You two go. I’m sure you can skinjack your way there in no time. And you can give my regards, and my regrets, to this king of yours.”

“I can’t return without you,” Jix said simply. “And I know that you can’t be forced. Therefore you will have to go of your own free will.”

“I will do no such thing,” Mary said, with some indignance.

Jix had nothing further to say about it.

With their conversation done, Jix gathered the Afterlights from their golf games. “Mary will speak to you now,” he told them. It was all he gave as an introduction. Then, just to make sure there was no question as to who was calling the shots, he said, “Our plans are still the same.”

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.

He spun to see who it was, fearing that Nick had led the scar wraith to them. If it was the scar wraith, they would never get in; the glass doors, which had crossed into Everlost along with the rest of the bank, were double-locked from the inside. But instead of an enemy at his threshold, the visitor was the most welcome sight he had ever seen.

It was Mary standing there behind the glass, framed by the door, the way she had once been framed by the glass coffin. He should have realized she would have awoken when all the other Interlights had. Milos had come to believe she had been spirited somewhere far away by the Neons, but he had held on to the hope that he would be able to find her once she awoke. He never dreamed she would be the one seeking him out.

Milos stood there, still afraid to make a move toward the door, not knowing how angry at him she would be . . . but no one kept Mary waiting. He went to the door, fumbled with the locks, and opened it.

“Hello, Milos,” she said. Her voice was neither warm nor chilly. He had no idea how to read her. Behind her was a large vapor of Afterlights, but Milos wasn’t concerned with them. “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?”

He let her in, locking the door behind her. For a moment he was at a loss for words. All he could think to say was, “Sorry about your dress.”

She brought her hand to the tear in her satin gown, directly above her heart. “It couldn’t be helped,” she said. “But it’s an important memory to keep. It reminds me of the good you’ve done.” She paused for a moment, then said, “I heard about the train. Jill told me everything.”

Milos had played this moment over and over in his mind dozens of times, all the excuses, all the explanations he would give her . . . but when the moment finally came, there was nothing he could say except this: “I’m afraid I’ve made a mess of things.”

“Yes, you have,” Mary said. Then she turned to Moose, who hid his weepy eyes in shame. “Why is he like this?” Mary asked.

“Something happened to Squirrel,” Milos explained. “He was extinguished by a scar wraith.”

Mary snorted in a most unladylike way. “There is no such thing. You should read my books again and refresh your memory.”

“I’m sorry, Mary, but there is. I saw the scar wraith with my own eyes, and I saw Squirrel extinguished. I think that is what made all the Interlights wake up.”

Mary allowed all this to sink in. “So . . . scar wraiths are real . . . and one is loose in this city. Is it seeking out Afterlights to extinguish them?”

Milos shook his head. “It just wants me,” Milos told her. “And now I think it will want you, too.” Then he added, “It is controlled by a boy who used to travel with us named Mikey.”

At that, Mary’s eyes shot to him, looking as wild as Mikey’s had, almost as if there was some sort of resemblance. It was so unnerving Milos had to look away.

“You say his name was ‘Mikey’?”

“Yes.”

“And did he have a last name?”

Milos only shrugged, but Moose, through his sobs, said, “McGill. Mikey McGill. Like the monster. He said he was the monster. He also said he was related to you. He lied about a lot of things.”

“Of course he did,” said Mary, seeming a little less confident than she did a moment ago. “Anyone unstable enough to use a scar wraith to do his dirty work would lie about anything.”

Once again, there came more pounding from behind the vault door.

“And who is in there?” Mary asked.

Milos offered her the slightest of smiles. “I’ve been reaping for you,” he told her. “You wanted more Afterlights . . . so I have been creating accidents, forced crossings.”

Mary put her hand against the vault door, perhaps to feel the vibrations of those pounding on the far side. “How many?”

“A hundred and eighty-three,” Moose told her. “I’ve been keeping count.”

“You did want me to gather new souls, yes?” Milos asked.

She took a long moment to consider it, looking at the closed vault door almost as if she could see through it and into the hearts of every Afterlight within. Then she turned to Milos and at last she smiled. Then she gently took him into her arms, and whispered into his ear.

“You’ve done a wonderful thing,” she said. “I can forgive you for all the rest now, because I know your heart is in the right place.”

Milos felt a wave of relief wash over him. He never realized just how much he needed her forgiveness.

“A hundred and eighty-three . . . ,” said Mary, still pondering the vault door. “Well, it’s a beginning, but I think we’ll need to start thinking on a grander scale.”

“Grander scale?” asked Milos.

She gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek but said no more about it. “Open the door, then close it behind me, Milos. I’ll need some time to quell their fears. Do you have any of my books handy that I might give them?” But Milos sadly shook his head. “Just as well,” she said. “Things have most certainly changed in Everlost. Perhaps it’s time for me to write something new.” Then she went into the vault, determined to make these new children her own.

Jix waited with Jill just outside the bank with the Neons and their Greensouls. They had no idea what was going on inside, and Mary took an uncomfortably long time.

“What if Mary doesn’t come out?” the Bopper asked. “What then?”

Neither Jix nor Jill had an answer for him.

When Mary finally did come out, she was not alone, but came with Milos, Moose, and a huge vapor of Afterlights—more Greensouls, who looked uncertain, but clearly had already put their trust in Miss Mary Hightower.

Jill would not even look at Milos, and he had nothing to say to her either.

“Let us hold no animosity toward Milos,” Mary told Jix and Jill. “He has worked hard to create crossing opportunities, and to save as many souls as he could from the living world. Whatever bitterness is between you, it must now end.”

Jix agreed, and Jill nodded a bit more reluctantly.

“Good,” said Mary. “Now, Milos has given me some grave news. He has informed me that a scar wraith has come to San Antonio.”

The Afterlights close enough to hear gasped, and word of the scar wraith spread, blending with the rumors of the tentacled beast.

“A scar wraith,” said Jix. “Interesting. Such a creature would be a living vortex between worlds. It could explain many things.”

“And,” Mary continued, “it poses mortal danger to every Afterlight.” The next part seemed a bit harder for her to say. “Therefore . . . this might not be the best place for us to be.”

Jix sensed an unspoken request in her voice. There was something she needed from him. Jix knew what it was, and only now was he willing to give it. He bowed his head respectfully, and said, “I am at your service, Miss Hightower. Whatever you want to do now, I will make sure that it is done.” Then he added, “All these Afterlights are yours to command.”

“Thank you,” she said, “but I do not command, I protect.”

Jix bowed his head again. “My mistake.”

Mary looked out at the Afterlights all waiting for guidance, then she turned back to Jix, offering him a smile that seemed to him both warm and cunning. Very catlike.

“I want you to tell me about this king of yours,” she said, “and the City of Souls.”