“Persie…” Nathan nudged my arm.
I shrugged him off roughly. “I know, you won’t let me out. You said already.”
“That’s not it. Look.”
I peeked through my fingers, and my jaw dropped. The zombies had frozen in their tracks, and the Wisps had buzzed away like they were innocent little fairies who hadn’t killed anyone I cared about. And, in the midst of it all, a man emerged from the crowd of zombies, striding right up to our protective bubble. He had a mane of fiery red hair that touched his shoulders, impossibly green eyes, and the outfit of some kind of soldier—a cavalryman, perhaps, judging by his battered leather riding boots and riding crop.
“You were not led to this place. What are you doing here?” he demanded in a thick Irish brogue. The words didn’t sit comfortably on his tongue, as though he wasn’t used to speaking.
Breathless, I asked a question in return. “Who the hell are you?”
His eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting in a scowl. “I’m Fergus McLeod.”
Thirty
Persie
“How?” Nathan maintained the protective bubble, muscling between me and this strange man who claimed to be Fergus McLeod. It made me wonder how secure these defenses were if he felt the need to act as a human shield.
The red-headed man turned up his nose. “What d’ye mean?”
“How can it be you? No offense, but you should be dead.” Nathan discreetly pushed me further behind him. I appreciated the heroic sentiment, but I was more concerned about scanning the area for my pixies.
My heart wrenched as I saw the tiny bodies on the ground—far more than three. I counted twenty in total, prompting bile to rise up my throat. Only three had called out in their last moments, while the rest had died in stoic silence. Was it any wonder I’d felt their anguish and fear as though it was my own? The surviving half congregated around the fallen, bowing their heads and weeping quietly. I saw Boudicca among the living, crouching to press her tiny palm to the chest of one of the dead, and I breathed a small sigh of relief. Still, the guilt lingered for the ones who hadn’t been so lucky.
Shouldn’t the dead Purge beasts be turning back to smoke? I knew that was what happened to Purge beasts when they died, but the twenty pixies on the ground didn’t seem to be transforming. Perhaps the realm we were in prevented it.
“I am dead,” Fergus shot back, as if he thought we were idiots. “Do I look alive to ye?”
I turned to him. “Actually, yes.”
“Well, I ain’t. Me corporeal body turned te dust like bodies do, but me spirit stayed on. I bartered for it to stay in here, with them what forced my hand.” Fergus glared at the Wisps in the distance, which seemed frightened of him. They darted out of sight when his gaze rested on a group, hiding wherever they could. “And this is me own personal paradise, or me own personal hell—depends on how ye look at it, I suppose.”
Does that mean…? If he’d become a spirit, what about the others? Were they already dead, too, and we just couldn’t tell? I shook away the thought, unwilling to accept it. My friend couldn’t be dead. She looked so… solid, albeit dazed. Then again, Fergus didn’t look dead, either. But he was moving around however he liked, instead of being stuck on a loop. Perhaps that meant he was the only truly dead person here, no longer bound by the endless cycle of thoughts that held the others captive. Or maybe I just didn’t want to see the truth—that we’d arrived too late.
An idea came to me as I crept back toward the fizzing shield. “You don’t like the Wisps much, do you?” I nudged Nathan and mouthed “specterglass” at him. He nodded back discreetly and dug into his jeans pocket for the lens.
“Don’t matter whether I like ‘em or not. I’m stuck with ‘em.” Fergus ground the end of his riding crop into his palm. “And they might not have brought ye here the proper way, which don’t sit too well with me. But ye’ll be joinin’ us regardless, now yer here.”
I looked to Genie, who stood as still as a statue. “No.”
“Yer what now?” Fergus scowled at me, his emerald-green eyes glinting with annoyance. A band of Wisps came to hover on either side of him, like his own personal guard. If they were singing their hypnotic song, I couldn’t hear them.
“I said no.” I stood my ground, feeling defiance build in my chest. “Why would we want to stay here? This place isn’t real. It’s just an illusion that you asked some Child of Chaos to create a long time ago. And even you can’t decide if it’s a heaven or a hell. These people—all of these people—belong outside, in the real world. My friend belongs there, and you’ve got no right to keep anyone here.”
Fergus eyeballed me. “Ye seem te know a lot, lass. I’d ask how, but it don’t matter to me. Naught matters much in this place. That’s why it’s better for everyone.” He swept his riding crop around at the motionless zombies, while two Wisps came closer to the protective shield. “People can be at peace here, not worryin’ about who’s goin’ te bother ‘em. A happy purgatory for folks who need a bit o’ quiet.”
“Purgatory isn’t living, Fergus. Why don’t you tell us why you’re really doing this?” I nudged Nathan again, so we could use the specterglass to see who was truly dead and who wasn’t. But he wasn’t responding.
Turning slowly, I gasped at the sight of him. His eyes had glazed over, his mouth
