Terminal Static (The Echo Trail Book 2) by Hannah Marae

Author:Hannah Marae [Marae, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Somewhere Press
Published: 2022-05-16T16:00:00+00:00

Slipping back into Purgatory was as easy as sinking into a dream.

Mab closed her eyes, her limbs going slack. An ocean pressed against her skin, sinking into her pores to flood her insides with cold water, seeping into her bones. A long and empty sleep took root in her consciousness, time tick-tick-ticking away, slipping like sand through her fingers.

When she opened her eyes, she was there.

The ground was cold beneath her, the soil wet and sweet-smelling. Above, infinite specks of light peeked through a canopy of black trees. Mab waved a hand, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she was not looking at her body but a manifestation of her soul.

Purgatory was weird like that.

She rolled over and pushed to her feet. At first, it took tremendous effort, but Mab quickly became used to her body’s sluggish movements. She turned in a slow circle, finding herself in a clearing with bone-white trees pressing on either side. A path snaked away in both directions.

“Huh.” Ignatius walked up. “So this is what it’s like.”

“This is my Purgatory,” Mab said. “When you die, you get one of your own.”

“Can’t wait,” the shifter replied. “So, what do we do now?”

“I dunno, wait for Pyke, I guess.” Mab could make out the faint light of a spirit floating along the trail, lost in whatever dreams this place had cooked up. People were sent here to wait after they died. Sometimes they went straight upstairs—or down, as the case may be—but the strong ones, the ones who were still tied to life, remained in Purgatory. And others still found their way back.

“God, I hate it here,” Mab muttered to herself.

“Purgatory gives no thought toward whether you hate it. It simply is,” a voice behind them said. She turned to see Pyke standing with his hands in the pockets of his slacks, gazing wistfully into the tree line. Hades sat at his side, fur dark as pitch and red eyes blazing brighter than usual. “But I would wager most souls feel the same as you.”

Mab snorted. “This is where we go to be judged, Pyke. Heaven or Hell. Up or Down. Why wouldn’t we hate it?”

“A glorified waiting list,” Ignatius murmured.

“Apt,” Pyke said with disinterest. He turned and motioned for them to follow.

They quickly caught up with the spirit that floated down the path. Mab stepped carefully around the ethereal form of an old woman, pulling a face as she noticed several more ahead. Hades snaked past them, a cloud of smoke that examined each in turn.

“So this is what we send them back to.” Ignatius inspected the woman. She was ancient, her misty form bearing a hunched back and deep wrinkles. “Are they better off?”

Mab slipped past the next spirit. “The people they haunt are.”

“That is correct,” Pyke said from up ahead. “The living world is no place for the dead. For better or worse, this is where they are meant to be.”

“But it’s kinda sad, isn’t it?” Ignatius asked. “Floating around, caught in a dream.

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