A Brotherhood of Crows.
Chapter 17

The Mosque Kitchen was beginning to quieten down after the lunchtime rush. Outside, the rain had grown to the usual Edinburgh deluge, and inside the windows were thick with condensation. We’d barely sat down before she began to eat, heaping great mounds of food into her mouth. She must have been starving.

My own food sat untouched in front of me. Instead, I cradled my coffee, and watched her eat, in silence.

“You don’t say much, do you?” Zularna Munro said, suddenly, with her mouth full.

“I was waiting for you to finishing eating before we started talking,” I replied, softly.

That, in part was true. I was being polite. But additionally, I was waiting to speak because I knew I was about to have two different conversations at the same time. That takes forethought.

“Nice of you,” she replied, and wolfed down the rest of her food at an impressive rate, wiping the plate with a slice of naan bread. She glanced at my paper plate. “Not hungry?”

I took the hint. “No not really. Be my guest.”

I pushed the plate over to her. She smiled, faintly. It was a nice smile, perhaps because there was something begrudging about it. Her face was thin, and she was tall, almost the same height as me. She wore loose-fitting baggy clothes, an old jumper several sizes too big and hareem pants that had seen better days. On either side of her head, an undercut sheared; the hair she had was blue, curly and shortish, tending to flop over one of her undercuts, depending on how she inclined her head. I watched her eat in silence for moment, and found myself craving a smoke. I had had one when I’d found Zularna Munro, at the gates of Old College, which hadn’t been that long ago, but I needed another. Apprehension makes chainsmokers of us all.

“You want to smoke, don’t you?” she said. She spoke without warning, giving her words a suddenness.

I started slightly. You reading my mind? “I’m sorry?”

“I said you want a smoke, don’t you?”

I hesitated, and wondered how she knew that. Had she been me, she might have slipped into Elsewhere, taken a glance at the ghost of me that lived in that place, and noticed a desire for nicotine. Was that what she did, just then? Her eyes hadn’t closed, not even for a the smallest blink. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, your fingers have nicotine stains, so I’m guessing you smoke a lot. Also, your left hand hasn’t stayed still since we got in here. Guessing you want to roll one. You are left handed, aren’t you?”

So she’s observant. That doesn’t mean much, beyond a keen eye for detail. Nonetheless, I suddenly became very aware of the twitching in my left hand, and deliberately stilled it, grasping my coffee cup tighter. “Ambidextrous.” I replied, “But good deduction, nonetheless.”

She went back to her food. “Go have a smoke if you want?”

“I’ll be fine for a bit. It was a hard job replaceing you. I’d rather not lose sight of you until we’ve talked.”

She eyed me over the cup of orange juice she now sipped from. “Not planning on going anywhere.”

It occurred to me that I was stalling. I knew exactly what I needed to do - just close my eyes, and see what happened. But I was holding off doing so. I hadn’t even blinked at her since we’d sat down. When you go to a different world every time you close your eyes, no matter how quickly, you get used to forcing them to stay open when you need to, in spite of the pain it causes. I was stalling because I was, ultimately, more afraid of that half of the conversation.

“You got me lunch,” Zularna continued, “Least I can do is have a chat. Also, how did you replace me?”

As good a cue as any, I suppose. “That’s...complex,” I said.

And then I closed my eyes. Colour washed away, and I found myself in a world of grey ghosts. I sighed, heavily, and then said to the woman sitting across from me. “Well, hello there.”

”Hello, you,” she replied.

The woman sitting across from me was not Zularna Munro. Her voice was different for one; instead of the Edinburgh brogue, this woman spoke with an accent straight out of Dublin. Gone was the blue short hair and pale skin. Gone, indeed, were the scruffy student clothes. Instead, across from me, sat a resplendently beautiful woman. Long, fire red hair cascaded over her shoulders, its colour so rich that it seemed to illuminate her skin. Her eyes were bright, so very very bright, and locked mine in their gaze.

“I’m Elijah,” I said. Time moved differently in Elsewhere. My eyes had been closed for a few seconds in reality, but here, I had all the time in the world.

“I know who you are,” she replied.

I expected her to say more - perhaps foolishly - but she continued to regard me, cooly.

“So....what do I call you?”

She cocked her head to one side, as if in thought. “I don’t have a name as such.”

“Everyone has a name.”

“Perhaps. What do you want to call me?”

I moistened my lips. “Okay, for want of a better option. How about Red?”

Red raised an eyebrow at me, skeptically. “ ‘Red’? You have the same amount of imagination as you do appetite, it seems.”

“Sorry...it’s just...you’re the first person I’ve ever spoken to...um...here?”

She licked her tongue. “Ooh, poor you, you must be so bored.”

I was taken aback. “Look, this is all very new for me, so I guess I’ll cut to the chase -”

“You going to answer her question?” Red cut across me.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said, are you going to answer her a question?”

I sat back, and rested my hands on the ghost of the table. “What do you think the answer is?”

“Oh? It’s very simple.” Red regarded her fingernails, “You found her because you were looking for me, weren’t you? Spent a couple of hours walking around Elsewhere till you saw red, am I right?”

“Got it in one. You do stand out. Does she know you’re there?”

“Where?”

“I dunno...there...in the same body?”

Red smiled faintly. “Sometimes she suspects...you know, you are going to have to give her an answer. When you go back.”

I crossed my arms. “How will she take the truth?”

“Mmm...probably badly. She’s got quite the temper.” Red sighed, and flicked one strand of her brilliant, vermillion hair behind her ear. “You want me to stop her?”

“I don’t follow you.” I said.

Red waved her hands in exasperation. “We both live in this world, you and I. We know how this works. She’s going to ask, and you’re not going to be able to answer. I can stop her from asking, because we both know that you and I aren’t the only two people who need to have a chat right now.”

“I’m not two people.” I replied.

Red smiled. “Aren’t you?”

My eyes opened and I was back in reality.

“Yeah, complex,” I heard my voice, at a distance, saying, “It would take too long to explain.”

Zularna Munro opened her mouth, about to object. But then she stopped, and I saw something change in her eyes, as if some new thought had suddenly popped into her mind. The question she was about to ask never materialised. Instead, she pushed the plate away and said: “Alright then. What do you want to talk about?”

It took my mind a moment to process what she had said. I wanted to close my eyes again and speak to Red, but I had another half conversation to start. This was going to get very confusing if I wasn’t careful. I sipped some of my coffee. “I wanted to talk about what happened two nights ago, in Waverly.”

Again, she looked as if she was going to ask something, but something changed in her eyes, and she stopped. “Okay, what about it?”

“I -” I blinked into Elsewhere and glared at Red. “Look, how are you doing that?”

Red rolled her eyes at me. “Don’t be rude.”

“Rude?”

“You can’t talk to both of us at once, chicka. Now finish your sentence, you look like a fish, gawping like that.”

I was suddenly back in reality. “...It’s hard to know what to ask...I suppose I wanted to know if you were okay?”

Zularna cocked her head to one side, in a movement eerily similar to that Red had done a few moments before. “You wanted to know if I was okay?”

“I guess.”

“Someone you’ve never met,”

Someone who may be able to give me some answers. “You almost died.”

“So did you,” she crossed her arms, a defensive posture, “I guess I owe you one...he almost got me.”

I smirked, a tad mirthlessly. “I’m not sure ‘he’ is the right term. More of an ‘it. You do know that...it wasn’t human, what we fought, right?’”

Zularna glanced away, and I blinked into Elsewhere. In her place, Red sat with her arms crossed, regarding me, bemused.

“What?” I said.

“Tell me, are you always this patronising, or are you making an effort today?”

“How was I being patronising?”

“She’s traumatised, not stupid. She knows that wasn’t human, that thing.”

“Not everyone knows as much about the supernatural as I do,” I said, defensively.

Red rolled her eyes. “Not everyone’s as much of a wanker. Shoo.”

In reality, Zularna rolled her eyes in exactly the same way. “I guessed. I don’t know what it was. I’m not sure I want to know.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, the usual.”

“Define usual.”

Zularna seemed lost in thought. In Elsewhere, Red smiled faintly.

“You’re not going to like the answer.” she said.

“Speaking of answers,” I said, “Are you going to answer any of my questions?”

“You haven’t asked me any.”

“Okay,” I interlaced my fingers, “Why are you there? In her, with her, around her, whatever it is you do?”

Red mulled it over for a moment, She popped her lips a few times in thought. “That’s a very good question.”

“Are you going to answer it?” I said, beginning to get exasperated.

Red smiled again. “Maybe.”

“Fuck’s sake…” I groaned, and opened my eyes again.

“I kill men,” Said Zularna, after a while.

Oh. That was a curveball. “What kind of men?”

“Murderer...rapists...wife beaters...the worst kind.”

“And how do you know who these murderers, rapists and wife beaters are?”

I thought about going back to Red, but somehow I felt like I could get more from Zularna at this point.

“I...see things. About people.”

Now we were getting somewhere. I leaned forward, giving her my full attention. My hands tightened around my coffee cup, almost crushing it. “What do you see?”

What did I hope she would say? A small part of my mind wondered. Did I expected her to say that yes, she too stepped into a world of ghosts when she closed her eyes, that she too didn’t sleep through the night for fear of being trapped? Given the presence of Red, - still, in all likelihood, sitting watching me bemused in that grey place - it was unlikely but I needed to know, needed to hear -

“...Fragments,” she said, “Bits of memory. The past of others. I know what they’ve done, I know what they mean to do.”

I sighed, heavily. Still no answers. “And you don’t see anything else? Just other people’s pasts?”

Zularna bristled visibly. “Dude, I just told you I can think, feel, hear, smell, taste everything that everyone else in the room has ever thought, felt, heard, smelt or tasted. And that doesn’t surprise you?”

I shrugged. “I’ve heard stranger things.” I sighed again, and ran one of my hands through my hair, wearily. “So you’re just a killer, then.”

Perhaps I was being harsh. At this point, I didn’t care. I was tired, and drained, and confused and asking myself why I had even come here in the first place. The answers I was looking for weren’t going to be found in this student girl, no matter how remarkable her powers might be.

“I take lives,” Zularna snarled, “from people who deserve to die.”

“In my experience,” I replied, dryly, “very few people deserve to die.”

She snorted. “Bit rich coming from you.”

“How so?”

“Oh, come on. You can wear that big old coat all you like. I clocked the revolver on your hip. I saw you use that thing. Hardly non-lethal is it? Also, either you have really big forearms or those are literally knives up your sleeves. Katai blades, right? For someone who doesn’t like killing, your pretty heavily armed.”

“You like killing people?” I challenged her.

She leant back in her seat, her arms crossed, the same defensive posture. “When it’s for the right reasons, then yes. Some people are too dangerous to be left alive.”

My nicotine cravings were really getting to me. Maybe it was the lack of answers, or her blaise attitude to murder, but I needed a smoke. I began to roll one, almost without thinking about it. “These weapons? They aren’t for killing. I use them to protect myself, when I have to.”

“You mean to tell me you’ve never taken a life?”

“No. I have. But always in self defence, always because I had no choice.”

“So you’ve never killed anyone in anger?”

In the blink of an eye, I saw Red, in Elsewhere, smirk and say “You knew she was going ask, didn’t you?”

“I guess I did,” I said to Red, “But I’m not going to answer.”

“You know she won’t accept that.”

“I said I wasn’t going to answer, I didn’t say I was going to say nothing.”

To Zularna, I said, “Once. And I don’t plan on doing it again.”

I went back to rolling my cigarette. I was aware of both of them, Red and Zularna, regarding me across two worlds, where I sat at the intersection of both of them. I felt both sets of eyes watching me, wanting me to say more. I ignored both of them, focussing on the soothing motion of evening out the tobacco, sliding in the filter, pinching the paper, and sealing it with a lick.

“Look,” said Zularna after a while, “I didn’t come here to be judged by you for the things I do, the things I have to do. That’s between me and Allah, so if you’re done, I’m going to -”

That surprised me. “Allah? Wait, you’re Muslim?”

In Elsewhere, I saw Red shake her head, and then sigh, wearily, and cover her face with her hand.

“Yes, I am, actually. Do you have a problem with that?”

“N..well, yes...I mean I,” I found myself babbling, ”...I’m not a fan of religion - any religion - in general?”

“Oh, and that stops me from being Muslim, does it?”

“No,” I said, measuredly, “I just hadn’t pegged you for being Muslim.”

“Because I’m white?” she shot back.

“More the killing thing than that,” I replied, cooly.

( “You really don’t want to go down this road, chicka…” Red said, between her fingers)

“What I do,” Zularna spoke with a slow venom, through gritted teeth. “Is between me and God. It’s nothing to do with you.”

“No, you’re right,” I admitted, “It doesn’t have anything to do with me. I just never understood faith.”

“So you don’t believe in anything.”

“Not strictly the dictionary definition of atheism, but sure, we’ll roll with it.”

(“Smarmy little fucker, aren’t you?” said Red)

“Don’t tell me you don’t believe in something.” Zularna motioned to my coat. “I saw your pin.”

I looked down at the pin badge. I’d worn it for so long I often forgot it was there, in the same way I forgot there were laces on my boots, or that my hair was tied back with a hair tie that had seen better days. But the badge, like the hair tie and the laces, was essential, and I would pin it to my coat every day, with the same routine movement that I tied back my hair or laced up my boots. To leave my room without it would have been to walk naked.

“You were there, weren’t you?” Zularna’s tone softened noticeably. “The day they turned the guns on the students?”

“...yes.” I said. My voice sound a lot harder and weaker than I had intended, the voice of sick man.

“I’m sorry.”

“Were you?”

“No...I was too young. I watched what I could on the holo before they cut it off...then I tried to follow it on Twitter before the network went down…”

I didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, I closed my eyes and looked up, at Red. “I walked into that, didn’t I?”

“’Fraid so.” she replied. Her tone too, had softened, but not as much as Zularna’s.

“Go me,” I ran my hands over my face, and watched the only patch of colour I’d ever seen in Elsewhere that hadn’t tried to kill me. “Can we just be straight with each other? I feel like we’ve beat about the bush enough for one day.”

“Okay,” she leaned forward, her brilliant red hair trailing over her shoulders and collar as she did, “What do you want to know?”

“Firstly: how long have you been here?”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

I tried another tact. “Eight years.” I said, “Ever since I was sixteen. Everytime I closed my eyes, I found myself here - Elsewhere is what I call it, you may have a different name. It doesn’t matter. How long have you been here?”

Red considered the question. She rocked her head from one side to another, thinking. “I’ve always been here.”

“Always,” I repeated. “So you were born here?”

“Not as such,”

“Fuck’s sake - help me out here. I need to understand this place! I need to know what here is, I need to know why I’m here, and you know what, it’d be really fucking nice if this place didn’t try and make me shoot myself every fucking night!”

Red rocked her head from side to side. “I can tell you a few things.”

“Oh, please, do. Like to feel I haven’t wasted my whole afternoon.”

“I can tell you,” Red continued, “That you and her have a lot in common. You’re both split - somehow, both of you have found yourselves on a rift between two worlds. You’ve probably heard about them in geographical locations - Stonehenge is said to be one, the Bermuda Triangle, places where the spaces between spaces are thinner than normal, where things can pass through. But the difference is that the split is in you, both of you - you carry it around with you, wherever you go. It works differently for both of you - you are aware of it, hence why you replace yourself here when you close your eyes. She’s...more complex. I can reach out to her, but she isn’t aware of me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Imagine it like this - picture a house, which has exactly the same layout on each floor. Every floor is a copy of the floor below, if you like. Now imagine you had someone standing in the middle of the living room; above them, on the floor above, is someone standing in exactly the same spot. Now imagine the building caved in on itself, and the floors collapsed into one, but without destroying the building - you’d have two people occupying exactly the same place. That, I think, is what happened with me and her. We’re two people, and the space where share is split between us.”

“But that doesn’t explain me,” I replied, “I’m not two people. I’m just me.”

“So it seems...but you are split in a different way. You occupy the same space in two different places. Closing your eyes is the thing that triggers moving between worlds. Why? I don’t know. But I know we’re different because you aren’t inverted.”

“Inverted?”

“It’s simple: in what you call reality, Zularna can see other people’s pasts. I’m the inversion of that - I see other people’s futures.”

I snorted. “Bullshit. No one can see the future. It’s impossible.”

Red raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re a man who lives between two worlds, barely sleeps and thinks it’s acceptable to leave the house wearing that hat. Don’t talk to me about the impossible.”

“No, I mean we don’t live predetermined lives. Seeing what’s happened in the past makes sense - you can’t change the past. The future is being written all the time, and changed all the time. You can’t predict what’s going to happen.”

“You can believe that if you like. I knew you were going to replace Zularna.”

“Did you really?”

“I did. I can tell you more about your future if you like?”

“Go on, then.”

“The first thing you need to know is this: you’re going to die.”

I stared at her, and then laugh, bitterly. “Everyone is going to die sometime. Not a great prediction of my future.”

“No, but you’re going to die sooner than you think. There’s more.”

“Oh, do tell. “

“She’s going to save your life. Twice, in fact.”

That confused me. “Wait, so I’m going to die, but Zularna is going to save my life?”

“Twice,” repeated Red.

“Twice. I said, “I don’t believe you.”

Red fixed me with those bright, bright eyes of hers. “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not, Elijah. It’s your future. It’s going to happen.”

Turns out you were right, weren’t you? I guess hindsight is always twenty twenty, especially when that hindsight comes when we’re falling to earth from the wreckage of an airship. She did save my life, and now I’m about to die. If Zularna saves me now, you’d be right on the money.

But how likely is that, really?

Falling, falling, falling,

London Bridge is falling down

Falling.