sleeping witch. So great was her legend that gazing on her would be like gazing on the face of a queen. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe each time he looked at the brightly decorated tomb-for a tomb is exactly what it was. In Everlost, however, a tomb was only a temporary thing.
After a few days, Jill seemed less and less attentive of Jix’s comings and goings. On Thanksgiving night, the skinjackers went off to feast on turkey in the bodies of fleshies, and Mary’s children, who had lost all track of living-world celebrations, settled into their evening routines. Jix decided this was the perfect moment to pay a visit to the Eastern Witch. He used his catlike stealth to climb up to the roof of the caboose, cold and rough beneath his bare feet. Then he pried open the small skylight, and quietly slipped inside.
The glass coffin in the center of the caboose was impressive, and the girl inside was at peace-as if she knew Everlost was still under her control even during her slumber. She was both unremarkable and extraordinary at the same time; an angelic face that could belong to any girl and yet also unforgettable. He knew that if Afterlights dreamed, Mary Hightower would be at the core of many of them… and perhaps at the core of many nightmares as well.
“Estos ninos te veneran,” he said, slipping into Spanish. “These children worship you-I’m not surprised you rest in such peace.” He wondered which would be better: to be in the service of Mary Hightower, or to present her as a gift to His Excellency? Certainly Jix would be rewarded for it; in fact, the king might even remember his name.
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Jill said.
Jix spun and growled, reflexively crouching to a pounce position.
Jill came out of the shadows-but how could she even be in shadow? Afterlights all have a glow about them- the dark provides no concealment. Even now Jill’s glow filled the dim caboose as brightly as his own. How could he have missed seeing her?
“What are you doing here?” he growled, but it came out more like weak mewling.
“Waiting for you.” She pointed up to the skylight. “I saw you climbing up to the roof.” She produced the combination lock from her pocket. “Milos thinks he’s the only one who knows the combination.”
“So you were stalking me…”
“Maybe you’re just not as stealthy as you think.”
Jix quickly composed himself. Jackin’ Jill was shrewd and crafty. He already knew she was dangerous-he knew that on the night he met her reaping. The thought of how dangerous she must be made him feel the slightest bit electrified.
“You hid in the shadows. How did you do that?” he asked.
“I dimmed my afterglow.”
“How?”
“You’re in no position to ask questions,” she told him. “I should go to Milos right now, and tell him I caught you breaking in on Mary.”
“You’re the one with the lock. I could tell him I caught you.”
“Do you really think he’ll believe that?”
“Yes,” said Jix. “Because he trusts you even less than he trusts me.”
The smug expression left her face, and she took an aggressive step closer. If she attacked him, it would be an interesting contest. Would she scratch or punch or slap? Or maybe she would move in closer than that, and wrestle him. Jix would often volunteer to fight for His Excellency’s amusement, and he knew many impressive wrestling moves. Which moves could he use on Jill, he wondered? Would he choose to pin her, or throw her off? Again, the thought of it sent a wave of excitement running through him.
“Why did you come in here?” she asked.
“I was curious.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” she quickly replied-exactly as he knew she would. It put him in control of the conversation without her even realizing it.
She glanced down to the coffin. “So now you’ve seen her. Is she everything you imagined she’d be?”
Jix shrugged. “She’s just a girl who sleeps, verdad?”
“And yet she’s more powerful asleep than most of us are awake.” Jill looked him over, and he tightened his abs for the event. “I still haven’t figured you out,” she said. “Why are you even here on this train? It can’t be because you want to be one of Mary’s loyal servants. You’re too much of a loner for that.”
“Like you,” Jix pointed out.
“I stay because I find it amusing. I like watching Milos spin his wheels and try to play ‘daddy’ to Mary’s little snot-noses. But you don’t have a reason to be here, and you never say anything about yourself. I find that highly suspect.”
Jix smiled and gave her his best catlike stare. Jill was unfazed. What was it about her that intrigued him? She was not particularly attractive, and yet he enjoyed gazing at her. There was a certain.. . rudeness to her soul that Jix could not define. It was almost like a scent; sharp, but not entirely unpleasant. It made his nose twitch. When he had first met Jill, he had despised her… but there’s a fine line between hate and certain other emotions.
“Are you going reaping tonight?” Jix asked.
“Mmmmmaybe,” she said. It came out like a purr. “If Milos lets me.”
How strange, thought Jix, that she shows Milos such disrespect, yet knows which rules must be obeyed. So very feline.
“You have an urge to hunt and to kill,” Jix said. “As a human, that makes you a criminal. But as a cat, you’d merely be following an instinct.”
She gave him an arrogant glare. “I don’t furjack,” she said. “If you ask me, I think it’s sick.”
“You say that only because you’ve never done it.” He moved closer to her. “Don’t you ever long to be something different? Something.. . other?” He reached out his forearm toward her. “Touch my arm.”
“Why?”
“It’s not just the color and the spots-it’s beginning to feel like fur.”
Cautiously, she reached out and brushed a finger across his velvet forearm the way one might touch a snake.
“It takes a very long time,” he said, “but you can change yourself into what you choose to skinjack.” Then he locked his gaze on hers. “There are no jaguars this far north, but there are mountain lions, I think… If you became a lioness, I could be your male.”
“Gross!” she said, but Jix just smiled.
“Your lips say ‘no,’ but your eyes tell a different story.”
And at that, Jackin’ Jill, who clearly never stepped back from anyone, took a major step backward.
“We’re done here, Simba.”
“For now,” said Jix, the grin never leaving his face.
She turned and headed for the door, but didn’t leave quite yet. “Think of something awful,” she said, with her back to him.
“?Como?” he asked. “What?”
“That’s how you dowse your afterglow. Think of something awful, and your glow goes away, but just for a few seconds.” And then she was gone, locking the door, and forcing him to leave the way he came in.
In her book Tips for Taps, Mary Hightower has this to say about human emotions:
“We in Everlost are bound by many of the same emotions that we had in life. Joy and despair, love and hate, fear and contentment. Only skinjackers, however, who still have access to flesh, are cursed with those unwholesome feelings brought on by biology, which includes all forms of burning desires. They should be pitied, because unlike the rest of us, they are closer to animals.”
CHAPTER 7
What Allie Saw
A fter a week, Speedo’s team of finders returned with a single railroad track.
