Waiting in the Everafter

by MM Schreier

I pick my way down to the point, bare feet gripping rain-slicked rock. A gale drives clouds across an iron sky. Waves swell to dizzying heights, then fall, thundering against the shore in rhythmic percussion. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as the storm’s overture intensifies. 

Turning my face into the salt spray, I search the horizon. There! A thrill runs through me as a small fishing boat tosses about like a leaf in a stream. I stretch my wings, harnessing the wind, and send it outward. At my bidding, the tempest twines catlike around the hull and draws it closer to the shore.

The crew trims the mainsail and tacks into the wind. A skilled captain, then. My lips stretch into a feral grin. I love a worthy adversary. For a time, I let the boat battle the waves, gaining distance from the rocky shoals. A small taste of victory.

Then, I open my mouth and begin to sing.

 #

A lesser woman would have given up on the sea, but saltwater ran in Cara’s veins. I watched as she limped down the dock, barking orders to seadogs twice her age. They nodded, handed over their paperwork. Offered craggy smiles––the pleasure that she knew each vessel by name showed on their weathered faces. 

“Ho there, Fin Finder. Don’t forget your registration expires at the end of the month.”

The boat owner gave her a thumbs up and she moved on to the next trawler. 

“Get Reel. So, you decided to listen to me and dock before the storm?”

The first mate, a young man with close-cropped brown hair, snorted. 

“Weather Service says it’s gonna be clear for days.”

An older, more grizzled version of the youth elbowed him in the side and offered her an apologetic look that said, Forgive him, he’s an idiot.

Cara cocked an eyebrow in silent reply: Kids. What can you do? 

She shot the younger fisherman a wry look.

“Tell that to my knee.” 

He opened his mouth again, but the captain cut him off before he could chew on his own shoe leather.

“That knee o’ yours forecasts the weather better’n any newfangled radar.” He glanced at his crew, busy unloading the hold. “Can I offer ya something’ from the catch, Harbormaster? We pulled in a nice haul of blue crab. No charge.”

Like a well-read script, I knew what she would say.

“I don’t take gifts.” She softened the disapproval in her voice with a smile. “I’ll take a half dozen. You can drop them off––” She leveled a meaningful look. “––and the bill, in my office.”

I trailed behind Cara, a silent specter, as she continued her rounds. From time to time, she glanced over her shoulder, and I warmed. She couldn’t see me, but I was sure some part of her sensed I was here. Annoying, but I could wait. I had nothing left but time.

#

The first notes of my song soothe, a crystalline melody that dances across the water. Even at a distance, I can see the sailors pause in their desperate battle against the storm. Their eyes glaze over. I take a breath and bittersweet harmony threads through, dark and sorrowful. It calls to them. It will not be denied.

A man at the tiller wipes dampness from his cheeks––tears and ocean spray commingle. He steps closer to the gunwale, and I trill out a complicated descant. Longing shines on his face as he clambers overboard, arms stretched toward me. He doesn’t even try to swim but sinks beneath the waves. My gift to the great lord of the sea, Posiden.

I count the soul lights, as one by one, they abandon their posts, seduced by siren song, and slip into the sea, extinguished in the fathomless deep. Rudderless, the boat drifts closer to the rocks. My song rises triumphant, anticipating a crescendo of splintered wood.

That’s when I see her.

#

Cara rubbed her knee and glowered at the dark clouds rolling in over the bay. Though her wounds had healed from the fateful day when we first met, I knew her leg still bothered her when the pressure dropped. I was sorry for the pain I caused her, but didn’t regret my choice. We continue her rounds together, her limping on a stiff leg and me floating silently behind.

At the end of the dock, a man dressed in sturdy coveralls tied a sleek, expensive looking longliner to the mooring post. He moved with the rolling gait of someone who’d been at sea for so long they expected the pier to sway. 

Cara paused to watch him work. An ugly feeling curled my feathers as her eyes caressed his broad shoulders. A tiny voice cried in my head––don’t look at him, look at me. Irrational, but when your reality was nothing but thought and emotion, devoid of flesh and touch, it was easy to let potent feelings rule you. 

The man looked up, catching Cara’s intense stare, and gave her a jaunty salute. She flushed and glanced away. Made a show of inspecting the boat.

“Cymopoleia, hmmm?” She reached out and trailed her fingers over the block lettering on the longliner’s hull. “Bold to name her after the goddess of stormy seas.”

“You know your Greek mythology!” His eyes sparked, shifting blue and green like a summer tidepool. 

It rankled. How dare he be handsome and smart? 

I stepped closer to Cara, pressed a translucent hand into the small of her back. She shivered and the man’s cheeky grin deepened as if he'd caused the ripple.

Damn it.

“I’m Seamus.” He held out a hand to shake.

“Cara.”

She took a step, and her damaged knee buckled. He reached for her, a calloused hand gripping her arm to steady her. The air chilled.

Big mistake, boy-o. My girl didn’t need your help or your pity.

“Cara! Are you ok?” 

She wrenched her arm free and set her shoulders.

“That’s Harbormaster, to you.”

She turned, hobbled away in a pride-prickled retreat. 

Guilt warred with pride, as I flashed Seamus a triumphant grin he couldn’t see.

“Make sure to submit a copy of your manifest to my office.” Her words sounded clipped and hard.

Overhead, the clouds began to weep. I stretched out a wing to protect Cara from the rain, but the drops fell straight through my feathers. Useless. I could only hope that somewhere deep down, she knew I was here.

#

She has lashed herself to the mast, saving herself from the same watery fate my song inflicts on the rest of the crew. Clever girl. I let the music fade, the notes scattering into the wind like jewel-toned butterflies. 

The woman laughs as the boat crests a wave. At its pinnacle, time slows as our gazes meet. There is no fear in her storm-cloud gray eyes, only challenge. Do your worst. I love her in that eternal moment. She sees me without the glamour and does not cringe. 

Time whips forward with the speed of a viper strike. The boat spins, hits the shoals broadside. Wood splinters. With a gun crack, the mast breaks free, throwing the woman into the angry surf. Like a rag doll, she’s battered against the rocks. She has not succumbed to my song, but the result will be the same. Another sacrifice for the God of the Sea.

I can reach her in time. Without regard for consequence, I launch myself from the shore.

#

Silver-tongued Seamus apologized. At first, I scowled and whispered angry protests that Cara couldn’t hear. She grew to love him, and in time, so did I. He could give her things that I could not, and after much pouting and soul searching, I remembered her happiness meant more than my jealousy. He could have their mortal lifetime; I would be waiting in eternity. 

Still, I did my best to touch her life. Focusing my will, I stretched my wings and called to the wind. The monsoon was no longer in my grasp, but a tiny breeze cocked its head like a translucent puppy and ruffled the pages of her day planner. 

“Seamus? What do you think about June?” She tapped her finger on a printed date.

The festival of Diisoteria. Zeus would be pleased. There would be no rain or lightning on her wedding day. 

When the twins came, I floundered. Her hair plastered to her sweat-soaked forehead as she screamed. The salty, metallic taste of blood scented the air. Her eyes glittered with the madness of agony. Eons of shipwrecks, carnage-strewn waves had never bothered me. But my nonexistent knees went weak as I watched her struggle. 

For the first time since the day we met, I sang. Gentle notes whispered through the delivery room, a lullaby turned prayer. The melody spoke of peace and calm seas. A hippocamp tossed its mane as I sang the harmony, joyous and carefree. A wordless chorus found two small boys, snuggled wet and wrinkled on her chest. 

The small family could not hear the song, but I knew the magic touched them. And so the years continued. They lived good lives, filled with wonder and merriment, punctuated with inevitable moments of sorrow. All the while, I watched, hovering in the background, an invisible but ever-present thread in their tapestry. Love wove us all together.

#

She lies on the beach, cheek pressing into the sand. Clothes and flesh alike torn by the rocks. Her knee bends at a strange angle, but her chest rises and falls. Shallow but steady.

“It wouldn’t take much to finish the job. Slide her back into the sea and give my brother his due.”

I don’t startle at Hades’ sudden appearance, for I expected his arrival. 

“What’s done is done.” My voice is calm, accepting.

The god of the underworld clucks his tongue. “It’s never been done, Ligeia.” He shakes his head. “Are you sure?”

Siren song is a portent of death. Only one of us can live. The other must die.

I stare at her battered form, both fragile and strong. The memory of her defiant laughter rings through me. Human lives are so short. I can wait for her on the other side.

Nodding, I slip my hand into my great uncle’s large, cool palm and embrace my fate. 

#

The hospice nurse fluffed pillows and exchanged a meaningful look with Seamus before stepping out of the room. There wasn’t much time left. He should call the boys in to say their goodbyes, but he seemed to want just a few more minutes alone with Cara. I didn’t blame him. 

I leaned close to whisper in his ear. “You’ve had your time. I’ll take care of her now.”

He froze. For a moment, I thought he heard me. We’d been together so long, the family had grown sensitive, almost able to see beyond the Veil.

“The b-box.” Cara’s voice croaked. 

Seamus fed her a few ice chips and then lifted a small chest onto the edge of the bed. He opened it and guided her hand across the contents. A dried rose, the once snowy petals yellowed with age. A stained and threadbare baby blanket. A wooden splinter the doctors had dug out of her knee, so many years ago––the only thing left of the boat I’d sent to the deep.

I turned away to give the couple a moment of privacy as they revisited a lifetime of memories.

Darkness writhed in the corner. It was time then. 

“Show yourself, Great Uncle.” 

A winged form disentangled itself from the shadows. It wasn’t Hades. I hissed through my teeth. 

“You!”

Azrael, the Archangel of Death, unfurled his triplet wings. 

“I’m sorry, Ligeia. She’s Christian. Different afterlives.” His thousand eyes––grass green, cornflower blue, walnut and onyx and sandstone––blinked sorrowfully at me. “Would you have made a different choice if you had known?”

I thought back to all the insignificant, beautiful moments. The boys’ first teeth. Seamus teaching them how to ride bikes. Cara’s face when she held her first grandchild. The Harbormaster’s retirement party––the hall stuffed with salty old sailors and young anglers, filled with respect, making toasts and sharing their tales of the good old days. 

“There was no choice. Not for me.”

A muffled sob drew my attention. 

Seamus buried his face in a corpse’s lap. 

Cara, young and fierce and shining, stood beside the bed. Azrael held out his hand as a radiant, white light bloomed behind him. Christian theatrics. I held my tongue.

She stepped forward, then paused. Searched the room. When her eyes landed on me, they shifted. No longer stormy gray, but the soft ash of dove wings. She knew me.

Thank you.

I nodded, unable to speak. Go. 

Azrael wrapped her in his midnight wings, and together they stepped into the light. 

A chorus of celestial voices rose in a divine aria that followed no rules of composition. Liquid peace. A joyous breeze. Love made into light. I didn’t understand the words, but instinctively knew their intent. Welcome home, daughter.

For the first time in centuries, I understood what it meant to sing.