Worlds War One

xxviii [Callie]

Callie's father was blind, but that didn't mean he couldn't see. When they were in public, he could tell when someone had regarded him with pity. When she was sad, he could sense it even when Callie held back her tears. Sometimes he would compliment her on her outfit, and she'd never figured out how he knew what it was. He may be unable to receive visual input, but he knew the score.

Callie felt like her father. No one said it, but she knew the score. They needed to open a door into the Forsaken Land to get to Johnny Rotten. No less than the fate of the world was at stake. One of the Misfits had to sacrifice their life to buy passage through the door. Saanvi was exempt—she was the only one who had the knowledge they would need to get from Earth to She'ol. Drill wasn't an option, or Lieutenant Robinson wouldn't go on. Without the lieutenant, none of the Misfits were going to go. Thus, Lieutenant Badia Robinson wasn't a possibility. They needed Penina, the navigator. Autumn was an immortal Ghost, not a Human. For that matter, neither was Saanvi. And what had the navigator said about Ji? Maybe he wasn't Human, either. What in the Wider World was a nephilim?

"Why does it have to be a Human life?" Fox asked.

"The Forsaken Land is locked tightly against entryyyy. To gain access reeeequires great sacrifice," Penina said. "A soul carrieeees the greatest value in all the Wider Worlds."

"But why Human? Why not a Demon or...." Fox examined Penina from foot to forehead. "...something else?"

"The Ghost would beeee exceeeeedinglyyyy hard to sacrifice," Penina answered. "There were onlyyyy few other lifeforms available at the forging of the Lock. No Deeeemons. No Golems. There were fewer options in the First World."

Callie didn't know what that meant. And she didn't want to.

"One of us four Misfits, then," Quest said, stepping forth, also realizing that Bad or Drill weren't going to be a choice.

"That is if Seaman Choi is Human?" Callie asked.

"What else would I be?" Ji snapped.

"What else, indeeeeed," Penina said. "But heeee is Human eeeenough to open doors. A soul is the keeeey, and a nephilim has the reeeequired Human essence to unlock the passageway."

"Human enough?" Ji fumed. "I don't need anyone to tell me whether I'm Human or not."

"If he isn't Human, what is he?" Callie asked. "What exactly is a nephilim?"

"The offspring of man and Angel," Trey Fox answered. Callie remembered he'd said his dad was a preacher.

"It doesn't matter right now," Penina answered. "You will have time for self-discoveryyyy after you save the worlds."

"After we choose whose soul to sacrifice," Callie added.

"How are we doing this?" Ji asked. "Drawing straws to see who dies?"

"Death is not assured," Saanvi said. "Your body will stay in the Lost City. An empty vessel waiting for your return. Have you never heard the fable of Snow White?"

"Of course," Fox answered. "Are you trying to say this is like eating a poisoned apple?"

"An enchanted apple," Saanvi clarified. "Someone can steal a soul in different ways. A talented Magi might be able to cast a spell on an apple."

"If it's my soul we sacrifice, I can get saved by a kiss from a prince?" Quest asked. Was he hoping for a fairy tale ending?

"That was for dramatic effect," Saanvi replied drily. "Snow White's soul was saved when the Evil Queen died."

"You're saying we can survive it," Ji said.

Penina shrugged like it didn't matter either way. Saanvi nodded. Lieutenant Robinson appeared concerned. Could she call the mission off? If this were war, there would be casualties. At least whoever was the sacrifice had a slimchance of survival. Better than the whole world has no chance at all.

"Straws, then? Or trivia? Arm wrestling?" Ji suggested. "Thumb war?"

"How about a test of souls?" Penina said. "The purest soul will allow passage of the most peeeeople."

Callie checked with the other three Misfits. She was used to being picked first. Growing up, she excelled in sports, spelling bee, and debate club. When anyone decided teams, she was at the top of the draft. Besides being adept at nearly everything, she was also the prettiest person among the options from which to pick.

But this was a contest of another kind. A judgment on Callie's soul. What acts would someone judge as pro and con? What dubious notoriety might make her more pious than Ji and Quest and Fox?

"How do we know who wins a contest like that?" Fox asked.

"The Ghost will know," Penina said. "Pept of the A'aninin can seeeee the colors of someone's soul. The temperament of a person's constitution, like marks on a map that indicate the fortitude of one's moral compass. The Ghost can get the measure of a man's worth."

The three Misfits stared at Autumn. She looked back, confused like someone had told a random person in a crowd that they had the latent ability to juggle, then handed her four flaming batons and demanded she perform. Her eyes fluttered from Fox to Ji to Quest then she blinked away. After a second or two, Autumn returned, her gaze settling on the pretty blue eyes of Callie Golden.

"I can't do this," Autumn whispered.

"You can," Saanvi said. "It's an innate ability of all Ghosts. Concentrate."

"I mean, I can't tell you," Autumn said. "I see colors. Marks. A measure, like Penina said. But I can't tell you what it means."

"You know what it means," Saanvi said.

"Maybe." Autumn faded, and Callie wondered if she'd stay away and avoid the responsibility. Instead, she flickered back after a short absence. "But I can't tell you."

"You mean, you won't."

The Ghost shook her head. Her eyes stayed on Callie. Autumn was too outspoken to be good at keeping secrets.

"It's me, isn't it?" Callie asked.

And Autumn turned away because she couldn't say it. She wouldn't condemn someone to such a fate.

Callie confirmed with Penina. The woman was flawless white marble, sculpted from stone and animated by enchantment. She still featured expression, a sadness molded into her mineral countenance. Her neck was supine, her slick skull perfectly spherical, and her porcelain skin as smooth as a bathtub's surface. She was beautiful—a work of art given motion. The beautiful harbinger of Callie's demise.

"You don't have to do this, Callie," Ji tried.

Callie glanced at Lieutenant Robinson, who didn't offer the same choice. This was a mission of utmost importance. All of them had already risked their lives to achieve the objective. They would all be in danger again and again until they stopped Johnny Rotten or all died trying. This was a part of the plan. Her life had always been on the chopping block.

Callie wished she could've said goodbye to her father.

"I do have to," Private Callie Golden said. "Make sure you don't leave my body behind, guys. Come back for it, after you finish this. Promise me."

"We'll take care of you," Quest promised. Ji nodded. Fox put his hand over his heart.

"How does it work?" Callie asked Penina.

The navigator produced a coin as old as anything Callie had ever seen. It was tarnished silver and featured a bright face on one side and a dark countenance on the other. Penina turned it over and over between her fingers, metal clicking against the stone texture of her skin.

"This is an Obol," Penina said. "It can get us to the Forsaken Land. But it neeeeeds payment. It reeeequires a soul."

Callie nodded. She was ready. This was the mission, and the soldier would do her duty. She closed her eyes, unsure whether she would ever open them again.