I pray that you have not joined me in this place, but I fear you might have. I worry that, like me, you have found yourself in a land of chaos and miracles. A world that seems to have been designed by a child.
(Letter 1, Paragraph 1, Lines 3-5)
Finley stroked the flower’s gently snoring petal and it nuzzled further into his chest as if seeking warmth. “So do you have to feed this thing or something?” Finley asked the wardens closing in on him.
Several of the wardens stepped forward, anger flashing over their faces. But they stopped at the raised hand of the man who seemed to be in charge. The rising sun shone off his bald head, but it did nothing to dispel the shadows that lingered in his deep eye sockets.
“Pay no attention to him. Go back to the service, I’ll take in our newest loon. He seems quite interesting.” The man said, his eyes on the flower on Finley’s chest. The priestess who had conducted the service peeled off from the rest of the group to stop in front of Finley’s confronter.
“What’s he doing here?” She asked, her voice slow and strained, weary from her homily.
“No idea. He’s playing tough and stupid at the moment, nothing that a night in a cell won’t fix. You’ll have an answer soon.”
“Thank you, Orsos.” She said, and she clutched his arm. He bowed.
“Just doing my job, Sister Sinoh.”
The Sister turned to gaze upon Finley. Her eyes scanned his face, and then shifted to the Ghostlight on his lapel. Her eyes widened, her mouth opening in shock, before shaking her head and walking away.
“You’re gonna put me in a cell? What for? Getting lost?”
“You have a profound gift for understatement Mr...?”
“Marsh. Finley Marsh.”
“Mr. Marsh. You did much more than get lost. You mocked the death of one of this city’s heroes with your laughter, and now you play with a Ghostlight as if it were an errant butterfly and have the temerity to feign innocent. That is the behavior of a madman. Yes, I think a hole in the ground will improve your behavior.”
“Wow, how noble. You’re quite a guardian angel.”
“No, I am not that.” Orsos said, anger flashing across his face before once more settling into stonelike stillness. He pointed Finley forward and out of the graveyard.
Finley set off, but he tried to keep his stride smooth to not jostle the Ghostlight sleeping on his lapel. Finley turned and waved to the gravedigger as they walked out.
“Sorry for interrupting the service. I didn’t mean to cause a fuss. Thanks for all the help though.”
The gravedigger gave a half-hearted wave back, before picking up his shovel again.
Finley, with his new walking companion treading only a few steps behind, made his way out of the graveyard and towards the city proper. The city’s immense bulk loomed ahead, trapped behind gates of stone. The massive statue of the man loomed still higher. The horizon seemed to have stilled, and the plains beyond the city stretched to the horizon without interruption.
“The horizon was moving earlier, wasn’t it? I could swear that there was an ocean behind the city for a second.”
“Why did you interrupt the service?” Orsos said behind him, ignoring his question.
“I didn’t mean to. I just woke up there.”
“You woke up in the graveyard? Why would you fall asleep there?”
“I didn’t. At least, I didn’t fall asleep in that one. I seemed to have moved during the night.”
“Ah yes, of course.” Orsos said, his voice thick with disdain. “And the Ghostlight on your chest? Was that with you when you slept?”
“Oh no, it’s a new friend. I’m lucky I made one so fast in this place. Although I feel that you and I, Orsos, are growing too closely too quickly. You can go back to the service if you want. I should be fine from here.” Finley said, flashing as big a smile as he could, trying to seem harmless.
“I think not. I have more questions for you to answer now that your own hysteria has passed.”
“I’m afraid my hysteria comes and goes. I might not be much help.”
“Did you come just to mock the funeral?”
“I wouldn’t laugh at something like a funeral.”
“And yet you did.”
“And yet I did.” Finley admitted. “Or at least I laughed near one. But I wasn’t laughing because I found your service funny. It’s just all I could think to do when I met my new friend here, and when I saw that fellow over there.” Finley said, indicating the statue that loomed over the city.
It was a gargantuan thing, and Finley felt like less than an ant trapped under its gaze. The figure’s face was roughhewn and cragged: an immense brow with an uneven nose, a cut that might once have been a mouth. Clouds formed about its head and neck, and snow graced its shoulders.
“The Shepherd. You act as if you have never seen or heard of such a thing.”
“I couldn’t even have imagined it.”
“Are you from one of the wild tiles? How did you come to this one?”
“What’s a tile?”
“You’re even more unbalanced than I originally thought, Mr. Marsh.”
Finley felt the glowing flower stir upon his chest as he stared at the monstrous Shepherd. “Yeah, that would explain a few things.” Finley said and ignored the snort of derision from behind him.
They journeyed still closer to the city, the gates opening before them. They were vast stone things, as thick as a man with his arms outspread. But they swung easily, gliding across the ground at an unnatural, even pace.
People walked the streets beyond the gates, and though the towering Shepherd loomed over them, they seemed as normal as any people Finley had ever seen. They had a horrible sense of fashion though. They were wearing only a few less clashing colors than those who Finley had met at the burial.
They marched into the square. The gates began to shut behind them and Finley turned to spy the means of how they opened and closed the massive things. Two huge statues flanked the doors, both half the size of the wall. They were crude stone and jagged at the edges. Their faces had a harsh, unfinished quality, yet they had eyes of a deep and shining green.
And they moved.
The statues’ legs plodded forward as they pushed on the stone doors. They changed their grip on the edges as they pushed it back into frame. When the doors slammed shut, the figures froze in the same instant, the glow in their eyes dimming to a low spark.
A hand pushed at Finley’s shoulder, spinning him around. Finley’s eyes broke from the sight before him to see Orsos, a grim smile playing about the man’s face.
“Welcome to Oshroar, Mr. Marsh, the land of the Shepherd and its Guardians.” He said, indicating the statue that towered over the city, and the much smaller statues carved in its image. “Your cell is this way.” He spun Finley back around and pushed him forward.
Finley lurched into motion, his mouth agape. Orsos remained behind him, prodding him forward and back, left and right, directing him to his imprisonment. Finley’s mind wandered and spun as he moved like a sleepwalker.
He saw men and women walking the streets, going about their normal lives. Children played games in the alleys, tagging each other or throwing a crimson ball, which seemed to float in the air for far too long before falling again. And all around were walking statues that no one paid a glance to.
Families walked beside a hulking figure of stone carrying planks of wood. A child played with a slow-moving stone statue only slightly taller than himself. An old woman and her young companion were carried in a basket by a Guardian made of bricks. The statues walked the streets, carrying out daily tasks or standing at attention in the alleys. They helped people cross the street or carry heavy burdens. They labored at building tall towers or digging holes.
The Shepherd loomed over Finley, blotting out the sun, and all around him marched creatures of moving stone. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the goliath, terrified it would leap into motion just like its much smaller brethren.
Orsos led the stunned Finley into a low building in the middle of the city. They passed officers in black and white. They took Finley’s hand and pressed it into ink and then onto stone, leaving a dark imprint. They placed him in a cell with a small window. Inside there was a hole, a chair, a bucket, and a bed.
Finley had never seen something so beautiful.
He collapsed onto the bed, desperate to fall asleep and out of this madness. But then he saw the light dancing against the prison walls. Finley sat up to look at the Ghostlight dancing in the shadows of the room.
“Hey,” Finley said. The flower shrank back at his words, hiding behind the chair in the corner of the room.
“Wait, wait, it’s okay.” Finley assured the little specter. “I’m not gonna hurt you. In fact, I could really use some help! My name is Finley. What’s your name?”
The flower poked out from behind the chair. Its pool of light fell onto Finley, and he gave the flower what he hoped was a harmless smile and tried not to move a muscle otherwise.
“I really do mean you no harm. I’m not sure what you are, but I bet you’re really friendly, almost as friendly as I am. And I hate to impose on a new friend so soon, but I could really use some answers as to what the hell is going on!” Finley babbled.
The flower did not respond with movement or sound, but its light did shift. The dull yellow glow coming from its petals shone just a bit more, banishing the shadows of the cell just a bit further.
“So far, you’re the only person since I woke up who hasn’t arrested me or made fun of me. I’m not sure what you are, but you seem kinda magical? Can you unlock a cell door or magic me away? Can you at least make some part of this make sense?” The flower’s little petals stood up a little, rising like hackles as it got closer to Finley.
And then an image flashed into his mind like the strobe light of a camera. It was of a young man with tight black curls sitting on a prison bed. He had a gray suit on and looked disheveled.
And he had a familiar stupid look on his face.
The image vanished, melting back into the recesses of his mind. Finley was left staring at the flower that was still floating in front of him.
“Was that me?” Finley asked, feeling silly even as the question came out of his mouth. “Did you just show me myself?”
The flower gave a little twirl in the air, its yellow light shifting into a deeper orange.
“Okay. Was there a reason why?”
The flower still did not reply.
“You didn’t...you didn’t mate with me just now did you?”
The flower gave off a flash of light that Finley desperately hoped meant ‘no.’ He was much too young to be a father.
“Can’t you help me at all?” Finley begged, his voice ragged and desperate.
The flower stilled. All at once the light faded from the cell, and the white petals of the flower became the black of the void. It spun in the air just like the horizon had not so long ago, forming a wall of darkness around Finley.
A new scene appeared in his head. He was wearing his brand-new suit and lying on a bed. The bed was too small for him, its frames pressed on his sides and his head and his feet, boxing him in. There were flowers at the end of the bed, fresh pale lilies in huge bundles.
He couldn’t smell them.
He couldn’t feel anything at all.
There was someone standing over him, whispering in his ear. It was so faint he couldn’t catch all the words, but he could hear the tears in the other person’s voice, choking their throat and clogging their nose.
The voice pulled away, and Finley could finally see the speaker’s face.
And it was him!
His own face stared back at him, and it was a picture of perfect agony.
“Stop it!” Finley roared. He stumbled backwards until his back hit the cell wall. The Ghostlight zoomed away, suddenly alight again. It shook itself, and when it saw Finley still cowering in the corner it flew to his side. It twirled around him, nosing at him like a concerned puppy.
“What did you just show me?”
The light gave no answer. It just poked at him some more, checking him for damage, trying to figure out why he had shouted. Amused despite himself, Finley started to calm down as the Ghostlight scanned him from top to toe.
“I’m okay, buddy. I’m alright. See?” Finley said, waving his arms to show that everything still worked.
The Ghostlight flew a little loop the loop, flashing bright yellow in relief.
Finley eased himself to the edge of the bed again. “So you can put pictures in people’s minds. Sometimes real and sometimes not. That could be useful. Little creepy that they’re all of me, but I guess I should be flattered. Any updates on that unlocking thing though?” Finley asked, but the flower did not respond, still looping about the room.
Finley cradled his head in his hands and tried not to panic. He had a terrible, impossible thought that would not let go of his mind. He wanted nothing more than to lie back down and sleep until this nightmare ended. Yet that curiosity remained, that thing that had gotten him into trouble before.
Finley rose and picked up the bucket he guessed was meant to be his food trough or water source. He knew what the hole was for. He raised the bucket to head height and then dropped it, watching it fall. He picked it up and dropped it again. And again. And again.
The flower flew over to investigate noise, and as the bucket rose and fell, it soon joined in on the flight, rising with the pail, falling with the pail. It twirled and glowed in what Finley thought might be joy or even laughter. He did not share in the emotion. After a while he gave up on the bucket, sat on the bed, closed his eyes, and when Orsos came to question him, Finley was ready.
The sun had set beyond the horizon long ago, and the city on the other side of Finley’s window fell into an eerie green light as the eyes of the Guardians illuminated their unceasing work. Finley had fallen in and out of sleep but hadn’t moved from the bed.
He heard footsteps echoing down the hall. His cell door opened, and Orsos stepped into the room. He had changed in the hours since Finley had seen him. Orsos had cast aside his colorful robes and had put on a tunic of black and white with bronze buttons. He marched into the room, carrying a chair with him. He placed it before Finley’s with slow, precise movements. Orsos sat across from his captor, the lines of his uniform straight and pressed.
“Are you ready to answer my questions?” Orsos asked, with a tired voice.
“Yes.” Finley said and got up from the bed to sit in the other chair.
“How old are you?”
“Almost eighteen. I should really be in your juvenile section.”
“Where are you from?”
“Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.”
“Where is that?”
“The United States of America. You’ve never heard of that place either have you?”
“No. Did you make it up?”
“I lack the imagination. May I ask you a question, Warden?”
Orsos tilted his head, and the straight lines of his body fell out of order. He stared at Finley as if he were a slide on a microscope.
“You’re different than you were before, Mr. Marsh. I was not aware that my cell had magical powers, but here you are polite and under control. What changed?”
“I had a realization. This isn’t Earth, is it?”
“What’s Earth?”
Finley’s stomach sank through the floor, but for all his dread he could not suppress a flicker of triumph. He had figured it out.
“Earth is the planet that I’m from. It’s where Pittsburgh is. You see, I wasn’t sure at first. I thought I might be going crazy just like you seem to think. The flower didn’t help much with that, but you see them too, don't you?
“The ball of light, the city, even the Guardians I could have brushed off. Maybe I had a stroke, or I was in a coma. Hell, maybe I was dead. But it’s always the little things that give it away.” Finley stood up, and once more he picked up the bucket, and dropped it from eye level. It fell to the floor with a crash.
Neither man flinched.
“The gravity is different here. It’s just a little less than on my planet. The bucket falls too slowly. It took me a while to notice, but I got there in the end. No, I’m not crazy, this is just another world. And a weird one, if I say so myself.” Finley returned to his seat. Orsos’s expression of interest had not changed.
“But you look like a human being, everyone here looks like a human being. So you’re not aliens, I guess. You didn’t abduct me, did you?”
“No, Mr. Marsh. I arrested you.”
“Same difference. Let me answer your next few questions. I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know where here is, I don’t know why I’m here, and I have no idea why the flower is following me.” Finley said, the words flying out of his mouth, but as he finished, he felt himself deflate.
Orsos watched him. The warden had a strange half smile on his face.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I believe that you believe it. But do I think you are a being from another world, an alien that I was just unlucky enough to stumble upon? Of course not. But you are an interesting man, Mr. Marsh, and perhaps I can make use of you.” Orsos leaned forward as he spoke, and now his eyes burned with determination rather than amusement.
“As I have said before, Mr. Marsh, this is the city of Oshroar. A city of one and a half million souls, and I am its warden. I protect it, guide it, and try to keep it from killing itself every other day.” Orsos said, and he got up and walked to the window, gesturing grandly at the streets below. His eyes glowed with affection, but the sneer never left his mouth.
“As you are new to this ‘planet’ allow me to give you some directions. The planet is called Poa. You are on the Shepherd’s Tile, and if you ever want to leave this cell again you are going to help me.”
“How could I possibly help you? I nearly collapsed when I saw the city for the first time.”
“You can help me because of the thing floating over your left shoulder.”
The flower had ceased turning cartwheels and had instead begun to twirl in place, its petals shaking as it did so. However, as Finley and Orsos gazed at it the Ghostlight froze. Orsos’s gaze burned into the flower, which retreated in fear behind Finley’s head, hiding from the warden’s eyes.
“What? The little guy? I don’t even know what it is. Just a glowing flower.” Finley said, and the flower spun out from behind his head to rest in front of his face. Its upper petals rose like hackles, and it seemed to be glaring at him.
“You really don’t know anything do you? That is a Ghostlight. A fascinating feature of our city, but a useless one. Any attempt to interact with a Ghostlight in any way always ends in failure. But this one seems to have a strange fascination with you, one that I plan to make use of.” Orsos said. The Ghostlight turned once again to face Orsos, seemed to remember its fear, and slunk back behind Finley’s head.
“For what?”
“To solve a murder.”
Finley shuddered, his mind flashing back to the grave of his friend. “How?”
“The key is in the name Mr. Marsh. Some, only some, believe that the Ghostlights are the shepherds of our dearly departed, taking them to the next world. It is an old legend, very few even know it. Most believe that the Ghostlights are just a strange natural phenomenon, but one no more special than lightning or thunder.”
“What do you believe?”
“I believe that I am out of options, Mr. Marsh, and out of time. So why not find out if the folktales have any truth to them? If that Ghostlight gives us some sort of insight into the life and death of the victim, then I’ll let you go, and you can hop on back to Pittsburgh, wherever the hell that is.” Orsos said, his eyes never leaving Finley’s face.
Finley looked back and saw it all. The redness of the eyes, the black bags beneath his gaze, the slope of his shoulders, the tightness of his grip. This was a man on the edge of exhaustion, and one desperate enough to trust a mad alien.
Finley could work with that. But that word, murder. It set his heart racing and robbed the breath from his lungs. Yet it was the only way out.
“I’m in!” Finley said, a grin stretching across his face.
“You’re...in? Just like that?”
“Just like that. I desperately want to leave this cell, Warden, and I’d love to help you.” Finley said as he jumped to his feet and gathered the Ghostlight into his hands to place it on his shoulder.
Orsos did not move. “You’re much less insane than when we first met.”
“Maybe I just needed to be properly motivated. I care deeply about justice.” Finley lied, easy as breathing.
“Of course.” Orsos said, his voice laden with sarcasm as he opened the door, and held it open for his two new helpers. Finley stepped into the hall, and felt a lightness return to his step.
He let Orsos walk in front of him as he began his real mission. His eyes roamed the hall, looking for windows to leap out of, halls to duck down, anything he could use to run away. He tried his best to remember the city and its streets, but it was hard to see through the fog of horror that had gripped him then.
He remembered one street though, one empty construction site that seemed abandoned. He could disappear there if he needed to hide.
His thoughts of escape derailed as the flower shook upon his shoulder, burrowing into the warmth of the crook of his neck. He gave it a little pat as they followed Orsos down the hall.
“I wonder if I should give you a name, pal. I had no idea that I was traveling with a ghost this whole time, and such an important one at that. Still, I feel bad calling you ‘flower’ or ‘ghostlight.’ So what kind of name should it be?” Finley could see the muscles in Orsos’s back clench as he talked.
“Any evidence that you can provide that you are not a crazed maniac would do wonders for my peace of mind, Mr. Marsh.” Orsos said, his tone whip sharp as he led Finley up a flight of stairs and into the central passage for the building.
Finley let the comment slide. He thought he was handling this whole ‘on another planet with a ghost for company’ thing rather well. Meanwhile, his eyes roamed the hall, searching for anything that might be of use.
Finley had never been to prison before, but he did not imagine they often looked like this. The hallway he walked down now was lush and opulent. He walked on polished wood floors, and paintings adorned the walls. Men and women in black and white worked in these offices, laboring at mountains of paperwork. Bureaucracy seemed to be a universal constant.
Stone creatures moved throughout the building, carrying boxes of documents or patrolling the halls. Unlike most of the Guardians that Finley had seen, however, these were dressed for combat. The rough stone of these Guardians was carved into the shapes of armor and helmets. They had scales of stone, but no weapons. They stood on guard throughout the halls, and their eyes of glowing gems seemed to track Finley as he walked. He quickened his pace, nearly bumping into Orsos as he turned right and descended another staircase.
Finley followed and felt the temperature plummet. The air grew cold as the windows disappeared. The light took on a sickly bluish quality as they journeyed down. Orsos opened a door at the end of the hall, and Finley hurried in.
Low stone tables littered the room. Shelves of instruments and equipment hugged the walls. And the temperature dropped even further, so that Finley felt like he had ice underneath his skin. The Ghostlight burrowed deeper into his neck, slipping underneath his shirt in its attempts to escape the chill. Orsos seemed unaffected.
A slab dominated the room. It was ten feet to a side, and an immense blanket covered the figure atop the slab. Orsos gripped the edge of the cloth and with a jerk ripped it from the body.
“You neglected to mention that part.” Finley said.
A broken Guardian lay on the table. It was made of a rough dull red stone, the same color as bricks. It was larger than Finley, but shorter than some of the other Guardians he had seen, only six feet tall, but it was quite wide. It was spread out on the table, and whatever had given it life had clearly left it. One of its arms had fallen from its shoulder, as well as one of its knees. The sockets of its eyes were empty.
As one, Orsos and Finley began to circle the Guardian.
“Did it have a name?” Finley asked, his horror at being in a morgue replaced with curiosity.
“It had an official designation. You can find it on the bottom of its left heel.”
“What makes you think I’ll be able to read your language?” Finley asked, but he circled around anyway to study the creature's foot. To his surprise he found normal numbers and letters on the bottom of its heel.
“Wait, wait. I can read this. ‘M. Guyot.’ What kind of name is that? Does it mean anything?”
Come to think of it, he could read the tombstones as well. Why was everything in English on an alien planet? And they even spoke English?
Questions for later.
“Why would it? It’s just a laborer, they all have strange names like that.”
“What happened?”
“We found Guyot here in a back alley by the main gate in a little pile. The person who found it had never seen a broken Guardian before, so it went straight to me.”
Orsos circled around the slab, his hands clasped behind his back and a look of calm appraisal on his face as if he were examining a car, or a hole in the road.
Finley felt odd. Huck’s funeral had been open casket, so he had seen a dead body before. But what was he supposed to feel here? He could imagine the story of a dead person, but he struggled to do so for this stone creature. Did it have friends? Could it?
“Did it have a family?” Finley asked.
“Are you joking?” Orsos said, a sneer on his face.
“Every death affects somebody.” Finley said, ice gripping his heart. He tried to remember the last time he had seen Huck smile, but all he could see were the photos they showed at the funeral.
“It’s a thing, Mr. Marsh. Are you going to ask me if your shoes have a family next?”
“Jerk.” Finley muttered. “What’s so remarkable about Guyot? Why do you need me?”
“Guardians don’t stop, Mr. Marsh. They have worked unceasingly for three thousand years. They’d grind down to dust before they ever stopped. This one didn’t. This one laid down and died, along with the three others before it.” Orsos said, throwing aside curtains that had obscured half the chamber.
Three other lumps of rock and stone lay on slabs. Each were varying hues of brown rock, and each looked like a shattered puppet upon the ground.
“Two other laborers, and a builder. All within the last month. That’s more broken Guardians in thirty days than in the thirty centuries before it. And people are starting to notice.”
Finley walked down the line, examining the heels of each one of the creatures. The names M. Toba, M. Ararat, and M. Tabor were carved into the base of the statues. While they varied in size and in color, the three statues had little apparent differences. Each had broken limbs, and empty eyes, but no signs of deliberate damage or attack.
“How do they break? What causes them to turn off?” Finley asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’ve never broken before.”
“What makes you think that they were murdered?”
“Because these things are eternal, Mr. Marsh. The Shepherd himself is supposed to crumble and fall before his creatures ever do. Yet here these four are, lifeless, and all in month. Someone must have murdered them, although I don’t know why or how yet.” Orsos said, and his eyes seemed to glow just like a living Guardian’s as he looked at the broken creatures with terrible anger.
“You have a suspect?”
“Oh, yes.” Orsos said but did not elaborate further.
“It’s not me, is it?”
Orsos’s lips quirked up for a single instant. “No, Mr. Marsh. It’s not you, not for now.”
“Awesome, I’m not sure my system could handle another shock. What do you want me to do here, Warden? I'm a kid, not a detective. And I don’t know a thing about these Guardians.”
His breath fogged in the icy air of the room, but he didn’t feel the cold. His heart was beating as it had never done before, and his blood felt like rocket fuel as it pumped through his veins. He felt lighter than air, as if every step would send him dancing, or fleeing.
“Four dead eternal beings. I believe this qualifies as something strange and unexpected. I thought I should get my own unexpected alien on the subject, and his Ghostlight.” Orsos said, his voice dripping with contempt, but his hand was pointed at the bundle on Finley’s shoulder.
The glowing flower shivered beneath Finley’s lapel, and it resisted as he pulled it into the freezing air. Its light was dull, and the black veins that spider-webbed across it face seemed to have grown. Finley pushed it forward, encouraging it to float, but it remained rooted to his hand. Finley looked at Orsos, appealing for help, but the man didn’t lift a finger.
Finley flushed, glaring at the flower. He ran its light down the surface of the first Guardian, M. Guyot. The shining flower’s faint beams played across the broken Guardian. Finley held his breath, and Orsos leaned forward.
Yet nothing happened.
Orsos shook his head, muttering faintly to himself as Finley worked. Finley ran the flower down the legs and up the chest of the statue, circling around it. He held it over the figure’s head, desperate for some reaction.
The flower shivered more and more in his hands, rattling against the insides of his fingers like they were the bars of a cage. Finley’s breath fogged in front of him, and his heart continued to race.
Every breath felt like he was breathing poisoned gas. The alien smells scorched his nostrils, the unnatural light from a sun not his own set his teeth on edge. His ears ached for a familiar sound. The lift of a voice he knew, the call of a friend.
But he was alone.
Where were Theo and Gwen and Mel and all the others? What had brought him to this strange world? Did it bring them too, or were they stretched out on slabs like these?
Was this what it felt like for Huck’s mom when they took her to see the rest of her boy?
When she called Finley, her voice quivering with misery, he hadn’t asked how Huck had died.
Why didn’t he do that? Was he afraid of the answer? Was he terrified that she would tell him Huck had killed himself?
Why was he such a coward?
Why wouldn’t this flower work right!
“WHY WON’T YOU DO SOMETHING?” Finley yelled at the flower, and then his voice died in his throat.
He looked into depths of the shining light, past the petals and the black veins, and though it had no eyes he could have sworn that it looked back at him.
He opened his hands, and his heart sank down, down below his stomach and into his shoes. It was not shivering from the cold. It was afraid.
Finley felt the faint touch of shivering petals against his hands. He felt a hot pain behind his eyes and nose, and knew he was about to cry.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I didn’t know that you were afraid of whatever this is.” Finley said to the flower still shaking on his palm. It shied away from him.
“This is all new for me, buddy. I mean, a new planet, a murder, and now I’m talking to some sort of ghost flower! I don’t know what’s going on or how I got here. But that’s no excuse.” Finley said, and now a few tears did fall from his eyes. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do something that scares you so badly.”
The flower quivered, its light still low.
“I’m sorry to say it, but you’re the only friend I have in the world. I guess it makes sense you already hate me. Honestly, you’re better off for it. Being my friend seems to be bad for people’s health. Lethal even.”
The tears finally escaped, and he could feel them dropping down off his face to freeze on the floor. “Oh Huck. Why’d you have to do a thing like that?”
The flower stilled, its light dimming until they were black as the void between stars. It floated into the air so that it was level with his eyes, and another image popped into Finley’s head.
He was driving a car.
It was a Toyota Highlander 2011. The seats were patched with duct tape, the radio didn't work right, and he loved this car almost more than anything.
And there was someone else's hand on his, forcing him to jerk the steering wheel.
The car fell out of his control. It leapt off the road, into the fence, over the embankment, and he was flying now!
He saw the road vanish in his rearview mirror. And the eyes staring back at him were blue.
Blue eyes?
He didn’t have blue eyes.
But Huck did!
Finley stumbled back, his chest shaking with gasping breaths. He could still feel that hand on his. But it wasn’t his hand, was it? It was Huck’s. And someone had grabbed it. Someone had forced Huck to crash!
The flower still floated in front of him, waiting for him to make the connection. “What was that? What did you just show me?”
The Ghostlight did not move.
“Was he murdered? Did someone murder Huck?”
The Ghostlight’s light brightened, regaining some of its color. It shook itself like it was coming out of a trance.
“Tell me!” Finley begged, reaching for the flower again, but the Ghostlight zoomed away from him until it floated over the body of the Guardian. There it waited, flashing a dull blue.
“The Guardian? What does that have to do with Huck?”
The image appeared again in front of his eyes. That hand in Huck’s car, grabbing hold of the steering wheel, sending his friend’s car off the road and Huck out of his life.
The image vanished, and all Finley could see was the broken Guardian, and the flickering Ghostlight.
“Okay, okay. So there’s some sort of connection…some sort of clue.”
The Ghostlight twirled, sending flickers of sparkling blue throughout the room.
“And you want me to find it? You want me to solve this murder?
The Ghostlight flashed blue again.
“And if I do, you’ll show me what happened to Huck?”
One more flash. They gazed at each other, the alien detective and the ghost flower, and Finley felt that he and the Ghostlight were beginning to understand each other.
“Okay, partner. You have yourself a deal” Finley said, a smile on his face as the game began. “But I’m gonna need your help if we want to solve this mess.”
The light burst from the flower, banishing the cold fog that had haunted the room. The temperature rose as the flower floated above the broken Guardians, and Finley relished the look of surprise that graced Orsos’s face as he and his partner set to work.
Finley moved from one body to another, searching for clues in the soft light his partner was casting. The flower continued to circle the bodies, acting as a searchlight.
“Can they hurt each other?”
“You want to explain what all that was about, Mr. Marsh? Who in Shepherd’s name is Huck?”
“No questions, only investigations!” Finley said, almost manic as he circled the body. “Can they hurt each other?”
“They don’t.”
“Yes, but can they?”
“A hammer doesn’t pick itself up and hurt another hammer! It’s a tool, not a person, Mr. Marsh.” Orsos said, growing frustrated.
“If it can be murdered, then it seems pretty damn like a person to me.” The soft glow of his partner’s light bathed the Guardian, but he could see nothing new on their corpses. Just piles of stone in the shape of people.
He came back to M. Guyot, Orsos still standing by the side of the dead creature. The man’s posture remained locked and rigid, but Finley could feel waves of cold disappointment coming from the man. Finley turned to him, ready to argue that he should not be returned to his cell, when a thought occurred to him.
“I’ve been doing this all wrong.” Finley said, turning away from the dead Guardian and to the Ghostlight. “I should have just asked you. Sorry, still new at this. Partner, you just showed me an image. You projected something right into my head. I don’t know where you get those images from, but do think you can do it again?”
The flower stopped, its glow shifting through the color spectrum until it was a soft green. It seemed to cock their head, all its petals titling to the side.
“Is there anything you can show me that has to do with this Guardian? Can you show me what killed it? Finley asked.
The flower’s light shifted blue, and it zoomed from its lofty position down to the Guardian’s body. The Ghostlight landed on top of its head, settling their petals against the Guardian’s stone skin. The flower stilled. Orsos stepped forward, opening his mouth to speak, but Finley’s out thrust arm stopped him cold. He turned; a finger raised to his mouth to indicate they needed silence.
Another minute passed, and the flower’s position did not change. Orsos could be quiet no longer. “This is ridiculous, for flock’s sake what is that thing…” And the flower erupted in light. Finley raised his hand to block the glare, a grin dancing upon his lips. His new partner had exquisite timing.
The blinding light faded, and as Finley’s vision cleared, he no longer saw the morgue. He saw a dirty and desolate street. It was caked with brick dust, but there were gaps where massive footsteps had walked. There was blinding pain in his head. It was worse than anything he had ever felt.
It was the only thing he had ever felt.
The street disappeared, and Finley stumbled onto the table behind him as he lurched back into his own head. He heard a rumble of anger beside him and turned to see Orsos steadying himself against the wall. He looked green with nausea.
Finley paid him no mind, but instead lurched into motion to stand at the top of Guyot’s corpse. “Partner, I need light!” Finley said, stirring the Ghostlight back into motion.
“What was that?” Orsos growled.
“That was what you wanted. That was a clue. I think my partner just put us inside Guyot’s head for a moment, and that head was in pain.”
The Ghostlight shot up, spreading beams of light onto the skull of the dead creature. Finley leaned in and saw it. A slight gouge just by the corner of the Guardian’s temple. Here the light did not shine, rather it seemed to absorb the light to become a deeper sort of darkness. Finley spread his fingers around the skull of the dead Guardian, and felt more and more of the scratches, at equal intervals around the head.
He moved to the next Guardian down the line, and the next, and the next, and found the same mark on each one of the skulls of the dead creatures.
“Are these supposed to be here, Warden?” Finley asked.
“No, no they are not. Shutter the ghost.” Orsos said, and Finley gestured to the flower to zoom back into his closed hands. The light vanished, and so too did the markings on the Guardians. Finley had the ghost come back, and the markings returned as soon as the light did.
“I knew it would work,” Orsos said, “I knew it.”
“You were right after all then. My partner can show us things from the other side. They can show us memories. Something attacked this Guardian and went right for its head. That must have been what killed it. Do you have any idea what those marks are, or what they could be from?”
“No, but it’s a start. Guard!” Orsos shouted.
“Er, I thought we had a deal?”
“It’s not for you.” Orsos said, as the thunder of the warrior Guardian’s heavy footsteps echoed down the stairway. The door shot open, and a massive figure filled the doorway of the morgue. Its stone fists were clenched, scales of rock covered its shoulders and sides, and its pale green eyes burned across the room. Orsos waved his hand, and the Guardian came closer. At another gesture it dropped to its knees as Orsos’s fingers swept about its head.
“No markings.” Orsos said.
“No shadows.” Finley replied.
“We could check the rest of the Guardians in the city, and I bet we wouldn’t find any more of these markings. Only the dead ones have them.” Orsos said, studying M. Guyot once more. “They look familiar. I don’t know how. They look almost like...”
“A crown.” Finley said. “The markings of a crown.”
“And maybe our murder weapon. Mr. Marsh, you and your…partner, have been of great aid. The city thanks you for your service.”
“Is that all? I get to go free right?”
“Not at all. I’m hiring you. Welcome to the wardens, Mr. Marsh. You start right now.” Orsos said, and he strode from the room, forcing Finley and his partner to race after him. Finley heard hard footsteps behind him as they walked up the stairs. The Guardian below was following them.
Orsos led the miss-matched group up into the light, past the warrior Guardians and the office drones back into the main lobby where Finley had stumbled in just the day before. Orsos right hand swooped out and seemed to pluck a young officer from thin air. She too fell into the step with the odd band as they marched outside the headquarters and into the glaring sunshine. Orsos turned back, and while his expression remained sharp and grim, Finley could feel energy and purpose radiating from the man.
“Mr. Marsh, I am placing you and your partner on this case. I need you to question people, track down clues, and solve a murder. Are you up to the task?”
A murder mystery on an alien planet? It sounded like one of Huck’s stories, the kind he would weave into their D&D games. Was that the connection to his death? Was that what the Ghostlight wanted him to do? Play a game?
Finley could do that. He had always loved those sorts of puzzles, and he couldn’t deny how fast his heart was beating at the idea of leaping into one again.
His friend was dead. His friend would always be dead. But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t Finley’s fault. And if it took the rest of his life, Finley would catch the person who really took Huck away.
Finley’s eyes went to the ball of light floating by his shoulder. “What do you think, partner? Are we game?” The Ghostlight flashed a bright glow and gave a twirl. “Yeah, I believe we can do that.”
“Somehow, I thought you would say yes. I want you to go to the temple district and question the clerics there, the Crooken. They oversee maintaining the Guardians, but they have been extremely unhelpful thus far.”
“Why should they listen to me? Do I get a badge by the way?”
“Because you’ll be bringing your partner with you. Priests tend to be a bit more cooperative when you bring the thing they worship with you. I want you to find me some answers, and I want them today. And if they refuse, show them visions from the hereafter.”
“Will you be coming too?”
“Someone else will have to keep you sane, Mr. Marsh. I have other matters to attend to. Deputy Moro will be your watcher now. Keep him from hurting anyone, Deputy.” The deputy snapped a sharp salute.
“She’ll take you where you need to go and kick down any doors in between. Treat her as you treat me. I’ll keep your cell open for you in case you get out of line.” Orsos said, but Finley was hardly listening. The blood was pounding in his head, and he felt that if he took one single step he might never stop running. The questions that haunted him flew to the back of his mind. Instead, excitement and energy infused him, and as his heart quickened so too did the flashes of his partner.
“Keep the ghost out of sight until you need it, Mr. Marsh.” Orsos said, and as Moro watched with wide eyes Finley gave a gesture and the Ghostlight zoomed into his sleeve and out of sight. She noticed Finley looking at her and forced her features to be expressionless once again. She snapped one more salute and began to walk off. She got a few yards before she turned and gestured at Finley, indicating he should follow. Finley moved to obey but felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw Orsos’s eyes glaring into him, with the Guardian adding its own burning eyes to the glare.
“Oh, and Mr. Marsh. Please don’t try to run. I’d hate to lose my useful little alien before he helps me solve the case. Hawksbill here is going to keep an eye on you.” Orsos said and gestured at the Guardian looming over his shoulder.
“He’s a slow mover, Mr. Marsh, but he never stops. Nor should you. Good hunting.” Finley turned away, a cold fire burning in his chest as he thought of the answers the Ghostlight could reveal.
Behind him, he heard slow and steady steps.