Arrows of Time - Kim Falconer [167]
‘Come here.’ He slapped his leg and the little dog trotted over, his tail wagging in circles. ‘Are there too many people in there for you, lad?’ he said, scratching the animal’s back.
Fynn yipped and ran to the tree, jumping up the trunk and sliding down. Grayson smiled. Halfway up, on a smooth wide branch, was Drayco, his hind leg dangling, his tail lashing. The temple cat leapt down and sauntered over to Grayson, surprising him with a lunge that placed his front paws on the tall man’s shoulders. ‘Is Kali coming, big fellow?’
‘Be here any moment,’ Jarrod answered from behind.
Drayco jumped down and rubbed his cheek against Jarrod’s leg.
‘I think Rosette’s out here,’ Grayson said, looking at the tree. He couldn’t see her, but he could sense her presence. Besides, Drayco and Fynn staying so close was a sure sign.
‘She is.’ Jarrod nodded to the temple cat. ‘He’s keeping her from drifting.’
Grayson scanned the road, shielding his eyes. ‘And Kali?’
‘Here she comes.’ Jarrod pointed at the sky where a black falcon winged in. He held out his arm and Grayson stepped back as the raptor stalled to land on the outstretched wrist. A moment later the air around her blurred and Grayson felt the now-familiar waft of energy, like a wave hitting his face, and Kreshkali stood before him. She was injured, her long robe tattered, but her eyes were clear and flashing. ‘Make room.’ She pushed past Jarrod and headed towards the temple.
‘What’s happening?’ Jarrod rushed to keep up with her.
‘The Lupins are coming.’ She paused, turning to the tree. ‘Rosette! We need you inside.’
EARTH—TIME: BACKWARD
CHAPTER 39
Everett gripped the podium, staring at the crowd. Their twisted mouths shouted exclamations, hands waving, faces vying for attention, bodies jostling—an ocean of need. All their energy, the frantic expressions, the yearning, the straining, the hope in their eyes, was directed towards him. He was the man with the answers, he reminded himself, though it felt like the force of their questions would bowl him over. He wanted to run, but he kept his feet planted firmly to the spot. These people needed the truth and he was going to supply it, as best he could.
He didn’t know how to explain exactly why the suspension of death had all but swallowed up their lives. He didn’t begin to understand the impact on other worlds, the other choices as she’d called them. He wasn’t going to try to elucidate that. It was more than this press conference was ready for. It would be enough to get them thinking about existence in a broader way. He’d have to do this one step at a time—let them see the body as a vehicle, and its spirit as the energising force. Keeping the spirit in the same vehicle for too long sapped the vitality of both. They’d lost their shine. Their energy had stopped moving forward. It simply hovered above the ground.
Look around, he would tell them. Such was clearly a fate worse than death. Would they see it that way?
‘We’ve feared death,’ he said to them, projecting his voice above the crowd. He paused until they all settled. ‘We have fought against it, and in our fear and aggression we thought to conquer it, beat it, repress it. But now we’re trapped in the void of its absence. More dead than alive.’
The auditorium went silent.
‘Fighting against death is not the way to free the spirit. It has let the energy, the life force, of our world turn to dust. This is no way to be. This is no way to live.’ His voice echoed over the stillness. The only movement was the flicker of digital cameras, strobes of light flashing across his face. He blinked, perspiration dripping into his eyes. He ran his arm across his forehead and continued. ‘The intention of the Allied States is to restore the life cycle. We are working on that now as we launch the new protocols. Questions?’
The crowd