The Stirrer stays back. Bits of it have fallen away, and whatever's left has slipped so that it looks like a poorly made human collage.
Molly's smiling that beautiful grin of hers. She stays by my side for a moment, then crashes toward the Stirrer, barreling into its legs. The Stirrer topples forward, sliding past me and over the edge of the branch. Its slide slows and Molly leaps onto its back. She starts to burn, but she's everywhere, snarling and biting. The Stirrer's eyes are wide with terror or rage, Molly snapping at its neck. It reaches out for the branch, and gets a grip. Then, with the sound of wet paper tearing, wrist and hand separate. And they're gone.
I stumble toward the edge.
I watch Molly and the Stirrer fall away like some sort of flaming comet, rushing to the dark earth beneath us. The earth opens up, or low dark clouds scud in, because they are suddenly out of sight. Besides, I can hardly see at all. My eyes are wet with tears.
'Molly,' I say. 'Molly Millions.'
I stare down at the dark where they fell. I'm beginning to understand this place better and what it means to come here. In essence it's just a way of losing what you love a second time. 'Maybe I should have let Lissa go,' I say.
Wal's head turns up toward me. 'Ah, bullshit,' he says. 'Think of all the people who have suffered to get you here. Everyone suffers to get here. And you're ready to give up.'
'Maybe.'
Wal sighs. 'That's just the Underworld talking. It's going to get worse, but if you want Morrigan to rule here, if you're happy to have him get away with all the killing, then who am I to argue? After all, the best I can get is living on your arm. It's not inhibiting at all.'
Wal's right. I give myself a few more moments at the edge and then I climb again, following the stairs up into more crowded branches. Here, the stairs and the branches intertwine. We climb a tight bundle of fleshy tendrils, and we follow wooden handholds, hammered into the trunk of the tree, sticky with sap. Upward, always upward, and soon we're on another broad branch.
And, there, I see my parents. The tree has begun to wrap around Mom and Dad's legs with woody vines rising from the trunk. Mom looks up, her eyes are dull. Death is already settling down her humanity, letting her sink into the tree and the universal thought or whatever it is that exists beyond the flesh and the memory of flesh. Soon she and Dad will be nothing but whispers and light dripping from the roots of the tree.
It's always faster with Pomps, maybe because we have an idea of what to expect, and we're cool with it. Slipping into some sort of universal truth is so much better than spending your eternity in heaven or whatever. Still, when Mom sees me her eyes widen and the dullness fades away.
'Steven. Oh, no. I was hoping that-'
'It's OK, Mom. I'm not dead.'
Mum gives Dad a significant look. She might as well be giving him the crazy signal. Dad frowns.
'Seriously, both of you. I'm not.'
'Then what in the seven bloody hells are you doing here? The living aren't meant for this place, Pomp or not.'
'I'm looking for Lissa.'
'Oh, the Jones girl! An Orpheus Maneuver, eh?' Dad gives me an extremely wicked look. 'You know where she is, love?'
Mom has always had a greater sensitivity to the dead. We both look at her. Mom lifts her head and breathes deeply. 'Oh, but there are a lot of Stirrers on the tree! They're like termites. They're going to be hard to get rid of, and it makes it difficult to… Yes! I can feel her. She's on the next level. She came in fast, which means she'll leave fast. If you weren't here I'd think you were with her.' She glances over at Dad. 'He was certainly all over her.'
I redden at that. 'Yeah, well…'
Dad winks at me, and Mom sighs. 'But Steven, if you are here, it's not bad. It's marvelous, in fact. I've not felt… It's… Well…' Finally she shakes her head.
I know what she means. It is terrible and marvelous at once. The things I've seen getting here, things not even hinted at from our vantage point at Number Four. It's the sort of stuff you're not supposed to know until you're dead.
I don't know what I am here in the Underworld, except I'm not that. Definitely not dead, not yet. I kiss Mom's forehead. Her skin is cold against my lips. I'm finally getting the chance to say goodbye, but it isn't any easier.
'I love you, Mom.'
'I love you, Steven.' She blinks. 'Get out of here as quickly as you can.'
Dad nods. 'Go get her, Steve,' he says. 'She's a good one.'
'I could try and send you back,' I say, and there's a slight pleading tone in my voice.
'No, I've died once. That's enough for me, Steve. I'd like to say I miss you but that's for the living, and your mother and I, well, we're not living anymore.' He smiles, looks over to Mom, and she nods her head-wow, they actually agree on something. 'Get her, Steve,' he says. 'And then, stop Morrigan. I can feel what he's doing even here. He's an idiot. You can't deal with the enemy and not expect grim consequences.'
I look at them one last time, then clamber up the interconnecting branch.
'Oh, and I'm glad you got rid of that beard!' Mom shouts after me.
31
I look down and notice that, not too far below, there are Stirrers with machine guns. One of them points up at me. I hear a distant crack, crack, cracking and the wood near my feet explodes. I get out of the way, quick smart.
Even more worrying is the helicopter racing over the city toward this branch.
I don't know how long I've got, but I can hear the chopper drawing nearer. It's a peculiar looking thing, with huge, flat tear-shaped blades that look as though they're made of brass. But the Stirrers in its cockpit are grim- and melty-faced and all of them are carrying guns-old AK-47s. Morrigan's ambitions are huge, but he's still obviously working on a budget. One of the chopper crew points in my direction.
'That can't be good,' Wal says, less than helpfully.
All I can do is try and climb faster.
The wind is picking up: salt driven on the air. A storm rushes along the surface of the sea, pelting toward the city. I grin into the wind, feeling somehow recharged by it. Out there beyond the edge of the city the great dark sea is crashing against the shore. Even here things rage and swell and live a kind of life, and my cares fall away from me all at once.
I'm wearing that smile on my face when I see her, but it doesn't last.
The One Tree has bound itself around her with rough fingers of bark. Lissa's eyes are milky with death. There is no recognition there. I might already be too late.
One of her fingers wiggles.
I touch it, and feel the slightest warmth, just the barest hint of life.
I don't want to be here and, above all, I don't want her to be here. If I could tear down the Underworld I would. But I don't have that power, just my love and my will. I'm terrified of failing, I'm terrified of succeeding. The only thing I don't doubt are my feelings for her.
The branch fights me all the way. It grows thorns. It snaps at my fingers with little teeth. I bleed pulling the bark off her, and maybe that's what does it, because the tree gives her up at last. I lay her gently onto the branch.
I touch her face. There's a flat warmth to her flesh that is almost worse than the cold I was expecting. Her eyes are dull, barely green at all, and nowhere near the startling, quick to fire color that I remember.
I hold her in my arms. She is still. I can't feel any more warmth. I lower my lips to hers and a force, a presence, a fire passes through me in a brief, agonizing flash. The tree shakes. Something howls, the light dims and I get a vague sense that the whole Underworld has paused. Even the storm seems to be waiting.
Then Lissa coughs and shudders. Her eyes widen. 'Steven?'
