Persephone's Orchard (The Chrysomelia Stories) (7 page)

BOOK: Persephone's Orchard (The Chrysomelia Stories)
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Adrian jumped out of the bus, dragged the reins along the floor, and tied them to a large metal ring chained to a stalagmite. The ghost horses, meanwhile, stood calmly, with an occasional toss of their immaterial manes, as if content to have arrived home.

Kiri leaped down too, and stood watching Adrian, head lifted.

Adrian finished tying up the horses, and turned to Sophie. “Come on.” He walked toward the tunnel.

It looked thoroughly dark in there, the pure blackness of a cave. But she had nowhere else to go, and would rather stay near Adrian and Kiri than be left alone. So she followed, picking her unsteady way along the narrow riverbank. The smell of damp stone surrounded her. The sound of Kiri’s toenails on the rocks echoed close behind. After a couple of bends, the daylight from the entrance vanished, leaving only the fluctuating glow of the souls to light their way. At points Sophie and Adrian had to duck, bending almost double to walk beneath the low rock ceiling, causing her a tremor of claustrophobia. Relief spread through her when they turned one last bend and the tunnel opened out into a huge cavern.

In fact, “huge” didn’t begin to describe it. “Vast,” more like. Colossal. She stopped at the river’s edge, taking it in.

The cave’s ceiling rose so high she couldn’t even see it. The largest stalagmites and columns stretched up at least a hundred feet before disappearing into darkness. The few stalactites that hung down from above showed only their tips; shadow engulfed their bases. Kiri trotted ahead to the edge of the black river, which formed a barrier separating them from an expanse of rolling hills. The light suffusing the landscape didn’t come from the sky, but rose from the ground, from the thousands or probably millions of glowing souls milling in the fields.

Grass, flowers, trees, and other plants grew here, underground. Their colors were mostly pale, like a world covered in frost. The souls themselves looked washed out by their own glow, the tints of their clothing and hair fainter than they would be in life. The grass, though alive, was more white than green, like the stem of the violet Adrian had given her. Some trees and bushes grew blue-white leaves, others yellow-white or violet-white, and a few black. The flowers were the only vivid spots: bursts of scarlet and purple and lime-green (and yes, white), forming pools or pinpoints of color at the feet of the souls. Sophie watched as the ghost of a little girl tried to grasp a red tulip, her transparent hand passing through the stem over and over.

“This is it. The afterlife.” Sophie meant to make it a question, but it emerged a soft statement.

“I couldn’t believe it the first time I saw it, either.”

“When was that?”

“Three years ago.”

“Did you die or something?”

“No.” He tipped his head to look up into the darkness. “Someone brought me.”

“Nikolaos?”

“No. Someone else.” He turned and walked along the bank. “This way.”

She followed. “You’re sure I’m not dead?”

“You’re not. And neither am I.” He led her to a post sticking up at the river’s edge. A square wooden raft was tied to it, bobbing against the post in the stream’s current. Kiri leaped onto the raft and sat, watching Adrian. He stepped onto the raft, and took Sophie’s hand to help her down. “I’d kneel unless you have excellent balance.” He dropped to his knees, untying the rope from the post. “Wouldn’t want to fall in the river.”

Sophie folded herself down, feeling the damp, splintered wood against her fingertips. If this was indeed some kind of magical afterlife, she could only imagine the fate that might befall someone who touched its eerie waters.

“What would happen?” she asked.

Having freed the mooring rope, he reached into the river and picked up another length of rope, this one dripping wet. “You’d be soaked and freezing.”

Oh. At least that made sense.

“It’s all kind of mythological, isn’t it,” she observed.

Adrian glanced at her. “Interesting word choice.”

“Well, a cave of souls, with a river and everything.”

He only said, “Hm,” and returned his attention to the ropes.

The river did look cold and swift, but it wasn’t huge. It was narrow enough that she could have lightly tossed a rock across it, but wide enough that she couldn’t have jumped it.

The River Styx, she thought, her mind retrieving the name at last. And the Elysian Fields. That’s what it reminded her of: Greek mythology. As a kid she’d owned a book of the myths, with beautiful bright illustrations. But considering the odd look Adrian had given her at the word “mythological,” she kept the thought to herself.

The wet rope he held, she observed, stretched from one shore to the other, looped around a post on each side like a pulley and attached to the raft in between. She supposed it was so you could fetch the raft if it was on the wrong side of the river. Pulling the dripping rope hand over hand, Adrian maneuvered the raft to the other side. Catching the post there, he tied the mooring rope to it, then stood and stretched a hand to her.

She took it. He led her up the grassy slope to the fields. Once on level ground, she pulled her hand away.

Kiri shot past them, sprinting around the fields and up and down the hills, adroitly dodging the souls even though she likely could have cut straight through them. At the sight of the living dog barreling past, the human souls smiled. Soon Kiri had picked up a string of ghost dogs, streaking along after her, all sizes and breeds. For alongside the human ghosts, some animal souls walked too: mostly dogs and cats, with a few horses or other pets. Nothing more exotic, as far as Sophie noticed.

“Pets come here, but wild animals don’t?” she asked.

“Seems to be the pattern. I’m not certain, but I think animal souls usually go some other place—maybe another realm altogether. But those that were attached to humans follow the human souls here. Handy for us. We can use horses for transport.”

“Wow. I wonder if my old dog is here.”

“Could be.”

Sophie folded her arms, looking around. “And my grandfather.”

Adrian nodded. “Do you want to find him straight away, or…?”

“Yes.” She tried to look brave, though her heart thudded, and her limbs went cold with fear and love.

Adrian only looked reluctant, not defensive. “Are you sure?”

“I won’t be able to believe in this place until I see proof that someone I know to be dead is
here
.”

He sighed, closing his mouth, and turned to survey the crowds of souls. Kiri catapulted over, leading the stream of ghost dogs in a glowing circle around them, and took off again.

Adrian lifted his arms to attract the souls’ attention, and raised his voice to address them. But whatever he said, it wasn’t in a language she understood. He spoke a few words, sandwiching “Louis Alfred Darrow” and “Sophie Darrow” between them. After delivering this announcement, he waited, and the souls murmured and whispered.

As Sophie and Adrian watched, the message moved through the crowd, spreading outward. A minute or two passed. Then a gap opened in the multitudes, far away on one of the hills, and someone walked forward into the space. Adrian nodded in that direction and led Sophie across the field.

The soul moved toward them and met them halfway.

Grandpop.

He stood before her, smiling the wide, loving smile he reserved just for his grandchildren. His white hair grew in its bushy half-circle on his balding head, exactly as she remembered. His dark brown skin retained some of the deep wrinkles he’d earned in his long life, but now contained a certain serene smoothness from the glow emanating from within him. He wore his favorite green checkered shirt and khaki pants pulled up too high, as usual. It was all just as he had looked in the video.

“My goodness, Sophie-Sodapop. You made it.”

His nickname for her. His deep voice.
Him
.

Sophie blinked back tears and tried to answer. “I’m…v-visiting…” God, what a stupid thing to say. She laughed.

“It’s all right, dear,” said Grandpop. “You just take a minute.”

She found a tissue in her pocket, and wiped her eyes. “I…I didn’t know if this was real, if souls were really here, so I had him find you.”

“Who knew, huh? All those wars about heaven and religion and it turns out we all go to a big cave.” He chuckled.

She blew her nose, and grinned. “Hey. Did you know Dad grew a mustache?”

They talked for perhaps half an hour. Of course she tried touching him, but her hand passed straight through him. She ended up sitting in the pale grass with her legs folded, and he sat in front of her, looking more comfortable than she’d ever known him to be in his life. Even before a stroke cut his life short, he’d been riddled with arthritis. But he seemed free of pain now and stretched his legs easily out in front of him. That comforted her.

He was naturally curious about how she and Adrian and other living folk were able to visit here. She didn’t know the answer. All she could say was Adrian brought her, and wanted to show her around—she didn’t know why yet. She looked back at where Adrian paced in the field, out of earshot, throwing a stick for Kiri. One of the souls stood near, talking with him, a young man whose features and dark hair suggested he was from India or the Middle East. They both looked over at her, as if talking about her. She turned away, facing Grandpop once more.

“Maybe I’ll be able to come see you again,” Sophie said, standing as their conversation wrapped up. “I don’t know. I don’t quite understand what I’m doing here. I’m a little freaked out.”

“Oh, don’t be.
I
have a pretty good idea what you’re doing here.” Grandpop stood too, and winked.

“Really? Can you tell me?”

Grandpop smiled in Adrian’s direction. “I think I’d better leave that to him. I wouldn’t want to get the etiquette wrong.”

The soul of the young man said goodbye to Adrian, smiled at Sophie, and wandered off. Adrian walked over to join them. He nodded deferentially to Grandpop, then looked at Sophie. “Ready to move along?”

She nodded.

Grandpop waved her onward. “Love you, Sophie, honey.”

“I love you too.” Her voice cracked, but she smiled for him before following Adrian down the slope. She looked back only once, to see Grandpop still watching her, waving. She waved back.

After steadying her lungs with a deep breath, she asked, “So he’ll be here forever, waiting for the rest of the family?”

“Probably not forever. It’s likely he’ll wait for some of you, but the souls—well, come see.” Adrian led her toward the river and walked alongside it, following it downstream.

In a few minutes they came to a rock wall, bumpy with stalagmites. Into a tunnel in the wall the river flowed, its bank disappearing. The only way to keep following the stream would be to jump in and let it carry you along, which, Sophie supposed, would be extremely dangerous.

But the souls were what commanded her attention. A thick crowd of them milled near the rock wall. Every few seconds, a soul stepped off the bank as if to plunge into the water, but instead of falling, they began to soar. And, like birds, each swooped downstream, flying above the river, their glow reflected in the ripples. A glimmer in the tunnel, then they were around a bend and gone.

The souls in the crowd, Sophie noticed, were saying goodbye to each other—those who were flying away bidding farewell to those who were staying. Most did, at least. Some walked up to the river and dived away without a final word to anyone. On the faces of those left behind was a poignant smile, not grief or terror. The scene struck a quiet awe in her heart.

“Where do they go when they leave?” she asked.

“They’re reborn. We were all here, heaps of times. You, me, everyone. And when we were ready, we left and were born into a new life. Over and over. Never remembering this place till we died again.”

Sophie watched the souls in their migration. “This is what they’ve told you?”

“Every one. Ask someone if you like. Or you can go back and ask your grandfather. He’ll tell you.”

Sophie remembered Grandpop’s strange comment about having a good idea what she was doing here, as if he had indeed gained a lot of otherworldly knowledge lately. She lowered her gaze to a clump of pale-leaved blue wildflowers growing next to a rock, and touched them with her sneaker’s toe. This impossible realm was real down to every atom, it seemed. “That’s okay. I believe you.”

“Well, that’s a first.” He sounded wry. When she glanced up, he cracked a grin. And that was a first too, she realized. She’d never seen him smile before. Though it only lasted a second, she caught a glimpse of dazzling straight teeth, and a youthful sparkle of merriment in his eyes.

Definitely handsome. Not that this should affect her judgment.

She cleared her throat and looked around at the souls. “So everyone gets to leave whenever they’re ready?”

“Well…not everyone.” The smile was gone now. Suddenly he looked sober; even disturbed.

“What do you mean?”

“If people have done enough bad things in their life, hurting others, killing…there’s a place they go. Which I’m not going to show you today.”

BOOK: Persephone's Orchard (The Chrysomelia Stories)
3.66Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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