The Entropy of Bones Read online

  “And if you weren’t there, if A.C. hadn’t reached out to you, let you know who they were . . .” He stopped for a second, and then smiled. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? You took a risk for me. You broke character and scared us off from there.”

  “If I ask you about the Little Kid, will I be breaking a hole in the space-time continuum or something?” I was shocked how much I cared for that boy when I asked.

  “He is one of the fortunate and the cared for,” he tells me gently, and it’s clear he can’t tell me anymore. “If A.C. hadn’t taken the chance to go back and meet you, I would have been in their box before I even knew what was going on, who I was.”

  “So you say thanks by leaving your best friend in their hands?” I shouted, and the chorus admonished me.

  “They can’t not break a child of the wind. He’ll go to his nature, to the four winds, before they get anything from him. But if they get their hands on you . . .”

  “Nordeen stopped him from doing that,” I bark in my spirit body. “He was chanting something that kept messing with A.C.’s powers . . .”

  “He’ll get out of it. That’s what he does.”

  “And maybe I’m the way he gets out of it now.”

  “You don’t get it.”

  “Explain!”

  “They can’t have you,” he said, just as pissed as I was. “Bad as it would have been for them to grab me when I was young, with you, if they completed your training at this age, you’d make Nordeen look like a tame house cat. You’d be worse than—” He stopped himself but I didn’t let it drop.

  “I’d be worse than Narayana.” He nodded.

  “More like Narayana times two. They’d find him through you and bind him to their cause with you.”

  “Don’t trust him.” My cold old hurt returned to my heart. “Narayana. If he tells you he loves you, that he’ll never run, don’t believe a word he says.”

  “I do,” Mico responded simply. “I trust Narayana to be exactly what he is. I trust his actions, if not his words.”

  “So you stand by Narayana and will leave A.C. to die?”

  “You can’t kill the wind, Chabi.”

  “But you can torture it, can’t you, Mico? And if that psycho Nordeen is an expert in anything, I can guess it’s torture.”

  “This isn’t easy on me, Chabi. If I had anyone in your time that I could call on to help grab him, believe me I’d send them. But I can’t risk you. You’ve seen the influence they have. And that was them working in the shadows. If they’ve got A.C., if you’ve squared off against them, they’ve got no reason to be subtle anymore. This is when they are the most dangerous.”

  “Yeah, and they’ve got A.C. I get it. You’re a general fighting a war. But I’m a grunt. Someone came back for me and now he’s behind enemy lines. And you want me to do what now? Sit this one out? You act like you just met me.”

  “I did.” He smiled. “This you, anyway. I don’t want you going anywhere near the Naga Suites . . .”

  “But you can’t stop me, either. So you might as well help me.” I stood.

  “My ability to affect the past is limited.” He stood to meet my eyes and I knew that he was happy I was going for A.C.

  “I just need to get into the building with supplies.”

  “You’ll be relying on the Manna Elohim.”

  “The what now?”

  He sighed before he spoke. “What we’re fighting for, what this is all about. It’s what the Alters despise. It’s how you got here. It’s why they want your friend’s land. It’s an early outcropping of the Manna. They tasted it on the marijuana, now they want to source. But now you’ve smoked it you see. You’ve been in communion with it. If you utilize it to get into the Suites, they will all know you are there as soon as you enter.”

  “That’s why I’m bringing supplies. And I’m not fighting for some weird plant fungus. I’m fighting for A.C.” He nodded. Sad, but somehow proud.

  “Narayana is . . . I can deliver a message to him in my time. If you’d like,” Mico offered reluctantly.

  “Tell him to pray I die in my time. ’Cause if I make it to yours, me and him are going to have words.”

  I probably should have asked Mico for my bodily voice back. Whatever. The fungus gave me the benefit of damn near instant transport but ten stories up from the basement in a hallway. I’d been gone a maximum of fifteen minutes. I didn’t need my voice to kick ass. I pulled the two entropy pistols and made my way to the hallway. Their soul weight did make them hard to lift, but they didn’t need reloading and gave me the clarity of sight to know where to shoot what Alters.

  I pulled the fire alarm and watched all manner of people emptying rooms. Some were Alters and I showed them no mercy. To other people it seemed like some crazy quiet girl with a sword was shooting remarkably pretty folks at random. Thankfully, the human instinct to run away from trouble kept most civilians away. While everyone was flooding the stairs, I took the elevator. I remembered the emergency code from my time as security chief and made my way up to the thirteenth floor. I expected a lot more trouble than I got. Only ten Alters. When the door opened, I holstered the pistols and gave the sword the blood it wanted. Its entropic force made it lighter, not heavier, and it sang an awesome dirge as I swung it. It wanted to keep swinging, pushing me to go one floor down and clean out anyone there. But I restrained myself with thoughts of A.C. I just had to drop something off in Rice’s apartment.

  I pulled five explosives in the elevator and punched in the express code for the basement. Before I got down, I opened the emergency hatch in the roof and climbed up. Just to be safe I hopped on the maintenance ladder a floor above the basement. Jah Puba’s God must have been looking out for me because that part worked out perfectly. The Alters lit the elevator up with lead as soon as it came down. When they walked in to investigate, the timers went off on the explosives. I caught a little heat and the emergency hatch blew up, but that was fine. Before the explosion was fully over, I jumped through the access door on the top of the elevator.

  I forgot how strong the Alters were. Two jumped through the flames for me. I used the Red Salamander Rising strike to put one’s balls where his throat was. The other came slicing through with a bladed weapon that extended from both sides of his hand. I took his hand off with my sword. I sheathed it then Dragon Rolled over the flames and into the former dance floor turned pit fight. Three came for me at once. One chick I’d already blinded in an eye, another favored his right leg majorly. I swept it with the Black Rooster’s Peck before the one-eyed raving lunatic could release her blade at me. I shot back with two rounds. One for her other eye, the other for the Alter hanging back loading his piece.

  Two more, working in unison, tried to disarm me, thinking the guns were my last line of defense and not my first. They darted around the room like cracked-out scorpions, lunging for me out of the shadows. I holstered the pistols and raised the sword. It sought them out for me. Then the rest came. Ten all at once. Bum rush. When it was done, I was the only one alive and unhurt.

  Those on the stage didn’t seem to care. Nordeen, Poppy, and Rice were the only ones standing. A.C. was flying, or rather being kept in the air by Nordeen’s chanting. I let a bullet speak for me and sent it at Nordeen. He changed his focus and language to stop the bullet, but it only slowed it down enough to be dodgeable. At least it caused him to drop A.C. The Wind Boy was obviously hurt, but did his best not to show it.

  “Now see, I go through all the trouble of getting you out of here,” A.C. tried to joke. “And here you are, back in the game.”

  “She couldn’t resist me.” It was Rice. He said it, looked at me, and I almost believed him. With the gun still out, I waved all of them away from A.C. The rat bitch spoke.

  “What was that, little liminal girl? I can’t hear you. Speak up!”

  I shot at her, but she scurried behind A.C., her talon-like fingers around his neck. “Do that again and I’ll make a corpse of him, I promise.”

>   “You’ve picked the losing side of a battle that’s already won, girl,” Nordeen said as I approached the stage, my aim switching between all three of them. “But there’s still time. This is where our kind belongs.”

  “Ha!” A.C. coughed. “If liminals belong with Alters, then why are you the only one with them, Nordeen? Why do they spend all their time trying to kill liminals? Don’t believe your own lies, old man.”

  “Shut your hole.” Poppy made it sound sexy. Even to me. But I kept my focus on her as I entered the ring. So much so that I forgot about Rice.

  “No lies then.” He came up next to me, putting himself between the bullets meant for Poppy. “Here’s my truth. You’ve destroyed an ancient ritual and cost millions in dollars and countless influence. But if you come with me, join me, be with me, like we’ve both always wanted, I swear, Chabi, it could all be worth it. We could end this stupid conflict before it gets out of hand. It could just be you and me. Forever. Chabi, look into my eyes, I’m not lying. Do this for me and I promise, I will never leave you.”

  What can I say? I bought it. I lowered my guns. I let him hug me; I let myself feel comforted by him. I couldn’t help it. I saw the light go out of A.C.’s eyes and the joy in Poppy’s face. But there was nothing I could do against his spell. And I knew it.

  That’s why I set the rest of the charges on a timer in Rice’s apartment. They went off a second after he held me and the whole building shook. Instantly he knew what was going on. I would have apologized if I could have. But he had taken my voice.

  “You fucking bitch!” That was all I needed from him. Just a glimpse of his true face. I broke his arm in four places before I threw him into Nordeen. Poppy tried running, but A.C. was on it, he flipped backwards the second she let him go and mule-kicked her ankle. Still, like the wounded rat she was, she kept scampering. I shot at her as she ran out some back door I’d never seen before. I knew I hit the bitch but not how bad. I whirled to try to get Nordeen but he was already gone. I saw Rice move quickly, gracefully, to the back room. It almost didn’t matter; the sound of 155 tons of steel, glass, and concrete coming down on us was deafening.

  “Chabi, quick, the weapons,” A.C. demanded as he stood up. It hurt to let them go but it also felt lighter. He put them on. “Ok, now listen, Chabi. You’ve got to sing. I can get you out of here but you’ve got to sing.”

  I motioned to my throat. I could barely hear him. The ceiling was about to give in.

  “Screw that noise. No one can take your voice. You can only give it. You broke Rice’s hold over you. Your voice is your own. Come on, Chabi, there isn’t much time!”

  I started “Motherless Child.” “Sometimes I feel like . . .” But I couldn’t do it. The words came but I didn’t want to disrespect my mother like that. Eight rebar beams from ten stories up tore me apart before I knew I was dead.

  Epilogue: The Time I Died

  I felt the Mansai in a new way. The wind through the sails was the wind in my hair. When the deck creaked so did my chest. What happens belowdeck is the closest I get to hunger, being dead and all. So when A.C. appeared on the deck, I knew instantly.

  “So is this heaven or hell?” I asked. He looked apologetic already. It couldn’t have been that long since I was in the basement of the Naga Suites; he still looked like shit.

  “Guess that’s up to you.” He tried to smile. “I called in some favors. Compromised on some principles, begged some deities I swore I’d never talk to again, and got you this.”

  Rather than ask, I felt. “The Mansai and I are one. It lives as I do. But I can’t get off it. I’m a ghost ship.”

  “I can end this if you want. It’s not as simple as heaven or hell but you will move on.”

  “Can anyone see me?” I asked.

  “If they step on board. Otherwise, they just see the ship.” I stood, feeling the boat. It felt like when I met Mico, when my body was an ocean. “You’ll have to go out to sea in order to experience the fullness of what you can do but your katas, now, shaped by the ship, will be truly powerful.”

  “Mom?” The thought came to me all at once as I looked over to her houseboat and saw her light not yet on.

  “She’s one of the fortunate and cared for. Rice and his crew won’t get near her.”

  “There’s a plan in all of this. Your buddy Mico wants something from me, doesn’t he?” I smiled then got angry.

  “Look, if you want to pass over I won’t stop you. We all know you deserve the rest. But now you’ve seen the Alters. Seen what they can do. We need folks unafraid of them. Living or dead . . .”

  “Or ghost ship, doesn’t matter. You just need soldiers,” I said slowly. “Narayana?”

  “He’s out there.” A.C. pointed past the Golden Gate Bridge. “Right now, he’s out in the sea somewhere. He hasn’t told us, me, where. Maybe you run into him at some point before he links up with us. I don’t know.”

  “He got all working parts when you guys meet up with him?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then he didn’t meet up with me yet.” I’m quiet for a minute. “Nordeen asked a valid question, you know. Who says you’re on the right team?”

  “One more hit,” A.C. asks, showing one of his joints to me. His little smokeable God. “It will send me back to my time, and you back here to make your decision. But before it does, it’ll show you what it is we’re fighting for.”

  I take a drag, more to see if a ghost can take a hit than anything.

  We’re at a night spot in San Francisco. One of the ones I used to go to. It’s not a club, it’s a café turned club at night. Everyone is earnest, everyone is dubstepping their minds out, waiting for breakdowns, head bobbling, going nuts. The speakers are going to be as useless as half of the dancers’ eardrums after tonight, but who cares? It’s beautiful to behold. I’m about to ask if anyone can see me when the music changes.

  It’s all samples, but well looped and parsed. Not thrown together like someone with their first Casio. It’s old school hip-hop, and Bhangra, and Cumbia . . . and something more. More than dubstep, more than the pastiche of post-hip-hop tunes. There’s a generativity in the music, it’s alive. There are Tamil traditional songs, Soca, Merengue; it’s the music from all over the world. With a beat. I can’t help it, I’m grinning and crying at the same time. It’s wonderful. When I look up at the DJ, I’m only half surprised that its Jah Puba/Mico. It’s not perfect yet, but he can hear the music I fought to, the rhythm of the universe. That’s what he’s trying to mix to, the universal sound.

  “He wants to do the same with people’s souls,” A.C. whispers in my ear. I hear him fading, back to his time. “And he wants you to sing for him.”

  Acknowledgments

  I wrote this at a low point in my life, after all that I thought was stable upended itself, and decided that security was a blanket meant to comfort someone else. I had to stretch. I had to rely on folks in ways I never thought I would. Those that came through I call family. I don’t call the others.

  To Nick, AKA the man on the boat: You are the best teacher I’ve ever had. My respect for you knows no bounds.

  To Katy Franco: Because you treat my typos like misfit toys in need of care.

  To Katie: Lil sis! Thanks for being an early reader and a forever honest voice.

  To Jesse Powell: Writing brother for life!

  To Chris Lane: Skinny man, you do big things.

  To Nalo: For inspiring simply by being in the world.

  To Tigress: Your support on and off the page made this possible. Thanks, pretty lady.

  To John Jennings: Not just for the covers, but for all we will do next.

  To Gavin and Kelly: Thanks for getting on board this Liminal train.

  About the Author

  Born in 1974, Ayize Jama-Everett hails from the Harlem of old. In his time on the planet, he’s traveled extensively throughout the world—Malaysia, East and North Africa, Mexico, New Hampshire—before settling temporarily in Northern California.
With master’s degrees in psychology and divinity, he’s taught at the graduate and high school level and worked as a therapist. He is the author of three novels, The Liminal People, The Liminal War, and The Entropy of Bones, as well as an upcoming graphic novel with illustrator John Jennings entitled Box of Bones. When he’s not writing, teaching, or sermonizing, he’s usually practicing his aim.

  Read More Ayize Jama-Everett novels from Small Beer Press: The Liminal People

  Taggert can heal and hurt with just a touch. When an ex calls for help, he risks his enigmatic master’s wrath to try to save her daughter. But the daughter has more power than even he can imagine and in the end, Taggert will have to use more than just his power, he has to delve into his heart and soul to survive.

  “A fast-paced story about superpowered people struggling for control. . . . a damn good read. It’s a smart actioner that will entertain you while also enticing you to think about matters beyond the physical realm.”—Annalee Newitz, io9

  paper · $16 · 9781931520331 | ebook · 9781931520362

  Read More Ayize Jama-Everett novels from Small Beer Press: The Liminal War

  When Taggert’s adopted daughter goes missing, he suspects an old enemy. With friends, family, and even those who don’t quite trust that he’s left his violent past behind, his search leads to an unexpected place: the past.