I landed on ground that might have been soft if not for all the small rocks.
Groaning, I dug my fingers into muddy sand. I forced my eyes open and saw willow branches and a starry night overhead. The smell of water made me realize I was hearing the lapping of a lake at my back. Slowly, and with effort, I sat up. The willow fronds draped around my shoulders like the tree would embrace me. Guess I needed a hug, because I reached up and held the leafy tip like it was someone’s reassuring hand.
As I scanned around, I realized I knew this place. It was the land I usually visited when I meditated. Encouraged by this, I shifted into a cross-legged position and prepared myself to leave. I was sooo ready to go home and crawl into my bed. I was going to sleep until I forgot this had ever happened.
Deep breath. In and out. Count backward from ten and awake in my kitchen as I left it. Ten. Nine. Eight. Something was wrong. I usually felt the grip of this world loosen. Seven. Six. Five. I should be able to smell the scents of my home. Four. Three. Two. One.
When I opened my eyes I remained on the lake shore.
I tried again. And failed again.
“You cannot leave.”
I twisted toward Amenemhab’s voice. The jackal, my totem animal, strode closer out of the dark. He stood on slightly higher ground and watched for my reaction. I tried to keep the anger and worry from my features, but hiding my emotions wouldn’t do me any good with him. “Why not?”
“You arrived through his doorway. You must return through it.”
I stood and brushed myself off. “Who is he anyway?”
The jackal sat. “He is who he is.”
“What’s his name?”
“It is not for me to say.”
“Riiiight.” I should have known. “What are my options?”
“You have only one. Decide how to proceed.”
My shoulders slumped. I turned back to the lake and stared at the long and choppy reflection of the moon. I wished I’d had my shoes on when I sat down to meditate. If I’d been wearing them there, I’d be wearing them here and I could kick a rock into the water. I was sure it would make me feel a little bit better.
After a few minutes of silence, Amenemhab asked, “Is the choice so difficult?”
“Well, I can pick very bad, or very, very bad.”
“Ahhh. I see. Tell me more.”
I glanced back at him. He’d lain down. His getting comfortable meant he was willing to hear me out. All the way out. Damn it. I bent over and picked up a handful of stones. I threw the first of them at the water. And the second. Frustrated, I dropped the rest and stomped away from the shore, flopping down to sit beside the jackal.
“Why did you stop?”
“I can’t see where they land.”
“So?”
I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. “It’s pointless.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I dunno. There’s something satisfying about seeing the ripples and in the dark my eyes can’t even detect where the rock landed.”
His ears pricked forward. “But you know the rock hit the water. You heard the splash. You know the ripples had to occur.”
“But I can’t see them.” I shook my head. “We shouldn’t get sidetracked anyway. We need to talk about the choice.”
“We are.”
I faced him squarely.
He copied the move. “The ripples you’re causing on the darkened surface may be lost to your eyes in this dim light, and they may seem insignificant compared to the natural and relentless ebb and flow . . . but you are aiming for the lake and I guarantee you are hitting it.”
In my deepest self, the metaphor struck a chord. I scrutinized the surface of the lake. “My dark destiny is flowing and I’m helpless to stop it.”
“Of course you are. That’s rather inherent in the word ‘destiny.’ Why would you even try to stop it?”
I ground my teeth. Every word here was telling. Even if I didn’t want them to be.
“I told you it would only get harder.”
That was true. The last time I’d spoken with him, I’d had a decision to make. His advice then was Cor aut Mors. Heart or Death. A choice between the morals and loyalty of the heart, and the insignificance and disgrace of death.
That choice between loyalty and disgrace had been easy to make. This time, however, the choice was not so clear-cut.
Choosing to do things my own way could entangle everyone I cared for and, as Creepy implied, eventually put them in danger. That was what I wanted to avoid. I already carried some hefty guilt; many had died since this whole thing began and it was likely the death toll would continue to rise.
Choosing Creepy’s way would doubtless keep my loved ones safe, but I probably wouldn’t like his method of securing their safety. It’d turn into something I would feel guilty about.
“You are who you are as well, Persephone. You have the strength you need. And the drive. And the intelligence. Cast away your doubts like the pebbles they are. Let them sink to the bottom; they will never amass into anything that can stop you.”
I faced him again.
“A million pebbles will not significantly alter the lake.”
“Are you saying my worries about this choice are irrelevant?”
“I am saying that the choice itself is like deciding between two routes to the same destination. One is longer and smoother than the other, but both will get you there.”
“Do I have time for the longer, smoother road?”
“The shorter route is more difficult. The time equals out and the choice is more balanced than you know.”
“Then, what’s the catch?”
“Each road has a separate toll; the imbalance exists in the price that you must pay. Focus not on the choice, but on what it costs you. It is that which you must weigh carefully.”
Yeah. Creepy’s services weren’t going to be free.
“Now, Persephone, let me tell you a little about the art of negotiation. . . . ”