The Undead Pool

“What the hell?” Ayer said, and I wrestled for more control, forcing the Goddess into the background where she focused on my lungs and the bits of matter I needed in order to keep from dying and snuffing my thoughts born from organized mass. After the two corpses in my front living room, I thought it might be important.

Living, dying, so small a shift, so big a difference And it hinges on . . . this little bit of mass? she thought, only now understanding why her previous vessels kept failing her.

“Yeah,” I whispered, glad I had enough command to speak again as I slowly pulled control of my body back to me.

“Nothing registered on the auratoscope, Ayer. She just . . . appeared.”

“That tricky elf came through,” he said, and I got my head up, my attention flitting briefly over the two banks of electronic equipment staffed by men and women in military garb before going to the dark windows. I was in a large, high-ceilinged living room, an entire wall of windows looking out over the Hollows, the Ohio River, and Cincinnati beyond. The land spilled out before me, breathtakingly beautiful with the lights and fires of the living. Fifty years ago, it had been prime real estate. Not so much anymore, being too far from the city center and in the wilds.

The Goddess fastened on it, drawing understanding from me as I filled in the blanks of what she was seeing. Shag carpet, sunken living room, and top-of-the-line electronics that didn’t go with the seventies vibe the sunken living room and fire pit were giving me. And of course, the Free Vampires playing army.

New concepts spilled through the Goddess as I took control and rose, thoughts of balance and mass and the sensation of gravity—an unseen presence that grew from mass itself. Heart pounding, I stood facing them, my fear muting to anger as the Goddess gathered her rage at her missing thoughts.

“I don’t believe it,” Ayer said, motioning at two men at the outskirts. “Take her.”

I remained still as they reached for their weapons and made an uneasy semicircle around me. I didn’t really care. Like they could hold me? I thought, the Goddess agreeing. “You might want to rethink this,” I said, and Ayer blinked in surprise. His eyes were so much like Kisten’s it hurt.

“Sir, she’s not dead,” a frightened man in fatigues and a buzz cut said as he held a readout to Ayer. “She’s coated in them,” he whispered, eyes going black. “What do you want to do?”

Ayer looked down, then back to me. “Landon said the Goddess can’t inhabit the living, only the dead. Get me a different reading. That’s impossible.”

“No, just really uncomfortable,” I said, squinting at the ceiling. “She’s focused on the light photons right now, but I suggest you give her the mystics you’ve captured.”

“She?” Ayer waved the men to stand down. Reluctantly they did. “My God, you didn’t go crazy. She’s in there? With you?”

His avarice caught the Goddess’s attention, and together we focused on him, comparing the electricity in the wires in the walls to the electricity in his brain, all jumping about in a chaotic perfection. “Singular who stole my thoughts,” I said, but it was the Goddess speaking through me. “Give them back.” My hand went out palm up, the Goddess having sifted through my thoughts and finding the gesture appropriate.

Shock crossed him, and he backed up a graceful step. We breathed in the scent of frightened vampire, relishing the way it made our skin sparkle like the space between mass.

“Yes, she talks,” I said, wishing I could force her to put my hand down, but I was picking my battles and was glad I had control of my mouth. “Go on. Explain to her why you’re stealing her thoughts. I’m curious myself.”

Suddenly I was moving forward, struggling for control. “I did not dream you,” the Goddess said through me, my accent unchanged, but her anger now coloring it. “You’re therefore singular. And fragile.”

Weapons were cocking, and fear iced through me. Stop! I demanded. I’m fragile too! And she did, though I don’t know why. Maybe my fear pulled all hers together to one spot and made the danger more real.

“Singular?” Ayer took another readout from a white-faced woman with a gun on her hip. The Goddess tasted my fear, weighed it against her own, and dismissed it as incidental. How can a small bit of mass projected from a dead object end you? she wondered, but doubt seeped into her confidence when she dug deeper and found the answer.

“Singular,” I echoed, answering Ayer. “As in not a part of her.” But the Goddess’s outrage was growing. “Ah, I suggest you let them go!” I said, gaining a smidgen of control as I took another unwilling step toward him. “Please!”

“Ayer!” someone shouted as I tried to stay still and failed. “What do you want us to do!”

“Stand down!” he shouted, backing up out of my reach. “I want her alive!”