Penult (3 page)

A warm, dry breeze wafted in from the
garden, raising goose pimples on my neck. A woman in a maid’s
uniform brought us a tray with two cappuccinos and some cookies
that looked like slices of squashed toast. They tasted like
licorice.

I could run, if I had to. The stone
wall hemming in the garden certainly looked climbable. And Belinda
was a petite woman, wiry perhaps, but no match for a freaked out
James Moody. I’m not saying the situation was freaking me out, but
if it did, I had options.

Eyes down, Belinda tapped away on her
smartphone. She seemed in no hurry to get started, but I was
getting antsy.

“
So … uh … who do you work
for?”

“
Work?” She smiled. “This
is not work. I am volunteer. All of us … we are all … volunteer.
Some sugar in your cappuccino? Yes?”

“
Um … would you have any
water or soda or something? I’m kind of thirsty.”

“
Roberta? Portargli un po
‘di Orangina per favore.”

So they brought a tall glass of what
tasted like carbonated orange juice over crushed ice.

“
You like the ice?” she
said. “I should have asked. But most Americans take
the—”

“
Ice is good,” I said. In
fact it was great. The cold drink was just what I
needed.

“
Are you with some kind of
religious organization? The Vatican, maybe? Or … the
Sedevacantists?”

“
Vaticano? No.” She
giggled. “We are … independent. And I can’t say we are exactly …
religious. We don’t need what you call faith. We believe what is
plain and real before our eyes.”

“
Well, isn’t that how
things always look … to the faithful?”

“
We are different. You
cannot call us Christian or Muslim or Jew. It is beyond that. And I
think you know exactly what I mean. You have been there. You have
seen these things. You are simply playing coy.”

“
Doesn’t mean I know much
of anything,” I said. “Half of what I saw, I couldn’t
explain.”

“
It is rare for a living
person to be given a glimpse … of what is to come. Those who see
don’t usually return to share their visions.”

“
How do you know where I’ve
been?”

“
The Frelsi people do not
recruit those who have not seen the other side. They keep their
secrets from plain souls. You must have seen the Liminality … at
least once or twice.”

Her eyes were laughing at me, but she
kept her mouth scrunched.

“
We … volunteer … also have
privilege … to know … of the existences to come. The proper order
of existence. Those who stay in the place you call Frelsi are … how
you say? Abomination. They do not belong there. Just as those …
creatures … those … wastrels … some call Dusters. They too do not
belong in that realm. No one belong on surface of Liminality but
those who are chosen for Penult. The rest of the land must stay
sterile, devoid of life. This is what the makers intended. But it
has become contaminated with plants and bugs and souls who do not
belong there. We, the Friends of Penult, are devote to restore
natural order.”

“
Life … what you know as
life … living things … is reserved for … here … this realm … and
for some higher realm where it can be properly steward and
appreciate. But the Liminality is old. Perhaps it is beginning to
show its age, cracking and crumbling at the seams. We … the Friends
… we just want to restore it to … the way it should be. Its proper
function. Seal the rifts. Put everything back in its
place.”

“
What is this Penult
place?”

She sighed deeply. “A higher realm.
Not the highest, but it stays beyond Liminality, beyond even
Tartaros and Tzoah Rotakhat. Far above Abaddon and Lethe and the
Deeps. Penult exist to keep order in the lower realms.”

“
So Penult is kinda like …
Heaven?”

She blanched.

“
Goodness no! Not …
Heaven.” Her eyes descended to the floor tiles. “Heaven is a place
certainly we all aspire to, but it … it is unattainable … to most.
It is a … a mystery. Access is denied those who dwell in the after
lands.” She looked up, eyes widening. “But Penult is almost a
Heaven. It is certainly a place worth striving for. We like to
think of it as like stepping stone.”

“
Like …
Purgatory?”

“
No. Nothing like that. We
need no purification or atonement. But all of this is nothing you
should worry about yet. You are young. You have life to live. You
should live it.”

“
I intend to.”

“
That is good. That is what
we want to hear. And I want you to assure us that you will stay
away from these so-called Frelsians.”

“
Don’t worry. I want
nothing to do with them.”

“
But you have something of
theirs, yes? A small, black card?”

I felt flushed and defensive for a
second. Was she going to take away my magic credit card?

“
They tried to recruit me
to … kill … for them. They gave me that card and … well, I’ve been
using it.”

“
When was last time they
contact you?”

“
It’s been months,” I said.
“Since before I went to prison.”

“
Good. Keep it that
way.”

“
Honestly. I have no
interest in them. They tried to recruit me. I refused. They gave me
money and stuff. But I can’t do it. I can’t kill
people.”

“
What you say rings true,”
said Belinda. “We find no trail of homicide in your path. No parade
of convenient and tidy expirations. So … keep it up. Stay out of
realms in which you do not belong. Have no contact with Frelsians.
And … we will leave you be. Keep the card, too. Use it. It is
linked to bank account in the Cayman Island. Go ahead. Leech away.
Spend, spend, spend. Deplete their accounts. Although, that would
be difficult for a hundred people with little black cards. Their
wealth is enormous.”

She smiled broadly. Those teeth. So
many and so perfect.

“
Okay then. Is that all?
Can I go now?”

“
First, you should know the
consequence of going against our wish. We Friends of Penult are not
only advisor, we are also enforcer. If you go against our wish, we
can take you down; send you to your destiny before your time. Do
you understand what I am saying?”

Those hazel eyes, so warm a moment
ago, had turned downright chilly.

“
Yes. I got you. Can I go
now?”

She reached out and touched my chest
exactly where Junger’s arrow had punctured it. A searing pain bore
through me and I crumpled to my knees.

“
Yes, you may go. But
remember. You are marked. You cannot hide from us.”

I picked myself up off the floor,
gasping.

“
Would you like Franco to
bring you somewhere?”

“
No thanks. I can get there
on my own.”

I rose from the table. What had been a
plain white cocktail napkin was now a spray of bright green gingko
leaves. I don’t even remember transforming them. Belinda noticed
them and gave me the weirdest look. I turned and bolted out the
door, heading for the garden gate. I did not look back.

Chapter 3:
Excursion

I charged out of that fancy compound
having no idea where I was. All I knew was that it was some
residential neighborhood on the outskirts of Rome. The buildings
here looked pretty upmarket, though there was tons of graffiti. I
kept on walking until I came to an area that was more commercial
with dress shops and delis. At a busy intersection I managed
through some awkward pantomiming to hail a cab.

I hated the idea of blowing my ample
but limited cash on a taxi ride but I was in a hurry. Karla was
waiting for me at her special place, the identity and location of
which, I still wasn’t completely sure about. I wish she had her own
phone instead of borrowing her cousin’s. It would have made things
so much easier.

As the cab careened through the back
streets, I had time to reflect on what had just happened. Were
these the people who had been following Karla? I don’t know why
they would be so interested in us, or why they wanted me to stay
away from Wendell. Maybe they were just purists who didn’t want
anyone to tamper with the natural order of the
Liminality?

It surprised me how little they knew
about me. Belinda saw me as some guy with a little black card who
was being courted by Wendell’s guild of friendly assassins. All she
cared was that I stayed the hell away from them.

She mentioned nothing of my exploits
in the afterlife: busting out of Root, raiding Frelsi, cruising the
Singularity, taking down the Horus. I would have thought by now my
name would have gotten around.

Maybe I was a little too full of
myself. The afterlife was an enormous place, populated by hundreds
of generations of souls, many more talented and powerful than I
could ever hope to become. Why should I expect her to know about
some kid named James Moody?

Penult sounded not much different from
Frelsi. Another bunch of surface dwellers broken out of Root. Angel
wannabes. Folks trying to pretend they were somehow more special
than everybody else, living in yet another facsimile of
Heaven.

I had nothing to worry about from
their so-called ‘Friends.’ I had no intentions of working for
Wendell. I don’t even think Wendell had any interest in me anymore.
He didn’t strike me as the vindictive type, unlike Sergei. Wendell
was all business. He knew when to cut his losses and walk
away.

It irked me that the Friends were able
to track my purchases on that little black card. That meant Wendell
could do the same. But if I refrained from using the card in Rome
until we were ready to leave, that would keep us one step ahead. As
long as we kept moving, we would be fine.

If Karla and I could agree on a place
to settle down, we could withdraw a big cash advance someplace far
from our destination, travel there incognito, and then burn the
damned thing once we got there.

For now, though, I was not quite ready
to give it up. I was hooked on the purchasing power it brought us.
Not having to worry about money was a huge convenience. It made
everything so easy. Hungry? Pick a restaurant. Any restaurant.
Tired? Any comfy hotel will do, no matter how expensive.

I let the driver take me into central
Rome and drop me downtown near the Coliseum. That wasn’t anywhere
near where I planned to meet Karla, but I wanted to make sure I
wasn’t being followed. Even before I left the states, she had
warned me to be careful.

Karla had intended to stay with her
cousin Franca in Rome the whole time I was in prison, one of the
‘black sheep’ from her father’s warped Sedevacantist perspective.
To me she sounded like one of the few normal people in that clan of
weirdoes and religious fanatics.

She didn’t stay put for long. It only
took a few days for her to realizing that someone was tracking her.
She didn’t know who and didn’t care to find out. She bounced
between Italy and the UK because her sister Isobel was still
missing and she suspected that her dad’s sect might have something
to do with it. I don’t know how she managed it because she didn’t
have much money. I had a feeling that most nights she slept on the
streets.

She assured me that she knew how to
take care of herself. Not to worry. She had a handle on the
situation.

But unlike me, she had been making
regular excursions to Root. That alone told me something about the
state of her mind.

Karla’s letters were terse,
unsentimental and devoid of detail. She sounded pretty down on
life, but I could tell that she still cared for me. She would
remind me to eat well and warn me not to pick fights with the other
prisoners.

She kept begging me to come see her in
the Liminality. And I did on occasion during my first few months in
jail, but once I reached the mid-point of my sentence my
visitations ceased.

Once I began counting down the days, I
got too pumped knowing I’d be getting out soon and completely lost
the ability to transition. If she had stopped writing me that might
have cooled my jets enough to drag me back under, but I never told
her that. Those letters fueled my hopes.

I kept telling her not to worry about
seeing me in the Liminality. She should be looking forward to our
imminent reunion in ‘real’ life. Surely, our future together in the
living world would be better. How could it not be?

Once we were together she would see
the light. It was probably hard for her to imagine ever being
together again when we had been apart for so long.

A skinny guy in a muscle shirt was
leaning in a doorway looking at me funny. Never mind that I was
probably funny looking. I remembered Karla’s warning and picked up
my pace.

Losing a tail in Rome seemed easy with
the crowds and narrow, twining alleyways, meeting and diverging at
odd angles. By the time I reached the Spanish Steps I felt pretty
sure I was alone. Then it was simply a matter of making my way
towards the river and across to the Vatican.