Murder of Angels by Caitlín R. Kiernan

Author:Caitlín R. Kiernan [Kiernan, Caitlín R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Witnesses, Birmingham (Ala.), Horror, Contemporary, General, Psychological, Fantasy, Abandoned houses, Female friendship, Alabama, Fiction, Schizophrenics, Women
ISBN: 9780451459961
Publisher: ROC
Published: 2004-09-05T23:00:00+00:00

By the time they finally reach the top of the winding granite staircase, Niki is out of breath and dizzy, and her left side hurts. Twice, she slipped on the wet stone and might have fallen, might have broken her neck or worse, if there’s anything worse than breaking your neck. Harder things to fall on here than San Francisco Bay, harder things than the welcoming sea, and she leans against the low balustrade and waits for her heart to stop pounding. Above them, the last rays of the day have been smothered by the advancing night, and stars burn bright and cold in a sky that might have been stolen from a Van Gogh painting. And she knows it’s real, because a whole boatload of crazy girls couldn’t dream up a sky like that, those brilliant, glistening colors, the wild swirl of a billion distant suns.

“I never get tired of looking at it,” Spyder says, not the least bit winded by the long climb, and she’s leaning far out over the balustrade, the wind blowing through her white hair. “I never will, because it’s always like the very first time.”

The stairs have ended in a small balcony, rough-hewn half circle and a tall statue near the center that reminds Niki of a griffin, though it’s really something altogether different. She stands next to Spyder and stares up at the Van Gogh sky, and then down at the abyss stretching away beyond the ragged edges of the Palisades.

“Some people say that’s the way to Paradise,” Spyder tells her. “And other people say it leads to an endless black sea filled with demons.”

“What do you think?” Niki asks her, unable to look away, beginning to think she’ll never be able to look away.

“I think I don’t ever want to find out.”

A mile or more beneath them, an ocean drains over the side of a world, a churning, roiling cataract as far as she can see to the left or the right, north and south perhaps, unless there aren’t directions in this place. And she can also see that the balcony is perched near the top of one of the countless barren islands scattered out along the rim of the Palisades, a spire of mist-cut rock rising like a crooked, skeletal finger.

That’s enough, she thinks and shuts her eyes. Don’t look at it anymore, Niki.

“What’s wrong?” Spyder asks. “Did you see something?”

“I see that it’s terrible,” Niki replies between gritted teeth, and she wants to back away from the edge but is too afraid to let go of the balustrade. “At first, I thought it was beautiful, but it isn’t beautiful at all. It’s terrible.”

“Can’t it be both?”

“No, Spyder, it can’t. It’s like dying. It’s worse than dying. It’s like being alone and knowing that you’ll never be anything else.”

“Yes,” Spyder says. “It is. It’s exactly like that.”

“Then how the hell can you stand there and say that it’s beautiful, you of all people?”

“I’m not who I was, that’s how. Now open your eyes, Niki.

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