Where the rivers flow
Where the rivers flow
Just around the bend
I’ll find my rainbow’s end
Maybe then I’ll know
Where the rivers flow.
— David Coverdale, “River Song”
David lay in his bed between sleeping and waking. For all he knew, he could have been there in the ICU for an hour or forever. The drip attached to his arm patiently replenished his blood while he hovered there in a limbo of half-sight and half-sound.
He had stopped listening to the common hospital sounds around him; he had always hated them. He knew vaguely that there were a couple of other patients in the ward, and doctors and nurses went in and out checking on them, and on him. Still, he felt light years away from them all, alone in his blood-loss-induced torpor.
Alone?
No.
Not alone.
David cracked his eyes open with difficulty. There was just one of the staff in the room, a blonde woman in a bloodstained smock. Dammit, she could have bothered to put on a clean one before coming in here, preferably not one too long for her… Then the half-formed thought dissolved in his mind.
He could see through the woman’s form.
You can’t see through people. But he could see through her. The foot of the bed and the trolley behind her. When she passed before a light, she seemed to disappear completely, as if the light passed unhindered right through her. The bloodstained garment was not a smock but a robe, and something gold hung at her neck and her waist. And he wasn’t sure if she was walking, either. She could have been floating just off the floor.
The woman paced sedately along the ward, looking down at people. Then she stopped before the last bed, where a teenage boy lay, looking very frail among all the tubes and cables connecting him to the machinery supposed to keep him alive. David could only see her in profile, but he could have sworn her expression was sad as she leaned over the boy and kissed his forehead.
A heartbeat later he heard the shrill sound of an electrocardiograph flatlining. He knew what was coming: a rush of doctors to the boy’s side, a flurry of desperate activity to keep him alive. But right now he could already see a faint, eldritch light hovering over the dying boy, and fear gripped him so hard that it almost hurt.
Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off the scene. The doctors, their efforts, their equipment, faded into a blur, while the two ghostly figures appeared outlined in chilling clarity, the blonde woman leaning protectively over the boy, who now was curled up, covered in some kind of caul. David saw her tear the caul with her hands, lift the boy in her arms and carry him right through the wall, while the spectral light around them faded and the ward sounds came back into focus.
David let out a long exhalation of relief; he hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath. Then he dozed off, as the doctors left with downcast faces and the ward was quiet once more. When he opened his eyes again, the sight made him start and let out a yelp. The blonde woman was sitting at the foot of his bed.
It’s not that she was grotesque, up close. The blood on her robes, thankfully, didn’t look fresh. And one could get used to her semi-transparency — eventually. She could have been called pretty, if it had not been for the eyes. Solid black, like balls of obsidian, but lustreless, impossible to know where they looked… and yet he had the unnerving feeling that she could see through them better than anyone living.
“I ain’t dying, so you can stay there!” David spluttered, and even as the words came out he felt how idiotic he sounded. But the woman didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she smiled, real warmth in her expression.
“Did I say you were?” Her voice was soft but sonorous, with something of the trained orator in it. It made him shiver with almost equal fear and pleasure, which confused him even more.
“I saw what happened with the boy!” he blurted out. The woman, incredibly, chuckled.
“Are you sure that what you saw is what happened?” she asked, softly. David found himself wavering.
“You kissed him; he died,” he said, resisting the urge to add “Post hoc ergo propter hoc.” He doubted she would appreciate such a flourish — and then wondered how he could remember such school stuff at a time like this. Was he beginning to review his entire life? The woman’s voice jolted him back.
“So he died because I kissed him? Didn’t it occur to you that it could be the other way around?” Her voice was even, as if they were discussing the weather. “Didn’t you even think that I kissed him because he was dying and he needed it?”
“Look, that’s just as bad,” David sighed, finding his patience beginning to wear thin. “I’ve lost almost half the blood I have and you’re talking to me ‘because I need it’… Well, I tell you, I ain’t dying yet!” She smiled again, with that genuine warmth.
“And I tell you, I never said you were. But you must realise that the conversation we’re having right now is not something that’s supposed to be happening either.” Before he could figure out exactly what she meant, she glanced around the room and continued: “Why do you think you alone can see and hear me?”
David felt cold sweat trickle down his back, and struggled to steady his voice. He didn’t make it. “Because I’m dying?” he quavered and then swallowed hard, hearing the woman chuckle.
“As you said, you have lost almost half your blood… I would say you have half the chances you had before to make it through a night’s sleep!”
“Comforting, aren’t you?” he shot back, hoping the irony would mask the stark fear that threatened to overwhelm him.
“Actually yes, I am,” she replied readily, grinning a bit maliciously. “Would it help if I had a black cowled robe and a scythe?”
“Only if I get to ride on Binky.” Man, you’re really losing it…
“My arms were good enough for Vinnie.” She laughed and raised them to underline her point; long, sinewy arms that looked able to do a lot, even in their translucent state. David started to ask who Vinnie was, but then he thought he didn’t need to. She nodded, as if following his thoughts. “It’s a pity his mother was not around to hold his hand, but I did my best.”
“Ah,” he nodded back and then ventured, “So if this talk isn’t supposed to be happening, why is it?” It was a risk bringing back that subject now that she seemed to have strayed from it, but uncertainty would kill him, even if she didn’t.
“Unless you could always see wraiths,” said the woman, studying him with those unnerving black eyes, “this bleeding thing you’ve had has brought you closer… now, don’t start, I’m still not saying you’re dying, but you’ve come pretty damn close.”
“So you’re a ghost then?” he asked, then hurried on: “Just to be certain, of course… After all, I’ve seen all sorts in the last couple of weeks.” It was only after that phrase had escaped him that he realised he was echoing the barman’s words from the night before. Man, this is way beyond all sorts…
“You have?” There was new interest in her voice, and she moved to settle better on the edge of the bed. The fact that there was still no visible denting in the bedclothes seemed like a mere detail. “What happened to you, anyway?”
“I think she was a vampire,” Dave whispered, shivering. Seeing her lean forward, he went on, “I… I’m still not sure… Well, I sort of blacked out.”
“Well,” the woman smiled ironically, “what else might have caused you that much of a blood loss, huh?”
David’s frayed patience chose that moment to give way. “Of all the beds in all the wards in all this hospital, you had to come to mine! It adds a whole new dimension to near death experiences — being patronised by a sarcastic ghost!”
The woman didn’t answer back. Two pinpoints of green flickered in the depths of her eyes, then she swiftly reached forward, caught his wrist in a grip of iron and, without as much as a pull, they were — somewhere else.
They stood on the bank of a river, which flowed slowly, in slate-grey ripples, almost all the way to the horizon, broken by the odd island here and there. Towards their right there seemed to be a confluence with another river, its current faster, angrier, mixing its foamy crests with the older, sluggish river in little whirlpools. Behind them there were rolling hills of withered grass and bare skeletal trees, their branches reaching towards the sky like claws. The sky itself was grey and overcast, without even a hint as to where the sun was — or if there was one at all. The sickly light seemed to come from every direction at once, and was not even strong enough to cast shadows.
David had already opened his mouth, doubtlessly to exclaim something like “What the hell!”, but the sheer alienness of the surroundings cut him short. It took him a few long moments to say, subdued, “Well, that was a lot more painless than I thought.”
“You said you weren’t dying, didn’t you?” She seemed solid now, the blood on her robes and her whiteless eyes even more unnerving than before. The gold sheen at her waist showed clearly to be a miniature sword and buckler, and that at her neck was a fine chain, apparently holding some pendant that was hidden under her robe. David swallowed hard.
“So what the hell happened?” he asked in a tight voice, trying bravado to cover the panic that threatened to overwhelm him.
“I have brought you over, to have a look at what might be in store for you if you keep on such paltry wit.” She tilted her head towards him.
“Ah, I see,” David said, resentment surfacing again. He took a look around and commented, in a tone he hoped sounded like arrogance, “How nice!” His attempt at sarcasm was apparently lost on her.
“There,” she pointed at a speck moving down the slow river. “There’s Vinnie, going on to learn a few things about afterlife, before he moves on.” David’s heart almost leapt to his mouth. He swallowed it back down with some difficulty and managed to comment, “So he was as funny as I was, eh?”
The woman didn’t reply. Instead, she gripped his hand again, and suddenly the speck in the distance zoomed close: a skiff manned by a black-robed and cowled figure, and the boy sitting before him, looking around with a thoughtful expression. He didn’t look sorrowful or afraid, and the figure didn’t look threatening but protective, in a sombre way. Of course, David thought, he couldn’t see the figure’s face, or he might change his mind.
He tried to pry his wrist from the woman’s grip, but he couldn’t. Without obvious effort, her fingers held him with such strength that he thought his hand would come off before breaking her hold. Eventually, he gave up. Perhaps asking would be better policy.
“Er, Ghost…” he started, painfully aware of how stupid that sounded. “What are you doing?”
Just as suddenly they were back in their initial spot, the skiff floating out of sight, and she turned to face him again, some irritation obvious on her face.
“The word is wraith,” she snapped, “and my name is Charis. What’s yours?”
“David,” he grinned. He couldn’t help it. The disturbing effect had vanished, and, despite the snap, or perhaps because of it, she looked almost human again. Charis grinned too, her face fairly crinkling up.
“Well, David, that was little Vinnie going down with a good friend of mine… If you needed to, I would arrange a ride for you too.”
“Thanks… I think,” he added, looking at her thoughtfully. “So, why am I here, and won’t they notice at the hospital?” Charis shook her head.
“There is nothing to notice, David,” she said. “You are building up your strength, drop by drop, as we talk, and hospitals don’t have equipment to detect roaming spirits.” David looked confused. Was that what they called ‘with one foot in the grave’? “Oh, so I’m not fully here?” he ventured.
“No,” Charis chuckled. “You wouldn’t be able to get here at all if I didn’t bring you with me. You aren’t dying, don’t you remember your own words?”
“So why did you?” David couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “It’s not my sense of humour, is it?
Charis simply shrugged. “I thought you needed a change of scenery.” She looked around, then moved to sit on a rock close to the water’s edge. “And you were telling me about how you got into this fix…”
David sat on the ground, resting his back against the rock. The earth was hard and cold, as if there were not enough sunlight to warm it. If it is like this every day, there probably isn’t. He pushed the thought away.
“Well, there’s not much to tell, is there?” he started, then almost jumped when she laid her hand on his shoulder. Her touch was much too solid for a ghost… wraith. Its coldness seeped into his bones. It’s her world here, and you are at her mercy. Despite the cold, her voice was gentle. “Not much to tell about meeting a vampire?”
“Well it’s all a little dreamlike,” David said. “I started talking to her and then she asked me to walk her home and somehow it was my home and then I just couldn’t keep my hands off her and while we were in bed she bit me and I woke up here.” He winced inside, realising he sounded like a confused boy, and stole a glance up to see if she was as exasperated as he feared. Instead, Charis smiled and patted his shoulder.
“At least you were not attacked,” she said. “But what was that you said about meeting all sorts this past couple of weeks?” David remained silent for a long moment, lost in the crowd of faces that seemed to wait for just that sort of cue to surge into his memory, then opened his mouth and found himself spilling out everything.
First there was the violet-eyed fortune teller and her reading, that had opened his eyes to the unseen world of the fae, out of which she had stepped herself. Then the fallen angel, and her efforts to repent, and the trip into another kind of dark side that she had taken him on. His eyes shone as he spoke of the free-wheeling belle, whose touch seemed to send him into ecstasy beyond description, who he had felt sure could have made him follow her anywhere. He shuddered at the memory of the dark personification of lust, who had overwhelmed and somehow infected him, leading him to try to seduce a slip of a girl; then his eyes lit up with gratitude as he mentioned the girl’s mother, whose fiery hair matched her temperament, and who had somehow drained the infection out of him.
Charis listened intently, occasionally making short comments, nudging him to go on, and when he was done, quite breathless, she chuckled softly. “Poor David, always a plaything in the hands of women!”
David stared for a moment, then frowned. “Hang on… You’re a woman too!”
Charis looked back at him, her lips twitching with amusement. “Oh, you noticed!”
“Well, I’m not blind, you know!” He tried to sound indignant, but her barely contained mirth was infectious and threatened to spoil the effect.
“Good,” she smiled gently. “Although your eye seems a tad too roving, don’t you agree?”
“I’d have been happy with Morgaine, the first one,” David sighed wistfully. “I only went back there to see if I could see her again.”
“You are a good man, David.” Charis ran her fingers through his hair. “Only recently, you seem to have turned into a spirit-magnet.”
“What do you mean?” He looked up, puzzled.
“You have had, in a few days, more supernaturals around you than others get in a lifetime — and consciously, too! You must feel very, very special,” Charis explained.
David thought for a moment, then grinned goofily. “Well, more like very confused, actually.”
Charis smiled and her hand tightened on his shoulder, but before she could say another word, the ground shook under them. A crack started to open, some twenty feet to their side, then it widened rapidly, and a grotesquely twisted figure started to creep out.
The first thing David thought, watching frozen with horror, was that it looked like Pinocchio. But it was a skeletal, half-decomposed Pinocchio, an obscene parody of the lovable puppet, made of yellowed bone and fluttering rags of rotten flesh, its nose wickedly long and sharp like that of a swordfish, and when it finally rose to its full height, it towered well over seven feet.
Charis had risen to her feet while the creature hoisted itself out of the ground, and now moved forward, firmly grasping her golden sword. It was tiny, the blade no longer than her forearm, but in her grip it might well have been a broadsword. The creature’s eyes rolled in their lidless sockets, fixing on her, and it started lumbering towards her, completely ignoring David.
David lost it, seeing the horror approach. He looked around frantically for something, anything, to lob at the creature and keep it off. Charis’ voice, coming out of clenched teeth, stopped him in his tracks, like a whiplash: “Be still, David! If you want to do something to help, then pray!”
David swallowed hard, then cowered next to the rock, flattening himself as much as possible against it, and watched, dry-mouthed with helpless, horrified fascination. The monster had gained speed as it came closer, and now towered over Charis, its clenched sledgehammer of a fist rising to strike.
Charis, apparently unencumbered by her robes, wasted no time. Sidestepping her opponent, she made a low swing with her sword, aiming to hamstring it, but she went too low and the blade bit into the bony calf. The creature staggered, but no sound came out of its mouth — and the fist started to come down, aiming for her head.
Charis’ left arm rose, and the bony fist fell with a thud onto the golden buckler. The force of the blow was enough to make her stagger and almost sink to her knees, and David felt his heart miss a beat. It seemed that even ghosts… wraiths were vulnerable in their own world, and he didn’t want to think what would become of him if Charis lost the fight.
Still, it seemed that Charis had some plan — and the parry was only meant to buy her some time to yank her sword off, leaving the creature’s kneecap attached only by a rotting tendon. The monster raised its head, its mouth open in a soundless howl, which somehow was more chilling than any sound it could have made, then it reached for her once more.
That was Charis’ cue. She knocked the grasping hand away to the left with her buckler, leaving the monster uncovered for a moment, then feinted, pretending to go for the hamstring again. As soon as the creature shifted its weight to avoid her, she swung her blade high. It glimmered briefly in the dim light before hacking the wickedly pointed nose clean off.
The creature convulsed, then started to fall back, still eerily silent, but Charis was not done. Dropping her sword and shield, she took a running leap and found herself balancing on the creature’s shoulders. It almost collapsed under her weight, nearly throwing her off, but after a moment she managed to balance, then brought her own fist down hard onto the crown of its head.
David would never have believed the effect that tiny fist had on hitting the monster’s skull. There was a sickening crunching of bone and the entire skull sank down into the ribcage, the spine shattering and vertebra fragments flying left and right. He could see the corpse-eyes rolling around in their sockets from between the ribs for a moment, before the ribcage collapsed in turn.
Charis had leapt off the creature’s shoulders after delivering her blow, and now recovered her golden weapons, while the monstrosity crumbled into a little pile of dust, which soon scattered, even though there was not a breath of wind… and there was no sign left of the horror and fight.
“Is it…” croaked David, then stopped, unsure of how such a thing could be described.
“Gone into oblivion,” said Charis. “That’s what it deserves, after serving it for so long.”
“What was that thing?” The surge of relief left David feeling light-headed. “And what was it after?”
“Once upon a time,” Charis smiled, “it was a wraith like me… but it gave in too soon. And it was after me. I’m well known among its kind — I have sent a lot of them where they belong.”
David looked around cautiously, the sense of relief receding. “Is there any chance we could go somewhere safer?” he asked.
Charis opened her arms to encompass the landscape, her robe billowing, even though there still was no breath of wind. “It looks pretty solid to you, doesn’t it?” she asked, rhetorically. “But it’s a fake world, islands of stability in the midst of a tempest the likes of which the world of the living has never imagined, let alone known… and many fearsome creatures ride the winds.” Her solid black eyes fixed him seriously. “Nothing is over with death, David… You can still be damned afterwards… or saved, but that is even harder than in life.” He nodded, totally sobered.
“So it comes back to this,” he said. “Why have you brought me here, Charis?”
She reached out for his hand and, between a heartbeat and the next, they were back in the hospital ward, he in his bed, she sitting next to him, as if they had never left. Her touch still felt solid, although her body no longer appeared so.
“A taste of death helps appreciate life, doesn’t it?” Charis said and he nodded. Then she let go of his hand and stood. “Live, David… there is more for you to experience. Although you have something to thank your vampire for, or you could not have had this taste.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her if I see her again,” David said dryly.
“I’m sure at least part of you wants that very much.” Charis chuckled. “Just don’t forget your fae… although I don’t think you could, even if you wanted to.” She chuckled once more, seeing him blush, then leaned over to kiss his cheek. It felt like a butterfly’s wings brushing against his skin. “There will be more to come, too, I’m sure.”
David swallowed hard, trying in vain to find something suitable to say before they parted. Finally, he gave up. “Thank you, Charis.”
She straightened up, her robes billowing around her again like a cloud. “I don’t know when we will meet again, David,” she said. “But I don’t think it will be on your death either.”
“Well,” he grinned, “I’ll try not to be terrified if I see you.”
“Silly boy,” Charis laughed, then blew him a kiss and faded from his sight.
David lay back, stared up at the ceiling, then his eyes closed and he sank into sleep. In his dreams he saw two rivers, one dark and slow, one swift and angry, merging and flowing on, towards eternity.
© M.A.K. and T.P. 2006, All Rights Reserved
Posted by Mary Contrary 
