Page 9 of Currency in Flesh

I let my eyes drift closed, relishing in the illusory sensation of sunshine on my cheeks. Lady Cora didn’t interrupt—instead, opting to remain beside me in silence. When I finally faced her, she was holding a white narcissus with a tiny golden center, twirling the stem between her fingers to make the blossom spin. With the gentlest of touches, she tucked the flower within a strand of loose hair behind my ear.

“This is the meadows,” she said without breaking eye contact. I blinked slowly, wondering which of us would look away first.

“I thought most people ended up here,” I replied. “It seems like we’re the only people here.”

She took another step towards me and as the breeze lifted her nearly white hair to swirl around us like gossamer, my weight shifted to my toes. She smelled like sin—luscious ripe fruit, smoke and cinders. It made my mouth water before shame turned the taste sour on my tongue. The tips of my ears grew hot, and I took a hurried step backward, putting some distance between us.

Lady Cora pulled her lip between her teeth. “The meadows are much more than this one stretch of land. I like to bring people here, to this one, when they arrive.”

“Do you greet everyone? That seems like a lot. Aren’t people dying all the time?”

Huffing out a small breath from her nose, she gave me a smile that might have been condescending. “Over a hundred people every minute. I very rarely interact with any of them. The brothers handle the transition between life and death. You met Charis at Pluto. From time to time you may encounter Christos and Cyril, but none of them are any fun. Cyril, especially.”

She began to walk into the meadow, the stalks of grass seeming to part before her with each step. Beneath the hem of her perfectly tailored black pants, her feet were bare, and it was such an odd, human thing to see that I stood unmoving for too long. When at last she turned to see if I followed, my breath caught in my chest. The harsh, predatory lines of her face softened into something that could almost be mistaken for vulnerability.

But I knew the truth. She was venom disguised beneath the guise of beauty. Regardless of my body’s insistence on ignoring this fact, I wouldn’t allow my mind to do the same.

I caught up with her, keeping the distance between us at an arm’s length. “So whodoyou bring here?” I asked. “If you rarely greet the dead, what makes you choose to sometimes?”

“Each soul who passes through the river contributes to itswaters. The power contained in a soul returns to the current. In certain circumstances, I can feel the state of a soul, and occasionally I choose to greet them myself rather than sending Christos or Charis.”

“Why?”

The warmth in her eyes froze over in an instant, leaving nothing but icy, razor-sharp cruelty. “Because there are women who cannot bear to look upon the face of a man ever again—even those as innocuous as the brothers. Those women deserve to feel safety in death, if never in life.”

I could taste the phantom iron tang of blood in my mouth. I knew that though Sean had been needlessly cruel and I deserved none of what he did to me, there were women who endured worse. And Lady Cora had to handle the souls of all of them—not just the women who had been broken, but the people who had done the breaking.

I thought of my reaction to seeing her torture that man. I had felt disgust, pity, I had questioned why anyone would be worthy of such torment. There was no doubt in my mind there had been souls far worse than his, and Lady Cora would have to know of each and every one. What sort of weight would that burden yield? Was it any wonder that she seized the opportunity to take me before I washed up on the river’s shores? Perhaps I was her way of ensuring that at least one, solitary soul was able to seek their own sort of justice.

Without replying, I continued to walk into the warm meadow. The air smelled like spring and it reminded me of my childhood. If I had no knowledge of this place, I’d have thought it a scene born from the dreams of an impressionist artist.

“Come,” Lady Cora said, voice firm. “There is much to see yet.”

She parted the air with a graceful hand, pushing aside the entire image as though it were little more than a paintedcurtain. It made me queasy, and I wished she would stop doing it. I didn’t know if she was actively unaware of how disorienting it was or if she was so accustomed to manipulating the reality here that she didn’t even realize it. I gulped down the thin saliva that filled my mouth and followed her through the opening.

Beyond the springtime meadow lay what appeared to be a simple little town. People milled about an orderly block of businesses and homes. The walls were a pleasant, uniform cream color with awnings and window frames painted a soothing shade of lavender. Everyone was dressed in a similar fashion, simple pants, shirts and some dresses, with bare feet. The smells of civilization were entirely absent, the air instead filled with that same fresh scent of grass and fragrant blooms. It looked… fine. It looked boring.

Lady Cora’s low chuckle interrupted my assessment. I shot her an irritated glance, but her amused smirk didn’t falter. “As I said, the meadows are a place of pleasant, mundane existence. The people here do what they wish. They are free to indulge any whims they may have, and they want for nothing.”

“That sounds really nice, actually,” I replied. “This is for the regular people? What happens in the isles?”

“If you were to imagine paradise, would it involve going to a grocer and laundering your clothing?”

I shrugged. “Good point.”

“In the isles, the reward is different for everyone, but the primary factor is those individuals spend what they see of eternity blissfully happy rather than content. They tend to make their peace and opt to say goodbye to existence rather than remain forever.” My face must have mirrored my thoughts, because Lady Cora continued. “Those who inhabit the isles find satisfaction. True, complete satisfaction—and at that point, they no longer long for anything. This is why so few people endup there. Humans are so rarely satisfied, they always want more.”

I saw Sean in her words. He was never happy with what he had. When he made his first million, he immediately began to scheme ways to make more. When his company was named in the Fortune 500, he met with advisors to determine the best ways to maximize his profit margins. Hundreds of loyal employees were laid off so he could outsource labor for even less than the poverty-level wages he had paid. He had mistresses in every major city, despite having a wife at home. I could never have been enough for him, and neither could anyone or anything else.

Lost in thought, I didn’t notice the woman who approached us until she reached out to hand me a piece of fruit. Her hair was a stunning red, ringlets and waves all mixed up together to frame her pretty face in the shades of a sunset. “Oh!” I exclaimed, surprised these people had noticed us at all. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said with a sweet smile. Her nose was small and upturned, scattered with honey-colored freckles. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen. “We are happy to have you! My name is Anna, I work in the orchards. What’s your name?”

My eyes flit back and forth between Lady Cora and the girl, confused. Did she think I was a new arrival to the meadows? “Hi, uh, I’m Grace. It’s nice to meet you, Anna.” I rolled the heavy fruit between my hands, noticing for the first time that it was a large pomegranate. It felt warm against my palms, like it had just been plucked from the tree, and I wondered what I was supposed to do with it.

Anna let out a little gasp, seeming to see Lady Cora for the first time. She dropped to a knee before us. “Blessings, Divine Mother.”

Lady Cora stepped closer, sliding her arm around my waistand resting her splayed fingers over my stomach. The logical part of my mind urged me to pull away, an instinct like one of a child whose hand had touched the stove. The other part of my mind thought about how those fingers had felt between my thighs, the taste of her inhuman tongue when it forced its way into my throat. I clutched the pomegranate, torn between a need to flee and an overwhelming desire to touch her.

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