Elysium Girls - Kate Pentecost Page 0,6

went through all the motions of going to bed in the Dust Bowl. I wetted the sheets that covered the windows, secured them over the frame. I washed up in the water trough close by, changed into sleeping clothes, ate a piece of stale cornbread. Then I lay on my back, my face away from Mama’s name, trying not to think about Trixie, or Mama, or the rain that never came. And in the silence, I could have sworn I heard my radio, dead for nine years, begin to crackle.

In the place between worlds, Life sat, invisible and present as electricity, brooding on the Game, which was coming to its end. The young daemon She had called to Her hesitated just a moment before saying, “You called me, ma’am?”

Ten years have almost passed, and the scales are tipping against me, Life said. But I will not give up to my sister so easily. Given her many advantages, I want to exercise one of my own: I am choosing my Wildcard.

“I… don’t understand,” said the daemon in the darkness. “What do I have to do with that?”

It will be you, said Life. I will make my own Wildcard, unlike my sister. I will fashion you a body, and you will go down to our Game board in the middle of the desert. Use your influence and tip the scales in my favor. If you’re successful, you will be rewarded handsomely.

“Really?” he asked. The darkness thrummed, and he knew it was a yes. It wasn’t every day that someone was invited to go down, and certainly, he had never been chosen. And to have a body, a human body… it was like a dream!

“But… why did you choose me?” he asked.

I didn’t, said Life. She did.

The Mother Goddess. The creator of everything that had been and everything that would be. She had chosen him. Him, over all the others. But why? What had he done to command Her attention?

“There has to be some mistake,” the daemon started. “I’m not particularly special, or…”

But as he drew himself up, he found that he was taking shape. He grew taller, leaner, shifting between several possible faces, skin colors, heights, hats, sport coats, suspenders, shoes. He looked down, and his hands were pale, long-fingered. Round spectacles—cracked in one lens—appeared on his nose. In his hand, he held a suitcase. In his mind, there was a past, a name.

“Asa Skander,” he said, and he knew it was right.

An odd form, said Life. It is not what I expected, but it is what was in you, so I suppose it will do.

A door appeared in the darkness, narrow, wooden, and just taller than the young man himself. It seemed to vibrate with possibility, and he knew that beyond it was the World.

Your mission is simple, She said, and there was a smell of petrichor in the air. In keeping with the rules, you may not tell them outright what they must do, and you’ll find you won’t be able to. But I will give you something important, something that can turn the tides of the Game, and you must return it to its owner. That is your mission.

Asa felt something in his hand. A small piece of amber with what looked like a cricket inside it.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “That’s all?”

It is not for a daemon to understand, said Life. Just worry about your mission. And keep in mind that Death’s Wildcard can disarm your entire mission—unless you want to try disarming hers, which I would not suggest. Death has the advantage, after all, since all She has to do is create enough chaos to tip the scales.

“Who is she?” Asa asked. “And what is her mission?”

I do not know, other than that she is unknowingly bent on destroying Elysium. I’m sure you will know her if you pay attention.

Fair enough, thought Asa, pocketing the amber piece. I’m just along for the ride.

The soles of his wing-tip shoes began to glow. He raised his foot and saw the designs on the bottoms: eyes, wheels, wings, lightning, the sun. They shifted under him, wiggled, changed, moved.

“What happens if I fail?” he asked.

The Sentinels will come and take back what is mine, She said. You don’t want that, do you?

“No, ma’am,” he said. “I surely do not.” And with a deep breath, he stepped through the door and disappeared.

CHAPTER 2

3 MONTHS

AND

29 DAYS

REMAIN.

Before Black Sunday, I’d never had a vision. But after the walls went up, the whole world had

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