Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shortest Night
A Night in the Woods fan story

CHAPTER 1

August 20th, 2017.  Turtle Rapids.  Funny how some empty fields just felt empty, but others felt like they were full of action.  This one felt like it was bridging a few places together.  There were people wandering through the field, thirsty yellow-green grass crunching under their feet.  Probably doing the same thing they were—scoping out the place for tomorrow.  Dark trees lay in one direction, and in the distance around all the other sides were buildings poking up, as if to remind everyone they were in a town big enough to matter.

“Drop it,” said Bea, barely looking back as she trudged toward town.  “You’ve got enough issues already without adding impaired vision to the list.”

Mae leapt behind, taking big steps to clear the stiff grass, since she wasn’t wearing boots like the others.  “But what if I take them off just as the sun’s disappearing, but before it’s totally covered?  There won’t be enough light to blind me much, and that way I get to see the whole life-transforming moment from start to finish!”

“It’s still not safe.  We’re talking about direct sunlight.  Everyone else is taking off their glasses as soon as total occlusion occurs.  If you don’t do that too, you’ll be blinking and squinting at the beginning of totality.”

“Actually, she may have a point,” huffed Angus, treading steadily along beside them.  “What makes direct sunlight dangerous is that there’s so much of it.  It’s not like it’s a special kind of light or anything.  Well, okay, it is—there’s the UV rays—but it’s not really different from reflected sunlight.  So in theory… there should be some point before first contact that the amount of light is safe for viewing with the naked eye."

“See!?”  Mae bounded forward and spread her arms.  “That’s exactly what I mean!  For just a little unsafety, you get to experience both sides of the moment, not just one!"

“What if you time it wrong?” put in Gregg from up ahead, sounding amused.  “You could take the glasses off too soon and go half blind.  Or you could take them off too late and wind up just like everyone else.  But it’ll be a battle of timing.  You’ll be all tense, waiting there, ready to whip ‘em off at the perfect moment… and while everyone else is relaxing and awestruck, you’re sitting there stressed and ready to pounce.”

“I suspect Mae wouldn’t enjoy this kind of thing without some kind of drama,” Bea suggested.

“See, this girl knows me,” said Mae, pointing at her.  “But don’t worry, I won’t be dramatic through the whole thing.  I know how to relax, too.”  She practiced putting on her viewing glasses, then taking them off quickly.  Putting on.  Whipping off.

“Hey fools,” called Gregg.  “Before we go back to the hotel, you wanna head downtown and check out Main Street or whatever they’ve got around here?”

“Sounds good,” said Angus.

Mae was left behind practicing, staring at where the sun might have been.  Then, with a jerk, she dashed after her friends, glasses dangling from her hand.  “Hey!  Guys!  Let’s see if they have a really nice restaurant with everything, and then see if we can get them to make us a taco bowl."

"We'd still have to pay for it," Bea pointed out.

"But really," said Gregg.  "Would we?"

"No crimes," said Angus.  "We agreed on that."

"Right, true.  Only joking.  I make it so I was only joking in retrospect."

"Then again," Angus added, "if it's that nice a place, why stop at a taco bowl?  Why not a taco pizza?"

"Oh.  My God," said Mae.

"See, this right there, this is why I love you," added Gregg.

“Taco Buck has pizza tacos, but a taco pizza?” Mae expounded, still hurrying to catch up.  They reached one of the many sidewalks in this town with irregular texture, like they were made from bad concrete.  “That’d be… wait.  Would the toppings be actual little tacos, or would it just be, like, taco flavored?”

“You were actually imagining a pizza covered with tiny tacos?” asked Bea, looking over.

She had a way of making Mae feel instantly stupid.  “Um… no?”

“That’d be so ballin’,” said Gregg.  “Even if that’s not how they make it, we should tell them to do it that way.”  Mae’s heart floated for a moment; she could always count on Gregg’s support, no matter how stupid she was.

“Orrrr, we could check out that bar and grill,” said Bea.  The street had a small town feel, but a thriving one, with lots of unique small businesses.  The tallest buildings were made of coral red brick and rose three stories high, with more colorful establishments dotting them at the base.

“Dude!  We can’t go there,” cried Mae.  “We’re not 21 yet!”

“I don’t see anyone carding at the door,” said Bea.  “Besides, don’t you have that fake ID?”

Mae’d had a little too much fun making that.  “Yeah, but… it didn’t exactly work last time.”

“And we did say no crimes,” said Angus, looking uncomfortable.

“Pff.  Fine,” Bea caved.  “Let’s go to a sandwich shop or something.”

“In just three weeks, I’m gonna be 21,” Mae said.  “We should all get together again for that.”

“So we can watch you get shit-faced and drag you home babbling nonsense?  I’ll pass.”

“Aw, come on, Bea!  It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Bea sighed, presumably thinking it over.  Gregg drifted back and whispered in Mae’s ear: “I would’ve slipped you drinks through the back door.  You could’ve sat in the alley.”

“What, in the dirty alley?”

“Yep!  With the rats and bugs and leaves and stuff.  You could’ve watched the sun go down… looked through the dumpster if you felt like it…”

He made it sound like a treat.  “Probably have more fun than you guys inside.”

“Hecks yeah!”

“I don’t know,” said Bea, who’d been listening in.  “That place had a pool table.”

“Pool is fun,” said Gregg.  Mae knew from experience he didn’t actually play pool—he just liked hurling the balls at the pockets.

“Pool’s fun,” agreed Bea, taking one last drag from her cigarette before they entered the sandwich shop.

Angus was in the seat diagonally across from Mae.  The others had gone up to get their sandwiches.  The place was done in whites and creams, with tall soft blue booths.  For some reason, it made her twitch.  Maybe because it was too nice?

“Doing all right?” Angus asked.

“Mm?  Yeah, I think so.  It’s a little weird being three hundred miles from home, is all.”

He scooted over, closer to being across from her.  “I mean… everything is the way it should be?  You’re not feeling… disconnected?”

Gregg had told Angus about her shapes issue, she knew.  He’d told everybody.  He’d promised to keep it secret for her, but she’d said, You know what?  Don’t.  Tell everybody.  I don’t think I could tell that story again, but they deserve to know.  And so he’d told Angus, and Bea, and Germ, and Mr. Chasokov, and he’d told her mom and dad.  He’d been basically the best friend in the world for her.

“It’s okay, actually.  Maybe it won’t be tomorrow.  But you guys are here, and… and this place is important right now.  It means something, you know?  People are coming in from all around for the same thing, and it’s like there’s meaning everywhere.  Meaning sauce on everything, like a big meaning sundae.”

As if to prove her point, a lanky, dark guy in the next booth leaned over the edge, draping his elbows over the seat back.  “You folks in town for the eclipse?”

“Yep,” said Mae.

“Where you from?”

“Possum Springs.  Deep Hollow County.”

The guy blinked, resettling himself languidly.  Mae wondered if his friends were up getting sandwiches too.

“It’s in Bolts Arbor,” Angus explained.  Right—of course Mae should have specified the state.  It wasn’t like Possum Springs was in any way famous.

Now recognition showed on the guy’s face.  “Must be pretty serious astronomers to come all that way.”

“It wasn’t that far,” said Angus.  “Half day drive.  We started this morning.”

“Still.  You have telescopes?”

“Nope!” said Mae, taking some weird pride in the fact.  “Angus has a pair of binoculars.  And that’s it!”

“You came all this way just to watch with the naked eye?”

“Not naked.  We’ve got eclipse glasses!”  She put hers on, then off again quickly, to demonstrate.

“That’s something.  But still.  Long way to come for just three minutes of darkness.”

“Aren’t you going to watch?”

“Sure.  Still feels like kind of a big deal over nothing.”

“So you live here, then?” asked Angus.

The lanky guy shook his head.  “Nice place, though.”

“Yeah,” said Mae.  “Why does this town get to have the eclipse?  Now everyone’s staying here and buying hotel rooms and sandwiches and stuff.  Why couldn’t Possum Springs be in the eclipse path?”

“Guess it could’ve.  It just wasn’t.”

Not for the first time, Mae wondered whether that thing—Black Goat—could have made it happen that way.  If they’d been in the path, Possum Springs would have had a big influx of visitors and money.  The town council would’ve been really happy.  And all it would have cost was another innocent kid.

“But anyway, I had to come,” she explained.  “A friend of mine is an astronomer and he made it clear it was, um.  Not optional.”

“Of course it’s optional.”

“No, what did he say?  ‘The total eclipse of the sun is one of the things that makes it clear God is still with us, not far away.  It brings tears to the eyes and wonder to the soul.  You have seen lunar eclipses, yes.  But they are only curiosities!  When the moon covers the sun and day is subsumed by night, that is when you know what it is to be alive.  And it is when you realize that you never really knew, before.’  Something like that.”

“Good memory,” commented Angus.

“I’ve had some problems lately,” Mae admitted.  “And I think it’d do me good to know what it is to be alive.  Because I’m not entirely sure I remember.”

The lanky guy shrugged.  “We’re alive right now.  Just look around.”

Bea and Gregg arrived and started passing out juicy, artisan sandwiches.  “I know we’re alive,” insisted Mae, “but that doesn’t mean everyone sees the same thing!”

The stranger was silent, just watching them pass out the sandwiches.

“Getting in fights with the locals?” asked Gregg.

“Not really, just talking.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you if he tries to beat you up.  Did you get the one with extra tomatoes?”

She had.  She had gotten the one with extra tomatoes.  And she’d paid for it herself.  It was good to have a job and be able to pay for things now and then.  And it was good to have the burden gone, to know an ancient cosmic thing wasn’t trying to tell her something, or use her for something.  To know that she was living her life for herself.

But that wasn’t the same as knowing what it was to be alive.

Two rooms.  They’d splurged and gotten two rooms for obvious reasons, or at least reasons that were obvious after they’d split up for the night and could hear sounds coming from Gregg and Angus’s room.  Strange sounds.  Impressive sounds.  Even Bea had her eyebrows raised.

“I guess this trip is like a romantic getaway for them,” she observed.

“Going to see the sun wink out?  Hell yeah it’s romantic,” Mae said.  “Like that song, about standing by someone while the stars are falling out of the sky and the world is ending?  And you put your hand on their shoulder and just… watch.  Like it’s a big deal, but it’s not as big a deal as the fact they’re here with you.  The world may be ending, but that’s the real big deal.”

“Pff.  I don’t think that’s what’s romantic about that scenario.”

Mae sat on the bed, feeling it bounce like a good hotel bed.  “Then what is?”

Bea wandered slowly across the room.  “It’s about the end of things.  The world is ending in the song… it doesn’t get much heavier than that.”

“And you think heavy means romantic?”

“It means you’ve gotten through everything.  All the shit and detritus is finally over… and here you are.  At the end of it all.”

“I can’t believe your description of one of the most romantic songs includes the phrase ‘shit and detritus.’”

She shrugged.  “Not in a great mood.  I’m kinda pissed they won’t let me smoke in here.”

Turtle Rapids did seem to have a lot of No Smoking signs.  “You can smoke in the field tomorrow.  You can smoke it up all through the eclipse.”

“You’re lucky you don’t smoke,” said Bea.  “You don’t know how it feels not to be able to.”

“I guess I am pretty lucky that way,” Mae acknowledged.

Bea finished putting her things away and peered at the wall past which indistinct murmuring and thumping furniture could be heard.  “Wanna watch TV?” she asked.

Probably to drown it out, Mae thought.  But…  “Yeah, sure.”

They sat on the one bed together.  Turtle Rapids didn’t have Garbo and Malloy, apparently.  There was a sports channel with a fishing show.  A crime show that was too complicated to get into.  A news show with lots of pundits around a table that made Bea groan.  Another crime show, but with vampires involved somehow.  A documentary show about the very eclipse that was happening the next day.  They wound up watching that for a while before deciding to turn in.

“Flip you for the bed,” said Mae.

“Ugh.  We’re sharing the bed.  And you don’t have anything to flip, anyway.”

“I’ve got guns!” insisted Mae, flexing her biceps.  “I can flip you.”

“Please don’t,” said Bea, turning off the lights.  “Besides, I paid for the room.  I definitely get to sleep in the bed, and I say you can too.  Just don’t kick or anything.”

“Would stealing allll the blankets be considered ‘anything’?” asked Mae.

“Yes, Mae.  Stealing the blankets would be considered ‘anything.’”  She undressed and got into bed, so Mae went to the other side and followed suit.

They turned out the lights.  “Hey Bea?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember when I said I wanted to help you?  How you put in so much work to take care of the store on top of Chamber of Commerce stuff and your night class and everything, and I just wanted to find some way to help?  And you said, ‘Mae, the best thing for you to do would be to get a job and help your own parents’?”

“Yeah?”

“Well… now that I work at Taco Buck, I can help them out a little.  And they appreciate it.  I think Mom cried a little when I gave her my first paycheck.  And then I made her take me out for donuts ‘cause I didn’t have any money.  And I won’t lie—having a job kind of sucks.  It’s like… you have to go to the same place every day, and do the same stuff, and if you want to go out and have fun somewhere else, you can’t, ‘cause you’re trapped.”

“Yes, Mae.  I know what ‘having a job’ entails.”

“But even so… even with the job I have to do like five days a week… I still want to help you.”  She rolled over to look at her companion, staring at the ceiling.  I mean, I did what you said… and I still want to help.  You’re still the strongest person I know, but you have so much weighing on you and I… I just want to lift a little bit of it, somehow.  Is that wrong?”

Bea was still.  “No.  That’s not wrong.”

“And I mean I know what you’re thinking,” Mae went on.  “You’re thinking there’s no way I can help.  That there’s nothing you can trust me with I wouldn’t screw up, and I’d only make things harder.  And maybe you’re right.  But… but I still want to help somehow.  And I just wanted to tell you that, even if it’s useless.  Even if it doesn’t do any good.”

Bea lay considering.  “Well, next time we get a shipment of rock salt or manure, you can help carry it,” she suggested.

“Do I look like a bodybuilder?  I can’t lift those huge bags.  Plus, manure is icky, almost by design.”

Bea shrugged.  “Thanks for the offer.”

Mae instantly felt terrible.  “But I mean, I’ll do it.  Just tell me when it comes in and if I have time when I’m not working, I’ll come and help.”

“’Cause of your guns you’re packing.”

“Yeah, those!” She flexed one under the covers.  It wasn’t that impressive.  “In the very worst-case scenario, we can lift the bags together.”

Bea lay quiet for a while.  “That actually means a lot to me.”

A sweet spot bloomed in Mae’s heart.  Jackpot.  “I want you to be okay,” she said.

Bea didn’t say anything.

It felt like they were about to fall asleep.  Mae was used to the low lights and the muffled sounds, and she was ready to sleep… but then Bea said something else.

“You still having those dreams?”

Mae closed her eyes.  She remembered them all too well.  “No,” she replied.  “I haven’t had any since the night in the mine.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Part of her actually missed the dreams.  She didn’t miss the sense of anxiety, of growing dread, of floating out to sea.  But she missed the music, the guidance, the exploration.  She wished she had some sense that someone out there had something in mind for her.  “I think whatever it was trying to do with me, it’s done now.”

Silence.  “Do you think it was trying to get you to kill those guys?  By trapping them in the mine?”

Mae cried, shutting her eyes tight.  “Maybe.  But they were worshiping it and feeding it.  Why would it want to kill them?”

“Dunno.  It’s evil.  That’s what you said, right?”

Mae didn’t know if it was evil.  It might be.  Certainly the men worshiping it had been.  She remembered the great cat telling her that she wasn’t chosen—that there was no one to choose her.  Had she been chosen by Black Goat for something?  Or had her… her dreamstrings, just gotten tangled up in his for no reason?  Maybe that just happened from time to time.  Still, she preferred to think she’d actually served a purpose of some kind.

“I think it might actually be… beyond evil.  Like, so evil that it isn’t completely evil anymore.  Does that make any sense?”

Silence.  “Not really.”

Of course it didn’t.  “But no, like… if you’re good, you follow the rules, right?  You do what you should.  And if you’re bad, you break the rules.  And if you’re really evil, you break the big rules, right?  Like against murder and shit?  Well… what if you’re past that, even?  What rules are there left to break?  Only the kind that are so big that… we ordinary mortal people don’t even know about them.  Bigger than murder.  And what if… what if those rules are actually good to break?”

Bea sighed.  “I don’t know, Mae.  What if they are?”

“Then maybe that’s what Black Goat is.  So far past evil it breaks rules we could never imagine.”

“Maybe,” said Bea.  “So what’s your point?”

Mae considered.  Her explanation had come out making more sense than she’d thought it would, and yet…  “I don’t know.  I guess… I guess I just want some closure.  To know if it’s really done with me.  To know if I did any good, or not.”

“It’s probably done with you, if it ever cared about you.  More likely it was just… doing whatever it does, and you just happened to be in its way for a while.  Like a deer that finds itself in some car’s headlights.  Assuming this thing is even real, we’re probably just like deer to it.”

Or like the moon just does its thing, and sometimes finds itself in the sun’s way.  “Well, either way,” she said sleepily.  “I still want to know.”

“We all want to know,” said Bea.  But wait—did she mean, we all want to know whether your cosmic purpose is over?  Or, we all want to know whether we’ve done any good?  Or if we have a purpose?  And you’re not special that way, Mae, even if you did have a run-in with a cosmic semi-truck?

Mae wanted to ask for clarification, but by that time she was already asleep.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 2

August 21st. The big day.

Mae was actually up before Bea, unbelievably. She was halfway through getting dressed—and yes, she’d actually brought a change of clothes on this trip—when she realized that she didn’t remember her dreams. Maybe she hadn’t even had any dreams! That wasn’t unusual these days, but she’d almost been expecting some terrible dream to spoil things, having just told Bea she didn’t have them anymore. Karma could’ve struck, but it hadn’t! Mae wanted to kiss karma; it was working with her now!

She knocked on the guys’ door and entered when Angus sleepily let her in. She stepped carefully past Gregg, who was snoozing on the floor for some reason, wrapped up in one of Angus’s sweaters and a tangled sheet. They quietly ate yogurt cups for breakfast, smiling at Gregg and at the morning beaming at them through the window. But not for long, thought Mae. Enjoy it while you’ve got it, sun.

“So I was going to ask if you wanted to check out the hotel buffet,” said Bea’s voice from the door, “but I guess you’ve already eaten.”

Angus shrugged. “Just yogurt.”

“I’m not hungry!” said Mae. “I could eat food if that’s what everyone’s doing, but I’d rather go and check out the river! See if it’s really got rapids and turtles or if that’s just a name.”

Gregg stirred at the noise, moaning in some mixture of annoyance and contentment.

“Hey Gregg, we’re all up,” said Bea. “Might want to put something on.”

He looked at her, then looked around and took in the situation. Wordlessly, he wrapped the sweater’s sleeves around himself and crawled into the bathroom.

“The river sounds fine,” said Angus, putting on his hat.

They walked for longer than it seemed like they should have to, according to their one-page maps from the hotel, until suddenly the river was right there at the bottom of the hill. The grass gave out fast, leaving just a slope of wet dirt and a few rocks between them and a pretty modest river. Really more of a creek. The buildings were mostly behind them; it looked like there might have been houses a long way past the other bank, but it was mainly scrambled woodland. A girl in bulging cargo shorts was fishing in the middle of the river, looking like she couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else.

“That looks pretty alright,” assessed Gregg.

“Man. It’s been way too long since I went fishing,” realized Mae.

“I go sometimes, now that we’re close to the harbor,” Angus said. “It’s nice.”

“I wish I could go again. My dad used to take me. He got kinda scary out there sometimes, but it was a good sort of scary.”

“Was he drinking then?” asked Gregg.

Mae threw out her arms. “I don’t think you can go fishing without drinking! That was when I had my first beer. Well I mean, gulp of beer. Several gulps of beer. I didn’t finish the can.”

“I fish without drinking,” Angus said.

“I tried keeping him company a couple times,” added Gregg, sitting on the bank where the grass met the dirt. “But I wasn’t up to it. Fishing is a patient man’s sport. I’m more about keeping busy.”

Angus went over and sat down next to him. “Fishing can be about keeping busy. The trick is to keep your mind busy more than your body.”

“I’ve never gone,” said Bea.

They all looked at her. “Seriously?” Mae was actually kind of stunned. “You’ve never gone fishing?”

Bea puffed her cigarette with a hint of impatience. “Nope. We never lived near water.”

“That’s indecent, Bea. You have to go!”

“You don’t actually have to fish,” offered Gregg. “You can just go someplace like this and skip stones or have stick races.”

“Are you kidding?” Mae countered. “Yeah she has to fish! That’s the whole point of fishing!”

Gregg looked to Angus for arbitration. “Angus, what’s the whole point of fishing?”

He twitched. “Depends what your mindset is.”

“But it involves catching fish, right?” said Mae.

“Theoretically.”

“Well there you go. You have to go theoretically catch fish with these guys.”

Bea exhaled. “Not sure where I’d find the time.”

“You found time for this, didn’t you?” said Gregg.

“It’s the first total solar eclipse anywhere near us in my lifetime,” she replied. “I made time.”

Mae was watching the river run. “Anyone see any turtles?”

They watched in silence a while. “Nope,” said Angus.

“To be honest,” said Bea, “Turtle Rapids is kind of an oxymoron.”

“It’s not going all that fast,” put in Gregg. “Maybe we should go upriver and see if it gets more rapid.”

“Let’s do that,” said Mae as she started to walk. She yelled down to the girl in the river: “Hey! Total eclipse of the sun later! You gonna watch it?”

The girl turned to her and yelled back: “I’m gonna watch it from here!”

“Wow.” Mae turned to her companions. “See, she’s a smart cookie. Maybe we should watch from the river!”

“We already checked out the field,” Bea pointed out.

“The field’s probably gonna be more exciting,” agreed Gregg. He pointed to the fishing girl. “Ask her if she’s drinking.”

Mae yelled to her: “Are you drinking?”

The girl patted her hip pocket. “I’ve got a canteen! But no booze!”

Now Mae was distraught, a fragment of her worldview shattered. “I guess I was wrong? You don’t need to drink to fish?”

“There you go,” said Gregg. “The field’s the place to be! Come on, I want to see if it gets faster.”

They hurried upstream, encumbered by the pace Angus could manage. The river stayed narrow but did get faster further from the city center, and Mae and Gregg waded across just to see if they could. Mae slipped and got her clothes wet, but Gregg helped her out. They lay in the sun a while, just breathing and drying off, while Angus and Bea watched them from the other side. The two pairs yelled across the river to each other as they walked onward. Eventually they found a bridge and reunited, but they never saw any turtles.

The foursome had lunch on a stone wall next to a sloping stone plaza surrounding the town hall. Gyros and falafels purchased from a street vendor. “This is definitely a lot nicer town than ours,” Bea observed.

“Aw, come on,” protested Mae. “You can’t turn traitor to Possum Springs. You’ve got to be loyal!”

“Does Possum Springs have street vendors?”

“Maybe that’s what it needs! Maybe I could be a street vendor.” Mae took a big bite of her gyro and watched Bea looking at her, seriously considering the idea despite her better judgment.

There was a bit of a hubbub from the people around them, of whom there were plenty. Mae looked—a lot of them were looking up.

“First contact,” said Angus.

Mae put on her viewing glasses. “Oh yeah. Sun’s got a little bit of a bite out of it.”

“That’s how it starts,” said Bea as if she were admonishing the sun. “Come on, let’s get to the field.”

By the time they arrived, it was half past noon. The field was almost full of people, their blankets and telescopes and picnic baskets sprawled from one end to the other, as if someone had organized this as the place for eclipse viewers to meet. And maybe they had. Mae just knew the people at the hotel had recommended this as a good place to watch it from, and that had been plenty good enough for them.

“Wow,” said Bea.

“It’s kind of crowded,” said Angus.

“We’ll have to stake out some turf,” said Gregg. “Shiv some backs and patrol some borders.”

“No crimes,” Angus reminded him lightly. As if Gregg would have really shivved someone.

“No crimes,” agreed Gregg. “But we’ve gotta stake out a place somehow.”

Mae didn’t see why. She was happy to wander from group to group, saying hi and asking where people were from. It was weird. Sometimes, like at parties, she could freeze up and have no idea what to say or even forget why people talked to each other in the first place. But at other times, she was the freest of all social butterflies. This was one of those times. Maybe it was because this wasn’t an occasion that someone had decided was about people getting together and socializing. This was just people getting together to all do the same thing. Somehow, though she didn’t understand it, that seemed to make all the difference.

Most folks were just sitting or standing in groups and talking or setting up equipment or sunbathing. But some were doing entertainment stuff. There was a group of preteens playing frisbee, despite how crowded the field was. There was a guy with stilts walking around the edge of the field, looking for attention. There were a few of the usual guitar and drum douchebags, but she had to admit they added something to the atmosphere. Some people had cardboard boxes on their heads—Mae assumed they were some kind of poor man’s substitute for viewing glasses. A big laughing group had a huge chain of picnic blankets out end to end and were sitting around it like a huge outdoor dinner table, with tons of food she wished she could have some of. There was a tarot reader doing her thing. All the while, the day was getting darker, but it almost felt like it was getting brighter.

She’d already lost track of her friends. Why was it so crowded? Were this many people really into astronomy? Well, that would explain the nasty traffic on the way down, and why the hotel had been so busy. She’d made fun of Bea and Angus for getting the rooms six months in advance, but now it made sense. Except it didn’t. Who were all these people? Did they all have their own Mr. Chazokovs making them come?

She was drawn to the weird stuff, sure, but she was also drawn to the telescopes and the photographers, with their massive black or light gray machines with a million dials and tabs and things that they kept fiddling with like eccentric inventor uncles. Then she saw him—the dark, lanky guy from the sandwich shop. Wearing a denim jacket. Almost kneeling with his giant camera on a tripod, fiddling like anyone else, but somehow cooler, smoother, more controlled. The lens was so big at first she’d thought it was a telescope. She stared for a few moments before remembering who she was and what she was doing, then hesitated for a few moments after that before going up to say hi.

He was applying a piece of tape to the outside of the lens when she greeted him. He pulled his head back and looked at her. There was… maybe the opposite of a spark between them. There was a sinkhole. It was like they both totally lost all sense of saying anything, thinking anything. His fingertips were still on the camera, so supple and sure it seemed like they’d been built into it. He had a really striking face, now that she started to look at it.

“From the sandwich place,” he finally said.

“…Yep. That’s me. Mae Borowski. Um… I thought you made fun of us for coming all this way. But here you are, totally into this thing.”

“I came almost as far as you did. Doesn’t mean I don’t feel silly about it.”

Silly would have been the last adjective she’d use to describe him. He looked savvy. No, that wasn’t it. Confident? Not quite. Assured. That was it. He held that camera like there was no doubt in his mind about it. He was perfectly assured. Maybe even cocksure.

“You… you said it felt like a big deal over nothing.”

He shrugged silently—of course it was silent, shrugs never made any noise, but somehow his shrug was especially silent. “Still feels that way.”

She watched him return to the lens and tape it in place, so it wouldn’t collapse when it was all the way out. She watched him adjust the settings.

“Don’t forget the sun filter!” Mae advised him. That much, at least, she’d learned the hard way.

He tapped the end of the lens. “Already in place.”

“Well good. ‘Cause I wouldn’t want you to burn your eyes out or anything.”

“Wouldn’t want to either.” He focused on the eyepiece as if she wasn’t talking to him, which she found somehow captivating. Wasn’t that supposed to be rude? His eyes, when she saw them, were bright and deep and brown, with well defined pupils, and she wanted to know what they were thinking. Or, wait. Eyes didn’t think. But even so.

He settled the camera carefully in its tripod and looked at her again. She didn’t mind. She didn’t think what she was feeling was titillation, but wasn’t sure.

“You didn’t look at me like this yesterday,” he said.

“But you kind of did,” she remembered.

“Yeah.”

The question burbled up, then didn’t quite get asked until she made a special effort to ask it. “How come?”

“I dunno.”

He folded his legs and sat comfortably on the grass. Mae sat down beside him.

“You know anyone here?”

He looked over the crowd. “In this town? Nah. Nice place, though.”

This bothered Mae. “So why’d you come here, then?”

He took a slow breath and let it out. “Basically just chose a random town on the map.”

“That is literally what I did,” said Mae. “I mean, we checked to make sure it wasn’t gonna be one of the super crowded places, and that there weren’t gonna be clouds. But otherwise my friends just let me move my finger around in the path of totality and pick wherever I wanted.”

He sat more slackly than before and just looked at her.

She looked back at him.

Adina was on her way to the City of Spires to meet with her fellow astronomers. Every year, the city’s potentate invited all the great nations’ astronomers for a gathering to share their knowledge, and Adina was looking forward to it a great deal. She had promised not to betray the secret of the lost constellation, and she meant to keep her word, but there were a great many adventures she’d had that were worth sharing… and she hoped to learn more about why some of the stars in the dawn sky were starting to move in ways they had never moved before.

She met a woodsman in the forest who was taking a break from felling trees. He shared his meal with her and she showed him her sextant and her astrolabe, for he was a curious man, even if he knew nothing but a rugged life in the woods. And she went on her way. But darkness fell, and the path forked and dwindled, and Adina was unsure which way to go. She trudged well into the night, afraid to sleep in the woods, but used the stars and moon to navigate. She knew the direction she needed to go, but could not find the path through.

Eventually, with the owls hooting and the frogs croaking around her, she suddenly remembered something about the woodsman. Something about his eyes.

Mae’s ear twitched. “I hope you don’t think I’m hitting on you,” she said.

He looked down and back, a little surprised. “I was thinking the same thing. Hoping that wasn’t what you thought.”

Mae’s lips felt tight. “So you’re not hitting on me?”

“I don’t think either of us has done anything like that,” he observed.

“No. We’re just staring at each other like we’re flirting,” countered Mae.

“Are we flirting?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, maybe. I think there’s a point at which just talking about flirting becomes flirting automatically.”

“I don’t feel like I’m flirting.”

Mae reflected. “Me neither.”

“You got a boyfriend?”

“I’ve… there’s a girl I know in Red River, I like to think of her as my girlfriend… but we’ve only met a couple times.”

“You’re into girls?”

“I’m…” Mae swallowed. “I’m into everyone. You have a girlfriend?”

He shook his head.

Above her, the sun was a crescent, half its light gone, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Adina turned back to the west and retraced her steps. The way back was easier to find than the way forward, since the canopy was thinner and the moon shone through the trees. She found the woodsman’s cabin and knocked on the door. She could hear him getting out of bed; it took a minute for him to answer.

“It’s you again.”

“It’s me again. Sorry to bother you, but…”

“It’s no bother,” he said, which was strange in itself, given that she’d woken him up.

“When we talked earlier, I saw something in your eyes. You’ve seen the lost constellation, haven’t you?”

He swallowed and moved aside. “I knew there was something about you. You’d better come in.”

“You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” asked the lanky stranger.

Mae was taken aback. “What?”

“Sorry if it’s a really weird question… but… you’ve talked to… him. Haven’t you? And he’s talked to you?”

Oh god. Why did this have to be happening? “…Him?”

The man nodded. “You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?”

Mae gulped and clawed at her shirt. “I think so.”

“That must be why I found you in the sandwich shop. And why you found me here.”

“And why we can’t stop staring at each other?” asked Mae.

“Yeah.”

“You… you had a run-in with… with Black Goat?” It felt weird to use the thing’s name. It felt even weirder to call it a ‘run-in’, but what else could she call it?

He nodded deeply.

Mae wanted to shiver. She felt like she should be shivering. “I thought it was done. I thought it was all done.”

“I thought so too,” he said softly.

She looked at his camera, with its huge protruding lens. “You came here because of it, didn’t you? It made you pick this town on the map. It made me pick it.”

“I guess that’s possible.”

“It has to be. That thing wanted us to come together.”

He looked to his side, then behind himself, then past Mae. “You suppose any of these other folks…?”

She looked, too. “I don’t think so. I think we would have met them by now.”

“Makes sense.”

“Um.” She swallowed again, trying to get past her fear. “What’s your name?”

He settled his supple hands together gracefully. “Broderick.”

“Broder—Broderick? Glad to meet you, I guess. No, that’s a lie. I’m scared.”

“You said your name is Mae?” He extended a hand. “I am glad to meet you.”

“Yeah, Mae.” She shook hands nervously. “I came with my friends. You came alone?”

He nodded.

“So, um… I guess I should be asking what you did with… like, what your story is. But I’m not sure I want to.”

“I could ask you first,” he suggested.

She gathered her thoughts. “Um. Right. Well… I started having these weird dreams, after I dropped out of college? And… I thought I saw a ghost kidnap a kid, but it was really…” How much was she willing to say? “…not a ghost, but I thought it was… and I started thinking I had to find this ghost, somehow… and everyone started telling me I looked awful, and I had to sleep more… but I was sleeping plenty, it’s just…”

“He was singing to you,” said Broderick.

“I don’t know, I guess so! That’s what they said, but it never felt like singing to me! It was like… just, a faint light I had to follow somewhere, and I didn’t know if I was going to get zapped like a bug when I did, but I had to follow anyway.”

“He sang to me. It wasn’t anything like any music I’ve ever heard… but it was music. I went where it led me, and I wasn’t afraid.”

“I don’t know if it’s even a ‘he.’ It’s a cosmic horror. Isn’t it?”

He took a breath. “I suppose so, yes.”

“But… you weren’t afraid of it?”

He sat a little straighter. “It showed me where my father died.”

This redoubled Mae’s attention. “What?”

“In the woods. He went out hunting one day, never came back. I was eleven.”

“And… what? Black Goat showed you what happened to him?”

He paused, but nodded.

Mae spread her arms. “Well? Don’t leave me in suspense!”

“He met three other men who were out hunting too. They took the opportunity to shoot him. They were ready to pretend it had been a hunting accident, but he fell in a ditch covered by brambles and no one ever found the body.”

Wow. “Why did they…”

Broderick spread his hands, his long fingertips prominent in the gesture. “Politics.”

“They… they shot your father because of politics?”

“They hated him. He called them ‘low men’ and hypocrites. One of the men pointed at my father and said, ‘Now wouldn’t it be nice if he were never to come back?’” That was how they hatched their plan. They built up their courage for a while, pretending they were joking about it, and then they did it.”

Mae hated that so hard. “Black Goat showed you all that?”

Nod. “It was swimmy and dark, but I saw and heard what mattered.”

“And… you found… your father’s bones?”

Nod. “His remains. Bones, some metal buttons from his coat, a piece of his boot, a belt buckle.”

“God. Were you relieved, or…”

“Now sure just how I felt. Knowing what happened to him… was good, I guess. But the way I learned… well, it overshadowed the learning. As you can maybe understand.”

“And those guys! Did you do anything about it? Tell the police or anything?”

“My mother told them about what we found. But I didn’t mention what I’d seen. It was for me alone, if you know what I mean.”

She did. “So they just got away with it?”

Nod. “One of them moved away, a long time back. The others are still around. I don’t live in that town anymore.”

“Don’t blame you,” said Mae. “Not in the slightest. Sometimes I want to just up and leave.”

“Was it bad?” he asked. He meant her experience with Black Goat.

“It was pretty bad,” she told him. “It worked out okay… but it was pretty touch and go for a while. I was… I thought I was near the end.”

“You want to tell me about it?”

She shook her head.

“So here we are,” Broderick said.

“Here we are,” Mae agreed.

The woodsman had seen the constellation with a traveling harpist he had once loved. She had been graceful and fine and wore her silks and linens in the most beautiful way, and he had traveled with her for a time, to keep her safe. They had walked from one city to another to another, and in between they had lain in grassy valleys and sat atop bluffs and watched the sun set, and sometimes rise again. During one of the nights between, she had shown him the ‘secret constellation’ she had found while strumming her harp one night on the rocky flats and weaving songs out of the sky. It had appeared so suddenly and brightly and clearly to her that she laughed, and created a song out of nothing on the instant, though she barely remembered it the next day.

She’d sung the song to the woodsman, though she’d admitted it wasn’t as perfect as it had been, and she’d held his hand to point out the lines of the constellation, which, as Adina well knew, once you saw you could never forget. He found three lines she hadn’t seen, just as Adina had found parts the old hermit hadn’t seen, and these three lines added grandeur to the whole. Adina and the woodsman went outside and found the constellation. They each knew parts that the other didn’t, and shared them with each other, and now all those parts were known to both.

They went inside and spoke in hushed tones of what it all meant, drinking hot cider and sitting on a little wooden settee the woodsman had made. Adina and the woodsman never thought of love—not with each other, at least. Not the love between a man and a woman. Though they sat and drank and whispered together, their hearts were elsewhere. But they were both full of love.

The next morning, Adina set forth on the path to the east again, and this time it was perfectly clear, and she reached the road to the City of Spires without reaching any forks in the path whatsoever.

“Mae! There you are!” cried Gregg. “You had us worried. Who’s your friend?”

In a daze, Mae twisted around to see her friends coming up. “Um… hi!”

“Hey. You know, you could have warned us before dashing off wildly,” said Bea. “Or, you know, not done that.”

“Sorry. It’s just… it’s just so great here.” Mae’s voice didn’t exactly bespeak her earlier enthusiasm, but… “This is Broderick. You remember him—from the sandwich place?”

“Pleasure,” said Broderick, nodding to the others, who nodded back. Just as well they weren’t shaking hands.

“Hey duder, I thought you guys were arguing yesterday. I thought you were public enemies,” said Gregg.

“I know!” Mae exclaimed. “He pretended the eclipse was boring to him, but now look at him!” She gestured to his camera and toolbox of equipment.

“Figured if I was coming all this way, I might as well do it right,” said Broderick.

“Which begs the question: why did you come all this way?” said Bea.

He spread his hands as if he couldn’t say. It didn’t seem to satisfy her.

“Is that a telephoto lens?” asked Angus. “What kind of focal length does it have?”

“Up to 400 millimeters, “ Broderick replied. “It’s a Craneview X380.”

“Impressive,” said Angus. “What’s the f/stop?”

Well, there was no stopping these two now. They started to babble about cameras and things, even though Mae had a sense that maybe she had more to discuss with Broderick. They’d been brought together, hadn’t they? But she wasn’t sure she could tell the others that.

“We found a good spot to lay claim to,” said Gregg, “but it’s probably gone now. Do you wanna just run around and meet up when it’s go time?”

Mae looked at the watch she’d borrowed from her mom for the trip. The eclipse was in forty-five minutes. “I dunno. I guess I’ve done enough running around.”

“Well, we should probably find someplace else to sit down, then,” said Bea. “Maybe here, if your friend doesn’t mind sharing his spot?”

Broderick didn’t mind. He moved his stuff closer together and they all sat down. He didn’t seem to want to talk much, though, aside from fielding questions about his gear. So they all sat and watched the crowd and the shrinking sliver of sun, and while it was nice to have a home base, Mae got drawn away again.

“Where you off to now?” asked Gregg, swiveling around.

“They’re telling Adina stories over there! I can hear them!”

“Cool beans. We’ll be waiting! You go and get your heroine fix.”

Mae had tried to get Gregg into Adina stories at one point, but he hadn’t shown any interest. They were like fairy tales, and for all he acted like a kid sometimes, he was still eager to grow up. So no fairy tales for him. Still, she had to admit that ‘heroine fix’ line was funny.

It was a big yellow bedspread with like thirteen people sitting on it or on smaller adjoining blankets. Looked like a couple families, maybe. Plenty of kids, but adults too. One uncle-looking guy with a beard was starting in on the story of what happened after Adina reached the City of Spires. Mae had heard this before, but never quite the way this guy told it, with dialogue he seemed to be half remembering, half making up on the spot. He told how the mystic Kyora pulled Adina aside at the meeting of astronomers to talk to her about the mysterious “star slippage” everyone had been debating, and that no one could explain.

“Well. If this fruitless debate is any indication, I think we can agree that there is no celestial logic to which stars are moving out of turn,” Kyora said. Her soft hands lay on Adina’s shoulders, the sleeves of her robe dangling. “It must be something to do with us. What are we doing to the stars?”

Adina was baffled. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Studying them! Naming them.”

Kyora’s eyes narrowed. “Are our studies out of the ordinary? Is our naming?”

“Not that I know of,” Adina replied.

The mystic dropped her arms and looked into Adina’s face. “I have heard tell of people pretending to name the stars. For profit. For vanity. Selling the right to the hoi polloi .”

Adina stared. “Vanity star registries?”

“You know of them?”

“They’re—yes. I know of them. They’re harmless. Well, not harmless—they defraud people of their money, because the registries don’t mean anything. But no scientist is bound by their lists.”

Kyora’s dark lips pursed. “I worry that they may be doing damage unawares. A star’s name matters, Adina. You know this. And scientists do not hold a monopoly on truth.”

Adina struggled to process this. “You think that… these groups may be inadvertently changing stars’ names… and that’s why they’re acting like they shouldn’t?”

The mystic nodded grimly. “It is my best conjecture. I have many other spheres to watch over, though, Adina. I don’t have time to verify this as it should be verified. Will you see if the stars in question are the ones these charlatans have had the audacity to rename?”

She nodded in turn. This was sobering, but if it was the answer to the mystery, it would be a huge relief for everyone. Adina wished there were more people she could tell.

Grandpa had told her this one, but without the mystic or the convention of astronomers. He’d jumped right into when she was making her way through Redmud Palace in disguise…

Adina Astra strode up the hall of Redmud Palace, built on the Jeranovan cliff of the same name. She was dressed as a local businesswoman, wearing a matching magenta sarong and headscarf and small crystalline spectacles in place of her customary large lenses. The satchel at her side was filled with kaleidoscopes. She was prepared to offer a pitch for why these kaleidoscopes should be sold by the consortium, and had gained entry to the building’s lowest floor with this pretext. Level by level, she had found stairs and passages and even once had climbed out a window and in again, and now she was nearly at the highest floor. If told an independent businesswoman did not belong there, she would pretend to have gotten lost. But when footsteps came near, she thought it more prudent to hide instead.

Two men, speaking in a hush. They wore short, thick skirts that looked ceremonial, with gray woolen vests to match; the older wore a flat gray hat. The younger clutched a list on a scroll. Adina couldn’t make out their words, but they both spoke with concern as they hurried up the tilted hallway.

She decided to follow.

They entered a room with a stone door, and Adina neither dared to open it nor was able to listen through it. So she explored until she found a maid’s closet with a hole leading to the space between the walls. Crawling into this space, she felt and listened her way about until she found the room where the men, along with many others, were having a conversation. And from this conversation, Adina discovered that this organization was not changing the names of stars inadvertently. They were quite deliberately inviting people to strip the stars of their true names, under cover of a service providing romantic gifts. The secret group took advantage of the stars’ weakness to gain control over them, and the unsuspecting lovers who named stars after their sweethearts bore the karmic consequences of the crime.

Adina boiled within her own skin with outrage. This could not stand. She would have to find a way to bring this unscrupulous cabal down…

“Five minutes!” shouted someone. The call was repeated. There was a flurry of activity.

“Well, we’ll have to finish later,” the storyteller said.

“Aw, no, come on!” pled one of the kids.

“Can’t! The eclipse waits for no man.”

“We still have five minutes!”

“Five minutes to get yourself mentally prepared,” he admonished.

“I want to hear the end of the story before it happens!” shouted another girl.

Mae jumped in. “There’s still a lot of story left, so you don’t really have time, but basically she finds out what ritual they use to control the stars and puts herself into it in disguise and then at the height of the ritual, she jumps out and sabotages it so it won’t work ever again, but…” The bearded man was glaring at her. “But if you want to know how she does it, you’ll have to wait for him to tell you! Enjoy the eclipse, bye!”

The kids smiled and laughed as she dashed back to headquarters.

She’d put her viewing glasses on during the story, and now she had to admit she was impressed by what was in the sky. It wasn’t like a crescent moon—the sun was fighting back. There were flares of sunfire all over the left side, as if it was too dignified, too special to be snuffed out by something so lowly as a hunk of rock, even for a couple minutes. Voices rose in reverence and excitement and fear everywhere across the fear. The stilt-walking guy was sitting on a wall beside his stilts. Angus was looking through Broderick’s camera and Gregg was peering through Angus’s binoculars. Mae felt tipsy as she sat down next to them. She hadn’t had any alcohol to drink today, had she? She didn’t think so, but it felt strange that she didn’t remember.

“Two minutes,” said Broderick.

Bea patted the grass next to her, and Mae scooted in. “For a moment, I thought you weren’t going to make it back.”

Mae just breathed with excitement and put her hand on Bea’s shoulder. Bea reached up and patted her back, then let her hand drop.

“I know this is silly, but what if this is the end?” said Mae. “What if the world ends as the sun goes out, and nobody knows it yet, but here we all are together?”

Bea looked at her. “Are you looking for an actual answer?”

“I don’t know. Maybe!”

The store manager snorted. “Then we all die, I guess. And we all go up to God and demand a refund.”

This was incredibly funny coming from Bea. Mae started to laugh. She couldn’t stop laughing once she started. “Yeah, I bet we will! And it’ll turn out God is some giant cat who doesn’t give a damn, and asks us to leave it alone, but we won’t… and that’s how things end.”

“You are… so weird sometimes, Mae.”

“Yeah. And I’m your friend anyway, ‘cause that’s how fun I am. But if this is the end, Bea, I’ve gotta say… I’m really glad I’m here to spend it with you.”

“Could I have a turn with the binoculars, please?” asked Bea. Gregg handed them over and went to snuggle Angus. Broderick was crouched at his camera, snapping shots.

“Hey Bea? I know I asked this before, but do you really not believe in Heaven or Hell? Do you really think when we die, we’re just done?”

“I never said I don’t believe in Heaven or Hell. I just don’t think they’re anything like what the churches teach.”

“Oh yeah? What do you think they’re like, then? And if we all die right now, where do you think we’ll go? You think there’d be some kind of special dispensation for if—”

“Hey, Mae?”

“Yeah, Bea?”

“Could you please shut up?”

Mae grinned so hard. She didn’t say anything else. The sun was dying, but she was alive.

“Ten seconds!” shouted someone.’

“Here it goes!” shouted someone else.

The sun’s corona was coming visible. It was suddenly chilly for a summer day. There was a ring of light around the horizon, like the sun was setting and rising everywhere at once.

One bright pit of sunlight gleamed through a crater on the moon. Mae whipped off her viewing glasses. The sun went away.

Mae found herself instantly floating in blackness, surrounded by bubbles and faced with an overbearing, inescapable presence.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 3

It was near the end of her known life, in her mid-thirties, when Adina Astra finally discovered the last strand of the Lost Constellation. Hitherto, it had been the most beautiful specter in her life—an image of something almost real, almost describable, self-evidently more special than a million dreams, something more important than any idea in the dictionary or any treasure in the emperor’s vault… but it had been incomplete. And now...?

Adina Astra was not a singer. She had a creaky voice and no sense of pitch. But on the day she learned of the final line from a nut vendor in Sunderwight, she pranced in a daze across the fields and meadows, and for hours and hours, she sang. Afterward, she could remember nothing of what she had sung, and she dared not speak to any of her colleagues or loved ones. Instead, she huddled in the field, shivering in her cloak, and strained to take her eyes off the heavens where the stars still shone, albeit overwhelmed by the light of the sun. At last, wracked by fatigue, she lowered her face to the earth and slept.

It was then that, for the first and only time, Adina Astra spoke with the stars.

No.

Was that it, then? Was that really the end?

Sometimes, in dreams, you think of something that could go wrong… and no matter how unlikely it is that it should go wrong, somehow, the moment you think of it, you know it’s going to. Just because you thought of it. Had that notion spilled into real life? Had Mae brought this on herself?

I was just jawing! she wanted to tell the universe. I didn’t really think the eclipse would end the world!

She cried aloud, except that it didn’t make any noise. Please forgive me! She cried. I’m so sorry, everyone! Did I really just end the world? Please forgive me! I didn’t know what I was doing!

The tears in her eyes finally caught up with the ones already welling from her soul. I’m so, so sorry. I know there was so much left so many of you wanted to do…

Green circles that weren’t quite complete spun by her. Burbled by. Everything here was burbling. Suddenly Mae realized—no, remembered—where she was.

Tremendous relief soaked through as she relaxed almost too far. She hadn’t ended the world. She might just be about to die, was all.

o . C ( O ) o @ c 0 . o

That was Black Goat. She was with it again. It had brought her here to talk to her. A black place, with ripples of blue and green almost too dim to see. Bubbles of something that wasn’t emptiness floating by. Sounds burbling everywhere underneath the level where sounds should be. Now, suddenly, some of those sounds sounded like they should mean something. It was talking to her.

She wasn’t even scared, though. Oh… wait. Yeah. There it was. Yes, she was scared. She was pretty decently scared, really. It just hadn’t felt like it at first, since for a few moments she’d genuinely believed that she’d managed to inadvertently end the world. Compared to that, ordinary terror was pretty tame.

But her numbness to it was wearing off. “Um… what do you want? Is there something you need from me?”

c O & @ . C )) (( 0 .

She couldn’t understand. Or… or could she? Before, in the water in the mine, she hadn’t wanted to understand. But when she focused on the sounds, the wretched flaws in the whirling circles, the burbling, she started to grasp ideas. A thought came to mind and mind’s eye simultaneously:

A huge null symbol. ∅. Struck like lightning before her, orange and black. Its center emptier than emptiness. Hunger. Then the center blinked black and filled up, and it was a circle filled with nameless and tenebrous satisfaction. Hunger satiated. Gratitude. Figures falling, one by one, into a notch in the top of the huge naught. Each one adding satiation. The cult of uncles and dads. A plan fulfilled. An unexpected gift.

Mae’s body, if she had one, was being… tousled with affection. Agitated. It was like she was in a carwash, but she was only an astral projection, and the water was love, and the love was arcane. She didn’t understand. What had she done to deserve this? How could she escape?

“He’s thanking you for feeding him,” said Broderick’s voice.

She was simultaneously mortified that she was being watched during this most humiliating of experiences and relieved that someone was there with her. “Broderick! You’re here?”

“Yep. You can’t see me?”

She looked, but could only see the flashing holes in that desaturated symbol, divided by a crossbar she could no longer see. Even her own (astral?) body was hard to focus on. “Nope. I’m terrified for my life, Brody. Is it okay if I call you Brody?”

He didn’t respond for a few moments. “I think he was hungry, and you fed him,” he said, more distant than before.

“Hey, don’t go! I’m over here!” Mae cried. She felt her head violated, outside to inside. “AGH, stop! I didn’t feed you! You crazy thing! If anything I helped crash the mine down on top of you so you’ll go hungry!”

The tousling stopped. She saw a small cavern—the room around the shaft, partly caved in, the robed figures gathered around it with one lantern glowing. Ceremoniously, they heaved one of their own in, then immediately began chanting while he fell. His scream echoed as the scene disappeared.

“Oh God. They’re sacrificing themselves to you! They’re hoping you do something to save them!”

There was only a swimmy incomprehension. Blue-green waves meandered by in weird patterns. Now she saw a silhouette edged in faint yellow and recognized Broderick’s profile. “I see you! You’re over there!”

He faced her and started moving closer, half swimming and half using nothing but willpower. “He wanted to talk to us both together, I guess. That’s why we’re here. But why do—”

Abruptly his silhouette turned upward, neck stretching, and he was silenced. Mae could only watch. She willed herself closer but wasn’t sure if she was making progress. “Please let us go,” she told Black Goat, wherever it was. “I’m afraid.”

There was a sudden flash of—yep, that was definitely the scary painting from the Historical Society. A black goat faced with a curved barrier. It raised its black hooves to rend it, then smashed them into the barrier, but though it bowed, it didn’t break. Again and again the creature madly scraped and slammed against the curved line, but never tore a hole. Its efforts grew weaker as the image faded.

This was awful. She didn’t know what that barrier was, but she was rooting for it to break just because the tension was so terrible. What did this thing want from her? How could she leave? She’d gotten out before by saying “If you’re going to kill me, do it—if not, let me go.” But she didn’t want to dare this horror from beyond to kill her. She’d been desperate then. She wasn’t desperate now. She was enjoying life. She felt more or less mentally healthy again for the first time since she was thirteen. Her hometown was falling apart, but at least her friends were happy, she had a job, and her relationship with her parents was good again. She had hope. She couldn’t bring herself to repeat that ultimatum when she had hope.

Broderick was still silent, still stretched out. His silhouette was white against black now, or black against blue—somehow she couldn’t tell. She swam over, forgetting for a moment that she couldn’t, and put her hand on his shoulder. He looked at her but barely seemed to see her.

“No,” he said. “No, that’s not right.”

“What’s not right?”

He eyes shone white for a moment with little black ovals. “I won’t do it. I don’t care if he killed my father.”

“What? What are you talking about?” asked Mae.

Broderick set his head on her shoulder, staring far away. “I won’t do it.”

This was just getting more confusing. “Let us go!” Mae shouted at the ripples and bubbles. “Let us out! We don’t know what you want from us!”

A heart beating. But not a normal person’s heart, with valves and things. Just a circle, pulsing. Pounding large, pounding small. Seizing the attention of the ears, the senses, making every little hair stand up. Getting more urgent, if not louder. The hole in the middle of an empty symbol. A color that was nothing but sheer contrast. A hunger, a hunger, a hunger. The sweep of desert wind, tearing into her sides. The removal of… good things, little pebbles of color, stars from the sky, comets and planets with rings, all piled up and being taken away. Flailing hooves. Flailing horns. A heartbeat so large and empty it was about to burst.

Don’t end me, Mae kept saying to herself. Don’t end me, don’t end me. My friends care about me. They may even love me. My parents definitely love me. Even my town is starting to love me again, a little—I can feel it, and I want that love. It matters, because I lost it. I want Possum Springs to love me again. Don’t end me here. Tell me this isn’t what death looks like. Let this be something on the way from something to something, not the end of all roads.

She was embracing Broderick. She could feel his sure, flat form hugging her soundly. She could hear him weeping. The pounding went away. Everything was growing quiet and dark. Even the burbles were stilling.

Suddenly, a picture of a man in a ditch in the woods, picking wildberries. His beard a mess, his clothes torn. Bruce. It was Bruce. Where was he? Why wasn’t he with his children and grandchildren, like he said he’d be?

“I know those woods,” said Broderick. “Who’s that man?”

The picture was gone. Mae had a sense of pleading, of desperation. A full belly for now, coupled with the memory of starvation. Of nowhere to stay. Of being forced to drift, to find shelter, to tear holes in search of new air. To survive.

A glaring crescent of yellow hugging red, surrounded by black, flared in Mae’s mind. She felt the niggle of round things, like fat fingers or bugs or lips, all over her body. Then she opened her eyes.

“I really didn’t think the stars could talk,” said Adina. “For all I loved them, I genuinely didn’t believe they could think or feel.”

“All things feel in some reference frame,” said Ibon. “People told me that fish didn’t feel. But I knew they must, if I could find something that mattered to them.”

“So you drank all the water in the oceans,” said Adina.

“I did! It wasn’t easy, but I made the fish cry. It was worth it to know they could. It was worth it to know they had voices.”

“I always wondered about that story. Did they die? Fish out of water, I mean…”

“There are still fish, aren’t there? Don’t worry, skytalker. I didn’t let them die.”

“Did you… let the water out again?”

“No. I taught them to cry. I taught them to sing and to let their feelings out. In the end, they cried so much that they filled the oceans up again. Why did you think the oceans are salty?”

Screaming, in the distance. A young voice, driven to the height of… something. Tumult all around. Greg’s nose in her face, his big eyes peering with no concept of personal space. Mae gasped and sat up.

They bumped heads.

“Ow!” said Gregg. “I mean, holy shit, Mae! Are you alive? You’re alive!!”

“Is she up?” came Bea’s frazzled voice from a short way off. “He’s up. This is uncanny.”

“Oh god, I didn’t want to lose you!” cried Gregg. He dived into a hug, and Mae strained to keep from collapsing flat on her back. It was still dark, but the light was starting to come back. The screaming was just about the end of the total eclipse. “Gregg—”

“Dude. Don’t do that again, okay? Don’t just black out like that. I was ready to lose it.”

“We were all ready to cry,” said Angus.

“Holy buck, Gregg. I was so afraid and I think I’m still afraid. Is—” She looked over to where Bea was huddled over Broderick, who was groggily coming to.

“You guys are both all right?” she asked. “Geez. What the hell happened?”

Broderick didn’t look ready to talk, so Mae had to. “We… it was…” Should she lie? Hide the truth? “It was the thing from the hole,” she blurted before she could decide against it. “The thing from the mine. It still has its hooks in me.” She shuddered and felt herself go faint, still feeling the powerful pulse. “Okay, lying down now.”

Gregg lowered her to the ground. “Lying down engines engaged. Lie away, captain.”

But she didn’t want to lie. “It took us. Me and him.” She gestured in Broderick’s general direction. “It wanted us for something, but I don’t know what.”

“Did it let go because the eclipse ended?” asked Bea. “If so, you should be safe for another seven years, at least.”

Mae lay swimming in the putrid leftover memories of what had happened. It was like waking up from a dream, but instead of fading all too fast, these memories were trying to linger.

“You can’t die,” said Castys. “You want to slip away into blackness, but you can’t.”

“But people die all the time,” Adina pointed out.

“People die. But you don’t. You stay.”

“Me personally?”

“Whoever you is. If you’re really looking for heaven… if you’re really looking… then you can’t die, no matter how much you may want to. Since the search is part of you, and it won’t let the future be infinite blackness. It just won’t.”

Adina looked around at the bubbles and ripples of the deep ocean. “But if you’re stuck here, drowning underwater forever… is there still any hope for your search?”

“Yes,” said Castys. “And that’s the worst part.”

Cameras snapping. Murmurs and cries and voices everywhere. The sound of fireworks. A crescent boldly growing on the sun’s right edge. Why her? Why did she have to be the one lying here, asking herself what was real?

Suddenly, Broderick’s soft touch was on her arm. She looked at his face. He was shaken too, but he wasn’t afraid—she could see that in him. He was there, on the ground, to comfort her.

“Did you guys have the same experience?” asked Bea.

Mae started to nod, but then realized that, like the most captivating dreams, this might have all been in her head. “You… you were there with me, right?” she asked the lanky half-stranger.

He nodded. “He was desperate. He needed our help.”

Mae swallowed. “Black Goat? Our help?”

He closed his eyes and didn’t elaborate.

“We had the same experience,” Mae confirmed, looking up at Bea.

“Great. So. Now I’ve got to realign my worldview and figure out what’s real and what’s fake again. And worry about the possibility that I might be going to hell after all. Thanks a lot.”

“Bea.” Angus grasped her shoulder firmly, as if demanding eye contact, which she defiantly gave him. “You’re not going to hell. You’re a good person.”

She paused. “And you think that’s all it takes?” she murmured.

Gregg was there with a bottle of water. “Here, bottoms up. Both of you. What the heck just happened?”

Mae took it and swigged. “I dunno if I can describe it. Remember when I blacked out down in the mine, on our way out? I was there again. And this guy was with me.”

“He knows us,” said Broderick. “He needs us.”

“Still not sure it’s a ‘he,’” said Mae.

Broderick shrugged. “We need to talk.”

“What, alone?”

He looked at the others, then back to Mae. “I think we’d better.”

“Okay, hold on,” said Gregg. “This is my oldest friend we’re talking about here. You’re not dragging her off anywhere without me.”

Mae’s follicles tingled. “Gregg.”

He saw her stare and his face weakened. “You sure, Mae?”

“He’s not dragging me anywhere. I’m fine. I’m physically fine.” She leapt to her feet and jumped in place, to prove it.

Bea helped Broderick up. “I’m glad to hear it. But does that mean your emotional health is… questionable?” she asked.

“It’s not questionable because it’s a mess, plain and simple. But we have to talk alone.” She pointed in a random direction. “We’ll be right over there.”

Her friends stared at her. “Okay,” said Angus.

“Fine,” said Bea.

“Don’t run off,” pled Gregg. “Stay cool. Okay?”

“Like I have a choice,” retorted Mae. She took Broderick’s hand. “Come on.” And she marched him into the awestruck crowd.

“How did you live with yourself?” demanded Adina. “Did you really think what you did was just?”

Dohr the Murderer stared at her. “There is no justice. It’s a fairy tale. Justice is what mothers tell children to make them think the world is fair. Justice is an idea to keep people in line. Something they can dream exists after they die, or after the world is made perfect. In this world, there is no justice.”

But Adina stood her ground. “Then shouldn’t we try to make justice, if we can?”

Dohr chuckled. “There you have it. That’s it exactly. I made my own justice. It had a certain beautiful symmetry to it, didn’t it? Right down to the chickens.”

“Do you really think it was just to murder everyone and everything the king held dear, only because he insulted you?”

“And everyone I held dear.”

“But insults aren’t equal to murder.”

“And there’s your problem. You think justice is about equality. Ever heard of ‘an eye for an eye’? Doesn’t get a lot of play these days, does it?”

“So what is justice, then, if not equality?”

Dohr struck a firm stance, clutching the dead head of the king in his hand by the hair. “It’s an artform. Like any artform, it’s whatever you make it.”

They stepped over sleeping children, past barking dogs, past the smell of gunpowder. “What did it show you?” asked Mae urgently.

He paced a while further. Now they were near the edge of the field. The ends of the stiltwalker’s stilts were visible just past a bush, lying on the ground. He turned, put his hands on Mae’s shoulders, drew her close. He paused even then.

“The man who moved out of town. The one who helped shoot my father. When he left, he left behind a wife and six children. The wife is sick. The children don’t know what to do. The oldest one is taking care of things, but they’re weak. Vulnerable.” He swallowed.

Was he going to go help them? Did he need Mae to help him help them? “…And?”

“He wants me to sacrifice them,” Broderick said. “To go to the woods with a rifle, and take them captive, and bring them back to his hole, one by one, and sacrifice them.”

Mae gulped, and gaped. “…You can’t do that.”

“I can’t do that,” agreed Broderick.

“I mean… you shouldn’t do that. No one should do that. You shouldn’t even be thinking about it!”

“I wish I could stop,” he said.

Mae was scared now, looking into his dark eyes. “Do you… is there even a hole to throw anyone into? I thought the hole was in my town, and it… got closed up.”

“There’s a hole in Mannetsburg too. I think there’s a few holes. They all lead to the same place.”

She wanted to ask what that was. She didn’t. “Is that this abomination’s idea of justice? The guy kills your dad, so you kill his family to get even?!”

“I think so. I think in its twisted mind, it’s the same thing. Plus, it’s seven easy sacrifices. It’s hungry, Mae.”

“When I’m hungry, I eat a PB&J! Or tacos!”

“Well, Black Goat doesn’t eat tacos.”

“It eats people.”

Broderick nodded soberly.

“Promise me you won’t do it,” Mae demanded.

“It wouldn’t even make sense as revenge. The man left them behind. He doesn’t care about these people anymore. He’d probably never know if they were gone.”

Mae heated up and stood on tiptoes so she could get closer to Broderick’s face. “Promise me you won’t do it!!”

He looked at her with… pity, maybe. “I promise.”

“You aren’t tempted, are you?”

“No.”

“Then why do I feel like maybe you’re tempted?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Black Goat has a hold on me. I’d be lying not to admit I’m shaken.”

“I’m shaken too! But I want it gone. I don’t want it to hold me or have anything else to do with me!”

“Maybe that’s because you’re afraid of him,” said Broderick. “But…” He looked at the sun, then winced and looked away.

Mae dug around in her pocket for her viewing glasses. She put them on. “But what?”

He spread his hands. “I guess I sympathize with him.”

Mae wondered whether she was looking at a monster. Or a saint. Or maybe both. Maybe a saint would sympathize with a monster. Or maybe only another monster would be able to see things its way, even for a second. But then she remembered what she’d said to Bea last night—what if it’s so far past evil that it isn’t completely evil anymore?

“I don’t expect to understand you,” said Adina, making an effort to stare into the monster pope’s eyes.

“And why exactly would you expect it to concern me whether or not you understand?” said Rubello, drawing inward. His eyes were red marbles.

“I don’t know,” Adina admitted. “Everyone else seems to want me to understand their point of view.”

“Vanity,” said the creature. Was there really fire in his craw?

“What I don’t understand,” persevered Adina, “is why they made you a saint. Pope, sure. The church is corrupt—my parents knew that well enough to see I never went. People can do awful things to become pope, then sweep it all under the rug. But a saint? How did they justify that?”

He appeared smug, even as his brow heated up. “What does sainthood require? A life of heroic virtue, yes. Noble writings, yes. But mostly miracles.” His face glowed. “I was a master of miracles. Miracles were my bread and my butter.”

“Miracles like consuming your rivals with fire?”

He nodded. “If it happened, it was a miracle. And if it was a miracle, it must have been for the best. Miracles do not wound the world, only help it.”

“But that can’t have been a virtuous act!” Adina protested.

“It did not appear it, but it must have been,” declared Rubello. “For in my time, it became unfashionable to speak of Old Scratch as if he held any power.” He smiled darkly. “And that ungenerosity is what cost the church… dearly.”

Adina fled before the plumes of red could reach her.

His head, his lanky neck, was on her shoulder. His long arms were around her. He was kneeling. His face was turned downward.

Somehow, Mae wasn’t agitated. She was okay. She was okay with this.

“I’m not bad. I’m not a bad man,” said Broderick. “I don’t know what to say. I know it’s horrible, asking me to kill all those children. And I won’t. But I can’t hate the thing. It’s acting in accordance with its nature, like all of us. I can’t hate it, Mae from Possum Springs.”

Somehow, she knew it was true. “I’m not bad either. Not really. I mean, I’m bad in the sense of something that doesn’t work right—a bad sprocket or whatever. But I’m not a bad person. We’re just stuck in this together.”

“Do you think we’re really stuck? Are we going to be drawn together, again and again?”

Mae gulped. In a way, she wanted the answer to be yes. She needed connections in her life. But this one… was just too creepy. “I don’t know, Brody.”

He took his arms from around her. “Who was that man? With the scruffy beard?”

“Oh, Bruce?” She’d forgotten about him showing up. What had that been about? “Just a drifter I knew. He passed through town a few months ago.”

“He was living in the woods near Mannetsburg. I know those woods. I think I may know that place.”

Mae started to worry again. “Do you think he’s really living there now?”

“I think it only shows you things that’re real.”

Sickness welled. “He said he was going back to his family. His kids. His daughter’s children, playing in the yard. Handmade signs with markers.”

“I guess he didn’t make it.”

A bitter pill snapped inside of Mae. “Or he was just saying that,” she realized. “Oh god. Bruce was just saying that to make me feel better! He never had a daughter. Or maybe his daughter was dead. Or never wanted to speak to him again.”

“If he was a drifter…” began Broderick.

“The pastor wanted to find a place for him to stay in the church,” said Mae.

“But if he had a family the whole time to go back to…”

“Then why didn’t he go back sooner?” she finished. “It doesn’t make sense. It wasn’t like he was living the dream in Possum Springs.”

“Sounds like a happy fiction,” agreed Broderick.

Tears came. “It was. Oh god, it was. But… but at least he’s still alive. Still getting by.”

“Why do you suppose Black Goat showed him to us?” asked Broderick softly.

Mae sighed, not ready to deal with this. “Maybe he wanted us to sacrifice him too.”

He nodded. “It would make sense.”

“Well, that’s not happening.”

“No.”

Her rage found an outlet. “Damn it, can’t you say that like you mean it?!”

“I do mean it! You don’t have to yell.”

She balled her fists. “I’m angry! Yes I have to yell! Yelling is what people do when they’re angry!”

“What good does it do to be angry at it? It’s a thing from beyond.”

“No. It’s not a thing from beyond. I’ve seen the things from beyond. They’re horrible. They’re space bugs.”

Broderick was caught up short by this. “Really?”

Mae nodded. “I talked to a big cat in a dream, and it showed me these blind creatures from beyond the sea. The astral sea, I guess. It said I was coming to them.” Weird how easy it was to say all this, now that so much had happened.

His throat caught. “You talked with the All-Seer too?”

Oh no, what now? “The All-Seer?”

“That big cat. That was how they appeared to me.”

Easy enough to believe the giant cat god was a ‘they.’ “The big cat was the All-Seer? Yeah, I guess that would make sense. They kept talking like everything was happening at once, like no one ever heard of time.” She was starting to shake. Fireworks were bursting nearby, lighting up the rapidly lightening sky, and each one shook her a little more.

“What did they say to you?”

Mae tried to remember. It wasn’t easy. “They said that nothing meant anything. That existence was monstrous. That the end was so close to the beginning that there was no time to forget in between.”

The stranger who wasn’t a stranger anymore took a breath. “Wow. Pretty grim.”

“That’s not what you talked about?”

“Not quite. I asked what they were. They said they were the All-Seer. So I asked if they could really see everything. Yes, they said. They could.”

“Did you believe them?”

“I didn’t. I asked if they could see who was going to win the next day—the Bluebears or the Asbestos.”

Huh! “I think we root for the Smelters in my town.”

“You think?”

“I’m not really big into sportsball. So what did the cat god say?”

“Just this. ‘That can be seen, but not understood.’ What do you make of that?”

Mae wasn’t sure. “That they’re not into sportsball either?”

Broderick shrugged. “So I figure. I asked if there were going to be storms the next day. Anything I could verify. It said ‘There are many storms always.’ ‘But where?’ I asked it. ‘All places are storms,’ they said.”

“They told me all things are atoms.”

“Seems like a big picture thinker. I never got a real prediction out of that cat.”

Mae remembered something she’d put together. “I think they told me about Black Goat,” she volunteered. “They said a great beast was in the desert, and it went into the sky and made a tear. And then little creatures like me, and I guess you, came through and made trouble. So the cat went to fix the hole, and now we can’t go back again. But I think Black Goat was the reason we got through in the first place. We went through its tear.”

Broderick absorbed this. “And now the beast can’t get back again.”

“Are you sure?”

“Didn’t you feel it? He was trying. He showed us how he was trying.”

Scrabbling against the barrier. “Oh wow. I saw a painting like that. In the historical society.”

“And now he’s worried he’s going to starve, and won’t ever get home.”

“Wow.” Was she actually feeling sorry for the cosmic horror? “If it could tear a hole once, why couldn’t it do it again?”

“Could be it’s harder going one way than the other. Could be the big cat made it impossible.”

That could be, sure. Mae looked at the field, feeling uncomfortable. Some people were still watching, shooting photos, having fun. Others were getting up and leaving. She glanced at the sun—it was half alive again.

“How long do you suppose before Black Goat starves?” she asked.

Broderick spread his arms. “No way of knowing.”

“Do you… do you think there’s some way to rescue it?”

“By making a new tear?”

“Or however,” she encouraged.

“What two places is the tear even between?”

“The deep underground and the sky of the desert?” she conjectured.

“So these creatures come from a place below where we live?”

Mae remembered that in the painting, the black goat was breaking through a sky barrier from the top. “Or a place high above.”

“Maybe both and neither.”

“A place between.”

“So how would we even get to a place between?”

She shut her eyes. “It doesn’t seem possible. For little creatures like us.”

“Could start a war even if we did. Maybe Black Goat escaped that big cat for a reason.”

“Maybe it was a bad reason. Maybe it should go back.”

Broderick was silent.

“And what if Black Goat takes a century or longer to starve?” Mae went on. “It could plague us for our whole lives!”

He gulped. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to find that friend of yours. Bruce? And I’m going to help him, if I can.”

“I wonder why it showed him to us,” said Mae.

“As a gift, I’d guess.”

“As a gift, or as a hungry dog, begging for a meal?”

“Don’t know. But I’ll help him. And I’ll contact the authorities about that man’s family. Let them know about his sick wife.”

“Good. But what about Black Goat?”

Broderick looked helpless, and like he hated being helpless. “Mae, there’s nothing we can do.”

Mae sighed and closed her eyes. She felt like she was pounding against a barrier, sometimes. Like she’d ripped a hole in the world by mistake when she was thirteen and now she couldn’t get back through.

“The hardest part,” said Simone, “wasn’t getting myself up each day to rejoin the fray. And it wasn’t the long hours, or the stealth, or the exhaustion, or even the killing when killing was needed.”

“What was it, then?” asked Adina.

“The hardest part was recruiting people to the cause. Convincing them that now was the right time in their life to step over that line. To make themselves targets. To give up peace until there was peace for all. That’s the biggest thing you can ever ask anyone to do.”

“I can imagine. How did you do it?”

Simone huffed a veteran’s breath. “I helped them see that nothing is impossible. I told them stories about revolts that succeeded. Movements that overwhelmed oppression. Heroes from the past. I did my best to convince them that with a willing and strong heart, there’s nothing you can’t accomplish.”

Adina felt her own heart beating. “And did you believe that yourself?”

“I had to. Otherwise, how could I ask them to?”

Adina looked again at the map in her hand. The Cave of the Snake loomed large against everything else. Her fear was thick as paste. She looked back at Simone.

“I believe it,” she said.

“I died in the line of duty,” said Simone. “Our revolution failed.”

“But you live on in legend,” said Adina. “And now we have peace.”

Simone came to Adina. She looked something like Adina’s lover. Of all the constellations, she was the only one whose touch she could feel. “You have something important you have to do, don’t you?”

Adina sighed. “Yes,” she admitted.

“And you’re afraid.”

“As afraid as I’ve ever been of anything.”

“But your heart is strong.”

Adina knew it was true. “Yes.”

Simone looked into Adina’s eyes. “Then there’s only one question left. Is it willing?”

Adina stared back and felt the answer rising.

“We’ll see about that,” said Mae.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 4

“Too bad you didn’t go blind, looking at the sun,” said Gregg.

Mae twitched, feeling the stiffness of the grass under her outstretched legs. “Dude… I kinda did,” she protested. “I went someplace dark where I could only what it wanted me to see. And maybe its innards or something.”

Gregg’s jowl tensed. “Sorry, too soon?”

“Probably too soon,” Mae agreed. She lay back, hands beneath her head. It was night now. The field was nearly empty, but there was still a sense of life. Maybe it was from all the people on the streets in the distance, packing away the port-a-potties and parking booths and whatever other stuff they’d brought in for the tremendous crowds coming into their town for a day or two, never to be seen again.

Broderick was gone. Mae had his phone number and address, and she’d contact him eventually. But for now, she didn’t know what to think. She’d imagined lying with him in the field, cuddling. Soothing each other gently against the chaos in the night, the hole growing in the middle of the world. Protecting each other.

She wanted him at her side. But they hadn’t done anything. They’d crossed paths like Adina and the woodsman in the night, and shared something special that wasn’t romantic love. Except that Adina and the woodsman had gotten something beautiful to share. Mae and Broderick had gotten something horrifying and creepy.

Just the same, she’d take it. A connection was a connection, and God knew there weren’t enough of those in the world these days.

“Too bad you didn’t see the eclipse and turn into a psycho killer,” she said.

Gregg looked over from his own spot on the grass. “Too bad you didn’t get mauled by a psycho killer.”

“Too bad that guy with the stilts didn’t impale you by mistake.”

“Too bad those fireworks didn’t set you on fire.”

“Too bad those birds that freaked out didn’t fly over and peck your eyes out.”

“Dude, I already did blindness,” said Gregg. “We can’t both be blind together.”

“Why not? We’d be like a little club. Besides, having your eyes pecked out is way worse than just going blind. You’d be bleeding eye juice all over.”

“Oh yeah, fair point. I guess that’d be pretty creepy.” Gregg got up on his knees and shuffled over. “Watch out or I’ll bleed on you.”

“Eye juice or regular blood?”

“Probably a little of both. Just a nice mixture.”

“I bet that was your secret recipe for slushies at the Snack Falcon.”

“You got me. One part eye juice, two parts toe jam, three parts blood, and a tiny cup of high fructose corn syrup.”

“And ice,” added Mae.

“And ice, sure. Gotta have ice.”

“Any boogers?”

“That was our lime flavor.”

Mae lay back and looked at the sky. It was starry, but not as starry as back home. This was a bigger town with more lights. The sky had a harder time getting in. She didn’t blame Bea for wanting to go back to the hotel with Angus. She’d been getting tired of people asking if she was a goth. Mae liked how Bea handled that question—she let them make up their own minds. Goth isn’t really the sort of thing you have to self-identify for , Bea said. Is there any more information you need in order to decide?

She was glad they’d taken the extra day off so they could stay another night. Traffic heading back would have been hell. “Hey Gregg?”

“What’s up?”

She pointed. “You ever just stare at the sky and wonder what’s out there?”

On cue, her companion flopped down beside her, lying in the opposite direction. “Been doing that a bit lately.”

“You mean ever since I… had my episode?” She didn’t like calling it an episode, but what else was she going to call it?

“Ever since the big thing, yeah.”

The moon wasn’t in the sky. Mae guessed that was fine. It’d had a big day. It could rest if it wanted.

“So, any luck with the wondering?”

“Luck?”

“I mean, did you reach any conclusions or anything?”

“Nah. Mostly I just wonder,” Gregg admitted.

Well, Mae couldn’t blame him for that. She couldn’t find answers in the stars and blackness either. She wasn’t even sure it was the right place to look. But where else could she turn?

Suddenly the gentle circles and banners of the First Coalescence Church came to mind, and she found herself wriggling on the inside. She was conflicted.

“Hey Gregg? Did you ever think about… going to church?”

He lifted his head in surprise, just an inch or two. “That’s not really the kind of place for me.”

Mae didn’t disagree. But still… “How come?”

He shrugged, which must have been a little tough while lying down in his leather jacket. “Parking lot trash.”

God. “You know what, Gregg? If you call yourself that again, I’m gonna…” What? Sock him one? “I’m gonna hug you and tell you how great you are and make you feel all embarrassed.”

He was still for a while. “You think I should go to church?”

She couldn’t say that without being a hypocrite, could she? “I dunno. I don’t know why I don’t go.”

“I mean, it’s kind of parochial, isn’t it?”

Where did he learn a fancy word like that? “What does that mean?”

“Not sure. They have parochial schools in Bright Harbor. Something to do with the church.”

“So you’re saying church has to do with church.”

He shrugged. “Just saying. Going to church is what the Man says to do.”

“Does that mean it’s wrong?” Mae asked.

Gregg was silent.

“My mom works at the church. I like visiting her there. I like skipping through the church when it’s empty. I even like talking with the pastor. But… somehow I just can’t bring myself to go when there are people there. When there’s a service.”

“Do you, like, try? Is something holding you back?”

She thought about it. She really did. It wasn’t like she’d never gone to church, but it had been a long time ago. The message… when she could even figure it out… had felt so much like it wasn’t meant for her that the whole thing was a travesty. It had felt somehow sacrilegious to go to church. Like an erasure of the soul.

But… Pastor K was okay, wasn’t she? Maybe she should give it another try? What was the worst that could happen?

Another descent into madness and cosmic horror?

“I’ll go,” she decided. And she meant it. “I’ll try. I don’t think they have the answers… but it might help, to hear what the pastor and everyone has to say.”

“You think?”

She wanted to feel cozy and cared for again, by more than just a handful of friends and family. She wanted a taste of community, if she could get it. “It’d make my mom happy, anyway.”

“You want me to go with you?”

Mae felt a warm flower blossom through her insides. Gregg didn’t give a hoot for church or religion, but he was willing to come with her. “I don’t know. You might be right about it not being the place for you. But it means a lot to me you’re willing to do it.”

“You want me to back you up? Be your wingman?”

“I don’t think they have wingmen in church.”

“Sure they do. Angels have wings, right? Anyone who tries to make you feel like you don’t belong, I’ll bite their heads off.”

“Or you could just… be nice instead?”

“I’ll be so nice I’ll put ‘em to shame. Crazy nice. I’ll make them feel like this piece of parking lot trash belongs there more than they do.”

Uh oh. Mae’d warned him about calling himself that, hadn’t she? What had she said she’d do?

Oh yeah. She climbed to all fours and crawled over to give Gregg a big messy hug. “Hey Greggory, you’re a great guy. You’re the real deal. I love you totally.”

He didn’t seem too upset. “Already got a boyfriend.”

She kissed him on the forehead. “I meant plutonically, you idiot.”

He laughed. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Kinda the point,” said Mae.

“I like it.”

Well, she didn’t want him to like it too much. She released him and tossed herself randomly into the grass again. “This is kind of a nice place, huh?”

“Mmm,” he agreed. It sounded like he liked Bright Harbor better, but was too diplomatic to say so.

Still, the idea of anyplace outside of home actually being comfortable was still exciting to Mae. “If I had to die someplace, I wouldn’t mind dying here,” she observed.

“What, like in the song?”

“Yeah. I mean, this place is anywhere else enough to count, right?”

“Sure,” said Gregg. He stared at where the moon wasn’t.

Not for the first time, Mae wondered seriously whether she would eventually die somewhere other than Possum Springs. The answer seemed like probably. Possum Springs wasn’t likely to last much longer, especially if Black Goat really was helping prop it up. Mae didn’t fear the idea of dying someday, but what scared her was the idea it might happen with her parents still alive. She hated the idea of making her parents mourn, but she couldn’t ignore the chance, could she? She was crazy. Her head was messed up, and she was the sort of person liable to pick up a bat or climb onto a rooftop. It could happen.

And then, staring at blackness, she wondered something else—what if, when you die, you go to the place with the bubbles and the waves and the darkness, and nothing else, and that’s it forever? What if when she talked to Black Goat, she was getting a taste of eternity?

She didn’t want to cry, but it was hard keeping the tears down. Maybe if she stayed on her back they wouldn’t be able to escape.

Then Gregg spoke up. “You know Casey wrote that song, right?”

She hadn’t, but it was obvious when she thought about it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He always used to talk about going somewhere, but after you left, he got kind of… obsessive about it. It was less if and more when.”

“Huh.” Mae felt bad about that. Almost like his death was her fault, even though she couldn’t have exactly told her parents no when it came to the college thing they’d been planning her entire life. “Did you try to talk him out of it?”

Gregg nodded; She could hear the grass rustle under his head. “We convinced him to write songs instead. That’s how we got ‘Die Anywhere Else’… ‘Headache’… ‘Long Black Road’…”

“Wow. You guys have written all these songs since I left. Do you even ever play the old ones anymore?”

“Sometimes.”

Mae tried to envision it. “He wanted to go out and hop a train, but you got him to put all his leaving energy into… singing about leaving.”

“And drumming.”

“And drumming. God he was loud on those drums when he wanted to be.”

“Drum power,” said Gregg.

“Leaving power,” corrected Mae.

“Leaving power,” Gregg agreed.

“But he left anyway.” Mae turned to face her friend. “You didn’t get him to stay.”

“We tried.”

“What happened?”

Gregg shrugged. “He ran out of songs to write.”

Something felt hot and sad and strong all of a sudden. Mae couldn’t tell if she felt bad or… something else. But she felt the urge. The urge to get up and start walking somewhere—anywhere—and dare her friends and family to stop her.

“You okay?” asked Gregg, looking her over.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“I’ve been thinking.” He lay on his side, propped up on an elbow. “You think Casey would’ve come back if he hadn’t… you know. If they hadn’t found him?”

Mae’d wondered too. But how was she supposed to know? She hadn’t been there when he’d left. She hadn’t had that one last chance to talk with him she really wished she’d had. “Probably. Eventually. He would have at least written, or something. He wouldn’t have just… left us.”

“He did leave us, dude. He totally up and left us.”

“But he didn’t just leave us!” cried Mae. “I mean, he was loyal. To his values and to his friends and…” She shook her head, something sticking. “And not to his town, but that’s because he didn’t feel any loyalty to his town, it was just a place to him.” Suddenly Mae wondered if what seemed to keep her tethered to Possum Springs had forced Casey out. Had the whole town… just lost its meaning to him the longer he stayed? Had it all just been shapes to him in the end?

“He probably would’ve come back for us,” Gregg admitted.

Mae considered. “Yeah. Yeah, he would’ve.”

Gregg lay down flat again, then drew his knees up. “You’re not mad, are you? At me and Angus?”

“Mad at you? Why would I be?”

“For leaving?”

Oh. Right. Wow. Mae had felt mad, from time to time, but she’d felt good for them too, and even proud sometimes. As if they were something for her to be proud of. “I’m not mad. You did what you had to do.”

“I feel like if we hadn’t known Casey, we would have stayed forever.”

Wow. Mae didn’t know what to say to that.

“Maybe not Angus,” Gregg went on. “He would’ve wanted to go someplace better, check out the world. But I think maybe we just would’ve gone on trips. If it hadn’t been for Casey, we might’ve done road trips and come back on home.”

“To Possum Springs?”

“To Possum Springs. Where I was lord of the Snalcon. I was lord of the Snalcon, you know?”

Mae almost smiled. “You were completely lord of the Snalcon. I don’t know who would have been lord of the Snalcon except for you.”

He peered upward. “I love working bar. It’s fun, you meet people, it doesn’t suck. But you know what? I’m not lord of anything there.”

Mae paused. “I bet you are.”

He shook his head, rustling the grass. “Nuh-uh. Cynthia’s the lord of the bar, if anyone is. I’m just a guy who’s pretty chill but no one comes specially to see me, you know?”

“I bet you’re lord of the tap or something.”

He gave it some thought. “Nah.”

Just nah? “You’re just a guy there?”

“Yep. Not a legend. Just a guy.”

It seemed colder suddenly. Mae rolled over and set her head against Gregg’s side. “I miss you and Angus pretty fierce, you know.”

He put his hand on her head. “Yeah. We do too.”

“I wish I could come join you. I honestly think I do. I love Possum Springs, but I can’t stay there forever. It’s water going down a drain and if my folks and I stay too long, it’ll whirl us around and right down the hole. Bloorp.”

“You tell your folks you think they should move?”

“I’ve been hinting at it. But I’m scared to really push. I mean, what if we move away and then suddenly everything’s just shapes forever after that? What if my only safe place is gone forever?”

“What if you’re only being kept in Possum Springs so you can help the cosmic thing? Did you think of that?” Gregg suggested. “What if once you’ve helped it, you’re free?”

Now that was an idea. But would that mean it had been watching her and making her mind malfunction since she was thirteen? For that long? “I don’t think it’s been up here that long.”

“No, probably not. But okay, duder. Honesty time. If you could move without your problem to worry about, would you?”

Mae had thought about that a lot. She would miss the people and sights and places she’d grown up with, but… “Yeah. I would. I’m gonna need more if I’m gonna live a full lifetime, you know?”

“You’d be a great down-the-block neighbor, you know that?”

“As if I could afford Bright Harbor.”

“Who knows? Maybe your friend down in the mineshaft can help you out. Show you where a buried mother lode of coal is or something.”

That hurt. He hadn’t meant it to hurt, but… “It isn’t my friend.”

He sat up and looked at her. “Sorry.”

“I want it gone. That’s all. It shouldn’t exist and I want it gone.”

“I know. I want it gone too.”

“I don’t need anything from it.”

He shook his head. “You don’t. You’re awesome the way you are.”

She lay there a few moments more. Then she climbed to her feet. It was satisfying to hear the grass crunch.

“I’m done with this place,” she decided. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

Gregg hopped up, ready to follow. “Aye aye, captain.”

She trudged toward the edge of the field, where a couple of floodlights were still shining. Some kind of work crew was taking apart a food kiosk or something. Maybe this town wasn’t going to be so impressive in a couple of days, if they kept taking things apart.

They stepped back onto the sidewalk. “Hey Gregg?” she said.

“Sorry for ruining the eclipse. I mean, we drove all this way to see the sun go away… and then, at the exact moment it happened, I went crazy and you guys had to deal with it.”

He gave her a look. “Seriously? You’re apologizing for that? Forget about it. It was awesome.”

She gave him the same look back. “It was awesome when I collapsed and you didn’t know if I was gonna live or die?”

Now he was sheepish, unsure how to get his point across. “That wasn’t so awesome,” he admitted. “But. Excitement! You’ve gotta admit, we got our money’s worth.”

Mae resumed walking and threw her hands up in the air. “Seven hours on the road and days of planning, and I miss the whole totality!”

“Dumb goat thing,” said Gregg.

“Dumb goat thing!” agreed Mae. One of the workers looked over at her; she didn’t care.

“But in all total seriousness,” Gregg went on. “Most people go to something like an eclipse hoping for it to mean something. For something big and important to happen. And sure, they get a kick-ass sight, and for a few minutes it feels like the world’s upside-down. But so what? It’s just a sight. It doesn’t really mean anything.”

“It’s like nature,” Mae suggested.

“But nature’s everywhere! Nature’s nothing special. We see something big and scary like the sun going out in the middle of the day and we get the sense that something special is happening. But it’s not really. It’s an illusion. Except for you.”

Mae’s neck hair tingled. “Are you trying to convince me I’m lucky because some creature from the tear between worlds has its hooks in my brain?”

He shook his head. “Naw, that bites. But at least it made this trip something for you, didn’t it? You and Brody got something else no one in that field got. You got to know the eclipse was actually something. ”

It was something, all right. Well, at least his heart was squarely in the right place. At least he was trying to cheer her up. “You know what’s something?” Mae retorted.

He grinned. “Nope! Tell me!”

Mae pointed. “You’re something!”

Without breaking stride, Gregg noodled his arms in excitement. “I’m something!”

“You are so something.”

“I’m all the things!”

Mae shook her head. “You can’t be all the things. I have to be some of them.”

He took her hand and noodled their two arms together. Mae almost laughed with the electricity of it. “Okay. You can be the good things,” he offered.

“Deal,” she said.

They kept walking, and didn’t stop shaking hands.

“My arm’s getting tired,” said Gregg.

“That’s fine,” said Mae. “I’ll take over.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 5

Love. Peace. Joy.

Did these things really need selling? Weren’t they what everyone usually wanted anyway?

Maybe it was the church that needed selling. Or the faith that the church was about. Mae noticed none of the banners said “Faith,” even though it would have fit. Maybe faith was more like a drug and less like a candy. Maybe it was only good once you got into it. She wouldn’t know. She’d never even felt faith, so far as she knew. What did it feel like?

Could it be what she needed? Wouldn’t that be funny if the exact thing she needed had been this spooky, hold-your-breath-and-believe thing her mother had been dabbling in her whole life, but been too considerate to force on Mae? Would that even make sense?

But no. Focus, Mae. One question at a time. This visit isn’t about faith. If anything, it’s about the opposite.

Pastor K wasn’t in the sanctuary. Mae’d already peeked in the woods, just in case, since she would have been more comfortable talking out there, but no luck. She peeked down the hall. Her mom was at the desk, per usual, and normally Mae would have been glad to say hi, but somehow today she didn’t want Mom knowing she was here, especially given the baseball bat she was toting around. She’d been planning to see her that evening and tell her all about her trip to Turtle Rapids, but didn’t want to have a whole thing here. Mae felt guilty about it, but that was how it was.

So she started peeking in doors at random. Eventually she found the staircase to the basement and sprang down, and there was the pastor, pouring out a little bag of red discs on a table. There were lots of tables down there with things on them.

“Hey Pastor K,” said Mae, setting her bat down by the stairs and walking around a table she’d been tempted to vault over. Churches were about discipline.

The pastor looked up in surprise. “Mae Borowski. You startled me.”

“Sorry. Whatcha doing?”

She gestured to a metal cage thing filled with ping pong balls. “Getting ready for bingo.” Her voice was non-judgmental, like always. She could have had an edge to it, as if to say Isn’t it obvious what I’m doing? But that wasn’t how Pastor Kate rolled.

“So this is what bingo looks like! I’ve never played it.” Mae picked up a card covered with letters and numbers in little squares.

“To be honest, you’re not missing much. It’s more about gathering together in a common activity.”

“I like that! Gathering together is good. Activities aren’t bad either.”

The pastor looked up from her work. “You’re free to stay if you like. There’s a suggested donation of a dollar a card, but you can play for free.”

Mae was a little tempted. “Is it fun?”

“Depends. If you like putting discs on squares until you have five in a row, then it’s fun.”

That didn’t sound all that fun to Mae, but she knew fun was the sort of thing that could sneak up on a person. “We’ll see. To be honest, I was planning to come to service on Sunday, and I was gonna use the days in between to work up my nerve.”

Pastor K didn’t smile, but her face was definitely brighter than before. “In that case, I’ll look forward to seeing you. Is there any particular reason?”

Mae exhaled. She wasn’t quite ready to come clean. “I guess I just need… something, and I figured this might be it.”

“It could be. It could very well be. Maybe you should try bingo tonight, just to get used to the crowd. No pressure. No spiritual strings attached.”

“Are there spiritual strings attached to normal church?”

The pastor paused for a moment before answering. “If there weren’t, it wouldn’t be very satisfying. But this church doesn’t require you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Or to feel any way I don’t want to feel, right?”

“Right. I actually believe that a person can’t simply choose to feel how they want. Feelings aren’t chosen. They’re experienced.”

That seemed reasonable. “What about songs? I remember not knowing how the songs went and getting embarrassed about it.”

“Well, the words are in books. And so is the music, if you can read it. If not, you’d be surprised how many parishioners are faking it.”

“Really? But it sounded really good.”

“You’d be surprised how many people can be singing off key in a group performance that still sounds really good.”

That sounded kind of like a metaphor. Pastor K was good at this. “I play bass, but I never learned to read music.”

“There’s still time to learn.”

Well that was true. There was still probably time to learn. “That’s the sort of thing I should’ve been learning in college,” Mae realized. “That and how bingo works.” She tapped a pile of chips, collapsing it further.

“What did you study in college?”

Mae hated this question. “Like, stuff. History a little. Math I should’ve already known. Basically, whatever you think I should have learned in college, you can assume I didn’t learn it.”

“I take it things didn’t go well?”

“Yeah. They didn’t.”

The bingo-running adult stepped around her table so that she could face Mae without dealing with bingo-ey things. “So are you just here to visit, or…?”

Well, here she was. At the crux of things. “So… you know how you told me once if I had any questions, I could come to you?”

The pastor nodded. “You can ask anything you like. It doesn’t mean I’ll have the answer, but I’ll listen.”

Mae suddenly felt weird, asking a question like this in a room full of bingo supplies. But she couldn’t back out now. “So… there’s God, and there’s Satan. And there’s all the angels, and demons I guess. But…” The pastor watched her carefully. “Is there… anything else out there? Any other… creatures that are… like, as strong as the angels, but not angels?”

Pastor K took a deep breath. “Well, Holy Scripture describes a lot of strange beasts that only appear in one or two stories. Most of them show up in prophets’ visions. Sometimes they’re helping enact the Eschaton, or end of the world. Sometimes they’re attending to God, or to one of his Heavenly Princes. Is that the sort of thing you’re wondering about?”

Mae wasn’t sure. “What did they look like?”

The pastor’s face tightened. “Anything and everything. A lot of them had more than one head, or were covered in eyes. They tended to be combinations of real creatures. Some of them had way more wings or horns than you would expect. Some of them were half person, half beast.”

That sounded really cool, and Mae made a mental note to try reading at least the good parts of Scripture. “Do you… do you think they’re real?”

The tip of the pastor’s tongue appeared, pressing upward in concern. “That’s hard to say. The prophets were still just people, even if they were granted divine clairvoyance. They may have misinterpreted what they saw, or exaggerated and embellished. But I believe they did see things that were true, and they did their best to describe them.”

This was less than satisfying. “Well if these crazy things are real, where did they come from? I mean is there anything in Scripture about that?”

“Precious little. ‘No creations of God’s are more inscrutable than life’—that’s from Marvels 8. Presumably they’re direct creations of God. But when God created them, or why, is pure speculation. If they exist at all.” She took a step closer, peering evenly at Mae. “May I ask why you’re interested in this line of questioning?”

Mae felt defiance welling, but reminded herself that this woman was on her side. “I’ve had dreams. Really intense dreams. Over and over, night after night.” She figured she’d tell some of the truth, but not all. Just in case. “And I dreamed of creatures beyond what we know. One of them was a giant black goat with a crazy weird mind. It tried to talk to me. It tried to tell me things.”

There was some fear in the pastor’s face; she drew back her chest before speaking. “And you feel sure that these weren’t just dreams? Ordinary percolations of unresolved issues in the mind?”

“I don’t know what a percolation is, ordinary or otherwise, but no, I’m pretty sure they’re real. And I’m scared. I thought maybe you’d have some advice for me.”

“Well. Mae. I may be able to advise you, but I have to warn you that I’m inclined to think of your dreams as just dreams. Maybe not ordinary dreams… it may be that you require clinical attention, for example. But I very much doubt that any of the beasts of Scripture are out there trying to talk with you.”

Well, damn. Just because Pastor Kate was approachable didn’t mean she wasn’t a typical adult. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ve never heard of it happening. Not in the modern age. I have my doubts about the literal reality of the monsters in Holy Scripture—there’s too much potential for them to have been embellishments, or mistranslations, or symbols. Or even just misremembered details of prophetic dreams. And Mae—sometimes dreams do seem real. We don’t always occupy the same state of consciousness when we dream. Some dreams take place in a different mental state, and they feel so different to us that we assume they must be special, or real. But that isn’t really the case.”

Mae sighed. She didn’t want to spill the whole truth to a person who might not believe her, but this was going nowhere. “Fine. Then let’s just pretend that the things I’ve been dreaming of are real. Can we do that? Assuming they are real, what should I do? What if the goat thing wants me to set it free, so it can go back where it came from? Is that something I can even do?”

Pastor K let out a harried breath. “Mae, you asked about beasts beyond our perception apart from angels and demons. Right?”

“Right,” said Mae.

“Assuming that this thing is real… how are you sure it isn’t a demon? Demons are often associated with goat imagery.”

Somehow that hadn’t occurred to Mae. “Maybe… maybe it is a demon? But… what would that mean? What are demons, really? Are they always evil?”

“They’re usually considered to be the fallen angels who allied with Satan’s rebellion. Are they always evil? I can’t say for sure, but we don’t have any examples in Scripture or tradition of non-evil demons. It really isn’t known whether they follow Satan’s orders or act on their own.”

Great. “Is… is there any way to tell a demon by looking at it? You know, in case I dream of it again?”

“You know, Mae, you may want to consider seeking professional therapy for this. It seems like these dreams are bothering you a lot. Have you told your parents about them?”

Mae was suddenly super-conscious of the fact her mother was currently in the building right now. “No… I kinda… don’t want to put this on them.” Please don’t tell her, she pled with her eyes.

“I understand. You used to see Dr. Hank about… personal issues, didn’t you?”

Oh, no. “I’m not seeing him again. No way. I don’t trust him.”

The pastor was silent a moment. “Well. In that case, I’ll just ask you this: why would you even consider working with a demon? None of the stories I’ve heard about demons involve people working with them and everything turning out great.”

She made it seem so ridiculous. “So… what do I do if I dream about it again?”

“Assuming it really is a demon? Reject it. Just completely reject it and don’t let it influence you.”

“What, like, ‘I reject you, hellspawn’?”

“Sure. Or say a prayer to keep yourself safe.” Then she hesitated. “I feel like I should add a caveat. if these dreams really are just dreams, which I’m ninety-something percent sure they are, I might be giving you bad advice. It might be what you really need to do isn’t reject this dream creature at all, and you really should get help from a medical professional. Even if it isn’t Dr. Hank.”

Mae tried not to tune out this part of the pastor’s advice, but she couldn’t help it—she knew it was wrong. The part about demons, though… might make sense. What was she thinking, trying to help a demon? Even if it was to help it get home? “If I help a demon get back to Hell,” she muttered, “is that good or bad?”

“I don’t know the answer to that, Mae,” said Pastor K. “But if I were you, I’d stay away from anything demonic. A lot of people care about you. You know that, don’t you?”

She remembered being here when she didn’t know where she was; a room of people saying things about her and hoping she’d wake up. Pastor Kate had led that living wake, or whatever it was. “Um. This may sound weird, but… could I maybe get a hug?”

The pastor smiled with embarrassment. “I was actually thinking about offering earlier, but I decided against it.”

Mae opened her arms. “Well, good thing for you I believe in second chances.”

They hugged. It felt good, and Mae wanted to melt a little, but she still felt a little uneasy, knowing the pastor didn’t fully believe her. She stood there taking in the church basement, the bingo supplies… the fact that she was cared for here, if not exactly loved.

“I’d like to hear about how this develops,” said Pastor K. “Will you come again and tell me?”

Decision time. “I’ll tell you more than that,” said Mae.

“Oh?”

She felt, and again resisted, the urge to jump on the table. “I’ll tell you about Bruce.”

Pain struck the pastor’s face, though she tried to hide it. “What about Bruce?”

“He never went home to his family. Probably they didn’t even want him back. The story he told me, and I told you… he made it up.”

“I have to say… I’m not entirely surprised. But how do you know?”

“The demon thing told me. He’s living in the woods. In a ditch.”

The pastor’s eyes narrowed. “You saw it in a dream?”

“Close enough. A vision, more like. When the eclipse happened.”

“Were you outside watching it at the time?”

“Yep. Blacked out, scared all my friends. You probably think I’m crazy, huh? But I’m the good kind of crazy. I think.” She hoped, at least.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Mae. But I do think you need serious medical attention. I really think you ought to tell your parents about all this.”

“Don’t you want to help Bruce?” Mae asked. “He’s living near some town called Mannetsburg. His beard’s a real mess. I think he needs help.”

“Mannetsburg? I don’t know it. Is this also from the dream?”

Somehow, she didn’t want to mention Broderick. Pastor K already didn’t believe her—Mae didn’t want her to think she was even more crazy. “Yeah. It’s in Foxwood. I’d go, but I don’t have a car. I think the demon wanted me to sacrifice Bruce to it, but I want to help him instead.”

“Sacrifice? This is getting pretty serious, Mae.”

She nodded. “I know. I’m freaking out a little about it. But I’m trying to keep together.”

“I can’t drive to Foxwood just based on a vision you had. It’s still probably just dreams, even if one of them did come at a strange time.”

“What if it weren’t dreams?” Mae demanded, putting her hands on her hips. “What if you knew he really was struggling to get by in the woods? Would you go then?”

Pastor K hesitated before giving a little nod. “I would.”

“He’s not your neighbor anymore.”

“No. But I care.”

“There’s probably a thousand homeless guys closer to here than that. Maybe ten thousand. They’d probably be easier to help.” Mae didn’t know why she was being a jerk about this—maybe to test the pastor?

“I know. But I’m human that way. I form connections with people.”

Mae nodded. “You should go, then. Because it’s true. All of it. I may be messed up in the head, but the demon goat is real either way. I’m serious.”

“I’m sorry, Mae, but it’s just too much for me to believe.”

You know those eighteen guys who disappeared last fall? Mae wanted to say. But she didn’t. She knew any further explanations would just result in the pastor urging her harder and harder to get help, and maybe eventually telling her parents about it. Mae wanted to go on a road trip with Pastor K and really get to the bottom of all this. Make excuses to her parents and to the town council. Have an adventure. But it would mean telling everything. Implicating her friends in the collapse of the mine. Making people think she was more unhinged than she actually was. Maybe she should do that, but she couldn’t.

“Okay. That’s fine. There’s a guy who’s going to help Bruce, and I’ll just have to write him letters and make sure he actually does it. You can stay here and… preach, or talk, or whatever you do. But Black Goat is real. It really is. You came to a town with an honest-to-god monster in it, probably a demon, and you could have done your clergy magic on it. But you’re gonna miss your chance. And you’ll probably never get another chance.”

Pastor K hesitated for a long time. “You know I don’t have ‘clergy magic’, right?”

Mae shook her head. “I’m a college dropout who never paid attention in Sunday school. I don’t know anything of the sort.”

“I don’t have clergy magic,” said the pastor.

“Bet you do,” said Mae.

Pastor K sighed. “Is it possible we could discuss this after bingo? People are about to show up.”

“Fine. I’ll come by tomorrow. …Just tell me one thing.”

The pastor inclined her head.

“Were you called to this?” Mae asked. “To being a pastor?”

She nodded solemnly. “I believe I was. It was a steady, growing desire, and not a sudden spark. And I wasn’t sure at first. But that’s actually how it is for most ministers.”

“Did you ever dream of exorcising a demon?”

Pastor K stared as if she were about to say something. Then she tilted her head the other way and said: “Bingo. People coming. I can practically hear them on the stairs.”

“Right,” said Mae. “Talk to you later.”

She turned and traipsed back to the stairs, picking up her bat as she went. “Just saying,” she added as she went. “Wouldn’t want you to miss your one chance.”

The pastor watched her as she left. Mae found herself breathing hard once she reached the top of the stairs. She hadn’t realized how nervous she was.

“Mae?” Soft footsteps pattered closer. Oh geez—she should’ve been more careful.

“Hey Mom,” she said, turning.

“Sweetie! I didn’t think I’d see you here. Are you just back from the eclipse? How was your trip?” Mom’s words were kind, but she was obviously concerned—she didn’t move in for a hug.

“It was… it was great. Interesting. I was actually planning to tell you all about it at home.”

“Well… you still can, if you prefer. You just dropped in to let me know you were back safe?

Mae scratched her neck, swinging her bat incidentally as she did. “Actually, I came by to see the pastor. I had some questions for her.”

Mom’s concern took over her face fully—no more holding back. “Oh.”

Did she think Mae was pregnant again? Better placate her. “I’ve decided to come to service! Next Sunday. I’ll give it a try.”

Mom smiled, but even now it wasn’t an all-the-way smile. “That’s great, honey! I’m glad you’re giving it a go.”

“Yeah! And… the trip went fine, mostly. We’re all back safe.”

“Sweetie…”

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

She gestured with her eyes. “You know, it’s not really okay to bring a weapon into church.”

Mae looked at the bat. “Oh right. Um…”

“What’s with the bat, sweetie? I thought you were done with those.”

So that was why she was concerned. That made sense. “Hey Mom… I’m really sorry to make you worried. Like, all the time. Now, and when I dropped out, and when I got shot at, and… and when I beat up Andy Cullen. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. Just—”

The tone of her voice didn’t say It’s okay. “No, it’s not. It’s really the opposite of okay. I hate worrying—I don’t want to make people do it for me. And…” This was weirdly hard to say. “I love you, Mom. I don’t want you to worry. But…” Mae scrunched her face and sighed. “I’m just gonna be carrying a bat around for a while. I can’t tell you why. I’m not out to hurt anyone. And I don’t think anyone’s trying to hurt me. I just… I just need this with me, to feel comfortable.”

Mom looked so sad, all of a sudden. “It’s like a binky blanket?”

Good enough. “Yeah, Mom. It’s like a binky blanket. Did I have one of those?”

“You absolutely did. We had to distract you with a root beer float and one of those handheld video games to get it away from you. When it was ready to be thrown out.”

“Aw, Mom! You couldn’t let me keep my binky? Just ‘cause it was a little messy?”

“It was falling apart. We didn’t want you breathing in the fumes.”

“Blanket fumes?”

“Tiny flakes of blanket. We gave you a new one, but you didn’t really care as much for it. You cried for a week.”

Mae could almost remember. “I’m still just a big kid, aren’t I? I’m not growing up. Still with my binky blanket. Only now it’s a binky bat.”

Now Mom did move in for the hug, bat and all. “Just don’t swing it at anyone. I love you, sweetie.”

“Love you,” Mae returned.

But all the way home, she felt dirty. This isn’t a binky, she told herself. It’s a weapon of destruction. It’s a weapon of liberation.

She kept it with her through dinner. Through telling Mom and Dad (and, for some reason, Germ, who’d randomly showed up) about her trip… but leaving out the weird parts. And all through watching TV with Dad, she kept her bat with her. Dad raised his eyebrows at it, but didn’t object.

“Everything going okay with you, Mae?” he asked.

“Fine,” she replied, in the tone of voice that meant Of course not everything’s fine, but when is it ever, and can we not talk about it? He didn’t push the issue.

She took the bat upstairs with her and sat with it while she chatted on her laptop. She set it on her desk as she wrote a letter to Broderick. She took it to bed with her and cuddled it like a security blanket. She fell asleep holding it.

But it wasn’t a binky bat. It was a weapon of liberation.

If she carried it with her all day long, she reasoned, then maybe, just maybe, it would show up in her dreams. And if she dreamed of Black Goat, and she had her bat with her, then she would swing it, and swing it, and swing it until the tear in the ground that was the sky reopened, and she would set that crazy demon free.

At least that was the plan.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 6:

This was the high life, all right.  Mae hadn’t even known you could make donuts at home.

“Is that me?” asked Gregg.  “I think that’s a picture of me!”

It was.  It was done in green jelly—not normal jelly, but that stuff that used to come with oatmeal when she was a little kid.  The kind of jelly they probably had in heaven.  It was clearly Gregg’s face, so while Mae wanted to tuck into that sweet green apple smell, this donut was definitely for him.  She searched through the warm, fresh-baked pile, knowing there had to be at least one there with her face on it.

“How are you kids enjoying your lunch?” asked the cheerful hostess.

Mae smiled hugely, genuinely enjoying the search.  “It’s amazing, Mrs. Santello!  How do you even make donuts at home?”

“I have a presser,” Mrs. Santello explained.  “You feed in the batter and it presses it out into neat little donuts!  And then I decorate them with squeeze tubes.”

“Pretty coo’, pretty coo’,” said Gregg.  Hey!  Mae remembered when he used to drop the ‘l’ from his ‘cool’s.  Was he back to doing that now?

“I can eat two at once,” said Bea, opening her mouth wide.

“That’s nonsense,” said Gregg.  “That’s slander.”

“Nope!  I can do it.”  Bea laid two soft, perfectly shaped discs into her mouth, one almost on top of the other.  Both were decked with blue jelly in the shapes of things she liked.  What did she like?  Mae couldn’t quite make the pictures out before Bea’s teeth closed down, squashing the donuts down as easily as mud squeezes through your fingers when you try to make sand castles from it.

“Wow,” said Gregg.

“That was pretty cool,” admitted Mae, still sifting through the donuts.  “Mrs. Santello, are there any with my picture on them here?  I feel like there should be some for me.”

“There certainly should be!” piped their hostess, chipper as always.  “Yours should have strawberry jelly.”

“I can smell it,” said Mae.  She really could.  And she saw a hint of red, but by the time she realized she’d seen it, she’d accidentally put another donut on top of it, and now she couldn’t find it again.  “Guys, help me out.  Are there any donuts for me here?”

Sunlight was dappling hard through the sun door, cut by tall blades of grass in the yard and the pinwheels and the birdhouse.  That’s right—Bea’s dad had made a birdhouse, hadn’t he?  Mae wondered why she’d forgotten that.  She tried to scoot her stool closer but her feet couldn’t reach the tiled floor.

“All done,” said Bea, swallowing the last of her two-donut mash.

Gregg applauded enthusiastically, head bobbing, mouth open.  “You’re an ace, Bea.  You could be on Donuts with the Stars.”

Bea giggled.  Why did that sound so rare, so fresh?  “They’d never let me on.  I’m not grown up yet!”

“Dude, you don’t have to be grown up to be on Donuts with the Stars!  It’s an all-ages show!  You just have to be all ages.”

“I’m not all ages,” said Bea.  “Someday I will be though.”

Mae turned over a donut—it had a picture of the Donut Wolf on it, in purple.  She wanted to eat it, but the purple ones belonged to Mr. Santello.  “How can you be all ages at once?”

“I dunno,” laughed Bea.  “You have to go to school for it, I think.”

Mae realized what was on Bea’s donuts—they were pictures from school.  Books, flags, pencils, desks, bells.  They were really pretty and smelled like blueberries.  “You should go to school,” Mae said.

“I will,” said Bea.

“You should,” agreed Gregg.

“I will!”

Mae was looking frantically now through the donuts.  She could see glimpses of strawberry jelly, but every time she stopped to look, she’d accidentally put it aside or covered it with another donut.  The red was there, but she just couldn’t get her hands on it.  She was being a spaz again.  She took a deep breath.  She focused on seeing what was on the donut currently on top of the stack.

It smelled like oranges.  It was an orange picture of Casey.

“Mrs. Santello?” asked Mae, suddenly queasy.  “Did you invite Casey?”

“I did invite your friend Casey, yes!  I hope he shows up.”

Mae looked around at all the windows and doors.  They were all open—she hadn’t noticed that before.  There was wind blowing gently in through all of them.  How could the wind blow from every direction at once?  Wasn’t it supposed to just blow whatever way the weathervane was facing?

“I think he’s coming,” Mae said.  “Or he’s trying to come.”

“The door is open,” chirped Bea’s mom.  “He can come whenever he likes.”

“I bet I can eat three donuts at once,” said Gregg.

“Gregg, shush!” said Mae.  She had a feeling that wasn’t important right now.

Mae walked through the living room into the entrance hall, her feet bare on the wood floor.  Hungry.  She was hungry.  She’d been sitting there half an hour and hadn’t had any donuts!  She could smell the strawberry jelly ones, but couldn’t find them.  The sight of three children, laughing and searching for DNA evidence, flashed through her mind.  Wind was blowing through the door.  She remembered what Casey looked like, as if he were standing there in the doorway, but he wasn’t.  Three vagrants were standing by the Food Donkey fence.  Crusties, falling from trains.  The paper mobile Bea’s family had hung by the front door was swaying around.  Bruce was snoring under a pile of leaves somewhere.  Germ was staring, surprised at something.  Mr. Penderson staggered and fell off a curb.  The wind was blowing so steadily and strong she could see it.  Mae was at the door, and she could see nothing but wind.

Bea’s mother shrieked.  Mae tried to turn around, but couldn’t.

“Mom!”

“Oh my God,” said Gregg’s voice.  “Mrs. Santello!”

“Oh God,” said Bea’s mom.  “Bea?  I’m sorry.  I know you wanted to go to school, but you can’t.  You won’t be able.  I’m sorry.”

“Mom, what happened?!”

“I’m sorry, Bea.”

Their voices faded and were overtaken by a squeaky, wretched voice from outside the house, both too far away and too nearby.  “Blue fire in the north!” it said.  “I have discovered your secret name!”

Oh god.  That was from Grandpa’s story.  It was the Huncher.  And there she was—visible through every little shape of the decorative window in the door, which was somehow there even though the door was open.  A dozen Hunchers of different sizes, at different angles, all turned to face Mae.

“I’m not the blue fire of the north,” Mae said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, girl,” said the Huncher.  “But now I am.  You’re not much of a dreamer, are you?”

Mae looked around.  “What do you mean?”

“You can’t bring your friend back, even in a dream!  He’s precious to you, but you didn’t keep him close, did you?  You went away.”

Mae felt a tremendous guilt explode in the bottom of her gut.  “Is this a dream?”

“Only now coming up to speed?  Oh, girl, you’re in it so much deeper than you know.  There’s only one way out from here.”

“What?”  Did she mean death?

“No, I don’t mean death—not yours, anyway.  That way goes without saying.  Someone else’s!  Anyone’s would do, really,” said the Huncher.

Mae understood suddenly that the faces and figures she’d seen—those had been suggestions.  She was so hungry, but the hunger wasn’t hers.  She knew now that the hunger wasn’t hers.

“It sent you, didn’t it?” she yelled.  “You’re from Black Goat.”

“How do you know Black Goat’s not from me?” challenged the huge, hunched woman.  “I’m realer than most folks I know.”

“Why would I sacrifice anyone?  I can’t do that.”  Mae glanced around for her bat, but then remembered—she’d set it down in the kitchen, when Mrs. Santello had asked her to.  She was so dumb.

“You can, girl.  You’re capable of more than you know.  You may not think anyone’s expendable now.  But you’ll figure out who is soon enough.”

No.  “I just want to set it free.  Tell Black Goat I just want to set it free!”

“There’s no running from hunger, girl.  You can’t escape it.  And there’s no such thing as a free lunch, either!”

“I’m not the one who wants lunch,” said Mae, although her stomach growled, reminding her that she did—she really, really did.

“And that’s why you’re the one who’s due payment,” said the Huncher.  “Check the mail!”

Mae looked at the mailslot.  It was filled with a sludgy drench of papers, all blended together.  She sifted her hands through it but couldn’t grasp any of the envelopes—they just fell everywhere.

Footsteps sounded.  Bea ran in from the other room.  She was so little.  She was wearing a bow—Bea never wore bows anymore.

“Mae, it’s all gone wrong!” she cried.  The Huncher’s body stretched out in blurry stripes at the cry, then snapped together again.

“What happened?” asked Mae, though she knew the answer.

“I can’t go to school,” wailed Bea.  “Not ever again!”

The Huncher flew apart into stripes that dissipated in the wind.  Mae wasn’t able to fight the wind; she was blown across the floor, away from the door.  She could smell Casey.

“Black Goat!” she screamed.  She looked around for her bat, but couldn’t find it anywhere.  She couldn’t find the kitchen, or a donut with her picture on it, or the mail.  She couldn’t find anything.  “I just want you to go back where you came!”

The wall that was the sky flashed purple and immense before her eyes: unbreakable, untearable.  A huge zero slashed with a line flashed empty against it.  Hunger wracked Mae’s body.  All the faces passed again before her eyes.  She saw Germ falling, his eyes widening.  He didn’t know what was coming.

Mae reached out and found herself clutching Bea.  Since she had nothing else, she squeezed her tight.  The wind blew the house away.

Nothing was left was but blackness, and a few scattered notes of a piano.

I won’t do it, thought Mae in the darkness.  What you’re missing is that there’s nothing in the world that would make me kill someone.  Killing isn’t cool.  But more than that, there’s just nothing I want that much.  Not the bombshell.  Not the blacksmith on the farm in the woods.  Not even to be healthy, and free of all this nonsense.  You can’t bribe me because there’s nothing I want that much.

She dared to open her eyes.  It had been long enough she thought it was safe.  She hoped she was in her bed.  It had better be her bed.  Good.  It was.  She was warm in her blankets, cozy in her bed.  The attic was just an attic and nothing had blown away.

God.  That had been wonderful and then terrible.  She’d forgotten how much she’d liked Mrs. Santello.  It hadn’t even occurred to Mae to grieve.  Was it her right to grieve for someone else’s mom?

Mae stumbled into her clothes and down the stairs.  She decided to skip breakfast.  She didn’t want to sit down, and besides, something was driving her to check the mail.  Just to get it out of the way.  Just so she could get on with her day without that to worry about.

Junk mail.  Just junk mail, literally nothing else.  Goo—

One piece of junk mail stood out, though.  Mae froze in the doorway, staring at the Donut Wolf logo.  “CRUNCH TIME WITH DONUT WOLF!” it said.

On any other day, Mae would have thrown away a flier like this without a second thought.  But she’d dreamed of donuts.  She turned over the flier and there they were—five donuts with pictures of a book, a flag, a pencil, a desk, and a bell.  All in blue.  The same exact donuts that had belonged to Bea in her dream.

Shit.  This is real, this is real, this is real.

“…Donut Wolf—proudly making all-nighters easier since 1971.”

 “…an attempt to appeal to students everywhere…”

“…open to ages 14-20…”

“…a video describing what Donut Wolf means to you.  Be creative!  Catch our attention.  We want to know what…”

“3rd prize—100 winners: A Donut Wolf T-shirt.

2nd prize—25 winners: A $100 Donut Wolf gift certificate!”

Mae closed her eyes and took a deep breath before reading the last line.

“1st prize—Our grand prize winner will receive a $75,000 scholarship to the college of their choice!  Their video will also be used in a nationwide…”

She winced.  God damn it.

Mae stood there breathing hard, unable to open her eyes.

If Bea entered, she would win.  She knew it.  If Bea entered this dumb contest, she would win.  But only if Mae brought Black Goat a sacrifice.  Any sacrifice.  Any living person at all.

Somehow, it had realized there was something she wanted that much.  Mae hated herself for the fact that she was actually thinking it over.

BONUS SONG:

Fort Lucenne Mall

To "Red Rubber Ball" by Paul Simon

I should have known
it all would fall apart
The shockwaves when you died
were like a bullet through my heart
I never grasped how stultifying hardware stores could be
If I never use a tool again, it's all the same to me

How did it all go so wrong?
I can barely see the light
My life is slowly crumbling like the Fort Lucenne Mall.

First went the house
and then went our respect
All my hard work earns me
is emotional neglect
Now I drive to college towns just to get out of the pen
I'm gasping for that tiny taste of what I could have been

How did it all go so wrong?
I can barely see the light
My life is slowly crumbling like the Fort Lucenne Mall.

I never dreamed
I'd stay in Possum Springs
You made me think something great
was waiting in the wings
I was dumb enough to think that things would be okay
But I think my childhood hopes are finally stocked and packed away

How did it all go so wrong?
I can barely see the light
My life has no more future than the Fort Lucenne Mall.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 7

“Hey.”

Pastor K looked up from her notes and entered into a meaningful silence. Mae didn’t know anyone else who could give meaning to her silences like that, except maybe Bea.

“Mae. You did say you’d stop by today.”

She walked into the pastor’s office. “I know it’s not office hours, and I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m guessing you’re writing a sermon or something?”

“I’m in the brainstorming phase,” the pastor admitted. “What did you want to talk about?”

Mae took a breath. “Just so you know, I’m gonna get all heavy on you. But that’s just ‘cause I know you can take it. Okay?”

Pastor K rose slowly from her desk, then walked around just as slowly to lean back against it. “Okay,” she said.

“So… you know how killing is wrong, right?” Mae began.

The adult’s expression seemed to say, Well, this’ll be a doozy. “I am familiar with that concept.”

“I know this sounds terrible, but… I just… I need someone to explain to me why exactly it’s wrong.”

The pastor tightened her posture. “Are you considering killing someone, Mae?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you why. It’s one of those things. This is just something I really need right now.” She sat down on the floor, holding her knees in her hands. “Is… is that okay?”

“Sure it’s okay. What I was working on is part of my job, but this is part of my job too. Still, I have to admit I’m a little troubled by the question. You don’t feel like you have a good handle on what’s wrong with killing?”

“I kind of do. I think I do. But I need a strong authority figure to really nail it down. I can’t trust my own wandering mind.”

“Because it wanders?”

“Bingo.”

“Oh, so now you know what bingo is.”

“I always knew what the expression meant,” Mae clarified. “Just not what the game looked like.”

“Right. Well. Are we talking about… killing people, or just living things in general?”

“I think we’re talking people,” said Mae, squeezing her knees tighter.

The pastor made a visible effort to keep her composure. Mae could only wonder what was going through her head. “Right. Well, really there are several reasons why killing is wrong. Are you more interested in the scriptural reasons, or the ethical reasons, or the social implications?”

Mae sighed. “Maybe we’d better just go through from the top.”

The pastor paused. “Right. So.” She drew her chair around to the near side of the desk and sat down. “God, as you know, is the only being who can create life. We reproduce, passing our power of life to the next generation when we have children, but the life we make isn’t original with us. It was given to us by God.”

“Right.” That seemed reasonable enough.

“The commandments we’re given tell us that if we can’t make life, it isn’t right for us to take it away,” continued the pastor. “That’s a rejection of God’s gift and an encroachment upon their purview.”

Purview? “I guess that’s fair,” said Mae. “Don’t make a mess if you can’t clean it up.”

“Exactly. So one of our most cherished and oldest rules is that we don’t kill each other. Aside from the consequences to society, it would be hard to find a clearer way to reject God, short of saying ‘I reject thee.’”

“Thee.”

“Thee. Now, you may wonder, then, why do we consider it acceptable to kill animals? Since they’re also living, and we can’t create their life either.”

“Good question.”

“I personally try to avoid hurting anything if I can, and I don’t eat meat,” the pastor said. “But the groundwork is there in Boons 4 and 5, where God grants the first tribe dominion over the animals. This is seen as an exception to that rule—a gift God gave us so that we could eat and provide for ourselves. It still means that no creature may be harmed without a specific purpose, and arguably, it no longer applies now that we have synthetic fabrics and plant-based ways of getting all the nutrition we need. Then again, if shooting a deer and harvesting a field of grain both destroy living things, who’s to say that one is more acceptable than the other? Scripture never specifically sets animals above plants in their worthiness to live, so we’re forced to use our judgment when…”

Mae’s set her head on her arms, which were still squeezing her knees. She sat up against the wall and let the pastor talk while she drifted off. She didn’t catch it all, or even most of it, but it was good for her to listen. She knew it must be good for her.

“Hey Lori?” Mae asked.

“What happened to ‘kid’?” said Lori, turning to face her a little more. The town was beneath them, the rooftops about them, the winds above.

“I guess I wanted to ask something serious,” Mae explained.

“Oh. Okay! You can go ahead.”

“So… you love talking about death and all, but you’ve… never actually killed someone, right?”

The kid went a little pale, looking away and back. “Oh gosh, no! You think I actually killed someone?”

“No! I was just checking.”

“I’m just a horror fan. I love movies about grim stuff but I don’t want anyone to actually get killed.”

“Me neither!” said Mae. “But… okay, here’s the question. Are you ready?”

Lori took a moment to calm down. “I think so.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. You can ask.”

“So… if you did have to kill someone… who do you think you would kill?”

The kid stared at her. “Is this a serious question?”

“I already told you it was!”

Lori gave it due consideration. “Probably someone who deserved it. Someone really awful. Like a dictator.”

“Do you… know any dictators?”

“No. Does it have to be someone I know?”

“Someone that you, like, have access to, yeah.”

She thought hard. To her credit, she didn’t try to get out of it by saying she wouldn’t kill anyone. Mae had asked if.

“I guess I’d try to figure out who deserved it the most,” she said eventually. “I might walk around with something and let everyone know it meant a lot to me. Something from my movie prop collection, maybe. And then I’d leave it someplace, just sitting out, and I’d find a hiding spot, and I’d watch to see who stole it.”

“And then you’d kill them?”

“I’d give them time to return it to me. But if they didn’t return it…” She shrugged.

“That’s how you’d decide?”

“I guess. If I had to kill someone. I’d really rather not.”

“Wow. I don’t know if you’re scary or not, Lori, but you’re a pretty cool kid.”

“Thanks. You’re pretty cool too.”

Mae didn’t feel even halfway cool these days.

“So.”

“So.”

“You’re probably wondering why I came all this way,” said Mae.

“I was figuring I would find out eventually,” said Angus.

“I hope it’s not annoying. Having me show up for a visit when Gregg’s at work. Eating into your quality alone time.” At least she’d called ahead, since it would’ve sucked to spend two hours on the bus to find Angus out with Gregg somewhere when she arrived.

Angus was just standing there in the middle of the room. “It’s fine.”

Mae was already on the couch. “You’re sure you don’t want to sit down?”

“I’m fine. You’re sure you don’t want something to eat?”

“Maybe later. I wanted to talk first.”

This seemed to make him nervous. “About what?”

“Well okay. So, you don’t believe in God, right?”

“Mmn. Well, I mean, I didn’t.”

Whoa. “What, you changed your mind?”

Angus shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “Not sure. But I know one thing. I know that guy wasn’t in the mine elevator when we went up.”

“Eide? Yeah, he…” Mae shuddered. “He did something.”

“He did something,” Angus agreed. “And that isn’t something he should have been able to do. Even if you just hallucinated everything else you said happened to you… the dreams, the thing calling to you, the conversation in the water… and even if the fact you blacked out during the eclipse was just mental illness… there’s still that guy. And he appeared in the elevator from out of nowhere.”

“Yeah.”

“So.” Angus took a deep breath. “So there’s something more out there. Something gave him the power to do that. And that means you aren’t entirely crazy.”

Mae stared. “Thanks?”

“It’s a lot to process, if you know what I mean. And I’m still working on processing it. Putting everything in its proper place. Working through the hypotheses.”

“And so one of your hypotheses is that God is real and the whole religion thing is real?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

“Well geez. Here I came all the way to Bright Harbor because I wanted to get the atheist’s perspective on my problems, and now I find out you’re only what, agnostic?”

“Something like that.”

“Huh!” Mae leaned back into the couch’s embrace. “So, wow. This must be a big time of life for you? You’re acting just like normal, but on the inside you’re moving everything around, trying to make sense of it all.”

His expression tensed just a little. “Pretty much.”

Mae shrugged dramatically. “And here I am wrapped up in my own junk, as usual. You want to talk about it?”

He stood still for a while. “I’m going to make some brownies. You want some?”

Brownies sounded pretty good. “Sure,” said Mae.

They sat later in the apartment’s kitchen. “So what have you decided?” Mae asked. “Anything?”

Angus sipped his glass of milk. So far he’d only nibbled his brownie, but seemed glad to have it at hand. “Well, for starters, I know evolution is still true.”

“Evolution? Like how they say we came from lower forms of life?”

He nodded sagely. “There’s too much evidence to discount. It’s clear evolution really happened, even if there are such things as gods and devils.”

“Why does that matter?”

“It’s about where we come from. If we were created, then we might owe a debt to whoever created us. Or we might bear some direct mark of whatever being did it. But the fossil and DNA records are clear. We weren’t made. We happened.”

Mae sat up straighter. “Just happened?”

“More or less. And that means we don’t owe anyone anything. Not for our birth, at least.”

Mae mulled this over while she savored a bite of brownie. “So where does that leave us?”

“Stumbling in the dark, I want to say.”

Mae shivered. “You really think so?”

“We can’t see the things around us. We can’t tell they’re there ninety-nine percent of the time. That’s what darkness looks like.”

“But then what can we do? Light a match?”

“Maybe,” said Angus. “But I’m not sure that’s possible.”

Mae threw her arms out. “Well we can’t just stumble around forever, can we?”

“It may be that we need to forge alliances. Join up with some otherworldly creatures to defend us from the others.”

“You think maybe that’s what the church is doing?”

“I think they’re trying. But they may not know what they’re doing.”

“If they don’t know what they’re doing, then how come they were right about God being there?”

“I don’t know that they are. I’m actually more inclined to think about it from a relative point of view.”

Mae tilted her head. “How do you mean?”

“Look at it this way. The animals don’t have any idea what to make of us. We’re mysterious. If we were less interested in expanding our societies and more interested in… hiding, then we could probably hide from the animals. And they’d have no idea we were there.”

“So what, we could just jump out and spook some deer or something and make it lose its shit?”

He looked gravely at her. “If we could do that to the animals, who’s to say there aren’t creatures that much higher than us who’ve been hiding all along?”

“Dude. Angus. I know they exist and you’re still giving me chills.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s good. I actually think you ought to go talk to Pastor Kate, or whoever the local pastor is. They might help you work out what to believe.”

He froze. “I… I’m actually kind of… reluctant to.”

“How come? Pastor K doesn’t bite.”

“I’ve been… opposed to the church my whole life. It doesn’t seem like it would be… entirely appropriate.”

“Angus. She doesn’t care. Whoever leads the church here probably won’t care either. Go talk to someone, seriously.”

Angus nibbled his brownie and followed it with a gulp of milk. Even through his milk mustache, he said nothing.

The receiver felt chunky in her hand.

“Aunt Molly? Is that you?”

“Mae? You’ve never called me before. And I don’t know when the last time you called me Molly was.”

“I just wanted to know. Do you love me?”

“…Do I what? Love you?”

“Yeah. You know… like family members do.”

There was a long pause.

“Wow. Did not expect to ever hear that question from you.”

“Still waiting for an answer.”

“…Don’t you know I love you? Seriously? Don’t you know that, Mae? Why do you think I keep trying to get you on the straight and narrow?”

“‘Cause you want to make my life hell?”

“Mae. Do you really believe that?”

She thought for a moment. “I guess that’s why I called. To find out, once and for all.”

“I live in fear that people I know and love will die, Mae. Or have something else happen to them that can’t be taken back. Do you know that?”

“…I didn’t know that.”

“That’s my life. That’s a cop’s life, and it’s mine even more. Eighteen people disappeared last fall. A few of them were folks I once counted as friends.”

Mae didn’t know whether to ask about those people, or to admit she knew what had happened to them. “That sucks, Aunt Mall-cop. I mean Molly.”

“When I think of you, part of me wants to think of you as already gone. Because it’d be easier to just give up on my sister’s wayward kid now than suffer someday when I get that phone call, or that dispatch report, and find out something’s happened.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Molly. If something does end up happening to me… I want you to know it’s not your fault. You did everything you could.”

“Land sakes, Mae. Are you calling ‘cause something’s wrong?”

“Kind of. But it’s nothing you can help with. I just… wanted to hear you say you loved me, or didn’t. Just to know either way.”

“Mae, whatever mess you’re in, get out of it. You understand me?”

“Yeah. I understand.”

“Don’t make me call your mother.”

“I’ll be fine, Aunt Molly. Thanks.” Mae wondered if she should say ‘I love you’ too, but she wasn’t sure she would mean it.

“Mae. I mean it. Stay safe. Okay?”

“Okay, Aunt Molly,” Mae whispered, and hung up the phone. She hoped she wasn’t lying.

It was time. Time for the last talk.

“So,” said Bea. “That’s a walloping big pile of pierogies.”

“I guess so,” Mae agreed, staring at it. Her stare wasn’t a longing one… more like mourning.

“You really think we can eat all these?”

“Maybe. Nah, probably not.” That wasn’t really what was on Mae’s mind right now. “Maybe it’s just good to have some left over. To have more than we need.”

“You think it’s good to be wasteful?”

Mae shook her head. “Sometimes you just need extra. To feel comfortable. A slack margin.”

“A slack margin.”

“Look, I’m paying, okay? Dinner’s on me, and that’s the first time I’ve ever said that in my life and meant it. Unless maybe when I was a kid I got my mashed potatoes all over myself, but aside from that it’s the first time.”

“I appreciate it. No one ever takes me out to dinner. But what’s the occasion? You said you wanted to talk?”

Mae wanted to just blurt it out, but couldn’t. That was what these pierogies were for. They were a cushion. She grabbed one and jammed half of it in her mouth. While she was chewing, she couldn’t say anything horrible.

Bea sighed and started in on a pierogi of her own.

Mae washed down her bite with a swig of soda. “I was kind of drunk at the time,” she blurted, “but I sort of remember you saying that you would push me out of your moving car if it meant you could go to college.”

Bea’s reaction to this was a complicated mixture of shock and pity and wonder and shame. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she finally said.

“Why not? Because you didn’t really mean it, or you meant it but it was the sort of thing you should keep to yourself?”

She sipped her cola. “Oh, I meant it. But I shouldn’t have. We’d drifted so far apart I hardly knew you. I wasn’t being fair.”

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t do it now?”

Bea was silent, biting her lip.

“Look, I understand if I’m not worth a ton,” Mae began.

“—It’s not like it probably would have killed you,” Bea interrupted. “You’re always falling from places and recovering like a cat. You might have had to go to the hospital. But…” She looked away in shame. “You would have forgiven me, wouldn’t you? If for some strange reason I had to hurt you to get what I needed?”

It felt strange for the words to come so easily. “Sure I would’ve forgiven you,” said Mae, her fists full of pierogies.

Bea looked a little fainter. “Then I guess the answer is maybe. I’m not a good person, Mae. Maybe I was, once, a long time ago. But that’s lost. Now I’m just… this.”

“You’re a good person,” Mae insisted.

“A good person wouldn’t have said something like that. A good person would have refused to answer a crazy question like yours in the first place.”

“So, it sounds like you’re figuring that pushing me out of a moving car wouldn’t push me out of your life,” Mae surmised. “Lemme ask you another question then.”

“Oh god.”

Mae clenched both hands around a big pierogi. “What if you could go to college… but it meant losing me as a friend? Would you do it?”

“Geez, Mae. And people say I’m emo. Why are you asking these horrible questions?”

Mae stared, hungry for an answer. “Would you?”

Bea didn’t answer right away. She ate an entire pierogi, over the course of two minutes, before answering. “No.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s a close call. I won’t say I’m not really tempted. But no. That’s not what a decent person does. If I go to college—”

She broke off. Bea looked down, holding a half-eaten pierogi, and a tear glistened in her eye. More than a tear. Holy shit, Bea was crying. Mae couldn’t remember ever seeing her cry. Bea had to wipe her eyes and look away and catch her breath—

“—I would theoretically be trying to make something of myself. To be a better person. Smarter. Career-ready. But how could I be a better person if…”

She broke off, holding her face in her hand. “Wow. Sorry. I don’t cry like this in front of other people. Holy hell. Mae, I wouldn’t go to college if it cost me you.”

“What if I were okay with it?” Mae asked softly. “What if you weren’t giving me up because I was angry… but just because…” Because I’m doing twenty to life in the slammer? she couldn’t say. So she finished with a shrug.

“You’re actually… good god, you’d literally be willing to give up your life to let me have my dream, wouldn’t you?”

Mae gulped, her own tears welling. “I know my own isn’t worth that much,” she said.

“Oh my god, Mae. What did I do to deserve a friend as ridiculously loyal as you?”

Mae realized that she knew the answer. “You suffered. You lost your dreams and your apartment and the life you knew and your fricking mom, your sweet wonderful mom, who made special artsy flapjacks for you, I remember now… and your dad fell apart, like who wouldn’t, like anyone would, and you could have fallen apart too… but you didn’t. You hung in there, and yeah you started smoking and wearing black and stopped being cheerful but you hung together, and then you had to put up with your best friend, who’d stopped talking to you years ago ‘cause she’s a dipshit, showing up again after dropping out of college and expecting you to be friends again like nothing ever happened, and forgetting about your mom dying and getting drunk and ruining your chance of a date at a college party, and still you drove her around and let her spend time with you, and still you humored her when she started talking about ghosts, and still you went into the woods with her when she went crazy and was being hunted by cultists, and when finally she decided to strike off alone into the nest of vipers… still you followed after. You think I’m a loyal friend? Is that what you think? Am I the one in this diner who’s ridiculously loyal?”

“You can’t…” But Bea was rendered speechless by Mae’s avalanche of words.

“If you want to go to college, Bea, just say the word. Just tell me that’s what you want to do. Because it’ll happen. I’ll probably be gone, but it’ll happen. All I have to do is kill someone. All I have to do is sacrifice someone to Black Goat, and Black Goat’ll make it happen. All you have to do is enter this contest.” Mae slapped the glossy postcard on the table. “It’s perfect. You’ve got stories about Donut Wolf. You know how to use a video camera. You’re at the top of the age range, so you’d be competing against dumb teenagers, and you’ve got the whole goth thing going on to make you stand out. I think Black Goat made this contest happen just for us. Just so it had something to bribe me with. It’s hungry, Bea. It’s so hungry. And I’ll feed it, if you say the word. If you won’t let me feed someone else to it, I’ll go jump in myself. Your dad can’t say no if the money’s in a scholarship. You know he can’t. Non-transferable, seventy-five thousand dollars. No excuse not to let you go. …You can have college, Bea. You can have it! All it’ll cost you is me. And I’m fine with that. I’ll take the sin onto myself. Just say the word, Bea, and you can go.”

Bea’s mouth hung open. A drop of cola fell from it onto the table. She glanced at the flier, turned it over. Looked in astonishment back at Mae.

Mae looked at her mournfully, wondering where, if anywhere, she’d be in twenty years, five years, a month from now, a day.

“Holy fucking Christ, Mae. How…” Bea shut her eyes and wept openly. “How cheap do you think I am? Do you honestly…” She wiped her eyes. “Do you honestly think I would sell off one of my best friends for seventy-five thousand dollars? That’s like… that’s like one luxury car. That’s less than the real value of our inventory at the Pickaxe. God dammit, Mae.” Again, Bea had to wipe her face clean. “Have some fucking self-respect,” she sobbed.

“It’s not the amount of money,” Mae maintained. “It’s the dream.”

”Then fuck the dream,” cried Bea. She tore the postcard in half and collapsed with her face on the table, crying.

Mae watched her in disbelief. She didn’t know what to say or how to feel.

“Fuck the dream,” Bea repeated. “And fuck this Black Goat. Let it starve. Just let it starve.” She didn’t take her face off the table.

Mae slowly set down her fistful of half-eaten pierogies. She wiped her face clean and watched her friend cry.

Bea cried for a long time. A really long time. Mae offered her a clean napkin from an unused place setting. She went around and patted her back and held her lightly from behind. She wanted to say something, anything. It’s okay, maybe, but she didn’t know if that was true. If nothing else, she was there for Bea.

“Dammit,” Bea muttered. “How the hell did I end up with a best friend like you?”

Best friend? Mae smiled through her tears. She hadn’t been Bea’s best friend for a long, long time.

“I dunno,” she answered. “But does this mean you have something better than college? Because you like being friends with me more than you’d like going?”

Bea rose from the table and swiveled her head around to look at Mae, looking fearsome.

“Fuck. I guess it does,” she finally whispered.

Mae hugged her wholeheartedly, relieved that she wasn’t going have to give up her life and her innocence, but relieved even more for Bea’s sake. “You’re welcome,” she said.

THIS BONUS SONG IS A COUNTERPOINT TO THE LAST ONE

Love You Bea
(To “Let It Be” by Paul McCartney)

When I find myself in times of trouble
Mae Borowski comes to me
Speaking words of comfort:
Love you Bea

And in the weirdest, darkest times
She keeps repeating endlessly
Annoying words of comfort
Love you Bea

Love you Bea, love you Bea, love you Bea, love you Bea
Stubborn words of comfort
Love you Bea

When all the broken a-holes have me
Drowning in futility
There's one guilty comfort:
Love you Bea

'Cause even though this town is doomed
There's still a chance for humanity
Tears when Mae reminds me:
Love you Bea

Love you Bea, love you Bea, love you Bea, yeah, love you Bea
When I'm down, she tells me:
Love you Bea

Love you Bea, love you Bea, love you Bea, love you Bea
Stupid words of comfort
Love you Bea

BRIDGE

Love you Bea, love you Bea, love you Bea, hey, love you Bea
Needed words of comfort
Love you Bea

And when I want to cry because
I think I have no family
Mae comes to the Pickaxe:
Love you Bea

I wake up to the sound of wheedling
Mae just wants me to agree:
I'm a decent person
I love me

Love you Bea, love you Bea, luv u Beeahtwiss, love you Bea
You're the strongest person
Love you Bea

Love you Bea, love you Bea, love you Bea, yeah, love you Bea
Constant words of comfort
Love you Bea

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 8

Mae managed to wake up without being so dream-frazzled that she had to run from the attic in a panic. That was good. She could do her normal morning thing. She stretched, yawned, rubbed her eyes. Opened her laptop. Blinked. Something was off. Stop being weird, world!

Oh. Oh weird. Bea’s chattrBox icon was different. No more Lost Skeleton Girlfriend cover art. It was a butterfly thing. A cocoon. Just hanging there in the middle of some leaves.

Weird, but it wasn’t like Bea was going to pick an icon that wasn’t weird. That was just Bea for you. She’d left a message for Mae: “Hey. It feels weird to say what I want to say over chat, so I’ll just say this: thanks for dinner last night. Hope to see you at the store today.”

Yeah, Mae bet it felt weird. She felt weird about it too, remembering the fact that she’d actually been willing to kill herself for Bea’s sake. How could anything be normal for friends after that happens? Could they ever go back to normal? Still, she felt good about how it had gone. Mae’d talked to everyone she could think of, but she’d still been confused. Bea had made things seem so clear, like she always did.

Sure, she’d go to the store. She wouldn’t even mess around first, hitting all her favorite spots like she’d been doing before the eclipse. Somehow it didn’t seem respectful to fool around when there was something important that felt like it needed doing. Was this what growing up felt like?

She checked the mail before she left, just in case. Her hands reached out to seize the letter from Broderick almost before she’d recognized that’s what it was. She opened and read it, nervously, while walking up the Maple Street hill. No leaping today—just one foot in front of the other.

“Mae,

I keep thinking of the word ‘miracle’. As if it’s a miracle that we were brought together. I know that’s not the word for it—the word’s a bit obscene in that sense—but the time we spent together felt miraculous. Like an act from above, or maybe from below, that there’s nothing like in the world.

I went to find that man’s family, the one who helped kill my father and left town. It wasn’t easy. I searched in the wrong woods first—that wasted a day. Had trouble sleeping that night. Got better directions from the post office the next day, but even in the right woods, I had trouble. Found what I thought was the cabin three times, but it was always something else. I knocked on a door without realizing it was the wrong cabin. Embarrassed myself. Kept moving.

Finally I reached the right place. I knocked and said hello to the man’s wife, told her who I was. She wanted to shove me out, to get away from me. I told her I wanted to help. “Help how?” she asked. So I explained. I could tell the folks in town she needed help. Or I could give her what money I had, stay and clean up. She couldn’t turn down money, so she let me stay.

We talked a bit. It was awkward at first, but I met her brood, and I suspect I could name them if I saw them again. I didn’t tell her how I knew they needed help, or that they were in danger. I suppose they probably aren’t, not any more, since even if the Goat’s got his suckers in some other sucker’s head, it’s only me this family’s connected to. If I don’t take advantage of their weakness, I don’t imagine anyone else will. And I don’t intend to. I’ll visit again tomorrow.

How are you faring? The plan you mentioned seems like a good one, even if it’s risky. It hasn’t worked yet, has it? I can still feel him there, or I’ve been corrupted forever. Have you spoken with him again? Have you been tempted? We should see each other again in any case, but if you need help, I can come straight away and give it.

Yours together in this,

Broderick Yancey”

Yancey, huh? That was kind of a funny name. He was such a good person, though. Mae was jealous and even a little intimidated by how good he was. What if Black Goat was talking to dozens of people across the country or even the world, and out of all of them, Mae was the weak link? Something like Black Goat might only need one weak link. It wouldn’t be able to corrupt someone like Broderick, but she’d been right on the brink. Mae didn’t trust herself to do the right thing. She wondered what it felt like—being able to trust yourself.

“Hey!” called Selmers from her stoop. “You doing okay?”

Mae was trudging along with the letter in her face, not noticing anything. She put it down. “Hi Selmers. I guess okay is a pretty decent way to put how I am, if you’re not interested in really getting in deep.”

“Like the nitty gritty, huh? You wanna tell me what’s bugging you?”

Mae sighed inside. “I guess there was something weird controlling my life, and I had no idea what it was. Something big and scary. Now I kind of know what it is, but I don’t know if I’m better off, or worse!”

Selmers took on a harsh, flabbergasted look. “Controlling your life? You mean the patriarchy?”

Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. “Kind of? No, not really.”

“You ask me, it’s always better to know your enemies. Do your research. That way, you’ll be ready when the chance comes to strike.”

“Do you think there’s always a chance to strike?”

“There’d better be. Otherwise what are we all in this for?”

“I guess that’s a good question,” Mae admitted.

“Wanna hear a new poem?”

“Sure,” Mae shrugged.

Selmers launched in without preamble, like always:

“Winds blow cold
So all told
Having a hoodie
Feels goodie.”

“All right,” said Mae, getting into it.

“If you like a hat
Nothing wrong with that
But a hooded sweater
Is ten times better.”

“Okay, well,” said Mae. “Maybe that’s what I’m doing wrong. But I kind of like the cold. It reminds me that I’m here, in the world, and even if the winds blow, I don’t go blowing away, and that makes me strong. Even if I’m cold.”

“That sounded almost like a poem,” Selmers observed.

“Holy cow did I write a poem?”

“I think you accidentally did.”

“Well I’ll take that as a good omen,” Mae decided. “See you around.”

“Don’t let anyone go controlling your life!” warned Selmers.

“I won’t,” said Mae, not sure if she meant it. She glanced up at the roof, but Mr. Chazokov wasn’t up there. So she headed onward toward the Ol’ Pickaxe, thinking of sweaters.

The door hadn’t even clicked shut yet before she knew something was wrong. This time Mae didn’t have to think about it. It was staring her in the face. “Holy moley, Bea,” she managed.

“What,” said the shopkeeper. Either she really was oblivious or she had an amazing poker face. Maybe both.

“You’re wearing green,” said Mae. A long green shirt with squares and triangles on it, also green. Mae halfway thought she remembered that shirt, from years ago.

Bea grunted. “So what?”

“You never wear green. You always wear black.”

“Today I’m wearing green.”

“Yeah, but—”

“That a problem for you?”

Mae dropped her arms halfway through an emphatic gesture. Was it a problem? It wasn’t really, was it? It was just that the world was confusing enough already, and every new confusing thing was like another poke in the stomach. But pokes weren’t really so bad, all told. And besides…

“Bea…”

“What.”

“Where’s your cigarette?”

Bea rubbed her mouth. “What do you mean, ‘my’ cigarette? You realize people don’t go around smoking the same cigarette all day, don’t you?”

“Well sure, but… you’re not smoking.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Bea, why aren’t you smoking!?”

“Why the hell should I be smoking? You want me to get lung cancer?”

“Well, no, but… it’s what you do. You’re not gonna get lung cancer, Bea. You’re too tough for that.”

“Bullshit. I was just too thick-skinned to care. I have lungs. Smoke is a carcinogen. But maybe more importantly, it bothers some people, and this is a public business, and it’s 2017. It’s not professional for me to smoke on the job.”

Mae was so confused, and maybe, just a little, happy? “But then why did you smoke before?”

Bea sighed and didn’t answer, even though it looked like she wanted to and just didn’t have the words.

“You changed your chattrBox icon.”

“So what? People change icons all the time.”

“It’s a cocoon!” Mae shouted, even though she didn’t know why.

“Actually, it’s a chrysalis. Cocoons are what moths spin. Chrysalises are butterflies.”

Mae threw her arms out. “How in the world do you know these things?!”

“There’s actually a tool available to all of us, Mae, for when we want to know things. It’s an amazing invention called the ‘world-wide web’.”

“I know what the web is!” Mae cried. “Why did you change your icon and your clothes and quit smoking all on the same day?!”

“I haven’t quit smoking. It’s going to take a long time to quit smoking. I’m just not doing it on the job anymore.”

“But you are quitting!”

Bea was silent a while. “Yes.”

“And you’re not wearing black anymore!”

She was silent even longer.

Mae went up to the counter. “What happened, Bea?”

“You want to know what happened?” Bea demanded. “You were there. You happened. I used to think I was hardcore, Mae. I thought I was maybe the most hardcore person in this town. But you blew that away. I’m not hardcore, Mae.”

“You are too,” Mae interrupted.

“No. I’m soft. I may be hard on the outside, but on the inside I’m nothing compared to you. You’re the one who offered to kill someone to make my dream come true. To give up your own life just so mine could be better. You practically begged me to say yes.”

“I just want you to be happy,” protested Mae.

“You’re the most hardcore person in Possum Springs,” Bea went on. “Probably by a lot. You crushed me last night, Mae. You broke me. I haven’t cried that much in… maybe ever.”

“I’m sorry?” said Mae. Was she looking for an apology?

“When I woke up today… I looked at my wardrobe and my black dresses and black leggings and I found myself thinking… What the hell is all this? Am I fifteen? I got dressed like a normal adult and came to work.”

“But… the black. It’s your style!”

“Who cares about style? Is this Milan? Is this fucking Paris? This is Possum Springs, middle of nowhere, Mae. No one cares about style.”

“I do,” said Mae pitifully.

“Said the girl who wears the same worn out orange T-shirt every single day.”

“I can’t stop wearing it now,” she pled. “It’s what Black Goat looks like in my dreams. This null symbol. If I want to save it, I have to stay on the same wavelength.”

“I very much doubt the cosmic horror cares about your shirt.”

“Does this mean you’re happy, Bea?” Mae blurted. “Does the chrysalis mean you feel like you’re reborn?”

Bea sighed slowly and thought for a while. “Yeah. I guess it does. I’m empty now. I’m a girl without a dream.”

“Wait. Wearing green makes you more empty and black is less?”

“I was dressing all gloom-and-doom because I was resentful. I’m still working through it, but that’s the best I can figure. I resented everything that had been taken from me. Mom. Dad’s love. The house. The future. The goth stuff was my way of hanging on. But that’s gone now. College is gone. You took it from me last night.”

Mae felt both incredibly guilty and incredibly proud at the same time. The dissonance made her shake. “I did??”

Bea put her hands on the counter. “What did you think I was crying about for twenty damn minutes, Mae? I was crying out college. I was letting it go. Before last night, I could tell myself that if only there were some way, any way I could go to college, I’d take it, and damn everyone and everything else… only the world just wouldn’t let me have it. And then you came along and gave me a chance. You showed me exactly what the price was. You dangled my dream in front of my face with a tremendous price tag I wasn’t willing to pay, and I realized I wasn’t… as hardcore as I thought. And if I wasn’t willing to pay the price, any price… then there was no way I was ever going to go to college. And I had to accept that, Mae. I had to finally accept that, last night. I let my dream go last night. I cried it away. It felt terrible, but today… I woke up and googled an image of a damn chrysalis.”

“But you kept the ankh,” Mae observed.

“I like the ankh,” said Bea. “It means ‘life’.”

Mae was stunned. She had no idea how to process this. “Are you mad at me?”

Bea stared at her.

“Bea, I’m scared. Are you mad at me, or… should I be running?”

“Mae. I needed this. I needed to face reality. I was stuck in a tunnel I couldn’t reach the end of. You smashed the tunnel. It’s gone now. The light isn’t in the far distance… it’s all around me.” Bea closed her eyes tight. Then she opened them, smashed open the counter door, and marched toward Mae. “Give me a fucking hug.”

Mae gave her a fucking hug. They hugged so hard.

“I love you,” said Mae.

“I love you too,” said Bea.

“Still straight though, right?”

“Still straight. You didn’t crush me that hard.”

“Just checking.” Mae shut her eyes, gave one last squeeze, and let go.

There was a little telltale squeal that punctured the night as the door came open. That was good. It would make it harder for robbers to rob this place. And it was like a little pathetic herald for the little pathetic girl standing on the stoop, wondering if she could come in.

“Oh ho! Mae Borowski! I should perhaps have guessed.”

“Hey Mr. Chazokov. I know it’s late. But I figured you’re probably not a morning person, and you did say something once about… hot chocolate?”

The astronomy teacher took in the sight of her, together with the situation. He chuckled haplessly and stood to one side of the door. “You might have disturbed the Forresters, showing up after dark. But they’ve gone to bed.” He gestured inward. “So you are in luck! Come in.”

Mae came in. “It’s been a weird time.”

“Since when? Since the eclipse?”

“Since then, yeah. And before that.”

“How long before?”

Mae thought back. She took in the ordinary furnishings—the bookcase with stuff that wasn’t books on it, the credenza and tables and sofas with things sprawled on them. It wasn’t a neat house, but it wasn’t smelly or anything either. Just used.

“I dunno,” she answered. “I guess since I was thirteen.”

The older man’s brows went together. “We are talking an unusually long weird time.”

“A weirdly long weird time.”

“A troublingly lengthy time of weirdness. Your friend Greggory told me about your incident with the baseball bat. I had seen you carrying it around with you this past week—you do not have it tonight?”

“I gave up on the bat,” Mae explained. Then she realized he had no idea why she’d been carrying it at all, and decided not to get into it. “But yeah, that was some scary shit, and it happened again when I went to college, and… I’m a messed up kid.”

“You are done with schooling and grown up. If anything, you are a messed-up lady.”

Mae didn’t like the sound of that quite as much. “I don’t think I’m a lady. Ladies don’t play bass and… do the things I do. I think I’ll stay a kid a little longer.”

Mr. Chazokov shrugged. “As you wish. Will you join me at table?” He walked into the dining room, where a wood table with leaves folded under sat against a wall near a window. Mae plopped into a chair.

“I may be done with school, but that doesn’t mean I know anything,” she said.

The teacher went into the adjoining kitchen and took down a saucepan. “Ahh. But you know something important. You know how little you know. That is an important first step!”

Somehow, this pitiful bit of praise made Mae tingle. “You think that’s something?”

“It depends,” said Mr. Chazokov, peeking back into the dining room. “Does your lack of knowledge lead you to desire to learn?”

“I’m not sure. Sometimes I’d just rather play video games.”

“Yet you are here. With your teacher from yesteryear.”

She nodded. “Yep.”

“And you went to the great American eclipse! Miss Borowski, I have been waiting to hear about your experience! Have you come at this unexpected hour to tell me about it?”

Had she? Mae plopped onto the couch, finding it saggier than she’d expected. “Actually, I think I came here looking for comfort. I maybe shouldn’t have. I should’ve just tried to go to sleep, but something about my attic bedroom scares me these days… and I didn’t want to wake up my parents… and somehow I had this feeling that I could come here, and it would be all right…”

The teacher nodded solemnly. “If I have made you feel comfortable, I am glad,” he said. “If you need a place to come, Mae Borowski, do not be afraid to come to me.” He sat down in a chair and instantly looked so comfortable that Mae felt comfortable by proxy, like it was contagious.

“I do want to tell you about the eclipse, though,” said Mae. “First, though, I want to ask you a question. Do you believe in magic?”

Mr. Chazokov leaned forward after a moment as if he hadn’t heard right. “You are asking a science teacher if he believes in magic?”

It did seem pretty dumb, huh? Mae’s dumbness sense was pretty numb. “Uh huh,” she said.

He thought a moment, then spread his hands magnanimously. It reminded her of Broderick, the way he did that. “Of course I believe in magic, my young friend. For what is magic, except for the idea of what we don’t yet understand? Magic tells us that what we don’t know how to do, can still be done. And that is certainly true, isn’t it? This cell phone in my pocket… if it were new to you, would you not call it magic? It seems impossible to one who has never known it, and yet…” He turned the phone on. “It can be done.”

“So you’re saying magic and science are the same thing?”

“Not at all, my friend! Science is how we learn more about what is around us. Magic is what we can do with that knowledge, if we are very smart and very lucky!”

“But…” Cell phones and stuff like that weren’t what she meant, but how could she distinguish without tipping her hand? “Did you ever hear folk stories? Back in the old country? Like, the kind about magic creatures and forests and mountains and spells?”

He nodded. “I enjoy that kind of story very much. Your grandfather was an excellent storyteller—did you know that? I expect you did.”

Mae was surprised that he knew. “I did know that. He used to read me books without even having to read them. He was awesome and I miss him.”

Mr. Chazakov nodded deeply. “Jacek was a friend of mine. He had such stories, and such opinions! Nonsense, some of his opinions were. But such beautiful nonsense. I think sometimes that I should be used to missing people, now that I am the age I am. But I’m not used to it yet. So many old men, gone at once, in a snap, last October.” He snapped his fingers. “A secret society, they said. Some kind of irresponsible society that got themselves stuck in the old mine when the elevator broke. Some of these men, I knew. None of them were true friends, not like your grandfather was. But they were still people in town that I knew. They were a part of Possum Springs. Then suddenly, all gone.” He sank deeper in his chair. “I miss them. They were cranks and grumps, yes, most of them, but I miss them just the same.”

Mae was too afraid to say anything about them. She tried to find something to say, but…

“But you were asking about stories,” Mr. Chazokov remembered.

Oh. “Yeah. When I asked about magic… I really meant, is there any chance those stories could be true? Do you ever think they might be true?”

“Does it matter? It is just as the dusk stars, is it not? They teach us through their stories. That much is true. Unless you are a historian, what can it truly mean to say that Sterling the Seer was a real person or that he was only a symbol?”

“Sterling… he was the one who got thrown out when the king hired an astronomer, wasn’t he?”

Mr. Chazokov nodded. “The king had no more use for him. He had found a better storyteller.”

Something niggled at Mae. “Was… was the astronomer Adina Astra? There can’t have been all that many female astronomers back then.”

“I believe that Sterling predated Adina by a generation or two,” said Mr. Chazokov. “Perhaps the king’s astronomer was Adina’s mentor, or her grandmother.”

“I think it matters,” Mae said. “Whether the stories were true. You never know when something out of fairy tales might show up and demand to be taken seriously.”

Mr. Chazokov suddenly looked serious. “Is this what has happened to you, Mae Borowski?”

She took a deep breath, then nodded. “I want to tell you everything! But I’m afraid to. I told some of it to Pastor K, and she didn’t really believe me, and I’m afraid you won’t believe me either.”

He seemed troubled. “I would like to say I will believe you, but I cannot promise that. We cannot choose when we are believers and when we are skeptics. But I can promise you this. I can promise I will listen, and I can promise I will not belittle you for what you say. I will listen very seriously.” He stood up. “But first! It is time to add the milk to the cocoa, and I cannot simply boil it. I must stir. Will you join me in the kitchen and tell me your story there, where it is warm?”

That actually sounded pretty good. Mae followed him into a well worn kitchen with tools hanging everywhere. The stove was burning under the saucepan. She could smell chocolate.

“You want to know what happened to those old men?” she asked. “What really happened?”

Mr. Chazokov peeked back over his shoulder. “This is something you know?”

“Yeah. But you can’t tell anyone about it. Not my parents. Not the town council.”

“My mouth is sealed.”

So as he tended the cocoa, Mae told him everything. About the abduction at Harfest, her weird dreams, the cat in the desert and the things beyond emptiness. She described her trip to the historical society and how she ventured into the woods, into the old mine. She told him about the cult, the hole in the water, the attack in the elevator. Then she told him about the eclipse in Turtle Rapids and how it plunged her into darkness again. She told him about how Black Goat still called to her, desperate for someone to eat, and how it had known just what to offer to make her actually consider doing it. All the while, they sat and drank, and Mae’s hot chocolate had vanilla and marshmallows in it, and she shivered even though she was warm and realized she was incredibly glad she’d come.

“I got this letter from Broderick today,” she said, and dug the letter out of her pocket. He read it while sipping hot cocoa.

“This is very strange,” he said. “Very strange. I am at a loss. I cannot think all these things are true, but I also cannot imagine you would lie about them in this way.”

Thanks to the hot sweet liquid in her, Mae wasn’t bothered by his doubt. “I’m not a horror story writer. I couldn’t make all this up if I wanted to.”

“Perhaps not, but your brain could, I suspect,” the astronomer replied. “You have your grandfather’s imagination, Mae Borowski. But that I already knew.”

“So what… you’re saying maybe I dreamed it all up? Maybe I’m crazy?”

“I hope not, my friend. But then again, perhaps I should hope you are. Would that not be better than for us to be surrounded by a world unseen, populated by cruel and terrible beings?”

Mae didn’t know. “Maybe it’s better than being surrounded by nothing at all?” she suggested.

Mr. Chazokov sat back in his chair with a heavy puff of air. “That is true. That is a point. Perhaps it is better indeed.” He took a long, slow sip of cocoa, as if to drown his fears.

Mae plucked a warm marshmallow from her cup and slipped it into her mouth. She felt it with her tongue as it started to dissolve.

“I never knew what your kind had against me,” said Sterling. “I’m not a proud man. I don’t believe you did it particularly to spite me. I’m not that important. But you hurt me and everyone like me, in all the palaces and the noble halls of the world. And I still don’t know why you did it.”

Adina was brought up short. “Why we did what?” she asked.

“Measured the paths of the planets and the brightness of the stars!” he replied. “Declension and azimuth, magnitude and hue… why did you have to watch so closely? To pin numbers on them? Why did the stars and planets need decimal points?”

Adina hardened herself against the sympathy she naturally felt. “To know for sure. It’s all too easy to make up a story and believe it’s true if you don’t test it. We tested the sky until we found its true stories. And we’ll continue to do so.”

“But why?” beseeched Sterling. “Were the old stories not good enough? Why does it matter what the stars truly do? Can we reach up and touch them, either way?”

“It matters,” said Adina. “I don’t know how, but it matters. The truth always matters, in the end.”

“How do you know that?” asked the seer, sitting forlorn, nearly beaten.

“I don’t. But when you start to piece things together, new kinds of understanding often just emerge. You can’t know how or why, but it happens.”

“That sounds a lot like faith,” observed Sterling.

“It is faith, I suppose,” said Adina. “Faith that knowledge is worth something.”

He faced her. “If you’re willing to put your trust in faith, why wasn’t the old faith good enough?” he begged, suddenly spirited again.

To her startlement, Adina found herself unable to formulate an answer.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 9

“Hey Mom. Hey Dad. What’s for dinner tonight?”

Mae’s parents looked up in surprise to see her in the doorway. It was funny how their heads moved exactly at the same time, their expressions so similar. “You’re home so early!” said Mom.

Mae made an effort not to snort. “Yeah, I just got off work. Smells nice in here.”

“You never come home for dinner,” said Dad. “You always eat tacos or go out with your friends.”

Did they really have to make a whole thing out of it? “I’m home today!” she said cheerfully.

“Any particular reason?” asked Mom, already getting out a third plate for the table.

Mae sighed inwardly. “Out of money. Can’t go out without money, unless I want to mooch off someone. And I’ve done enough of that.”

“So you’ve come home to mooch off your loving parents.”

“Aw Mom, it doesn’t count as mooching! This is like a free meal that’s there if I want it.” She bounded over, a little less sprightly than usual, and kissed her mother. “Parents are the best.”

“There’s mashed potatoes with red onions, and fish,” said Dad. “And a green salad. But what happened to your money? Didn’t you get a paycheck on Friday?”

Mae’d hoped they wouldn’t ask that. But of course they did. “I actually sent half of it to a friend in Foxwood. I met him during the eclipse trip. He really needs the money.” To help out a poor family in the woods, she didn’t add.

Her parents exchanged a look, and this time Mom’s face was noticeably more tender. “That’s so very sweet of you,” she said. “But are you sure it’s a good idea? We’re not exactly rolling in money ourselves… and this is someone you just met once?”

“It’s something I had to do,” Mae said. She took her plate and started spooning potatoes onto her plate. She loved the way her mom made mashed potatoes. She missed it even—she should eat dinner at home more often.

“You’re not going to send him half of every check, are you?” asked Dad.

“Nah, probably not. But what’s the problem? I thought you wanted me home for dinner!”

“I’m glad you’re here,” said Mom. “If you want to be generous with your money, that’s your right.”

“But just remember,” added Dad. “We might have to move.”

Mae was still afraid of that prospect, even though she’d been the one who’d encouraged them to consider it, given the possibility that Possum Springs was going to collapse when Black Goat left, or died… or did something worse. She was scared to leave and scared to stay, so she preferred not to think about it. “Yeah. I know. The fish smells good. What is that, catfish?”

“Haddock,” said Mom. “Would you like some juice?”

“Heck yeah I want some juice. How did you get so good at cooking?”

“It was just something I had to do, I guess,” Mom replied, pouring some kind of purple fruit juice into Mae’s glass. “If we did have to move away… not that we want to… do you think you would be okay? You said you were okay during your trip.”

“I don’t know. I’ve been feeling a little bit… shaky since then,” Mae confessed. It was true—she’d been getting urges to do something bad, like a twinge somewhere inside that she had to work out… except the only way to work it out was to take her bat and start swinging it at people’s heads. She was starting to really wonder if Black Goat had been behind her ‘shapes’ pathology from the start. This felt different, but if she wasn’t strong, the end result would be the same.

“Shaky? What do you mean?”

“Like… I can’t just sit still. Like I have to… You know, I don’t actually want to talk about it.” Mae hated keeping stuff from her parents, but she somehow just didn’t feel comfortable spilling her story to them like she had to Mr. Chazokov. It was probably because they were too close. If they didn’t believe her, she couldn’t just stay away.

“Oh, Mae. Have you been having those dreams again?”

“Kind of.” They weren’t the same dreams. They were worse. They were dreams about killing people. Dumping their bodies in the woods and feeling amazingly happy about it. Mae hated those dreams. She hated that she woke up from them feeling happy.

“Do you think we should be looking for a doctor out of town?” Mom asked.

Mae was ninety percent sure that wouldn’t help. “Not yet. I want to see if I can ride it out. I mean, it’s not like I’m useless, right? At least I’m employed.”

Mom stopped dishing greens onto Mae’s plate long enough to hug her gently from behind. “Don’t even. You’re never useless. We would love you just as much if you weren’t employed.”

“Really? Well in that case, maybe I’ll just quit and go back to messing around all day,” Mae suggested.

“I’m prepared to say I love you ten percent more for having a job,” interjected Dad.

“Really?”

“Somewhere around there, yep.”

Mae was somehow warmed by that. “Well, okay, Dad. I wouldn’t want to give up that ten percent. I’ll stick with Taco Buck.”

Mom was giving Dad a scolding look across the table, but Mae could tell she didn’t really mean it.

Work wasn’t too bad these days. It took her mind off things other than tickets and taco meat and tables and tortillas. She still wasn’t a great taco cook, which was part of why she’d asked Mom about her cooking, but that wasn’t a big deal—what did people expect for a buck, anyway? So long as it was food and most of the right ingredients were in there, both Mae and her manager were satisfied.

She was alone on counter one day when Germ poked his little self into the store and started looking over the menu. He didn’t even say hi. That didn’t bother Mae—it was just his style. What bothered her was the pounding, pulsing surge of adrenaline she felt just from looking at him.

Oh crap.

“Germ, I don’t want to be a bad order taker, but you should probably go. Like, now.”

He looked at her but showed no signs of leaving. “Why for?”

Germ was probably a guy she could be straight with. “‘Cause there’s an evil thing in me that wants me to kill you. I didn’t realize it was this bad, but it really wants me to kill you.”

He tilted his head just slightly. “Are you going to?”

Mae’s body started to shake. “No! I hope not! Get out of here, Germ!”

He looked back at the door, but didn’t leave. “How would you do it if you were going to?”

“What, kill you?” Mae looked around. “I don’t know—grab a frying pan and whack you with it?”

“Yeah, you probably couldn’t do that. I’m quick. I could get away.”

“You really want to take that chance?” Mae demanded, her fists balled.

“Well, you don’t even want to kill me, though. So two things would have to go wrong. So yeah, I’m good.”

“Germ, you little idiot.”

“You want to tell me about this thing that’s in you? It sounds pretty interesting.”

“It’s the thing from that night in the woods! I think it’s mad at you for saving us from the well. It thinks you’re disposable.”

“Disposable? Like it doesn’t need me?”

“I dunno. I think it thinks nobody needs you. It’s like a humming feeling… this sense that if I killed you, it’d be so perfect, no one would ever know, and you’d be so delicious in its belly…” Mae could almost taste it herself.

“Might be true. I don’t tell my family where I go. They might not find out who did it.”

“Damn it, Germ, just get out of here and quit tempting me!”

He peered. “You’re not really tempted, are you?”

“I mean, this is temptation. This feeling I’m having now is what temptation is. There’s a tiny stupid piece of me that wants to carve you up and eat you for Thanksgiving.”

“Never had someone tell me that before. Okay, I’ll head on out, then.”

Mae did her best to keep down the urges and the shaking. “Sorry, Germ. It’d be cool to hang out, but we can’t just now.”

“No that’s fine, I get it. You working tomorrow morning?”

“I don’t start until noon.”

“Okay, I’ll come back for a taco in the morning then. Let me know if you get exorcised or whatever.”

Mae wished she knew an actual exorcist. But she somehow didn’t think that would work. “Okay, I will.”

Germ left, but he didn’t seem hurried at all, or worried, really. She guessed he had a lot of faith in her to fight this thing. Too bad she didn’t feel the same way.

Danny came out from the kitchen. “Did you just tell that customer you were possessed by something that made you want to kill him?”

Oh shoot. “Yeah. But it’s okay, I know him. It’s kind of an in-joke. Haha.”

Danny shrugged. “Okay then. Let me know if it gets serious.” He went back into the kitchen.

Sometimes it was nice working with someone as ridiculously… blasé as Danny. Was blasé the word? Something like that, anyway. But the unfortunate fact was, this was already pretty serious.

“This is the Yanceys’.”

The voice seemed harried, like it was barely disguising the fact that every day was a struggle. “Uh, hi. My name’s Mae, and I met a guy called Broderick at the eclipse in Turtle Rapids…”

“Oh right, he mentioned you,” said the harried woman. Mae guessed she was his mother. “He’s out somewhere, maybe in the woods. I can have him call you.”

“Okay, yeah. Do… you know what he’s doing in the woods?”

“Oh, god only knows,” said the voice, its helplessness rising. “He doesn’t even hunt. Why don’t you ask him when you talk to him and let me know?”

“Um, okay. Tell him it’s important or I wouldn’t be calling. Thanks.”

Mae was on the roof with Mr. Chazokov. They’d spent the last half hour looking at nebulas through his telescope, and now they had blankets over their shoulders. It was late September and starting to get chilly at night, but for some reason they were still sitting out there. Mae’s thoughts were starting to go toward hot cider or cocoa, but she didn’t mention it yet. Better to sit in the cold a little while longer before going in to warm up.

“Your friend Beatrice… she is looking different these days,” he said into the silence.

Mae uncrossed and recrossed her legs. “Huh? Oh yeah. She’s a lot cheerier now. Weird to think of that… but then, she used to be cheerful most of the time, back in grade school. So it’s not like a totally new thing.”

“It is not for me to question,” said the astronomer. “But if you wished to tell me why she is this way…”

Mae let the heel of her boot kick the shingles. “It’s kind of my fault. I stole her dream.”

“You stole her dream? Kindly explain?”

Mae looked over the town, with its lights in the upper windows going out one by one. “I tried so hard to help her go to college that now she’s given up on it forever. She’s happier now.”

“That is a strange thing. To be happier once one has lost one’s dream, not gained it.”

“You’re telling me. But I guess it was like a thing she had to carry. Like ghost chains.”

Mr. Chazokov was silent for a while. The last of the day’s blue faded from the horizon. “Has she found a new dream?” he asked.

“I don’t think so. I think she’s just enjoying being rid of the old one.”

“Such a strange thing,” repeated the teacher, sighing.

“She told me the other day that she’s done being angry at her father. He’s emotionally disabled, but she made the choice to stick with him. And she’s sticking with that choice.”

“It may be for the best. To wear dark clothes and act gloomily… is a message to the world, is it not? It is a protest? Now perhaps she is taking responsibility.”

“I don’t know,” said Mae. “It seemed like she was already responsible before. Responsibility was kind of her thing.”

He was silent a while longer. “Well, it is not for me to argue with happiness,” he eventually decided. “There is not enough happiness in the world. If she is happier now, so be it.”

That seemed pretty fair to Mae. “Yeah okay. She can be happy.”

“We will not stop her.”

Mae thought about this for a while, then stood up on the roof. “You ready to go in? I could go for some hot cider.”

Her host stood up as well. “All right! Let us go in through the window, and we can be happy too.”

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mae.”

“Broderick!”

“You called?”

Mae glanced into the other room, where her parents were chatting softly, having just gotten home from work. She used her hands to muffle the receiver. “Yeah. I haven’t been feeling so good.”

“Sorry to hear. Is it our mutual acquaintance?”

What a thing to call it. “Yeah. So, you got my last letter. About Bea?”

“Mm. I was about to write back.”

“Well anyway. It’s gotten worse. It’s like it knows I won’t respond to temptation, or at least it can’t think of anything else to tempt me with, so now it’s trying to force me to find a sacrifice.”

“The carrot and the stick.”

“Huh?”

“Like how you make a donkey go. Lure it with a carrot, or whap it with a stick.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that’s it! Bea was my only carrot, so now I’ve got a stick in me.”

“It feels bad?”

“Really bad. Like I’m on drugs, but there’s nothing I can get a fix from.”

“Have you been sleeping?”

“Not a ton, and half the time I’m either murdering people, or dreaming of folks from my Grandpa’s scary stories. And they’re all working for the same being.”

“Sorry. He’s been in me too, but just lingering. Not tormenting me. I wonder if helping the Rackhams convinced it I couldn’t be taken? Maybe I sanctified myself, in a manner of speaking.”

Like a saint? Wow. “Maybe I should sanctify myself too,” Mae suggested. But she didn’t know if she could be as good as Broderick.

“Might be worth a try. There anyone around you that needs your help? Maybe someone who hurt you or yours?”

Mae couldn’t think of anyone. Maybe Mr. Penderson? “I’ve got an old crotchety neighbor who’s always crotching at me. I guess I could go see if he needs any help.”

“Worth a try,” repeated Broderick. “You’re not about to give in, are you?”

Mae could imagine herself giving in all too well. “I’m scared, Brody. I’m starting to find myself making plans for how I would do it. There’s even one guy in particular it wants me to kill. He’s my friend, but I’m still thinking about it!”

“Is there anything else you can think about?”

Mae twitched. “I mean, I could just drown myself in video games or something. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Might not be a bad idea. Maybe better to drown yourself in good deeds, if you can. Insulate yourself. Convince it you aren’t the one he wants.”

“If I do that, will he find someone else and torment them instead?” Mae wondered.

“Search me. It’s possible he simply won’t stop until he finds someone he can corrupt.”

Mae didn’t want it to be her, but… “I don’t want it to corrupt anyone! If it’s going to corrupt someone, maybe it might as well be me.”

Broderick was silent a few seconds. “Would you want to tell that to your friend? The one he wants you to kill?”

Germ would probably understand, but still. “No. But I could give it myself. If worse comes to worse, I can give it me. Then I can’t be corrupted any longer.”

More silence. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Well that’s fine. But you’re a good person, Brody. You shouldn’t be thinking that way. I’m a lot more disposable. Maybe more disposable than anyone else it has a grip on. Maybe it should be me.”

The fact that he didn’t say no right away said a lot. “Try to hang in there, Mae. Don’t let it get you to that point. Do good things, think good thoughts. Call me again if you have to. We’ll get through this.”

Mae pretended to agree, but all the while she was thinking, Should I go to Bruce? Could I really find him? And… could he save me from all this?

She didn’t know how to find him, though. Even if she managed to convince Bea or Pastor K or someone to drive her two states away, and even if she went tramping through the woods… how would she find him? Maybe she could ask around in Mannetsburg if someone like him had come through. Maybe Broderick could help, since he knew those woods and had seen him too. But Broderick had already tried, and Bruce was nowhere to be found.

She could try anyway. She could take a wild leap into the unknown and try to save herself by surrounding herself with goodness. And she could risk losing everything in the process. She might never come back from her trip, and people would say, “I guess she went looking for that Hartley boy. Probably wound up wherever he did.” And her parents would put up a Missing poster on the bulletin board.

Or she could throw herself into video games. That had seemed like the more realistic option from the get-go.

] hey Angus

) Mm?

] i think i’m turning into palecat.

) What?

] you know how you said we could talk demontower anytime?

) Oh. Of course. And you think you’re… becoming Palecat?

] i mean i’m not turning white
] not yet anyway
] but i feel like i’m getting really thin
] not like, anorexic thin
] but like you could see through me.

) Are you actually losing opacity?

] if that’s like sanity then yeah

] you know how palecat gets really weak sometimes cuz she’s so tired?

) ‘Fatigue’ mode.

] yeah well
] i’m scared, Angus
] I’m not in fatigue mode but I feel like I want to sleep a hundred days.
] like my nerves are cooked

) Have you tried sleeping?

] Yeah but i can’t
] i’ve got bad things on my mind and they won’t go away
] bad things on my soul

) I have Gregg here and he says that sounds like a song.

] oh god hi Gregg

) He says hi and sends a slobbery kiss
) And he asks, “If you’re like Palecat, does that mean you have a sword?”

] i wish i didn’t

) ?

] it’s like everything around me is a weapon
] like i could kill anything if i wanted to
] anything or anyone
] like my hands are telling me what to grab, how to use it,
] my feet are telling me where to leap, where to turn
] my parents are sleeping in the room below me and all I can think about is how i could kill them
] so easily

) Mae. Listen. Please.
) Try to keep control of yourself. Please don’t do anything foolish.
) We love you. We care for you deeply.
) You need to find help, somehow.

] i don’t think any ‘help’ is going to help
] not unless they lock me in a straight jacket and then I’ll have to die that way
] what is a doctor going to do? They don’t know how to deal with this.

) If I still lived in town I would hurry right over

] yeah good thinking on that one

) …I’m sorry?

] i’m sorry. that was mean of me. you were right to leave. you had every right to leave.

) Would it help to talk about something else?

] that’s what i was trying to do but just like always it comes back to the killing.

) Please hang in there, Mae. Oh—Here’s something. Did you ever think about why they changed Palecat’s health bar in the update?

] what, u mean how she has only 9 health not 10?

) Right. I realized why that is.

] tell me

) She’s a cat. Cats have nine lives.

] …
] ok but there is a difference between having nine lives and having nine hit points
] a hit point is not a life
] i feel like i may be down to one hitpoint tho
] but that’s okay
] like palecat, i only need one hitpoint to destroy all enemies in my way

) No one is your enemy, Mae. Remember that. We all love you.

] even germ?

) Germ? I don’t know if he loves you, but… he values you. As a friend.

] i’m gonna have to kill him
] i’m sorry Angus but it’s stronger than me and it’s bigger than me
] i tried asking mr. penderson if he wanted any chores done and he told me to get lost
] and i am. Angus, I’m so lost

) Mae, you can’t do that. Please try to stay calm.

] so lost
] i’m gonna finish the game and kill everything
] every last enemy
] and when i’m out of enemies to kill i’ll have to switch to real life
] i’m sorry, Angus. if i run out it’s the only thing i can do.

) Mae, I think you should tell your parents what you’re going through.
) Mae?
) Are you there?
) Please, if you’re there, Mae, answer me.
) Mae?

She was so hungry.

She’d tried eating crackers. Fish. Soda and leftover salad. Nothing made her feel less hungry. She knew why that was—her hunger kept missing the food. It was like running your finger down the inside of a window pane when it was dewy on the outside. You couldn’t scrape off the drops with your fingertip even if you went right over them. They were on a different plane. Just like that, her hunger was on a different plane than any food she could eat. It wouldn’t satisfy her. And she was just going to keep getting hungrier.

Except blood. Maybe blood would be good enough?

Mae found a needle in her mom’s sewing kit and went into the bathroom. She pierced her fingertip with it. She stared at the blood that appeared, then sucked it. Feeling like an idiot vampire, she sucked her own blood. It didn’t help. If anything, it just made the urges worse. Make it flow.

She left the house. She didn’t even remember going back to the attic to grab her bat, but there it was in her hand. She climbed a tree onto the powerlines and went dashing toward Town Centre, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. She knew where Germ lived. Suddenly she knew it, even though she’d only had a vague sense before that it was on the edge of the woods. She was going to have to go there. She knew which side his bedroom was on. Her bat would take the window. Her bat would take more than that.

But no, she wasn’t doing that. Don’t be an idiot, Mae. Go to the Food Donkey and smash in some robot heads. Go down to the subway level and smash up the guys on the mural—can’t hurt if it’s already ruined. Duck through the upper window and smash Mallard P. Bloomingro, if you have to. You care about him, so it’ll count. Maybe you won’t feel hungry anymore if you kill something you care about, even if it was never alive.

Before she could even think about whether to go there, she was on the window ledge. Her bat twitched; she wanted to smash the windows, but held back. Into the secret room she went. Into Mallard’s tomb. There he was. You giant dumb thing. You monster. You leg-snapper. You big, beautiful king of the Spring Parade. Why are you smiling? How can a duck even smile? Mae stood heaving for a few moments, breaking through some kind of wall. Then she smashed her bat into his big dumb face and felt the crack so deep. So deep. He was a mess. A shambles after one hit. Dust rose, rat droppings rose into the air. Mae leapt around and destroyed the float with swing after brutal swing. She pretended she was destroying the statue in Durkillesburg. She breathed in the remnants of a rat family’s shredded paper burrow and coughed through her anger, but turned the coughs into battle cries. She was staring at the dead tatters of what had once been her favorite thing. She stood still, waiting to see if the hunger would abate.

It was like her stomach was wailing. So close, but so wrong, so wrong! This was like eating cardboard fruit. No—it was like eating a big old funnel cake when what you really need is something substantial. This was cotton candy. This wasn’t food. It was a cheat. It was a lie, a cruel lie. Mallard P. Bloomingro, how could you be so cruel?!

Her hunger unsated, Mae leapt from the window and swung her bat wildly. She ran along the ledge, smashing window after window—crash, crash, crash! She heard a voice yell “What the hell?” but kept bouncing and running and leaping, catching herself by the edge of her foot, by her toes, nearly tumbling and not even worrying about what would happen if she did.

Germ. She had to get to Germ’s house. Windows and parade floats weren’t substantial. They weren’t a real sacrifice. Germ was. She had to take his blood. She had to throw him in a hole. He would fill her up. He would feed her, when nothing else would.

No no no no no damn it Mae you aren’t Black Goat you aren’t a monster don’t go that way. Make your legs stop jumping! Don’t go to the woods.

She stopped running, with effort. With great effort. She was on the roof of the video store. Her eye saw the giant rocket and she leapt onto it, jumping over and over and over. It crashed to the roof with an ugly, beautiful industrial clamor of destructive noise. She fell to the ground, nervously laughing, and realized:

This isn’t going to get better. This isn’t just tonight. This isn’t something you’re going to just get through. It was only going to get worse.

She had to surround herself with goodness. It was her only chance. Where could she go?

Mae was hopping up the steps to the church. She’d gone there for three Sundays now. It had been almost what she’d hoped for. A place where she could sit, feel like a child again, and pretend to be comfortable. People around her were taking solace, and that was solace in itself… almost. Pastor K was a good person with good thoughts, and that almost made her sermons good for the soul. Almost. She was in the church now, looking at the windows, the huge stained glass windows, with their beautiful flowers and circles of solace and grace and joy. She twitched her arms, holding her bat. She made a noise of despair. No, she heard herself think. No, no, not the windows. Not these beautiful windows.

Mae felt her body twist, her arms swing. She forced herself to slow down. There was a clack of wood on glass; the bat struck the glass, but nothing broke. Mae felt tears welling up. She wanted to be tired. She wanted to be out of power and out of time. But she wasn’t. The great monstrous terrible thing was that she had so much destructive power in her, all the power she would ever need, and she wasn’t tired in the slightest.

The sound of glass splintering was the most horrible sound Mae had ever heard. I’m a horrible person , she thought through the sight of colors and shapes falling ruined, connecting lines hanging empty of their figures. I’m such a horrible person. Such a horrible, horrible person. Her arms moved again. Glass tinkled again. More colors fell from this sacred place of beauty. More glass shattered. She was so horrible. The most horrible thing Mae knew was herself.

A stinging guitar chord sliced the air, setting everything on edge. B major, off-amp but almost as strong and twice as pure. Mae fell to her knees instantly, even before she thought to wonder what it was, whether it was real, whether she was dreaming again. She moaned in a squeal as she spun around and saw…

Oh, there were the tears. Now she was crying. Gregg was standing there with his guitar.

“So. Metal,” his twerpish, mischievous voice said. He was staring at the smashed window. “Is this what we’re doing tonight? Let’s do this!” He leapt into the sanctuary and tossed his guitar, flipping it around and catching it by the neck. “Stick it to the man!!”

“NO FUCK NO!” cried Mae, sprawling on the floor. She reached out for Gregg, who stopped himself mid-swing, about to smash his guitar into another window and see what broke. He turned to look at her, surprise in his eyes.

“No? We’re not doing this?”

Mae groaned and forced herself to find words. “Gregg no, not that beautiful window, this is a place of beauty can’t you see this is sacred don’t ruin your guitar put that down pleeease, Gregg I love you but no crimes, no crimes…”

Gregg hopped over and sat down next to her, so fast Mae couldn’t believe his energy. “No crimes, huh? That’s not the Mae I know. Aren’t you a radical girl? Don’t you want to fight fascists?” He gestured around at the sanctuary, as if the church were a den of fascism.

I just want to eat, she wanted to moan. “Gregg… how the hell are you even here? Are you a dream?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Nope! Not a dream. I took the first Uber I found! Paid like two days’ wages to get here in two hours. But for mayhem with my friend Mae, it’s is totally worth it.”

Mae wanted to twitch, but found the energy seeping out of her at last. Was that good? “No Gregg. No mayhem. I smashed a window. I smashed a stained glass window and Pastor K’s gonna be so mad at meee…”

“You smashed a bunch more windows than that, I heard! Some guy in Town Centre was going crazy. Said he saw you run off this way and he was gonna call the police. I talked him into waiting ‘til morning.”

“…You did?”

“Well, it wasn’t his windows you smashed. Having a big, crimey night?”

“Gregg, I’m so scared. I’m going to die or I’m going to kill someone, and I’m so scared!”

His guitar was on the floor now, his arms around her. How did he move so fast? “Shhh. You’re with me now. We won’t do a single crime if you don’t want. Anything you say goes, Mae. We can do all the crimes, or none of them. Whatever you need right now, that’s what we’ll do. I’m with you, Mae. I’m with you ‘til the end.”

He says that, but what if I asked him to go help me murder Germ in his bed? He wouldn’t help with that, would he? “Gregg, I can’t believe you came all the way from Bright Harbor in the middle of the night!”

“Believe it. You were talking some pretty bleak nonsense on chat. Friends don’t let friends go a night like that alone.” His arms squeezed tighter.

“That’s so…” It was touching, that’s what it was. He was touching her. “Did Angus…?”

“That’s actually funny. Angus is coming too, but you won’t believe what he stayed behind to do. Unless it worked, and then maybe you’d believe it!”

Mae perked up. “What?”

“He decided to hack the Demontower server. You said you were gonna start killing people once you ran out of enemies, right? Well, he gets the idea that if he can just somehow hack in and set it to never run out of enemies, you’ll be okay! Isn’t that awesome?”

Mae lay half on the floor, half in Gregg’s embrace, trying to remember what Demontower even was. “That’s so totally awesome.”

“I said, ‘But you don’t hack things! You’re not a hacker!’ And he brushed his hands together like he was a total bad-ass and said ‘This is an emergency. I’ve got skills that’ve been waiting for an emergency.’ And he got to work. And wow, Mae, I really wish I could’ve stuck around to watch my hero in action, but I had places to be. These places. Here, in this place, with you.”

Mae swallowed. So much effort just for her. She was fading—she could hardly remember why she’d been so scared, or what this was all about. “You came to visit?”

Gregg knelt sloppily on the floor, still hugging her. “Totally. I’m visiting my favorite partner in crime. And my partner in no crime, too. Felt like a good time for a visit. You wanna do something? Maybe grab a taco?”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Mae pointed out.

“Fair enough. But I was actually gonna veto that idea, or anything that wasn’t me hugging you, to be honest. I’m gonna hug all the troubles out of you.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Mae pled.

“Oh, it doesn’t? Watch me.” He closed his eyes, put his head against her chest, and hugged her tenderly.

Mae was melting. Her nerves were melting. She found herself lying on the floor of the church, her head in Gregg’s lap. “Oh my god, Gregg.”

“What’s up?” he asked innocently.

“I love you so much.”

“I know. Love ya too.”

“Will you… maybe this is dumb, but will you play me a song?”

He nodded briskly, letting her go and picking up his guitar. “Sure!” He slung the strap over his shoulder. “What do you wanna hear?”

Mae didn’t know or care. “Anything good. I just need goodness. I need to be… surrounded in goodness.”

“You got it, ace.” He slammed a resonant G major, then fell into a simple chord progression that came back home after eight bars, uplifting and comforting and a little bit like the sun peeking out from behind a house in the morning. More than a little bit. It was good, and Mae shook where she lay with the twin sensations of relief and hunger.

The song wasn’t a song; it didn’t have lyrics. But Gregg started to sing just the same:

“Shattered church window
Sparkles on the floor
Angry desecration
in the house of the Lord
People want salvation
People want relief
Who would do such damage?
It was no common thief

Sitting in the pew to hear what they have to say
About the ways of who they say works in mysterious ways
Nothing they can tell us will make sense any more
With fragments of the window scattered over the floor
Yeah, fragments of the window scattered over the floor…”

He sat up straight and entered a bodacious virtuoso sequence, strumming with relaxed confidence and the occasional sweep-pick thrown in, and it felt like rising over the clouds to meet the sun. He strapped on a capo Mae hadn’t even known he owned and repeated nearly the same sequence an octave higher, and Mae realized Angus hadn’t been the only one with skills stored up for an emergency. The song fell back to the eight-bar progression and Gregg sang again:

“Shattered church window
Saints in disrepair
Swing a baseball bat,
it’s like they never were there.
People want protection
People want to live
Sometimes smashing windows
the best gift you can give

Sitting in the churchyard when the sun reappears
and hearing God say things God never meant for non-godly ears
Nothing God can tell us will make sense any more
With fragments of the window scattered over the floor…
Fragments of the window
Fragments of the window!
FRAGMENTS OF THE WINDOW SCATTERED OVER THE FLOOR!”

He banged the song home, waking Mae up from her stupor enough to get her to her knees, nearly to her feet. She sang along on the last line and stared through the broken window, feeling somehow that it was almost okay. “WOO!” she shouted, pumping her arm. “Did you seriously just make that up right now?”

Gregg was looking loose, ready for more music. “I made up the words! The tune’s something I came up with when it was quiet at work. Didn’t know what the right words were, but thanks to you, I think we’ve found them!”

“Does it mean anything?”

“I think it means a lot! Something about how it doesn’t take much, and then WHAM—church doesn’t make sense anymore!”

“Even if it seemed like it did?”

“Especially if it seemed like it did.”

Wow. Gregg was so profound sometimes. “Does church need to make sense?”

He shrugged. “Does anything?”

“I guess not. Maybe. Can you play me another?” For all Mae knew, this might be the last night she ever had to hear music. She could still feel the urges rising, waiting for the music high to crumble, waiting to ride her second wind to murdertown. But for now, Gregg’s fingers were strumming the strings again, and this time it was gentle.

Mae listened for a while as he transitioned lightly from major to minor, gliding from one chord to another with no big surprises. He even closed his eyes and rocked his head, and she found herself accusing:

“Gregg! Is this a douchebag song?!”

He grinned guiltily. “Felt like you deserved a nice douchebag song. It’s not really so bad, is it?”

“Gregg, you’re such a douche!” But really, it was nice. It was just what Mae needed.

“And you’re my friend.”

Mae stood up and imagined herself playing bass for this piece. She would wreck this douchey chord progression. She would undermine it with subversive timbres. She would transform it. She mimed playing her instrument, strumming the empty air that didn’t seem so empty, ignoring the boiling in her blood, or using it to heighten things. Gregg saw her and grinned. He got to his feet too, and they played together, adding licks and attitude to the douchey song until Gregg was full-out shredding and Mae knew just what she’d be doing if only she’d brought her bass guitar with her.

“Hey, wanna come back to my place with me so I can get my bass?” she suggested.

“Sure! Maybe pick up some more instruments of destruction while we’re there.”

“Or creation,” she suggested.

“Creation is cool too. Skate to create!”

So they went back. Mae didn’t have a skateboard, but she did dress up in her Witchdagger outfit, and she did have a pair of cymbals and a snare drum she’d borrowed from Casey, and they trucked all that back to the church in the middle of the night. Neither of them discussed why they were going back to the church; somehow they both knew it was the place they had to go. At any moment, Aunt Molly could appear in her squad car, or someone else could yell at them, or the pastor could show up and ask what happened to her window… but none of that happened, and Mae hung together, her murderous hunger masked by genuine excitement and friendship and music.

They played for hours in the church, banging out improvised songs and classics with a new tinge, or just banging on the cymbals and drum and shouting about anger and blood and goodness and love and how mixed up it all was. Gregg’s enthusiasm never wavered; he never took a break unless Mae did too; he never left her and was always ready with a hug when she felt like she was losing it again. And Mae’s mind was a mess of visions. Germ’s body sliding down a cabin rooftop, oozing blood; but other people too, all dead or dying, all seeping apart, all sliding down holes into the heart of the world, never to come back. Her parents. Danny and her other coworkers. Mrs. Miranda and Mr. Penderson, Pastor K and Mr. Chasokov, the Forresters and the Harleys, Selmers and Lori and the pierogi guy and the Steelers fan, Bea and Gregg and Angus, all sliding down that endless tube, falling apart as they did, red on dusky orange on red on black, silhouettes for the last part of their lives. She sang it out. She rocked it out. She drummed it out. The sky got lighter and Mae kept shredding her bass, and Gregg was always there with a chord. She was running out of energy. She was falling to pieces, like the people in her visions. She was in the tube herself now, sluicing her layers away, falling to bloody chunks in the background of her mind. And in her fading vision was the majesty of the church, the glory of its surviving windows, the beauty of its stonework, the awesomeness of the rising sun.

Mae stood in darkness. She was holding her bass guitar. The church was nowhere to be seen. Gregg was nowhere to be seen. She didn’t remember having fallen asleep.

She looked up and saw a huge eclipse, filling the sky. Just the edges of the sun were peeking around the rim of a monstrous moon.

She looked straight ahead and saw…

…for the first time, she saw…

A goat. A black goat, barely more than a silhouette, like the one from the painting in the Historical Society. Black and large and looming, but thin. So thin. She could see its ribs, the folds of its neck, its withered thighs. Emotion hit her in an onslaught—complicated emotion that had a flavor, but she couldn’t quite sort out what she was feeling. Anger and fear, definitely. Hunger, yes. Deep hunger. Desperation. Resignation or something like it. Resentment. How can you do this to me? the emotion seemed to say. I’m so hungry. Why won’t you feed me?! How can you do this to me?

But that was just her imagination. There were no words. Just a rolling molasses tide of half-comprehensible alien emotion.

I’m dying, it seemed to say. I’m almost gone. I’ve never been so hungry. How can you be so cruel? Don’t you love me?? FEED ME, PLEASE FEED ME!

The goat’s tail wavered slowly in the darkness; its beard and hair blowing in a silent wind, its muscles slowly shifting in tiny ways. Its backbone stood out, starved and stark. There was so little movement, but so much emotion, walls and walls of it. Mae struggled to answer any way she could under the weight of the emotions she felt. “I can’t! I can’t feed you! It just…” The emotions stopped. Mae was back on her feet, having fallen, or maybe just imagining she’d fallen. She found her words and spoke softly.

“I can’t feed you. You eat people! There’s nothing I can do. What if… one of those people wanted me to feed you to them? Would that be fair? I couldn’t do both. So it’s not fair. Do you see what I mean?”

A perversion of the concept of fairness struck her, as if fairness had been stroked over with a pitchfork made of domination and supremacy and fear. Like it was trying to understand.

Mae shook her head. “I know you’re hungry. I’ve felt it so hard. So hard. But I can’t feed you anyone. That’s just… that’s not something you can ask!”

Hope and pity and lameness. A cry for help. The goat begged her with its emotional presence. It beseeched her. It stayed standing, but snuggled its emotional head under her feet and put its emotional chin to the ground. It wailed and cried and trembled. Mae stood there in horror and just kept thinking back: No. No. No.

Then something snapped. A blanket of sadness, resignation, regret and so much else poured over her. A glow emanated from the ground. Mae looked down at her bass guitar.

She wasn’t holding her bass anymore. She was holding her baseball bat.

The goat, scrawny and wilting, looked at her. She looked at it. She looked at the big, glowing blue spot on the ground.

Feeling emotions she couldn’t possibly describe, Mae swung her bat and slammed it into the ground. The blue spot tore apart and shreds of the ground fluttered through the air. Utter blackness filled the void beneath.

The goat stepped forward once more, peering through the hole. Mae looked too. It was filled with utter blackness, yes, but there was something else as well. Blue, shifting sands. A desert of stone and blackness. The place where she’d spoken with the God Cat. It was there, beneath her now. She could probably float down there if she wanted, but she might never come back.

Black Goat looked at Mae once more, and a missile of emotion struck her. Resentment. Anger. Spite. Lost hopes. Hunger. Hatred. Relief. Sadness. And love. Even love.

Then it dove through the hole and out of sight. A huge colorless circle and crossbar flashed over everything for an instant, then vanished forever.

Mae suddenly felt so light. So incredibly light that she forgot what she was doing there, or where she was. She shot upward and tumbled, and the blueness went away, and the hole went away, and everything went bright.

She was in church. She could tell. The colors streaming through the windows, the high ceiling, the hard wood under her body. Her head was on something soft. Gregg. She was in Gregg’s lap. Angus was there, kneeling on the floor, watching her. Bea was there, sitting next to her. Pastor K was there in the distance, standing against the wall. Everything smelled so fresh. Everything felt so light, so breezy. Mae took a breath and watched everyone realize that her eyes were open.

“Oh god, guys. Look,” said Bea. “She’s awake.”

“Mae?” said Angus.

Gregg stirred, and Mae could tell he was sleepy. “What? Mae? You awake, duder?”

“Oh my god,” said Mae, and for once she meant it. “Oh God, what happened? Why do I feel like this?”

“Like how?” asked Gregg.

“Like… like a helium balloon. I feel like if you let go of me, I’d just float away.”

Pastor K shifted her posture at that. She’d been quietly watching, but now said: “You were in really bad shape last night, according to Gregg. We were really worried.”

“You’re not going to float away,” said Bea, lifting Mae’s arm. “Just for the record. That doesn’t happen, and besides, you don’t feel any lighter than usual.”

Mae gulped. She slowly removed Gregg’s arm from her belly, slowly stood up. They all watched her stand.

“Oh wow.” A thought struck her. “Could this… is this just what it feels like being normal?”

“Oh yeah! I bet it is!” said Gregg. “I think you got it!”

Mae turned slowly in place, looking at everything. The smashed window that made her twinge with regret, but didn’t awaken the sheer horror she’d felt last night. The sunlight. The altar. The distinct lack of murderous thoughts.

She felt so clean inside. It was amazing. She’d never known anyone could feel this clean.

“It’s gone,” she told them. “It’s gone. It’s really gone.” Then, instead of slumping down, like she felt she ought to, she started to laugh and skip around. Everyone moved out of her way as she skipped from one end of the church to the other, laughing higher and higher. “OH MY FREAKING GOODNESS, IT’S GONE!” she cried. She knew now that this wasn’t just something that had been bothering her since the eclipse, or even since she’d moved back to town. This was something that had been in her since…

Since that day when she was thirteen, and everything had gone to shapes. Since the day of ‘the incident’. Since she’d gone from little Mae Borowski to ‘Killer’.

The shirt with the circle and crossbar, the ‘null’ symbol—she’d made that in Home Economics the week after she’d returned to school. It had been the first thing she’d made and she hadn’t known why. Now she knew. That symbol had been Black Goat, talking to her. It had been with her, even then. It had been with her for all that time. Now it was gone.

She pranced, laughing, out of the sanctuary and crashed into something small. As she fell onto her back with an “Ooof!” she realized it was Germ. He fell back too. Both of them lay there, looking at each other.

“Germ! What the heck are you doing here?”

“Just here to see you. I wanted to wait in there, but they said you weren’t Germ-safe. That you were still obsessed with murdering me. So I waited outside.”

Wow. “I’m pretty sure I’m Germ-safe now. Actually, I’m totally sure. I can’t remember the last time I was so sure of anything. You’re… you’re not mad?”

“Nah, I’m not sore. You were possessed by a demon—wasn’t your fault.”

Mae laughed. “I guess that’s true! Most people wouldn’t just accept that so easily, though.”

Germ shrugged. “I’ve seen some weird stuff.”

Pastor Kate stepped out into the hallway and looked things over. “I take it you’re feeling all right, Mae.”

Mae sprang to her feet. “I can’t begin to express how all right I feel. I feel so many levels better than right I don’t even know what to call them.”

Angus stood there with his hat over his chest. He didn’t say anything, but Mae could tell he was almost shaking with relief. Bea spoke up: “Gregg was here with you all night, you know. He stayed the full course. I didn’t think anything could wear him out, but you pretty much managed it.”

Gregg was a little shaky on his feet, but he was grinning and energetic. “Love ya, dude.”

Mae dashed over and hugged him fiercely. “Gregg Gregg Gregg. Greggory, you saved my life. Probably someone else’s life too. I mean that, you saved my life last night, you really did. You’re a hero. You’re a straight up hero.”

Gregg rubbed his cheek against her hair. “Pfff. You woulda done the same.”

Mae realized he was right. She would have. “Still a hero though,” she muttered.

“To be perfectly clear,” said Bea. “Black Goat isn’t around anymore?”

“Nope. I outlasted it. It nearly got me, but thanks to Gregg here I outlasted it and it gave up. I smashed a hole in reality and it jumped back through to where it came from.”

“Wow,” said Angus.

Gregg waved his noodly arms despite his sleepiness. “We beat it!!”

Mae did the same. “WE BEAT IT!”

Bea pointed to a dustpan and broom into which she’d swept the loose fragments of stained glass. “You also broke a very expensive window.”

Mae kept noodling her arms. “I’ll totally pay for it! Hey Pastor K, I’m totally your slave until I’ve paid for the window, okay?”

The pastor was visibly surprised, but didn’t seem mad. “All right. We’ll work out a repayment plan. I’m not entirely convinced that what you’ve gone through was genuinely… what you think it was. But I’m… willing to listen.”

“She’s willing to listen!” exulted Gregg.

“She’s willing to listen!” echoed Mae.

“Looks like everything’s working out here,” said Germ. “I think I might mosey on out. See you next band practice, everyone.”

Mae ran over to give him a hug. “I owe you a taco.”

“Oh, sure, you can give me a taco next time you see me.”

Mae made a mental note; she really would. “All right, guys. You want details, and you deserve details. If my owner says it’s okay… who’s up for Donut Wolf??”

Gregg cheered. Bea nodded; Angus tipped his hat. “I wouldn’t mind tagging along to Donut Wolf,” said the pastor.

“We’re doing this,” declared Mae.

“Just want to cover over the window with something before we go,” said Pastor K. “So raccoons and birds don’t get in.”

“Maybe a tapestry?” Bea suggested.

So Mae helped them duct tape an heirloom tapestry over the window. It felt like a really funny, ugly, beautiful thing to be doing. And as they all left the church and piled into two cars headed for Donut Wolf, Mae realized that she couldn’t decide whether she’d just lived through the shortest or the longest night of her life.

If this was what being normal felt like, she hoped she got used it to fast. She didn’t know if she could handle this much normal for long!

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 10

Before Adina’s lover was killed, but after the Inquisition forced them apart, Adina made a habit of writing her a letter each day once her work was done. Sometimes there was no service between their countries, and Adina had no idea when her letter would reach her lover. But she wrote daily anyway, explaining to her friends that it helped collect her thoughts, and that she had faith they would all be delivered in time.

“You asked me once whether I would go to the stars, if I could,” she wrote once. “You weren’t the first to ask, or the last. For you, my answer was easy: Of course I would go. Why wouldn’t I? But in the years since then, I’ve come to believe that this question is… while not entirely meaningless, on par with strange questions like: ‘Do you wish that you lived a million years ago, but now can’t remember it?’ Perhaps you understand instantly what I mean, as you so often do. It simply isn’t possible for a person to travel to the stars and still be the same person. I don’t mean it’s not technologically possible. I mean it isn’t even physically possible. You might as well have asked me whether I wanted to make an unfamiliar copy of myself—recognizable, but inaccessible in every meaningful way.

“If we want to learn more about the heavens, we can’t do it by going to them. It’s just not an option. There’s only one astronomical body we can learn more about by going to it, and that’s the Earth itself. As the months without you tick on, I grow increasingly afraid that, if I still have a conscience about increasing our understanding of the heavens, my only option will be to venture into the Earth itself. But this idea terrifies me, astronomer. Never has the potential for learning scared me so fully to the core.”

“Where do we go from here?” asked Bea. It wasn’t exactly from out of nowhere. She and Mae had walked all the way to Jenny’s Field, then up the hill of soft dirt grown over with grass and flowers, formed decades ago by a mining company excavation. They could see half the town from here, and in another direction the state park, and more than one highway. It might not be enough perspective for such a big question, but it was what they had.

“Iunno,” said Mae. She sat crouching on the hill, even as Bea lay back on the grass and smoked. “I guess now we see whether Possum Springs starts falling apart.” She peered at the north edge of the town as if she could catch a glimpse of it happening from there.

Bea was staring at the sky. “And if it does?”

Mae considered. “Then we decide whether we want to try to save it.”

This silenced Bea for a while. “And if it doesn’t?”

Mae took a deep breath. “I’ve been sort of thinking about college,” she said meekly.

Bea looked back sharply.

“Please don’t be mad! It’s just, when I told Mom about how the problem I had with things losing their meaning, the psychosis or whatever, was gone, she asked if that meant maybe I wanted to give college another try. And…” She swallowed. “Maybe I do?”

Bea stared for awhile. She was wearing a blue sundress. Mae hadn’t even known Bea owned a sundress. Maybe she’d just bought it, but it didn’t look new. It was really warm for October, though, so it wasn’t like there’d be a better time to wear it anytime soon.

“Not to be a grouch or anything, but there was a time you were willing to give up your freedom and your life to help me get to college,” Bea said.

“I know! And I still really care about you… but you said you’d given up the dream. I thought you’d kind of… made your peace with never going.”

Bea puffed her cigarette. “I basically have. I’m a good person. I’m fine. I may not be brilliant, but I’m sharp enough, and I’m fine. I’ve got problems. But so does everyone. There’s no one in the world who hasn’t got problems. I guess my point is, I don’t have to get a degree or have a field of study in order to be… a good person. I may not like retail, but I’m getting good at it, like it or not, and I do like handiwork, so.” She shrugged slowly and slumped down onto the grass.

“But you should get to go,” Mae protested. “If you want to specialize in something and get really smart and good at it, I want that to happen too. I would give you all the money, if I could. If my parents write checks, I could forward them to you and pretend to be going to college when really I’m just working somewhere. We could do an elaborate scheme and then when you’re all done, jump out and be like, ‘Surprise! You thought you were paying for your kid to get a diploma, but really you were paying for this other girl instead!’” She wiggled her toes. “But that’s probably not the most airtight idea.”

“Your head isn’t the most airtight idea,” retorted Bea.

“Hey!”

“Fine. I take it back. Your head is the most airtight idea.”

“Thank you,” said Mae.

“You should go,” Bea decided. “If you can find a way to pay, you should go. Your parents want you to go. You’re not tied down. You might find some direction.”

“I’m scared, Bea.”

“Scared it’ll happen again?”

“With the statue and everything? Nope, that’s gone. Scared that I won’t be good enough. That I’m too dumb for college and it’s a dumb idea even sending me there. Scared I’ll just waste all my parents’ money and when it’s time to leave Possum Springs we won’t be able to, and then our house won’t be worth anything anymore and we’ll be stuck going down with the ship.”

“Mae.”

“Yes?”

“They have such a thing as remedial courses. If you’re not good enough at history or math or whatever, you can take those and get caught up. If you put in your time and develop good study habits, you won’t flunk out.”

That wasn’t quite what Mae had expected to hear. “You need I’ll need remedial courses?”

Bea shrugged. “I just know that last week when I mentioned AC current, you thought I was talking about air conditioners.”

Geez. “Well what sense does ‘alternating current current’ make? You can’t blame me for that.”

“You don’t know a lot, Mae. Sorry to be so blunt about it, but it’s the truth. You could stand to know a lot more.”

“But is it worth it, Bea? I don’t know what I’m going to be doing with my life. I’m more or less happy now. Why stir things up by adding college to the mix?”

“Weren’t you the one who brought this up?”

“That doesn’t mean I know what I want!” said Mae, throwing her arms out. “You know me better than that.”

Bea considered. “I think it’d be interesting to see you enrich yourself. To see what direction you choose.”

Mae settled down on the grass. “Well sure. But it’d be interesting to squash an alarm clock on the train tracks. Interesting is just that.”

Bea inhaled deeply and relaxed, saying nothing. Mae didn’t mind. She knew Bea was down to one cigarette a day and wanted to get the most out of what she had.

“Hey, Germ.”

“Oh hey. How ya doing?”

He was out in the parking lot again, taking in the atmosphere or who-knew-what. Mae thrust out an envelope, shimmery and green. She’d picked it out at Fort Lucenne, along with some new clothes. Bea hadn’t wanted to go with her, since that would have meant breaking a promise, and keeping promises to herself was important at that point in her life. So Mae’d gone with Lori M. instead. They’d had a blast, even though the mall was barely a shadow of what it had been in the old days.

“What’s this?”

“It’s an invitation. I could tell you what’s inside, but then what’s the point of writing it?” Mae kept the envelope suspended until he took and opened it.

Germ unfolded the paper and read. “I’m invited to a burning?”

“Yeah!”

He read more. “You’re going to burn your shirt?”

Mae nearly bounced in place. “Yeah! It’s old and ugly and it turns out I only made it ‘cause Black Goat wanted me to, way back. This is its symbol! It’s like it was branding me.”

Germ looked her over. “Cool. So why’re you wearing it now?”

“’Cause it’s sentimental! I want to say goodbye.” She tugged on the stretchy fabric. “I’m gonna miss this thing.”

“Then why burn it?” Germ countered.

“’Cause it’s got all this evil connected to it! I’ve got to get rid of it.”

“So you thought you’d just be evil one last time?”

She pulled her arms inside the shirt and spun it around backward, then stuck them out again. “Everyone deserves a goodbye,” she said.

“Cool. I’ll be there. You gonna miss that thing inside you?”

Mae’d actually given that some thought. “Not really, I don’t think. ‘Miss’ isn’t quite the word. But I’ve gotta say, it feels weird knowing that… so much of what I thought was my own brain effing up its business was really… something else effing me up that shouldn’t have existed at all. I mean, if I’m not the girl with the serious mental problems, then who am I?”

Germ gave this some thought. “You think it would’ve effed up another person the same way?”

Now that was an interesting question. “I don’t know. I mean, maybe it would have just drained the meaning out of everything for them like it did for me… but for me it kind of triggered ‘cause of a dating sim I was playing. Not everyone plays those, right?”

“I know I don’t.”

“So… maybe the way it effed me up was unique?” After all, if Black Goat could just drain the meaning from the world any time it wanted, why hadn’t it done that to her during its last stand?

“Probably. You seem pretty unique.” Germ made this observation in a tone that suggested it took one to know one.

“So does that mean the way I went crazy was all me? It just scrambled my soul a little, and I did the rest?”

“Looks like it,” said Germ.

That felt weirdly good. “I’m special after all!” realized Mae.

“Sure. You’re pretty special.”

“It feels good to be special.”

“Sure does,” he agreed.

Mae stood there and blinked. “Well, see you at the burning!”

“Yep!” said Germ, and walked away.

Mae walked through the parking lot, watching a couple of rats wiggling their way through a crack into the old Food Donkey, and realized that this question had been weighing on her more than she’d known. She’d been afraid that her identity had all been a lie… but now she realized she was still just as weird and messed up as ever, only now she was in control. She was proud of who she was. She was proud to question authority and question herself and do things now and then that didn’t make sense just because they had to be done.

There’s a time in everyone’s life, she reflected, when they have to own their crazy. This is mine!

“Mom!”

Mae’s mother turned around at her desk in surprise. “Daughter!”

Mae pranced over to give her a hug. “Mom!”

“Wow. You’re hugging me at work!”

“I’m hugging you in church! Isn’t that allowed?”

“If it’s not, I won’t tell. What’s got you all excited?”

“Just glad to see you. Just glad to be alive and taking responsibility.”

“My Mae, excited about responsibility. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“You should’ve! I like getting excited about stuff!”

“In that case, I won’t jinx it. You’re here to see the pastor?”

“Mmhm. I’m her slave now, you know.”

“Ah, yes. I hope she doesn’t work you too hard.”

“If she does, I’ll stage a slave revolt. That always works.”

“You may want to ask her to teach you some history, while you’re at it.” Mae’s mom gave her a kiss on the forehead. Good luck, sweetheart.”

Mae knocked nervously on the pastor’s office. “Slave Borowski, reporting for duty!”

The door opened, Pastor K looking as dour as ever. “I’m glad you came. We have a lot to discuss.”

Uh oh. “So what’s the verdict?” Mae asked nervously. She knew a contractor from Brush Valley had been in to give an estimate.

“It was a six thousand dollar window,” said the pastor.

Ouch. Mae felt like she was hit by a bucket to the head. She sat down on a random chest that probably wasn’t meant for sitting on. “Six thousand?”

“It could have been worse. Stained glass is expensive.”

Mae’s head swam, trying to figure out how long it would take her to pay that off. “Wow. I guess if I gave you, like eighty percent of my paycheck for… a year… that’d cover it, right?” She hated the idea of being in debt that long, but reminded herself this was a new life, and the weight that was off her was worth it.

“Most likely. But Mae…” Pastor K sighed and sat down. “I don’t honestly think you should be on the hook for the entire amount. The way I see it… this was an external disaster. Like a tornado or an earthquake. If an earthquake knocks one man’s house down, a good town doesn’t make him pay the full cost of rebuilding. A good town helps him rebuild.”

Did that mean… “But how can the town help me rebuild?”

“They can help the church rebuild. I intend to ask the congregation to pitch in half the cost of replacing the window. Honestly, this is exactly the sort of thing church funds should be used for. Sure, they pay my salary, and your mother’s salary, and they take care of routine maintenance… but this was a spiritual attack. And in some way, our church helped. You came here, and under these walls, you weathered the storm.”

“I did, didn’t I? Gregg saved me, but the church saved me too.”

“And all it cost us was one window. Mae, I intend to tell the congregation that I would have much rather have lost every window in the church than have lost you to the demon that was possessing you. I would rather the church had collapsed completely.”

Mae swallowed. It was intense, having someone in authority care about her that much. “I don’t think they’ll like that much. A lot of people in town kind of hate me.” Funny how she seemed to care more, not less, about being hated, now that she was free of her biggest burden.

“That’s something I wanted to talk about. I was hoping to make your case, as it were, with your permission. You’ve been coming to church for a few weeks, and I’m very glad of that, and I know your mother is too. You may be new here, but you are a part of our congregation.”

Mae wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but right now it felt mostly warm. “I don’t think that’ll make them like me all by itself, though.”

“No. And that’s why I need to explain to my flock that for seven years, you were possessed by the devil.”

Mae froze. “Really? ‘The devil’?”

“I know it isn’t entirely accurate. What plagued you wasn’t the Lord of Darkness himself. It was in a class of many, whether a demon or something we don’t understand. But we need to put it in terms the flock will at least consider accepting.”

“And it wasn’t really possessing me,” Mae pointed out. “I wasn’t like, ‘Rrrrr! ARrrgh!’” She stuck out her arms and waved her head back and forth wildly.

“Regardless,” said the pastor. “I honestly never thought I would diagnose a member of my flock with demonic possession. I didn’t even think it was a real thing. Yes, Satan can corrupt our hearts, but I believed out-and-out possession was an anachronistic myth. Apparently I was wrong. I’ve prayed more these last few days than I did when I received the call to ministry. I’ve prayed more than when my sister was killed in active duty overseas. This has upset my world, Mae. But I believe you. I believe that you really were possessed, or otherwise occupied, by a demon or, God forbid, something worse. And from my prayers, I decided that I have to tell my congregation that this is possible. I can’t let them remain in the dark.”

Mae felt small. “Well… okay… but…”’

“I’ll call for them to pay half the cost, as a community should when one of its own is stricken by forces outside its control. And I’ll call for them to treat you kindly. To try to get past the prejudices they formed when you took up a baseball bat seven years ago and earned your nickname. I’ll try to get them to understand that it was corrupting you, even then, and that it really is finally gone. I’ll ask them to meet you anew. If you’re willing, Mae. None of this without your permission.”

What could she do? Would they really take the pastor at her word, or would it be like the teacher calling up a new student to make sure everyone liked them, only to be bullied all the more? “I… I’m scared.”

The pastor nodded. “Of anything in particular?”

Mae reflected. “Of… being really known, for who I am… and having people hate me anyway?”

Pastor K paused for a bit. “Well. That’s what we all aspire to, isn’t it? To be known for who we truly are? And if people hate us, even after that, that’s their right. But…”

“But we have to try,” Mae concluded.

Pastor K nodded. “We have to try.”

“Okay,” said Mae. “Sign me up. I’ll do my best to meet everyone, even if it’s people I already know.”

“Thank you for being brave, Mae.”

Mae bowed a little. “All in a day’s work.”

“Part of me wants you not to have to pay anything for the window. But I am inclined to think it was partly your own fault, Mae. You may have been influenced by an otherworldly being, but it probably wouldn’t have found the same grounding in just anyone. Put simply, I think you’re a little too happy with that bat of yours. Fair?”

Mae slumped. “Fair.”

“So I’ll expect you to pay two thousand dollars toward the repair bill. I recognize it may take time, especially if you get sentenced to community service for the other things you broke. Just make sure you keep the obligation in mind.”

“I will,” nodded Mae.

“I’ll cover the rest myself, in exchange for your doing a little work for the church here and there. Our friend Rubello out front needs cleaning, for instance.”

Mae grimaced in amusement at the idea of polishing up the fire-spitter. “Okay. I’ll clean your statues and dig your ditches until I’m in the black.”

The pastor sat back in her wooden chair. “I hope we can stay on good terms. There’s something else I was hoping to do.”

Even more? “What’s that?” asked Mae.

“I was hoping to take a road trip to Mannetsburg with you.”

Oh. Wow. “Seriously? To go find Bruce?”

She nodded. “I think it’s what’s expected of me.”

“Expected?”

“Now that I’m coming to understand that there’s more out there than our forebears knew, and even more than can be found in scripture or traditional teachings. I prayed, and I discovered that I needed a formative experience to underscore my personal transformation. You saw Bruce in the vision Black Goat showed you. You wanted me to go help you find him. I wasn’t willing at the time. I’m willing now.”

Emotion coursed through Mae. “We’ve gotta do that,” she said. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this either, but she knew it had to happen.

“I know time may be of the essence,” said Pastor K. “I can clear my schedule next week from Tuesday to Friday. I don’t know if that gives you enough time to arrange things with your workplace, but…”

“I can make it work,” Mae promised. “And I’ll call Broderick. Maybe he can help. Maybe we can meet this family he’s been helping out, too.”

Pastor K nodded. “I think I’d like that. All right, that’s all for now, Mae. Keep me posted.”

Mae gave her mother another hug and kiss on the way out, just for good luck.

Mae turned herself in at the police station, bringing along two bits of paper. One was a prepared statement she read to her aunt and her colleague Officer McConnell, confessing to the destruction of Mallard P. Bloomingro, four windows in Town Centre, and the rocketship decoration on top of the Video Outpost. She claimed to have been in a bad psychological condition at the time, one that she believed she would never repeat, but took responsibility for reaching that point in the first place. The second paper was a folded, printed invitation for her Aunt Molly to attend the burning of her favorite T-shirt.

It was an awkward visit, but better than most encounters with the police in Mae’s experience. They gave her a court date and Molly promised to do her best to be at the burning. She also got Mae to promise they’d rent a legal firepit instead of trying to dig their own, which was probably for the best.

She had a heart-to-heart with her parents that had been a long time overdue, a heart-to-heart to end all heart-to-hearts. It was tough. It left Mae’s mom dabbing at tears and Mae sniffling. It involved raised voices and plaintive arguments, hugs and deep sighs and, thankfully, homemade pumpkin pie. It also involved a delicate dance of love and disbelief. Mae’s parents didn’t believe in demons. They weren’t ready to accept that anything had happened to Mae beyond mental disorder and bad fortune. Her father was willing to listen to her story of a cult in the old mines—he knew his own father had belonged to a secret society of miners and could easily imagine that such an organization could exist—it might even have evolved from a pro-labor army to the cult of arcane worshipers Mae described. But he couldn’t accept that the thing they’d been worshiping was real. He couldn’t trust Mae enough to believe her story. Mom didn’t say what she believed—she just wanted their family to be all right. And since that was something they could all agree on, that’s where they left things.

Mae stopped short of telling them that she and her friends had played a role in the mine’s collapse. She was already in trouble for her really bad night—getting blamed for the deaths of eighteen old asswipes on top of that was the last thing she needed.

On chat, Gregg told Mae that he’d written down his song about the shattered church window as well as he could remember, and Angus had helped him fix it up a bit. He was excited about it now and he wanted to play it as a real song. “So u up for practice?” he sent.

] How?! I’m in Possum Springs and you’re way over in Bright Harbor.

) Its the internet age, dude! Join the 21st century!

] So what, like… Livechat?

) Yea I mean Livechat! Or VoiceCloud or whatevs u wanna use. We can get microphones and turn our computers into
like, our personal bandspace!

] Hey Gregg what’s ur bandwidth?

) Whatta u mean
) Like bauds and killer bauds

] I mean like how wide is your band?

) not wide enuff
) without u

] good answer. it was a joke and i didn’t even think there was a good answer

] but you found it

) yeah i’m pretty rad
) sure would love to play musik with u tho

] I’m gonna have to move 2 bright harbor
] it’ll suck to leave everyone
] but I think in the end it’ll have to happen
] maybe dad can find a new job there
] Maybe the whole town can move there if we all get together and just
] decide!

) Yea good luck with that
) I mean this place is kind of gentrified

] we’ll ungentrify it!!
] we’ll podunk it up, just the whole town moving in all at once!

) sounds like a plan
) Anyway I wanna play a real gig with you guys somday

] What, like an actual band does?

) You better believe it
) we’ll need a name but
) I think we’ll rock the place

] It’s kinda weird we’ve been doing this band for so long and we’ve never
] even talked about, like, what are we called?

) I thought it was kind of a cool thing
) we’re too cool for namez
) that might be a cool name except
) it’s like, hypocracy

] We could be Hypocracy!
] Yo Bright Harbor! We are…
] Hypocrasy!
] is that even how u spell it

) i dunno i’m getting squiggly lines
) but I refuse to check on principle

] We could be Hypocrazy!
] Like we’re crazy about hype

) we could be the Black Goats

] dude.

) Okay well maybe the Cosmic Horrors
) that’s more general

] yeah okay that would work
] but then we’d have to talk to the audience in a weird language that no one ever spoke

) i got that covered
) just cram some pierogies in my mouth and try to talk

] ok sounds like a plan!!
] I’ll call our agent and book a stadium

) hey mae

] yea

) luvyu

] <3 <3

) ok see you tomorrow at the burning
) gonna bring some lighter fluid
) and marshmallows
) and my crossbow

] gonna have so much fire!

) fire 2 inspire

] see you gregg.

October was about burning, Mae decided. The trees were burning off what they’ve got left from the summer… the leaves were orange, like fire, and while she didn’t know exactly what was going on in there, she had the idea it was like they were burning their sugars until nothing was left and the leaves could go free. Then the leaves would fall and people would burn them, too. There were barbecues in spring and summer, but autumn barbecues had a special smell. If you barbecued in October, you were brave. It was a punk-ass thing to do. Barbecue in leather jackets. Letting yourself shine for one last time before the clouds and snow and darkness steal the sun away.

Mae wanted to burn. She wanted there to be something left of her, of course, but there had to be. Everyone had something in them that wouldn’t burn up. The trick was finding it. That was the hard part, and it might even be what life was all about in the first place.

When she said all that to Selmers, Selmers said it was right on and she was going to write a poem about it. Mae said that if she finished in time, she could read it in front of everyone and then burn it.

“Wow. Burning a poem about burning? That’s almost too punk.”

“It’s just the right amount of punk for you, Selmers! You should try it.”

“All right, I’ll get on it,” Selmers said. With that, she dove into a leafy spot off the road and started scribbling furiously on a random flier.

The sun was going down and it was chilly. Mae had a sweater on. They’d thought about doing this in the state park, but she was glad she’d gone with the edge of town instead. They were right next to the bridge over the ravine, close enough to town that people could wander by but far enough it probably wouldn’t bother anyone. The view was beautiful and the leaves were perfect. Mae would have to go to the corn maze this year before she forgot! She didn’t want to miss it two years in a row.

People were here. People were actually arriving! Mae remembered being worked up over the party in the woods her first week back, wondering if she could fit in, and now she was basically having her own party. And people were actually showing up to it. Mr. Twigmeyer from her street was helping with the firepit, arranging the wood, while Gregg tried to convince him to use lighter fluid. Aunt Molly and Dan McConnell were there, and Mom and Dad, and Mr. Chazokov, all chatting quietly. Lori was there with her parents, whom Mae had never met, and CJ from school, and that ditzy girl from the video store, and Danny, talking quietly to Angus over at the edge of everything. Germ was standing near the cooler of food… and was that his family with him? They looked like him, anyway. Even Fisherman Jones was there, peering over the side of the bridge, pretending not to care.

Pastor K was there, of course. She’d given her sermon the previous day, and it had gone relatively all right. No torches or angry mobs or anything. Lots of townsfolk had said hi to Mae afterward, and even if they seemed nervous, or didn’t seem to believe the pastor about her having been possessed, they didn’t seem like they were so upset they wanted to fire her. Mae just tried her best to dispel all the nerves and be approachable, and she left church that day feeling like there was something ingrained deep in people that made them want to give second chances. She liked that. She really liked that.

“Hey,” said Germ, now beside her.

“Hey! Glad you could make it.”

“No problem. Brought franks.”

“For, like, cooking over the fire? Yeah that’s okay. I originally thought it’d be just for burning things up, but if people want to cook food on the fire, and create something new to go in their bellies, they can do that too. That’s like the cycle of existence.”

“Cool. I brought my family along. Hope you don’t mind. They don’t get to too many parties, so.”

Mae looked at the group, standing timidly apart. An older woman, a younger woman, two girls and a skinny man with a cane. “Well this isn’t really a party so much as a ceremony, but… sure, glad to have ‘em.”

“Oh it’s a party,” said Gregg, overhearing them. “Where I go, the party follows.”

“Okay, Gregg said it’s a party and I defer to him in party-related matters.”

“Yeah, I heard he’s a bartender now. You tending bar in Bright Harbor?” asked Germ.

“Tend it ‘til it’s tender,” confirmed Gregg.

“I guess a bartender would know something about parties.”

“Yep!” He stood up, happy with the arrangement of wood in the pit. “Right now I’m a tindertender.”

“You miss us?” asked Germ.

Gregg frowned. “Course I miss you. But… we had to go. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” said Germ. “I know. I talk to a lot of folks who have to go places. I know how it is.”

“But you never feel that way yourself?” asked Mae.

“Nope. I’m lucky that way. I’m in the right place already.”

“That is pretty lucky,” Mae acknowledged. “Sorry again about wanting to eat you for Thanksgiving or whatever horrible stuff I said.”

“No problem. You know, I actually had a feeling you were going to snap that night.”

“You did, huh?”

“Yep. I was sitting up all night with my grandad’s bayonet. So even if you’d come over to my place, I would’ve been ready.”

This horrified Mae. “God! You were gonna bayonet me?”

“Only if you made me. So it’s all okay.”

Holy handbaskets was this one weird kid. “Well I guess I can’t blame you. But why does your family even have a bayonet?”

He shrugged. “Every family oughtta have one, I figure. It’s a dangerous world.”

Mae blinked. Before she could come up with a good response, Germ had moved on to chatting with Lori. That was fine with Mae—she figured those two might get along. If they grew up and got married… well, that was a weird thought, but Mae would take pride in that if it somehow did happen. She didn’t want to ever have children, and it was hard enough to make a mark that mattered in the world.

“Ready for detonation!” called Gregg. The crowd turned to face him.

“Ready for ignition,” corrected Mr. Twigmeyer.

“Ignition countdown!” yelled Gregg, swinging his arm and stamping his foot. “Five! Four! Three!”

“Two! One!’ chanted some of the crowd.

“FIRE IT UP!!” Gregg shouted. Mr. Twigmeyer struck a match and set it in the heart of the firepit. Mae hurried over to watch her fire enter the world.

For a while, several guys gathered around and urgently discussed how to keep the fire alive and growing. They poked it with sticks and moved kindling around and got it going bigger, then smaller again, then bigger bit by bit. Mae just watched, not knowing anything about fire except that it resonated with her. She stood and watched it grow as the sun went down, and most of the folks came over to watch with her.

“It’s beautiful, honey,” said her mom.

“Thanks Mom. It’s my baby.”

By the time the sky was dark, dark blue, a car chugged up and pulled off the road to park. Mea leapt with excitement and ran over. “Bea!”

But when the doors opened up, it wasn’t just Bea who got out. It was Broderick. He leaned into the car to help out a passenger.

“Wow, Broderick!” called Mae, arms out. “I was wondering when you’d get here!”

Bea shut the door on her side and walked around to help Broderick. Together, the two of them helped Bea’s father out of the car. He staggered for a moment, then caught his balance and stared at the gathering, frowning.

“Wow. Mr. Santello? I didn’t think you’d be bringing your father, Bea!”

“I told him this was important for me. He missed my high school graduation… he could damn well come to this. Dad, you need a hand?”

“I said I was sorry about your graduation, Bea. What is this? You didn’t say anything about a bonfire.”

“Actually I did, Dad. You remember Mae Borowski?”

He looked at Mae and his pupils narrowed. “From dinner. I remember you. It’s your confirmation?”

Confirmation? “No, I mean, it’s my purification. It’s true I joined the church a few weeks ago, kind of, and yes this is a spiritual thing, but…” She lifted and dropped the shirt tied around her waist. “This is for me to get rid of the last seven years.”

“It’s a lot to shuck at once,” said Broderick, shutting the car door and walking over. “Sure you’re ready?”

Mae looked at him and wanted to hug him, so she did—a little hug. “I’m ready. I’m so impressed you came all this way just for my silly thing.”

“It’s mine too, in a way,” he said. He was dressed in black clothes that shimmered in the firelight, even while Bea was wearing blue. “It’s my chance to say goodbye.”

“What, to Black Goat?”

He nodded. “He was there, then he was gone. I didn’t tell you everything on the phone, Mae. That night you opened the rift for him and let him through… I sat up in bed that night. It broke through my sleep. That’s how sudden it was. One moment I was… myself, and the next moment…” He took a breath. “I felt so light I barely recognized myself. Like the covers couldn’t keep me down.”

“That’s how I felt too,” said Mae.

“Who are you two talking about?” asked Mr. Santello.

“No one you know, Dad,” said Bea. “Come on… let’s go socialize.”

The two of them walked toward the knot of people near the cooler, just past the fire. “So how did you end up coming with Bea?” Mae asked.

“I met her in the street, trying to get her father to follow. Seemed like she was having trouble, so I stopped.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t seem to really be all there.”

“So I figured. I was glad to be in the right place to help.”

Mae patted Broderick on the shoulder. “You’re so good.”

He looked dim for a moment. “I tried to be good to the interloper. To welcome him to our world, as well as I could. But it was you who let him out.”

Mae shivered, remembering. “He… it… didn’t want to go. It wanted to stay here, almost more than it wanted to live! But I guess those men in the mineshaft finally all died without jumping in, or it wouldn’t have been so hungry. I guess they decided if they were going to die anyway, there wasn’t much point in giving Black Goat more satisfaction.”

Broderick spread his hands in uncertainty in that beautiful way he had. “Who knows how men like that think? I almost feel like I understand the goat better.”

“Well then maybe you can tell me this. Why was it so important for it to be up here, instead of where it came from?” She threw out her own hands, a wild sort of mirror of his own gesture. “Why was it so desperate to stay that it was willing to push ‘til the brink of starvation before giving in and letting me bash a way back home?”

Broderick reflected, drawing his supple shoulders inward. He and Mae watched the people gather around the fire, the bridge, the cooler. “I asked him that very question. I listened hard for an answer.”

Mae peered into his eyes. “And??”

“I even think he was trying to answer. But I never got the whole of it. I think he hated where he came from. I think he wanted someplace new.”

Mae shivered in the October air. “I’m starting to know how that feels.”

Broderick looked around. “It’s a nice town you’ve got here. What’s wrong with it?”

Mae shrugged, wondering if she should offer to show him around. “Nothing, really,” she replied. “It’s just that… everyone’s leaving.”

He nodded knowingly and watched the fire rise.

Gregg tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey Maebird. Sadie and Saleem want to know if they should start playing now.”

She looked over toward the musicians sitting on the bridge rail, waiting patiently like they had nothing in the world to do but enhance Mae’s event. Her chill was suddenly replaced with warmth. She waved to the pair and gave them a big thumbs up, and they solemnly took up their instruments and started to fill the air with a half-improvised saxophone/violin duet.

She listened for a while, paying only scant attention to Gregg chatting with Broderick behind her. Then, knowing suddenly that it was time, she sprang forward toward the fire, stacked up an empty cooler and a box, and stood on top to get everyone’s attention. “Hey everyone!”

The talking gradually ceased and all eyes turned to Mae. “Hey, so thanks so much for attending my ceremonial burn purge. Just to be clear, this isn’t a real thing. It’s a thing I made up. But it’s something I really needed. You might have heard about my problems with… well, with my head, and with this thing inside me, and with everything.”

A few of the people nodded. Mae could see that she was redder than usual in the glint of the fire. She could feel the flames licking at her, wanting to take her in, fighting with the chilly weather for whether her destiny would be cold or warm. She took a deep breath, grinning. Mae loved the autumn. It was a challenge.

She went on to tell everyone about her struggle—the dreams, the disoriented moments, the Deep Hollow Hollerers. She didn’t mention the cult or the old mine, but talked about her conversations with the God Cat and with Black Goat itself. She described the ‘Killer’ incident and managed to get through without crying, and found to her surprise that the crowd was dead silent—transfixed. She described the eclipse and her subsequent dreams. She invited Broderick to speak, and he did, but kept it brief, deferring to Mae. It was her event, after all, and he didn’t want to distract from it.

So Mae described how her orange shirt with the circle and crossbar was the first thing she’d made when she’d returned to school, and how she now realized Black Goat had been behind it. She didn’t want to be branded, she explained to the crowd. She wanted to be her own person. And she described, in impassioned detail, the night from the previous week when the desire to murder had risen and risen, and she hadn’t been able to stay inside, but had roamed the town, wreaking havoc—until Gregg had made a midnight journey to save her through the power of rock music and friendship. And he’d succeeded, she told them. He’d helped her hold out until the demon in her gave up from starvation, and she hadn’t killed anyone—and now it was gone from her and gone from the world. She untied the shirt from her waist and held it up. “A lot of folks around here won’t know me without this shirt, I bet. I wore it, like, all the time. But it’s marked with a sign from another place. A place where things are apparently so crappy, even a demon can’t be happy there. I don’t want our place to be like that one. I want Earth to be a good place, where people are happy to stay! And for that matter, I want Possum Springs to be like that, too. I love this town.” Now, and only now, Mae’s voice cracked up. “I want this town to last forever. It’s worth it. It deserves it. But if we can’t last forever, let’s at least try to keep what’s worth keeping. Wherever we end up going. Let’s burn what has to be burned so we can keep what’s worth keeping.”

A few of the grown-ups clapped. Someone Mae barely recognized from church said “Hear hear.”

Mae held the shirt at arm’s length by the sleeves. It billowed in the flame’s wind. The edges crackled as the seams caught fire.

She closed her eyes as she dropped it. Then she watched it burn, burn, burn. It was gone in twenty seconds, maybe fifteen. It was that old and that ready to die.

There was applause. Then, after a few moments had passed, Bea stepped forward. “Are the rest of us welcome to burn things, or are you keeping this fire for yourself?”

Mae looked down in mild surprise. “You can burn stuff. Go ahead and burn stuff! It’s a burning.”

Bea nodded. She heaved something black into the flame and watched with satisfaction.

“Oh dude, Bea! Your favorite dress?!”

“It’s not the dress, just the leggings,” Bea said, not looking up. “God, what was I thinking. Black leggings.” She looked around. “Sorry for being such a downer the last few years, everyone. Just by the way.”

“We understand, Bea,” said Pastor K. ‘I’ve got something to burn, myself.”

“Wow,” said Mae. “Okay, well. Burning party then! Keep the stuff coming!”

The townsfolk laughed, but to Mae’s surprise, they did. The pastor burned a thesis she’d written in seminary that she apparently no longer believed in. Germ burned a jar full of hairballs that had apparently been coughed up by the family’s now dead cat, and a T-shirt that had been his brother’s. Angus burned a picture of his parents. Sadie burned some kind of pamphlet, not saying why. Lori ran home for a stuffed spider to burn; it made the fire smell foul for a few minutes. Danny burned a bunch of old employee manuals. The Smelters fan from Millers burned some old stat sheets and sportsball cards, presumably from players they didn’t respect anymore. Someone from town burned a worn out corduroy jacket. The Hartleys, crying and holding each other, dropped in a piece of paper. From up high, Mae could see what it was—the Missing poster from the town bulletin board. Selmers burned all her leftover Sylvam beauty products. Gregg shot a crossbow bolt into the blaze.

Then Mae finally came down from her perch. “Okay folks! That’s enough burning! Time for some fun! Get out the marshmallows and hot dogs! You guys, start playing something nice!” Sadie and Saleem switched to an upbeat tune with a bayou jazz flavor, and the ceremony turned into the party it was always meant to be.

Mae went and relaxed on the bridge, watching everyone having a good time. She missed the feel of her familiar shirt, but her sweater kept her warm, and she still felt light inside. The future wasn’t something she had to worry about, right now. She liked where she was. She liked who she was.

A croaky throat rattle caught her attention and she glanced up. A possum was hanging from a girder. “Rabies! You came!” This was met by another, louder rattle.

“Hey Rabies. You got anything you want to burn? Any crimes from the past you want to forget about? Any old hopes worth letting go?”

He swung there, curling his snout at her. No, of course Rabies wouldn’t have anything to burn. He lived his life with no regrets.

One of Germ’s sisters ran up. “Oh hey! Is this that possum you told us about, Jeremy?”

“Yeah, that’s the guy. Rabies, meet my sister, Arabelle. Arabelle, Rabies!”

Mae smiled and strolled further down the bridge, making room for the introduction. She sat far enough from the crowd that the fire was a little dot, and yet even without her, the townspeople were enjoying themselves. This was a kind of pride she’d hardly ever felt before. She’d given all these people the push they needed to be happy… or sad, or whatever, but together. This was the pride of a little girl who’d just completed an weird-looking art project destined to get an A. Mae sniffed as she remembered that there’d been a time in her life when she’d been proud—genuinely proud, not just pretend proud—on a regular basis. She was going to start doing that again.

The sound of a throat clearing. It wasn’t Rabies this time—it was Bea. Mae looked over to see her sitting on the opposite rail. “Whoa! You snuck up on me.”

“Technically, you sneaked up on me. I was sitting back here first.” To smoke her one cigarette of the day, evidently.

“It’s a nice place, isn’t it? To think? And smoke, I guess?”

Bea took a moment before answering: “Yeah.”

“I jumped down there once, believe it or not. I didn’t die.”

“Holy hell, Mae. That’s like a forty foot drop.”

“Yeah, but it’s soft leaves and dirt. I was only a little effed up.”

“You are a maniac.”

“Yeah, well.” Mae felt a lot less maniacal now than she had then. “So how’s your dad?”

“The neighbors are watching him, and we brought a lawn chair. He’ll be okay.”

“Well, but… in general.”

Bea took a drag on her cigarette. “In general? He’s not getting better. He’s had three years. I’ve come to accept my dad’s never coming back. Not the dad I knew.”

Mae was sad to hear it. “Oh gosh, Bea. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Well.” Bea fingered the ankh around her neck. “That’s life. Some people die all at once… some die half at a time. You mourn by halves, if you have to.”

Mae sniffled and remembered Bea’s house, her happy family, her brighter times. “Bea, I wish it could all come back!”

“Yeah. Me too.”

The silence grew, and Mae realized that this was the good sort of sadness. This was mourning. This was honest-to-God mourning, and there was nothing wrong with it. The thought made the sadness sweet, in a way.

“I’m getting ready to talk Dad into putting the store in my name,” said Bea.

“Oh wow. Is he gonna go for that?”

She puffed on her single daily cigarette. “Nope.”

“Oh.”

“It’s gonna be a whole thing. I may need to go to court. Have him declared non compos mentis. I’ve started looking into the procedure.”

“Oh Bea. Do you want my help? I could be there for when you ask him. I could pick out dinner.”

She shook her head. “Nah, I should do it alone. I don’t want to give the sense he’s being ganged up on. Besides, if it came to it, I’m pretty sure I could take him in a fight.”

Wow. “You’re so smart, Bea. And so strong. I don’t think I could do what you do.” In her head, Mae often compared Bea to Adina Astra. They had their race in common, of course, but more importantly, they were both women with the bravery and gumption to get what they wanted.

Bea puffed in silence, leaning back. “Says the girl who was ready to give up her life for me,” she muttered.

“Still would,” said Mae.

Bea looked at her. “I’ll tell you what. If you want to help, there is one thing you can do.”

“What’s that?”

Bea dug in her pocket and passed her a few dollar bills. “Go buy me a beer.”

Mae blinked, then looked up in amazement. “You remembered!!”

Bea smiled a tiny, sly smile. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh my god, Bea! You’re the only person who remembered. My own fricking parents didn’t even say anything.”

“I’m sure they remember. They probably just realized you didn’t want a normal birthday party.”

“Birthdays are about the past,” Mae explained. “This is about letting go of the past.”

“You could burn a calendar from the year you were born,” Bea suggested.

“I don’t want to let go of that much past!” Mae protested. “Besides, who would keep a calendar around that long?”

“You’d be surprised what people sell online.”

“Geez, Bea. Do you seriously want the beer or not?”

“Yeah I want the beer. The cheap stuff they’ve got in the cooler is crap. You know what I like?”

“Basically anything independent or imported?”

“So long as it’s not some off-the-wall flavor, pretty much.”

Mae ran back to the party and kissed her father and mother. “Hey guys. I know this is my thing, but I’m gonna run to town and do an errand for Bea. Back in ten minutes.”

“Don’t fall off any roofs,” warned Mom lovingly.

“Don’t break both your legs and lie suffering in pain without anyone to help because everyone you love is here at your party,” said Gregg helpfully.

“Okay,” said Mae. She ran to leave, but at the edge of the crowd the corner of her eye caught an unexpected face. It was the janitor from the bus station, and the Harfest play. “Oh wow,” she said. “Even you came?”

“Some reason I shouldn’t?” asked the janitor. “Fliers said ‘All welcome’.”

“I mean, no, no reason! I just… wasn’t expecting you.”

The man held up a trash stick poked through several wrappers from the party. “Someone’s gotta clean up.”

“Um… yeah, I guess so! Thanks for tackling that, then. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said. “Not every day a girl turns twenty-one.”

Mae blinked as he walked away. Here she was, celebrating the disappearance of a bizarre, otherworldly thing from her life, as if there weren’t a million really weird things right here on Earth worth celebrating.

She dashed off toward Millers to buy beer for the first time ever. It was good to be young—she was going to have a lot more ‘first-ever’s before they started giving way to ‘never-again’s.

The next day, Mae, Pastor K and Broderick left on a road trip. They’d arranged the timing this way on purpose: Broderick had left his car at home and bussed to Possum Springs so that he could ride with the two ladies back to Mannetsburg. “The more the merrier,” Mae had declared.

“I don’t necessarily see this as a merry occasion,” Pastor Kate had contributed. “But the more hearts we have along, the more solace there is to be had. How does that sound?”

“I’ll take it,” Mae had replied.

Over the daylong trip, Mae told Pastor K all the details of her dreams. She told her about the giant cat who wasn’t God, and about the huge hole in the center of everything, and how it was growing, and would eventually be the only thing left in existence, and how the beginning was so close to the end that there was no time to forget. The pastor had been right—that conversation wasn’t merry. But they puzzled out the implications together, and in the end all three agreed they’d been better off for having it.

Pastor K was especially intrigued to learn that Black Goat had felt love for Mae in the end. “Are you sure it was what we’d call love? ” she asked.

Mae affected a weird bug voice. “Teach me, strange creatures, of this feeling you know as… love. ” Broderick laughed in the back seat.

“No, but seriously,” said the pastor.

“Seriously. It hated me, but it loved me. It was purer than your everyday garden variety love, even!”

“I felt it too,” said Broderick. “I had a better relationship with the creature. It was capable of love. It was capable of downright every emotion we have and then some, I think.”

“So I guess love is universal,” said Mae.

“This is difficult for me to wrap my head around,” Pastor K admitted. “The literature all says that demons are devoid of love.”

“Well,” reasoned Mae, “I guess either the literature is wrong…”

“…or this wasn’t a demon,” said Broderick.

Pastor K sighed and drove in silent contemplation. “Lord, the marvels thou hast made for us are of sundry and unending texture,” she murmured.

“Unending,” echoed Broderick.

“Hast,” said Mae.

They spent the night in Broderick’s home, where his family had generously cleared a space for them in the cellar. In the morning, they went to the cabin where Broderick introduced them to the family left behind by one of the three men who’d killed his father. Things were tense there, but the mother and children appreciated their help. Broderick chopped wood while Mae found creative and questionable ways to clean the bathroom. Pastor K donated five hundred dollars to the mother, then sat and read from Scripture to her in the living room. Before they left, the woman told Broderick she thanked God he’d come, and that he wasn’t a man of spite. “You have every right to hate us,” she said, “but here you are.”

“Here I am,” said Broderick, shrugging as if just being here were the most amazing thing in the world.

They went wandering then in the woods, looking for the foliage and landmarks Mae and Broderick had seen in their vision. They remembered them differently, and disagreed on how to read the map, and when the sun began to set, they gave up and decided to retreat back to Broderick’s place for supper. But then, just as they’d left the woods behind them, Mae happened to trip on a ridge in the land and fall into a ditch…

And heard a loud “Ooof!” from underneath her.

“Wha—seriously? Bruce, is that you?!”

It was him. The drifter got his bearings and looked up at Mae in amazement. “Now this. This can’t be real,” he said.

“It does seem a little improbable,” said Pastor K, standing above them.

He pushed Mae off and got to his feet. His hair and beard were a ghastly mess, and he had a sore on his neck. “…Now you two, I know. Most of them are just blurs, but you, I know. The pastor from Possum Springs. The girl who cared so much.”

Mae hugged him. “Bruce, you didn’t go home to your kid’s house! You lied to us!”

He grunted. “How in the world did you find me here?”

“Divine intervention,” said Pastor K smugly. “Would you care to tell us what you were doing sleeping in a ditch?”

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have followed me here. How far did you have to come? I’m not worth all that travel. I’m not.”

Pastor K pointed toward the fence in the distance, with Broderick’s house on the other side. “What say we head back to civilization and discuss it over a mug of coffee?”

Bruce shivered. “Won’t turn coffee down.”

“Good,” said the pastor. “That’s a start.”

It was a long evening and a long next day. Bruce met Broderick and his family, and heard a lot of stories he only half believed. And he offered a lot of resistance. His daughter, it turned out, was real, but he couldn’t go back to her: she’d been the reason he’d had to leave in the first place. He’d done some terrible things to her in the ‘thrall of drink’, as he put it, and she’d never take him back, with good reason. Pastor K was able to talk him into checking into a rehabilitation program. She found him a case worker in Mannetsburg and got him to promise to check in with her twice weekly. With luck, there would be spots at the shelters, and maybe even a job opening. At the least, the program would help him with his drinking. He seemed resigned but grateful by the time they had to leave.

And Mae helped! She said encouraging things at the right times (and some of the wrong ones), and she brought back coffee from the local coffee place. At this rate, she might wind up being a professional beverage deliverer. Maybe she should ask her boss to put her on delivery duty? She’d assumed she couldn’t be a taco deliveryperson because she didn’t drive, but it wasn’t like Possum Springs was exactly sprawling. She bet she’d be great at delivering tacos. She’d walk on your power line and pass it through your window! People would be delighted to get a Mae Borowski delivery. They’d go to Taco Buck to order delivery and then go home to collect it—that’s how fun she would make it!

Despite having to say goodbye to Broderick, the drive back was a lot happier and less somber than the drive over. Instead of talking cosmology, Mae and Pastor K listened to a bunch of CDs the pastor had brought. It turned out she liked listening to music from all over the world. Mae would ask where the people making that music were from, and what those instruments were, and Pastor K would answer. Then they listened to the radio, and stopped for sandwiches, and then they told stories. Pastor K told stories from Scripture—at Mae’s request, the ones that were either happy or extra gruesome. And Mae told Adina stories that she remembered from her childhood. She had to punch them up because she didn’t remember the details, and she even had Adina jump from a cliff a few times when she couldn’t remember what happened next—it became an in-joke between the two. But they made it more or less through Adina’s life just in time to reach the end of the trip.

Mae bounded out of the car and leapt on top of it to stretch. “Back in Possum Springs! It feels so good to be back home!”

“Mae, as your slave owner, would you please get off of my car?”

“Oh right.” Mae always forgot these things were so fragile you could actually hurt them by jumping on them. She leapt off.

“I think we’ve done good work.”

“We totally did! I mean, it’d be nice if we knew what more we’re supposed to do. But I guess there’s no one telling us that.”

“We can pray for guidance,” the pastor said. “But there’s no guarantee we’ll receive it.”

“I just know I’m gonna be busy like all next week making up the shifts I missed,” said Mae. “I’ll probably be praying for nothing to go wrong.”

“Always reasonable,” said the pastor.

There followed a week of extra shifts in which Mae was frequently approached by people congratulating her on her successful purging, on finding the church, on being a good, productive member of society at last. Mae did her best to thank them all. She didn’t mention that she didn’t really believe in the church; she just went there for the company and the good feelings. But maybe that was believing in it, sort of? Why does anyone go anywhere? Did her customers order tacos because they believed in Taco Buck?

A week of legal stuff and giving testimony and negotiating settlements and meeting with lawyers and officers of the court. When the dust had cleared, Mae owed $750 to Video Outpost and $750 to the town of Possum Springs, and had 50 hours of community service to serve. She wasn’t crazy about being in debt, but figured this way at least she got to have some of the college experience. Mae didn’t mind the community service at all—there weren’t many things she’d rather do than help her community. Sure, some of the work sucked, but some of it was fun, like shoveling snow, or even picking up garbage. Again, she found herself wondering whether she should look into janitorial work. If it meant being a weird all-seeing sage on top of the cleaning up part, she was totally up for that.

A month of spending her weekends working for the town and working for Pastor K, with several more like it to come. Life was tough, but Mae found that getting up earlier was easier and easier. And how about that—nothing bad seemed to be happening to Possum Springs, Black Goat or no Black Goat. Well, the people were still moving away now and then, sure. But Mae was pretty sure it wasn’t as many as before she became a productive, exemplary member of society. Who would move away from a town with someone like her in it?? She might not have college on her horizon, but she was pretty sure she was making a dent in things just by being herself.

“Hey,” said Bea. It was just about closing time, and Mae was delighted to see her friend.

“Beabea! You never come for tacos! What’s the occasion?”

“Yeah, no offense, but the tacos you guys serve are like cardboard pizza. I was just wondering if you could help me out with something.”

Mae leapt over the counter. She was tired, but there was always an extra little pocket of energy to help Beabea out with. “Sure! What can I do for ya?”

“You can help me spend a hundred dollars at Donut Wolf,” deadpanned Bea.

“A… what?”

Bea held up an oversized gift certificate. “Just happen to have this hundred dollar gift certificate, so…”

Mae squealed and tackled her in a hug. “Bea!! You entered the contest after all!! And you won second place?!”

“I was one of twenty-five second place winners, yes.”

“Oh my gosh! But Bea, you tore apart the flier card!”

“Tape exists. When you work at a hardware store, you learn these things.”

“You didn’t even tell me you were entering!”

“On the off chance I won, I wanted to surprise you. So sue me.”

“Aww, Bea! I’m sure your video was so good! What did you talk about?”

“I talked about my family situation, and about how Donut Wolf has always been a reliable source of joy whenever we needed comfort.” Mae stared, coaxing her to go on. “…And I talked about that time we painted a picture with jelly Go-nuts on that school counselor’s windshield.”

Mae laughed. “That afternoon was awesome! How could they not give you first prize for that?”

Bea shrugged. “Go figure. You up for it next Saturday?”

“Totally. Oh my god, are you inviting the guys? They can’t not come to this.”

“They’re coming,” said Bea. “I’m inviting Germ too, and Jackie. Don’t get your hopes up, but I just may have a special guest too.”

“Really? Who?”

“You’ll find out Saturday.”

“Aw, come on, Bea! Who is it?”

“My lips are sealed. If he doesn’t show up, I don’t want you getting disappointed.”

“He?”

“He.”

“He, like as in, a date he?”

“See you Saturday, Mae.”

It was a beautiful December day. The spirit of Longest Night was beginning to dance in everyone’s hearts, and there were no flat tires on the way over, which was always a plus. Jackie hadn’t made it, but Germ had, and he told everyone in detail what he intended to eat, item by impossible item. It seemed he intended to spend half the hundred dollars on his own.

“Germ, you are a small person,” said Bea. “There is no way you could fit even half that number of slammerjacks and chariot wheels in your belly.”

“I’ve got a big capacity,” he said.

“Bet I can eat anything you can eat,” said Gregg.

“Hey Gregg,” Mae put in, “I once dreamed you said you could eat three donuts at once. You man enough to back that up?”

“What, you’re holding me to a brag I made in one of your dreams?”

“You man enough??”

“Heck yeah I’m man enough. If I said it in a dream, I must’ve meant it, right?”

They arrived in the parking lot and Bea pulled up carefully next to a silver hatchback. “Hey guys? I want to introduce you to Curtis. He drove all the way from Red River to join us, so be nice.”

Curtis was waiting by his car, all bashful smiles and a bit on the thick-set side. “Bea! Wow, look at all your wonderful friends!”

“Glad you could join us, Curtis.” She leaned forward and he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“OH MY GOD!” shrieked Mae. “Bea is dating!! Is this a date? Are we on a date right now?”

“I think we’re on a date!” said Gregg. “Everyone couple up! I call the big guy.”

“Oh lordie,” said Bea. “Everyone, I met Curtis at a party in Red River, and yes, we’ve gone on exactly one date since then. This is our number two.”

“Curtis, what exactly do you like the most about Bea?” asked Mae. “Be specific.” She knew she was being rude, but she had to know if he was under the impression she was going to college.

“God. Mae.”

But Curtis took the question seriously. “I haven’t known her that long yet, but my impression is she’s pretty amazing. As if being practically a business owner at our age isn’t impressive enough… she doesn’t just run the store, she actually does house calls. How phat is that? A hardware store that does house calls? And unlike us college types who need to be taught how to learn, she’s always educating herself, any chance she can!”

Mae let out a huge sigh of relief, grinning. “Wow, Bea! You actually told the truth about yourself?”

Bea glared at Mae. “Yes, Mae. It turns out that some college students are actually willing to date people who aren’t in college.”

“So you were wrooong?”

“…Yes, Mae. I was wrong.”

Mae turned to Curtis. “Bea admits it when she’s wrong! How many people do that? You should definitely marry her.”

“Oh my God, Mae, shut up.”

But Gregg was laughing, and after a few moments, so was everyone.

Having spoken with the stars, Adina Astra knew what she must do. She would venture into the Cave of the Snake, in the cradle of civilization, in search of the center of the earth.

Some said it was to retreat from the world—that ever since her lover’s execution, the famed astronomer wanted no more part in the affairs of people, and wished to live out her years alone. Others speculated that she was searching for some artifact, or some ancient creature with great powers—perhaps the power to see farther into the sky than ever before, or even the power to bring her lover back to life. Still others said it was divine madness—that no one who had beheld the entirety of the Lost Constellation could remain under the night sky for long without being overwhelmed by its beauty. That was the price of its discovery: it could not be endured for long by mortal hearts.

The truth was a bit of all these reasons. Adina had grown weary of the politics of the world, and despaired of ever meeting another she would love as truly as the one she had lost. She harbored hopes of meeting the descendants of Broken Snake, rumored to be the wisest beings in the world, if only they still lived deep beneath the surface of the world. And it was true that her congress with the stars had left her unwilling to remain where she was, discontent to lead a normal scientist’s life. But the real reason Adina went into the Cave of the Snake was the same reason people wander and sail the curves of the earth: a desire for something new. She had gleaned almost everything she could from life on the surface of the world, and rather than toil decade after lonely decade for what little remained to be gleaned, she chose to travel. Adina would leave her sky, and in so doing leave her realm, but she would enter a new place. Thus would she either die, or her life begin anew.

“There is no place in this universe that will last forever,” she wrote to her colleagues in her final letter. “If we are to last forever in our influence, if not our person, then we must remain in motion. We may settle down for a while, but we can never settle down forever. In time, even the greatest of empires will be eclipsed; even the mightiest of mountains will crumble; even the most powerful of beings will perish. To stay in one place is to welcome a desert to grow and spread around oneself as one expends all resources within reach. If we wish to live beyond our years, we must move, knowing that we will move again, and again, ad infinitum. Each of us leaves the world in time, but existence endures. That is why I now venture into the earth, leaving behind my sky of stars. There is no blanket that must someday not be left behind; no journey that must not someday be undertaken. We are not alone in this world; there are universes within universes to be discovered. At times, the search is an inward one, and if I never return, do not assume I am dead or that I have lost all love for the world. Simply assume that I have chosen to remain in motion.

“Yours truly,

Adina Astra—Astronomer”

Goodbye, Possum Springs. I’ll see you on the other side.

Chapter Text

On the edge of the sand

A bonus chapter for “Shortest Night”
Inspired by A Short Hike by Adam Robinson

- Written on April 8th, 2024, the day of the Second Great American Eclipse -

- - - - - - - - - - -

In the cover of the yawning sky, on the precarious seat of the ocean, Mae built sandcastles.

I think I’ll build a…
- Fortress
- Tower
- Wall *

, Mae thought.

She chose to connect her two main fortresses, wetly born from her bucket, with a winding wall. It was exciting putting this thing together, and Mae was sandcastling HARD. She’d never known how to make sand castles as a kid! She'd always just tried to make castles out of mostly dry sand and didn't realize she had to get it wet if she wanted it to stick together. Like, seriously wet, with a bucket or a spray bottle. A bucket seemed like the most obvious choice, of course—it was classic. That and her teeny plastic shovel that she was using to dig a moat. Eventually she’d put a grand river through her town, and maybe she’d even dare to dig a path straight from the ocean to fill it in. An ocean water river would be daring, but the people of her town didn’t know the meaning of the word “not daring.” True, it was two words, but they didn’t know the meaning of those two words in conjunction. They could probably handle them separately well enough.

The ocean was lapping a fair distance away—Mae would have called it the perfect distance when she started, but now she wasn’t so sure. Would an especially big wave knock her castle down? That had happened on her first try, so she’d moved a bit further in, but was it enough? She knew a huge wave would probably come in and destroy her handiwork eventually… it was just a matter of time. Would she be able to show her creation off before losing it entirely?

Wait. Who would she show it off to, anyway? Wasn’t she alone?

“it’s really coming along!” said the girl in red.

Oh, well. Asked and answered. Mae looked over and tried, for a moment, to remember how she knew this girl. They’d just met a little while ago, right? Actually, Mae was pretty sure they were still strangers. “Sure is. Hey, this is a silly question, but remind me—did you already tell me your name?”

“don’t think so. it’s claire.”

Well that was a bullet dodged. “Cool. Cool name. You gonna make your own castle?”

“well, that’s something i could do,” said the girl. “but maybe… i could help you with yours instead?”

“Oh yeah! Yeah, that’s totally possible.” Mae climbed up onto her butt and scooted back, cross-legged, to make room. This might be fun.

The girl sat before her. It was actually a little surprising how easily she crossed her legs, given that she was a bird. Oh, how about that! Yeah, this girl was definitely a bird with dark indigo feathers. Her legs weren’t crossed tight, but she sat comfortably and started shaping a new mound of sand near the main garrison, complete with wingtip-poked windows. The joy of creating something with someone else was enough to occupy all of Mae’s attention for a while, until a desire to talk took center stage.

“So… do you come here often?” Mae asked. She winced invisibly at herself a little. That was totally a pick-up line, and while Mae still fantasized about picking up the right lady someday, this was definitely not her. This was a teenager, and probably a young one. And Mae was twenty-six now. Wasn’t she? Actually, maybe she’d just been thinking about being twenty-six lately… it was possible she was still twenty-one. Even so, though.

“not really often, but i love it when i do get to come,” Claire answered in her little, lowercase voice. “i got my aunt to bring me here for the eclipse. we had a bunch of places we could have gone, but i wanted to come someplace really special, and i don’t think anyplace is as special for me as hawk’s peak park.”

Oh right, the eclipse! That was why Mae was here in the first place, she recalled. “Yeah, Hawk’s Peak! That sounds sort of familiar. I guess I just think of this place as the island with the beach. I’m excited to see the eclipse, too.” She patted her hip pouch—her cardboard viewing glasses were secured safely within.

“the beach is nice, but this place has so much more than a beach!” said the girl. “you should check out the rest of it if you’ve got time. i could show you around a little even.”

“You would? That’s nice of you. Claire. Have you been out walking, or… did you come straight here after you and your aunt got here?”

“oh, I was doing some hiking earlier. i just flew down from the ranger station on the peak. that’s always kind of a blast.”

That sounded nice. Wait. “Wait. said Mae. "FLEW down?" Something was off, here.

"yeah?" said Claire.

Mae beat her arms up and down a couple times. "Like, flew, with wings? The whole shebang?"

Claire lifted her wings, that she definitely had, a little ways. "uh yeah. it's like... the normal way to fly?"

"If you're a bird!" replied Mae.

The girl glanced down at herself just slightly. "i mean, i AM a bird."

Okay, getting weird. Was this normal, or wasn’t it? “Well yeah, but…” Mae was vexed—was this really something she'd never thought about? "You're a bird-PERSON. Not like, a real bird!"

"i'm sorry?" The tip of the stranger’s wing was at her breast.

"You've got, like, a hat on,” Mae observed. “And you're person-shaped. So it’s not like…” Like what? People weren't actually animals, right? That was just something Mae liked to imagine? Or... were they? Why was her mind so swimmy today?

"i hope you don't think a person can't fly with a hat on,” replied Claire.

"That's totally not even the point. The hat isn't the point,” said Mae. “The point is… if bird people can fly, why didn't I know about it until now?" Which, it occurred to her, might not mean as much as she was making it sound like. There were whole categories of knowing she was childishly oblivious to. She was a knowledge virgin nonpareil, just waiting for others to... shove their education in. Okay, no. she was calling foul on this analogy before it got any more dank, even if she did have a vague sense that she was missing something.

"uh... dunno. sorry!” said the stranger. “i think it's the kind of thing most people learn, in school maybe, or early on."

But Mae wasn’t satisfied. "I know birds. One of my almost best friends is a bird. The pastor at my church is a bird. Have they been flying around all this time and just never telling me?" She threw out her arms, feeling like she might as well do something flying adjacent.

“i don’t really know what to say. i don’t think it’s, like, a secret that birds can fly.”

“Well no, not birds, but…” No, enough. That was enough struggling for a place as nice as this. Mae decided to give up. “You know what? Okay, that’s fine. That’s cool you can fly. I mean, geez, I dunno how I can compete with being able to fly, but sure. I’m totally happy for you.”

Claire sat with her legs straighter. “compete? what do you mean?”

Mae reflected, steaming a little, with shades of poor grades and incomplete classes through both her stints at college. “I mean, what the heck am I actually good for, in a world with actual real-to-gosh, flying bird people?? I can jump kind of high and walk on power lines, sure, but that's, like... strictly less than actual flying."

The bird’s eyes were wide now. "you can walk on power lines? like a tightrope? that's actually pretty awesome."

Was it? “Well… depends who you ask. Not everyone’s super keen about it.”

“i can’t walk on a tightrope. i’d have to jump and fly to the other side. and, well… i don’t think life’s a competition. or if it is, we can compete with ourselves!”

Mae considered that. “Oh, great. So it’s not enough for me to be on one side of a competition? I have to be on both?”

Claire smiled nervously. “or, maybe, neither? i’d say you can be on exactly as many sides as you like.”

“Fair. You’ve got a deal, Claire. I’ll try to remember. Life. Not a competition.”

“i agree.” And claire went back to building her neighborhood in the sand city.

That was fine. The ocean was salty-smelling, and lappy-sounding, and this was a really nice day. Not too warm. Not chilly. She dug a little deeper into the sand, wondering if there were stones there for studding her outer wall. Her shovel clicked against something solid; she dug her hand in and pulled it up.

You found a runcible spoon !
Press [X] to use.

Now this, this thing Mae was holding was weird, and she loved it. The edges were all wrong for a spoon, and the metal was really old, but she really dug it. And she dug with it! The sharp edges were good for handling damp sand, and soon she gave her shovel to Claire because the spoon was all she needed for digging, aside from the bucket itself.

“you found something neat, huh?”

“Yep,” said Mae, holding up the spoon. “Think I’m gonna take this home with me.”

“that happens on this island. you find things all over. there’s more out here than you expect. once i even looked around with a metal detector and i found a lot of stuff buried here and there, like that.”

“You really have had a lot of fun out here, haven’t you?”

“i learned to fish on this island! and to play stick volleyball, and climb rocks, and drive a motorboat…”

“Wow. You’re an expert. You really should take me and show me around!”

The bird stood up in the sand. “i’d be glad to. um, if I can ask… what’s your name?”

“Oh sorry! It’s Mae.”

“wow. really?”

Like having a name was on par with knowing how to fly? “Yep. Not lying.”

“it’s just, that’s my aunt’s name too. she’s one of the rangers here.”

“Oh yeah? Pretty cool. I’ve got an aunt in a position of power, too. She’s a cop, not a park ranger. But it’s, you know. Along the same lines.”

“a cop, huh? that must be pretty scary.”

“A little? Usually she’s just a relative who loves me, or whatever. Her name’s Molly, so that’s pretty close to ‘Mae’, too.”

“wow. i wonder if we have anything else in common,” Claire speculated.

They left the castle city in peace and walked up the trail. It turned out they did have a lot in common. Claire liked visiting this place, and Mae liked visiting her friends in Bright Harbor—so far as they could tell, both destinations made them feel super-special, like life was slowing down to pay close attention. What’s more, they were both worried about what they’d do in the future, even though Mae was in her mid-twenties, if she remembered right, and had two jobs, three if you counted the political wrangling for the local office. Getting people to show up for rallies and elections, delivering fliers for local businesses, washing windows on high ledges as an independent contractor. Half her success, not that she had a lot of it, came from running and jumping around, and half came from being bold enough to meet people and form relationships with them. The teenage bird she was talking to seemed to think it was all super-nifty, but Mae knew it wasn’t enough to live on for real. She still depended on her parents, and that was something else they had in common—their parents were struggling, and both their moms had been in the hospital recently. Claire talked about how she didn’t get to spend as much time with her Mom as she wanted, and how she was always afraid, when there was some new complication or problem, that it was the last time. The time they’d remember later as being the beginning of the end. So far, the end hadn’t begun, or so they thought, but it was hard to ever know for sure. And that was rough. Mae could tell it was wearing down on the girl, but what could you do?

Mae held hands with her. And yes, she had hands, on the ends of her wings. They squeezed to show they cared, and meant it. They walked up a high ridge, and looked down on a grassy stretch below.

“do you want to jump?” asked claire.

Mae did, but then she stared at the girl. “What? Jump? It’s kind of far, isn’t it?” Maybe not as far as a certain bridge featuring a certain king of the possums, but still. She’d been trying to be more sensible about this sort of thing.

“it’s ok. i’ll give you a golden feather. if you’re as good as hopping and leaping as you said, i’m sure you’ll be fine. i can even give you three to be on the safe side.”

“Golden feather? What…” But it made sense. The three golden feathers Claire offered were brimming with buoyance, Mae could see. She took them and tucked them away in her… in her fur. Right. That was a sensible place to put them, even if it seemed like she never used it for that. But Mae had fur, sure… of course she did.

“ready?”

“Hold on,” said Mae. “When I jump, I like to take two practice jumps first. Can we do it on three?”

“ok,” said Claire, holding tight. “one…”

They leapt together. It felt strange. “Two…”

This was definitely a lot more like floating than jumping. It reminded Mae of her dreams.

“…Three!” They soared. Hand in hand with a stranger from the beach, Mae glided over the landscape! She was flying! Kind of. She was doing the falling part of flying, but that was… so much more than she ever thought she could do.

They landed near a pond where a turtle person was fishing. Wow, people came in turtles? So cool. Mae fought back the temptation to ask him about his shell and his soft insides, and they talked about fishing, and the island, and the eclipse that was coming instead.

It was so relaxing.

They fished. “You don’t know any fish people, do you?” Mae asked her companions.

“Nope,” said the turtle.

“i don’t think that’s an actual thing,” said Claire.

“Cool,” said Mae. “That’s a relief.” She was able to land a bluegill in under ten minutes, a personal speed record. She gave it to the turtle to cook up for his supper, since Mae didn’t feel hungry. Claire gave him one fish and saved the other one she caught for later. She knew a guy who liked to trade for them, she said.

“Hey Claire? Are you any particular kind of bird?” Mae’s curiosity was getting brave.

“mmm. no, I don’t think so.”

“Not even, like, just a songbird?”

“well yeah, technically me and my family are songbirds. but we don’t, actually… do a lot of singing.”

“No, that’s cool, I was just wondering! I don’t sing either, for the record.”

“then let’s not sing,” said Claire. “still, we should do something else.”

“You know what, yeah! I feel like…” She felt the runcible spoon in her fur, turning it over. “I feel like we should do as hecking much as we have time for! We might never get another chance.”

Claire nodded. “i know what you mean. we might both come back to this island, but maybe never again on the same day.”

“So. Do you… want to race?”

Claire smiled. “i love racing! i learned it from someone out here, too. do you want me to promise not to fly?”

Mae considered. “Maybe you can fly a little at the end, but only if you’re behind and you need to catch up at the last moment.”

“all right. that sounds fun! let’s do it.”

They said goodbye to the fisherturtle, and raced, and sped, and climbed. They met people on the way to the summit.  At one point, Mae thought she saw a familiar figure hiking a trail that looked a lot like Casey, but they flew along another path. They didn’t get to the summit, though. They reached the highest place they could that wasn’t too cold, a place with a terrific view and a little pavilion for sitting in, because the sun was starting to get eaten and it was time for the end of whatever this was.

“it’s getting dark,” said Claire, her feathered hand in Mae’s clawed one. Mae had realized she could retract her fingernails. She’d never realized that before.

“Yeah. The moon’s blotting out the sun.”

“i like to watch the moon sometimes,” the bird confided. “it’s got a nice light. but this… this is the darkness of the moon.”

“I saw this before,” said Mae. “Once in real life, but mostly in my dreams.”

“that’s nice,” said Claire. “Are you dreaming now?”

“Uh, no? No, I don’t think so,” said Mae.

“are you sure?”

Mae was silent. “Do you think a person can dance by the darkness of the moon?”

Claire shivered a little. “i mean. a person could try.”

So they did. And there was finality, and darkness, and the ocean below, its waves lapping higher and higher, threatening to eat away at Outlook Point as if it was part of a giant sand castle. Maybe the very one they’d been building below.

The sun’s ring died. In came the waves. Out went the heat.

“it was nice meeting you,” said Claire.

“It for sure definitely was,” said Mae, who woke up.

Oh. Drat. Oh, drat drat drat. Why couldn’t that have been real? The best days were always… well, almost always… the ones that happened in dreams. At night.

She called Broderick that day. He’d had a dream, too, an exciting one. He’d been on a journey that could have happened more a century ago, a trip through displaced lands and sacred traditions he’d never known, but felt an affinity with. That was the word he used—’affinity’. He soothed his sore feet with medicine, worked for strangers in return for food, ran from pursuit he couldn’t justify, but could deeply understand. Mae listened to him talk for a long time. She told him less about her own dream—not because she couldn’t remember it, but because it was too perfect. In the end, there wasn’t that much to tell!

They agreed they should meet again sometime soon and hung up the phone. It had been years since their last meeting, and they hadn’t known what to say to each other. Today, the day of the eclipse… they’d known. In a few years, Mae suspected words would, once again, fail them.

“Hey Germ. Did you know you can fly?”

“’Scuse me?”

“You’re a bird person, you can fly! All it takes is a whole bunch of golden feathers.”

“No kidding? We talking magic feathers, here?”

“I guess? I saw it in a dream. But not a normal dream—a special one.”

“I gotcha. Okay. Thanks, Mae—that’s good to know.”

“You’ll tell me if you find any golden feathers, right?”

“Sure will. I never flew before, if you don’t count trampolines.”

“Me neither, but come to think of it, trampolines are pretty close.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“You should. I’ll be happy for you.”

Pastor K didn’t believe she could really fly, or that golden feathers were real. But she was willing to accept that just maybe, Mae’s dream was something worth holding onto.

“This could be a gift, Mae. I hope you understand that.”

“I do. Wait. I do? What do you mean, a gift?”

The pastor shifted her glasses. “You got me looking into what’s out there, in the places past where we can see. And it’s been worth it, even if… a lot of folks have left me along the way.” The congregation was only half what it used to be these days. A lot of folks from Possum Springs drove an extra twenty minutes to the next closest Church of the First Coalescence… and a fair number had stopped going to church entirely. But the ones that still came… well, Mae felt like they understood what a good thing they had with Pastor K. It seemed like they came in fearing service, and left glowing. At least, sometimes she got that impression.

“And… you think something else… out there, gave me this dream?” Mae asked. She wondered where her old baseball bat was these days—it had been years since she’d felt the need for it.

“Or, something that’s still inside you,” said the pastor. “You used to serve as host to a demon, or something very akin to it. Is it possible, do you think, that the same… characteristics about you that made that possible, all those years ago, might have… drawn another kind of being to you? Something… better, than Black Goat?”

Was she talking about angels? For some reason, Mae didn’t imagine a glorious being of wings and light—she imagined those strange mandibled beings from beyond beyond. “You think so?” Mae put her hands on her chest. “I don’t feel any different… just more excited than usual.”

“Perhaps it didn’t stay,” said Pastor K. “But you’ve always been an itinerant dreamer, haven’t you, Mae? Is it beyond possibility that you might have… wandered far enough afield that you were noticed, once more? By another kind of power that you haven’t yet known?”

Mae looked at the sky outside the church, on the ridged and sloping ground. “It could be possible, I guess.”

The eclipse was only partial here in Possum Springs. She wished she’d gone to visit her friends, at least. But she stood with the pastor and her mother and Lori M. And a few others, there on the ridge of the church, with dark glasses, in the vicinity of the statue of St. Rubello. And the light went dim, and the sun became a crescent. For a moment, Mae’s hand went to her ear, seeking a spoon that wasn’t there.

It wasn’t totality. But there, among her friends and neighbors, Mae Borowski felt like dancing.