The power she had just blown away with a single word.
“Anger is a crutch. It will not help you.”
I sighed, too tired to even ponder that statement. “Why not?”
“Passion is for the living.” For the first time, Sally looked almost sad. “The dead do not feel it. Nor do they answer to it.”
“Then what do they answer to?”
“They answer to you.”
Which was no answer at all.
It was her turn to sigh. She held out her skinny arms in front of her, lace-covered palms facing the sky. “The world sees life and death as two separate things.” She nodded to the left hand. “You are alive—” She nodded to the right. “—or you are dead.”
I frowned, annoyed by the tangent, but afraid to show it. “Are you saying that’s not true?”
“I’m saying it’s not so simple. Life isn’t the beginning any more than death is the end. More importantly, neither stands in opposition to the other.”
I gave that a few moments thought, but it still didn’t make any sense. “I don’t understand.”
“I know.” Sally shook her head, empty eyes distant. “I’ve never had to explain this before. Usually, I come for other reasons.”
Another shudder swept through the assembled dead.
“There is no such thing as a person who is wholly alive,” she finally said. “From the moment of birth, we are dying, from our skin to our hair to the building blocks of our bodies. Nor is there such a thing as a person who is wholly dead. Each spirit carries within it a fragment of their former life. By the time that fragment has faded, their discarded body has given rise to life in new forms, from the creatures that feed upon it to the plants that take root in its soil.”
“You’re talking about the conservation of energy?” Science wasn’t my strong suit, but I wasn’t completely ignorant either.
“I’m talking about the cycle.” She wove bony fingers together. “Life and death woven together to form the fabric of existence.”
“What does any of that have to do with me? Or them?”
“For most living creatures, the death they carry with them is inaccessible. Only a Crow can find the void and draw upon it.”
I started to protest, yet again, that I didn’t have a fucking clue what she was talking about, but the words died unspoken, as I realized that I kind of did.
“You’re talking about the emptiness. That space at the heart of everything.”
“Yes.”
“But… I thought you said death filled the cup?”
Her eyes were torn, her smile absent. “What would death fill you with, if not emptiness?”
After a moment’s pause, I nodded.
“Then I say again, Damian Banach, Low-Three Crow,” said Sally Cemetery, dropping each word onto the stone bench between us like it was a threat, “show me your power.”
I dove back into my sub-conscious, down past the noise of my still-shaky breathing, past the staccato drumbeat of my heart, past the anger I’d wrapped around myself for protection and the five-year-old boy who was beyond all hopes of protection. Down past everything that was me, to the bone-gnawing emptiness I’d carried with me since that day, the void I’d never been able to banish from my soul.
I couldn’t touch it, because it had no form. Couldn’t channel it, because it wasn’t there. Instead, I peeled away everything that life had wrapped around it. I set it free.
I opened my eyes and felt nothing. No fear. No pain. I looked to the ghosts gathered about me, and said, in a voice so empty of inflection that the words vanished as I spoke them, “Go away.”
They scattered like dry leaves before the wind, rank after rank after rank of ghosts streaking into the darkness, their glow fading as they departed. Within moments, the clearing was empty.
Almost empty.
I frowned at Shane’s ghost and turned to Sally. “Why is he still here?”
Sally’s face was pinched and tight, but when she spoke, her voice was as quiet as ever. “Perhaps some part of you doesn’t want him gone. Is he still angry?”
“I don’t think so.” I frowned. “Is that because I’m not angry?”
“Every Crow is different, Damian. Who we are and what we do. But one truth is unavoidable; the dead do not feel. They merely respond to the will of the Crow who calls them.”
I puzzled through that, as emotions started to seep back into me, as all the pieces that combined to be Damian Banach re-assembled around the pool of emptiness at my core.
“So this isn’t really Shane.”
“It’s a piece of who he was, a remnant of the life he possessed, now wrapped in the trappings of death.”
I nodded slowly. I’d spent almost a month thinking that Shane was haunting me for something I’d done or failed to do. Instead, I’d been the one holding on, projecting my own emotions onto a shell that only resembled my friend.
If it wasn’t so sad, it would almost have been funny.
“Then I guess I should let him go.”
CHAPTER 46
We’d been talking so long that my voice had gone hoarse again, though I couldn’t remember even a fraction of what we’d said, Sally and I on the bench, each far enough away to prevent even accidental contact. One thing I do remember was asking her about my fight with Paladin and if that had been me using my power. Her empty eyes were turned away towards the sea, but she shrugged, narrow shoulders jerking up and down in an almost violent twitch.
“As I said, every Crow is different. Only the source of our power remains consistent.”
“And the madness?”
She smiled, still looking toward the ocean. “Ah. The madness.”
“Can it be avoided?”
Finally, she turned back toward me. “Because this is a night for sharing, I will let you in on a little secret.”
I leaned in to catch her next words.
“This world is more insane than you or I will ever be.”
“So Crows don’t go crazy?”
“Of course we do. The question is why you’d wish to be sane in a world that isn’t.”
I frowned. “I don’t want to hurt
