Spirits, Liam thought, were a lot like water. They flowed, they gathered, they could be gentle as a glassy lake or violent as churning seas in high storms. But at the end of it, spirits were just people. Scared and displaced, and on entirely the wrong plane of existence, but just people. He started to understand how to best bring them to peace. Much harder was finding peace himself. He was sat on a park bench, trying to get a moment, but around half a dozen lost souls gathered loosely around him
Hands deep in the pockets of her cardigan, Sue walked slowly through the park. She felt safe enough here where the trees were few and the lawns expansive. It would be, she hoped, more difficult for someone to sneak up on her than the winding trails dense with early spring buds.
A man sat on a park bench not so far up ahead. Sue loathed the thought that skittered through her head: would it be safe to pass him? Yes, any woman alone might have been nervous of a strange man in an isolated spot in a park. Then again, Sue was ex-FBI. She could handle the average lurker. The problem with the Isle was that no one at all was an “average” anything by the human standard of average.
She gripped the ankh amulet that was Meres’ token tighter in her hand for comfort. Iron and silver with all the protection a demi-goddess could infuse into a chunk of symbolically-shaped metal, the ankh had become Sue’s “transitional object” in this frightening world where she was so out of her depth.
Thus, she didn’t expect it to react to the man on the bench at all. The cord she’d looped around her wrist and the top loop of the ankh tightened suddenly. The amulet leapt of its own accord from her pocket, jerking her hand with it.
Sue squeaked. It was embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as being pulled towards a stranger by a bit of errant metal as though it were an eager puppy spotting a potential friend; and the intent did seem positive.
“I, uh, sorry. Hello, this is awkward. This thing doesn’t really have a brain, or I’d say ‘I don’t know what’s gotten into it’.” Sue grimaced a smile. She was completely insensible to the spirits around her until she came within a meter or so of Liam. “Oh,” she said, quietly surprised but not frightened. “Ghosts.”
Liam joined her on the bench, watching the spirits thoughtfully. “Something strange about it,” he murmured by way of reply, fighting a compulsion to reach out to it. It was the strangest feeling, awakening the grim powers he was only just starting to understand. He flexed the magic cautiously, and a resonating note returned to him from the ankh, like a mirror image of his own abilities was reflected back at him. It wasn’t hostile, exactly, but there was an imposing sense of power, something as ancient as the mantle itself. He wouldnt’ve be surprised to discover that the magical root of the talisman was similar to the root of his own newfound powers.
He shook it off his fascination focussed on the woman’s face, holding out a bony hand. “Liam Cross. Excuse my asking, is “home” in America, by any chance?” he smiled slightly, trying for reassuring- there was a note of worry in her voice when she spoke about her friend. “Sorry to pry- it’s not usual for me to- to um.” He gestured with his hands, “Your amulet- it’s like it’s talking to me. But I’ll try and kerb my curiosity, I can very well understand not wanting to discuss personal things with a stranger, especially protective enchantments.”
Nearly a decade of experience with the supernatural kept Sue from nodding solicitously and making her escape. Liam’s suggestion was not, Sue thought, completely beyond the realm of possibility.
“She lives in America. That’s not where she’s from,” said Sue. “I’m obvious the moment I open my mouth and speak.” A little smile tugged at the corner of lips. “I’m Sue,” she said, not offering a last name and taking his hand with the deliberate motion of someone reluctant yet wanting to be polite.
“It’s funny you say that - the amulet talking to you.” How much was safe to reveal? Meres had asked her to find Hob. Only a few months after arriving, Sue’d learned that Hob had died, and she’d made this trip - gotten trapped here - for no reason. Yet, in Sue’s limited experience, most people in the business of death had contacts everywhere. The amulet brought her to him, not away. He treated the ghosts with respect, too, even though none of them were much more than persistent flickers of memory.
“She can’t do the thing you did with the water, but my friend helps the dead, too. Runs a funeral home, passes them into the afterlife. She’s been at it for, uh, a really, really long time and seems to know everyone. I helped her run the legal requirements side of things.”
Sue was obviously cagey about something, and Liam could hardly blame her. It was odd to think that at one point, his relative experience outside his tribe had left him as nervous and untrustworthy as anything. He wondered when that nervousness had ended- where he had gained the confidence to sit idly on a park bench by himself, without glancing around every few seconds.
Something told him it had to do with a big old dog.
The news of another steward of the dead wasn’t exactly surprising, but it was welcome to meet someone else versed in the area. He and the other fledgling grims still had a lot to learn about their role- it was hard not to feel thrust into it a little. He had taken it on willingly, but it was still overwhelming at times. He nodded impassively, trying to recall if Hob had ever mentioned such a figure. There wasn’t much to go on, really, and Sue clearly wasn’t about to trust guarded information with just anyone, but he didn’t think it was a person he had been familiarised with by name.
“I don’t believe I’m familiar with your friend, but I am new to this... line of work,” he said slowly, rubbing his hands together. It was hard to figure out how to continue the conversation without prying too much. “If- if your friend would ever be inclined, I’d be grateful to be put in touch with her. I’ve only had... limited instruction and it would be helpful to have someone of a greater knowledge than myself to talk to about it.” Since Hob isn’t around anymore to ask, anyway. He didn’t think the gruff old grim would see it as a betrayal if he sought some professional advice.
