Chapter 5: The Crosspath

I found the closest door, a utility closet, the buckets and cleaners within vanishing as soon as I stepped past the threshold. A faint chill passed through me as it always did when I left the mortal realm behind for the Crosspath. The dim quiet enveloped me, dark green carpet soft under my shoes. The air here always smelled faintly of dust, though the large, circular space seemed immaculately clean for somewhere that saw so much varied traffic.

I had the hub to myself, the curve of velvet upholstered art deco sofas about as welcoming as any waiting room, the small fireplace in the center smoking faintly, the wisps of it disappearing into thin air. Someone had been here, perhaps held a meeting just recently, but for now I was alone.

This place often gave me shivers. The silence of it, though the times the Crosspath played Muzak of its own accord seemed even worse. Though we all took its existence for granted, I wondered at times just who designed this place that was nowhere with its walls of black stone that absorbed light, ceiling lost to the darkness overhead, pinpoints that looked like stars flickering far above. Not that it mattered, really. But it would have been nice to know.

My feet dragged as I turned away from the corridors leading off in arching spokes of halls branching away from the Crosspath hub. There were plenty of doors to choose from, though only one I really should have been heading for. Death's door, the entry to Undertown, loomed in its own special place between the branches. Dad's realm had enough standing to warrant a wall space instead of being relegated down some hallway or another. I purposely didn't turn around to look for the opposite. Life's entry was just as prominent, though Mom made sure her door was bigger, brighter, flashier. Which was typical of her, really. I wondered if she knew Dad didn't care if she thought she was better than him or not.

Somehow I doubt his attitude would have made a difference.

Two more large doors dominated the Crosspath. The one I'd just exited, to the mortal realm. And the fourth the looming, welcoming portal to the Repository of Creation.

I hesitated, knowing I should go see Dad as soon as possible. I'd already let Nero have plenty of time to break the news, though our father would have felt what happened the instant it occurred. He would have lived my failure, sensed the change in the Book as the name of the old man was erased. And, honestly, with my track record Dad shouldn't have been surprised. Probably wasn't. So, there was no hurry to go back, was there? Yes, he'd personally summoned me just a minute ago. But Death was patient.

Besides, I only had a few hours left before the night turned over into day and I wasn't Dad's problem anymore. At least for the next six months. Moving day, my birthday, meant leaving Undertown behind for the Garden and Mom's damaging attention. Or lack, thereof. Maybe if she'd taken the time to actually get to know me she would have stopped this silly back and forth long ago. Why my parents continued to pass me between them at times raised the anger I struggled to hold onto as a sign I had even a little control over my own life. It wasn't like they sent me willingly. For whatever reason, Mom fought Dad every time for my presence, only to treat me like I didn't exist. I know Dad would have kept me in Undertown with him if she hadn't been so stubborn about it.

Not like I had a say in the matter. Still, the way Mom treated failure in my sisters, even perceived failure, I would think she would have been happy to be rid of me. And yet, it was likely my continuing lack of success motivating her. Until I actually did the job she assigned me, Mom refused to let me go.

My failure was hers or some ridiculousness that made my life misery for six months of every year.

I stood there, fretting and trying to convince myself with layers of excuses Dad was a better choice at the moment. That maybe this time I'd be able to just put an end to the cycle of awful two years early. My stomach suddenly dropped, a dizzy spell washing over me while the mist drifted into the edges of my vision. I'd never felt it so powerfully before and pressed both hands to my stomach, lips clenching against bile burning the back of my throat. It took me a moment of gasping to bring my unhappy insides under control, time in which I gaped, shocked, at the sight of a fifth door.

Where had it come from? It seemed vague, wavering, made of the same ghostly mist that plagued my dreams since I was little. The same mist that appeared so frequently when I tried to fulfill my duties. It formed an entry, the Crosspath shifting before my eyes, disorienting and making my dizziness worse. I had to look away at last, staring at the carpet for a moment, breathing pants of air through my open mouth until the feeling subsided as quickly as it came.

When I looked up again, the misty doorway was gone, the Crosspath hub back to normal. I spun slowly on the toe of one shoe, looking down each of the multitude of hallways leading off like the spokes of a great wheel, but the wavering door had disappeared.

I had to have imagined it. Just a stress reaction to what happened with the old man. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to believe this was some kind of a hallucination. It happened, I was sure of it. But I had no idea why.

I stood there a long time, breathing in the quiet, dead air of the Crosspath, listening to the final crackles of the fire someone left behind and the sound of my own lungs drawing and expelling breath. I called on the mist, willing it forward, only to have it retreat as it always did. My body righted itself quickly enough, though it took a few minutes for my pulse to settle completely. By the time it had, I wound through enough paranoid scenarios to drive myself to distraction.

Maybe I was losing my mind? I didn't fit in with my brothers or my sisters, with Life or Death. It was quite possible that instead of the stable, sane and helpful angel of either I was supposed to be, I was instead some kind of anti-angel. The monster my eldest siblings always told me I was.

My jaw ached from clenching it and I finally shook off my frozen, self-conscious state of anxiety. Purposely, with effort, I forced myself into calm and composure. As usual I was turning something that likely wasn't anything into a gigantic problem that would just make my life more miserable. I shook my head, making my lips smile until I felt the shift in my emotions and relaxed at last. It was just some mist, just a door. It had nothing to do with me.

Feeling better, I threw my shoulders back and, still smiling, strode with fake confidence toward Undertown.

The tall, narrow way of dark stone waited for me, seeming to exhale outward as I drew near. The pale, gray skull carved into the surface grinned when I reached for the round, silver knob in the center and winked one gaping eye hole at me. When I was small, I always tried to talk to the bony guardian and though it never answered, Death's door had taken a liking to me. I waved and blew the skull a kiss before it swung open for me without my effort, allowing me inside.

All I had to do now was hold onto the optimism and false confidence I'd wrapped around myself. I'd learned early on it was my only defense against falling into darkness and despair. Thankfully, I had those in my life who did their best to encourage my self-worth and, because of them and my stubborn refusal to allow the rest of my family to hurt me, I was able to enter Undertown with my head held high.

The door swung shut behind me, disappearing, taking the view of the Crosspath with it when it did. A mountain towered behind the place it had been, the etching of the exit just visible in the dark stone. I turned deliberately and firmly away from it and strode with heavy steps across the rock outcrop at the entry to Death's realm, pausing as I often did at the lip of the bridge into Undertown.

This view was part of the reason I didn't give up hope. Yes, it was the domain of Death, but it never failed to thrill me. The pale, gray sky arched over tall, stone buildings, dark green gardens lush with heavy foliage on every roof. Statues marched in stately columns down the broad promenade leading to the towering palace of Death.

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