Page 39 of Magpie
Ifeel.
I swallow, unsure why the sensation is uneasy to me, but I raise the bone and the moth and trek steadily onward. All I can hear in the suffocating quiet of this place is my own ragged breathing and the gentle crunch of leaves under my feet.
That is, until I hear laughter.
The first peal of it is like talons raking down my back, digging deep grooves into my flesh. The sound sinks its teeth into me, refusing to release me, freezing me in place. It sounds like it’s coming from behind me, and I spin around, raising the moth wildly, even as it fights to fly in the other direction. It’s useless;the soft green glow barely pierces the darkness a few inches in front of my face.
The laughter, closer this time, cackles to my left. I jolt in that direction, waving the moth, desperate to see who awaits me in the dark. The moth strains against the thread in its wings, though it’s not impeded by it as it flies wildly in the direction I had been walking.
“Magpie.”
My old name calls out in a singsong voice, taunting me as it twists around my ears.
“Magpie,” the voice croons, nearly mimicking Alister’s exact tone and tenor.
Magpie, Magpie, Magpie.
That name howls around me in the void, filling the endless dark and surging in my mind. I try to cover my ears, but my hand will not release the bone holding the prisoner moth. I scream and crouch down, curling in on myself as I shut my eyes and try to force out the voices—more than one now—cackling and chanting around me.
Sean’s voice cuts through them all. “Maggie, run.”
I obey in an instant. I jump up and bolt into the darkness, one arm pumping at my side, the other attempting to hold the moth aloft. Ronan’s warning cries in my mind: I can’t lose the winged creature, or I’ll doom myself to this eternal darkness.
It’s the sinking feeling that hits me first. The sensation like my feet can’t find purchase. At first, I think I’ve stepped into mud, or something that gives under my feet. But the feeling is fleeting, lasting a split second before I realize I am not sinking.
I’m falling.
A scream bubbles up and gets caught in my throat as I plummet into the dark, and I watch in horror as the wings of the luna moth are ripped off by the force of the fall. The luminescent glow dies, and a silent cry escapes my throat as I watch it go.I will be relegated to this nightmare, this endless dark, forever. It is the destiny I signed up for the moment I slid that iron key across the table to Alister. I close my eyes, resigning myself to my fate.
It’s the pressing light against my eyelids that has me squinting, opening my eyes the barest fraction. I notice then that the sensation of falling is gone. I’m standing on solid ground, and before me is a specter.
She’s ghostly white, translucent and glimmering in the darkness, the only source of light emitting from within her. As I continue to focus on her, I see the scenery beginning to lighten and take shape. She’s sitting on a rock, her back to me, a rushing river pouring by her and crashing down in a waterfall.
“Come sit by me, Maggie,” she calls, her voice lilting, like gems cascading over each other. Her long, swooping snow-white hair spills down her back, dipping in the river around her legs and drifting in the current.
I step forward, pulled like a moth to her light. As I get closer, I see she is not glowing with a soft white light; rather, she’s iridescent, a kaleidoscope of color in the pressing dark. She turns and snares me in her jewel-toned gaze, her eyes shifting color like the rest of her as she smiles at me.
“I thought this was supposed to be a nightmare,” I say, transfixed by her, stepping into the river. I nearly expected the current to surge around me and pull me away, but I find the river doesn’t affect me in the slightest. Wading through the water, I sit down on the mossy rock beside her. I turn, looking out over the edge of the waterfall. The river rushes down into the growing dark, and I think it might fall on endlessly.
“This is a nightmare for many, you included,” she says, her voice childlike and ancient at the same time.
I turn to look at her. “Who are you?” I ask, my eyes darting between hers.
She gives me a gentle smile, bumping my shoulder like we are old friends. “I’m the one you’ve been running from this whole time.”
My eyes grow wide, and fear seizes me.
“You’re Death,” I breathe.
I am rewarded with another bright peal of laughter. She shakes her head. Her sparkling hair falls into her face, and she pushes it back, tucking it behind an ear as she says, “No, Maggie. You’ve been chasing my sister nearly your entire existence, desperate for her attention. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not her. Most people try to outrun my sister, only too eager to learn how to avoid her. There is an answer to that riddle, a solution to evading her.”
She places her slim hand over mine. Looking down, I notice I’m still holding the charred bone with the jagged edge. The thread hangs limp off the bone, the moth long gone.
“What’s the answer?” I ask, not even sure what the question is.
“Life, Maggie. Life has always been the key to death.”
Realization dawns on me as I recognize her.
