Chapter Thirty Four: A City of Shades

Media: The necromancer's mask. What is it used for...?

The air cools down approximately one hundred degrees as I step outside my husband's bedroom.

My mind ignores the inner torment of my shyer self, who is freaking out about the fact she very nearly gave her husband an unexpected visit downstairs. Energy thrums through my body, and I don't want to waste a second of it thinking of what may have been. But even I notice how much cooler I feel away from that environment where I'd wanted to strip off all of my clothes.

I make sure to shut the door with a snap; if Hadrian yells to escape before I return, it's less likely anyone will hear him. It also finalises my decision, so that I'm less likely to return. Get going, I chide myself, when I notice a blond and tanned figure is leaning against the wall nearby.

'Mercer? You waited for me?'

He jumps out of his skin when he sees me, and it takes me a moment to realise that my face is covered by a mask. I pull it up, so that it sits like jaunty hat on my head. Seeing my face, Mercer relaxes.

He's changed out of his angelic white clothes, into something slightly grungier: a black waistcoat over a white shirt, and slim black trousers. Quick change artist, an irrelevant voice in my head pipes up. Mercer approaches me warily, no doubt remembering that the last time he met me in this state, I'd dragged him up a waterfall in reverse.

'Of course I waited,' he quips back, and I  find that a grin splashes across my face at his own smile. 'What would you do without me to hold your bags?'

We both laugh, because it's a little true. Mercer must be the worst guide in the Underworld, but he makes a great squire.

'Plus,' he lowers his voice, 'Jefferson tried to come and talk to me. Think he realised that if I was back, you would be too.'

I groan. The thought of dealing with puns in my energetic state is alarming. 'Let's go,' I agree, grabbing him by the arm. He catches on quickly, and we hurry up the stairs, out of Hadrian's shady basement, and into the hallways above.

'There's so many people!' breathes Mercer, as we stare into the empty corridor.

My mouth flops open. To me, the corridor is utterly silent. 'You can see the Shades?'

According to a book we'd read in the library, the Shades are the retinue of the Death Lord, Hadrian, in his Underworld Court. To all but necromancers, they, like human souls, cannot be seen during the daytime. But it was exactly what I'm supposed to be training to see; Step One of "Being a Necromancer: Seeing the Souls of the Dead". Of course, I'd skim read it, but I got the gist that Shades are souls. They're remnants of humans that were alive, their souls passed on. Instead of passing beyond the waterfall as most souls do, humans that were more perceptive or spiritual in life can enter the Underworld's court, where they guide the souls of the dead.

It all sounds very beautiful, but I'm still stumped as to why Mercer can see them. From the looks of it, so is he.

'Hadrian said you aren't a necromancer,' I murmur, thoughtful. 'But I don't understand why that is...'

Mercer looks down at his hands. 'Chronus told me that we were special because our souls were pure, and therefore we became one of the members of his court, the Afterlife.'

'By the reaper!' I swear. 'That makes a lot of sense.' With Mercer tied to Chronus, he couldn't attain necromancy. But, being a retinue of Chronus', but not a Shade, not a necromancer...was Mercer now elevated to God status?

Blinking at him, I frown. He doesn't look any different. Certainly, no glowing halo. And no cheesy angel wings. For now, I won't tell him my theory.

Mercer shrugs, as if it's no big deal. 'Shall we go? I'll say when it gets quiet...'

Nodding in agreement, we settle side-by-side to wait to dash across the lobby. To my eyes, it's already empty, but seeing Mercer's eyes follow things I couldn't brings out the competitve spirit in me.

What had the book said? Necromancy starts with you.

You are in tune with your own body. Everyone can See, if only they would Listen. To See, first close your eyes...

I try it. I shut them with impatience, aware that at any moment Mercer's eyes might flicker towards me and see me trying.

...with eyes closed, hone your senses on everything you feel around you...

What do I feel? Urgh, the cramping in my legs from being crouched down as we wait. The smell of Mercer, pressed up at my elbow, is like pine, which is suspiciously pleasant...but reminds me directly of Hadrian's smell, which is deeper and darker than Mercer's, like a rich mahogany and...and...

My stream of thoughts are ridiculous! I shake my head. It doesn't help that when I close my eyes, I can see Hadrian's half-naked body sprawled before me, gorgeously ready and waiting for my return.

Opening my eyes, the room is still empty. When Mercer grabs my wrist and pulls me across, I don't feel any of the urgency that's in his step.

Reaching the main doors, we slip outside.

We exit the palace on the opposite side to the one we'd first entered it in. This door is more like a window, with stained glass pictures decorating the huge arched panels that open Hadrian's home into his people's below. The palace also acts as a fort, I assume, because of the way the building then becomes a great wall around the outside of the city.

Where Elysium had been bleak, Hadrian's city is more natural. The entire town, I realise, is built around an old tree-- a tree that is so large, and stretches so high, that at first I thought it a building, taller than any I'd ever seen. But then I notice the branches, devoid of leaves, sprouting from the tree.

My eyes follow the trunk, right up to where there's mist at the very top. Steps are carved all the way around the trunk, hidden among branches, until they reach a platform. An archway, made of the branching tree, hides something else-- something important, judging by how the city grew around it. The houses are dark shapes from this distance, but they wind around the tributaries of the large river of the Underworld, built into the roots of the tree and the rocks of the cliff.

From the top of the tree to the steps below, the world shimmers. I frown, wondering if it's some sort of mist or magic-- but feel the cold at the tips of my nose and fingertips.

It's frost, I realise. Hadrian's Underworld is freezing!

'Mercer,' I mutter, my attention back on the largest part of the city. 'Can you see the top of that tree? Is there anything special about it?'

My guide looks at me in amazement. For once, I'm asking for his help. Then, silently, he turns back to squint at the direction I'm pointing, and he nods.

'It's a passage,' he breathes. 'It shimmers-- like a portal. Nerissa, I...I think it's how Shades and Hadrian pass back to Minoa!'

We look at each other in barely concealed excitement.

'Can it be that simple?' I say, looking back at the top of the tree. 'We just have to make it across?'

My companion shrugs, uncertain. Maybe it's not a portal at all. Maybe it's where Hadrian holds his Hogmanay parties. Besides, if that's the portal, what does he use the mask for?

The cool, bitter breeze of the Underworld slams into us. Mercer gasps, hudding in his not-so-warm waistcoat. Quirking an eyebrow at his reaction, I demonstrate my own method of keeping warm: breaking into a quick paced jog, and forgetting the intricate details of planning.

Behind me, I hear him groan. 'I hate running!'

But we both have our goal in sight now, real or not; a portal home. A way to see our families, if only for a day or night. Who knows if time passes as it does here? How long have we been here? Questions bubble with anxiety inside me, and my legs move faster.

Our path from the palace winds down in a zigzag until meeting with the road below. The only other building as tall as the palace is a large, church-like building, and as we descend, it seems to get bigger and bigger, looming over us. Running is effortless with my blood still singing of necromancy, but I wonder how long it will last for. If I want to find Nate's soul when I return to Minoa, I'll need Mercer's help.

And lord knows, I hate needing help.

So instead of going straight to the portal at the top of the tree, I decide to stay and practice for a while until I see the Shades around us. I pass this through Mercer, who agrees. My only other landmark is the church, so when I reach the small square, bifurcating, I take the one that seems to go towards it.

A rumbling approaches behind us.

A slavering sound chills my bones, and behind me, Mercer cries out. I turn, fully expecting some sort of attack, until I find him pinned to the floor by our large, furry friend.

'Cerberus!' I cry, rushing over to pet the giant, three-headed, salivating dog. Large globules of spit plop onto Mercer's cheek. He makes a strangled noise, a cross between authoritative and terrified.

Intelligently, the dog's gaze flickers to me, and she responds with an equally salivatory greeting as Mercer's, licking my face three times with each head taking it in turn.

'What are you doing here?' I ask her, scratching one of her many ears. She practically purs. Beneath her, Mercer's trying to elbow his way from beneath the dog. Cerberus, watching him struggle, waits until the last possible moment before she lies on him, trapping him from moving.

He groans again. I bite my lip to stop from sniggering, and Cerberus looks back at me.

She sniffs the air, then she sniffs me. Again, she does the same thing, as if to emphasize the message: I caught your scent. I followed. What are you doing?

I hope Hadrian doesn't have a good nose. Or I don't smell particularly strong.

'Can you help me?' I whisper to the dog. Her great brown eyes (all six) rove over mine, as if assessing my sincerity to her master. It's very disconcerting, actually. When one head tilts, another dips, and another blinks. To focus on all three, trying your best to appear non-threatening, gives you a headache.

Then I get another congratulatory lick, and an offer of a ride. Cerberus lifts off Mercer, and lies before me, inviting me to climb onto her back. As I shift behind her shoulder blades, she extends the invitation to the disgruntled Mercer, and he sits holding on behind me with the smug grin of a man that's won over a difficult customer.

Saint Mercer strikes again. I roll my eyes; soon, he'll be stealing my story. But not yet, I think, as Cerberus rises majestically, and begins to lop in giant's strides down the lane.

'To that large church building, if you please,' I stroke each of her heads in turn. She seems to like this; at least, I don't get thrown three hundred metres unceremoniously off her back. One of her heads fixing on the target whilst the other two assess the area, the great Death Hound leaps  through the streets.

Mercer lets out another yelp, throwing his arms around me. I enjoy myself, finally able to breathe and look around whilst Cerberus takes us through the town. For daytime, it's dim, and the houses are all shut up. The houses are small, detached and simple, made of stone and glass. No wildlife grows. The ground beneath Cerberus' paws is barren, dusty, and the only sound is the scattering of pebbles as her claws scratch the rocks.

A marketplace, running down the sidestreets, is deserted. Brightly coloured cloths of stalls flap in a lonely wind, with no vendors and no wares, and certainly no customers.

'Can you see anything?' I ask Mercer, pointing at the market. I feel him lift his head, slightly green at the motion of the dog. He shakes his head, hiding again.

'Nothing,' he adds, because I can't see him as he's behind me. 'It's daytime. Shades can't come out in daytime.'

'But they can stay indoors at the palace?'

'They live there. It's home. Indoors.' Mercer speaks abruptly, and I realise his answers are curt to match his queasiness.

'How will I practice?'

'Bound to be shades in that massive building.' His reply, for once, cuts me off.

So I don't ask anything further. I just watch in silence as we pass through the pretty town with the frost glittering the surfaces. Winding street after winding street we go, crossing small bridges when they reach a part of the river. Houses march alongside us each step of the way, reminding me of how densely populated it must be, when the shades come out at night.

I remain silent, even as we approach the platform where the church-like building looms before us. It's filled with glowing lights, following each coloured glass window on every floor, right up to the belfry at the top. Astride Cerberus, my head has to crane so that I'm nearly tipping until I see the top, and even that pales next to the tree beside it.

One thing I know for sure, and I feel it in my bones: this building is no church.

So, happy new year to my fellow Wattpadders! I have been on Wattpad now for about a year, and so much has happened in 2015 that I'm praying 2016 equals the excitement!

Comment and let me know how your new year is/was! I spent mine eating, playing Fallout and watching my neighbour's fireworks from the window. They were actually pretty good.

So, here's my first of the Little Saint Bride updates for new year. Is she getting closer to going home? Is she going to find Nate? Will she finally lose her virginity?!?!?!

Find out...IN 2016 WOOP WOOP!

lots of love

Larissa

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx