thinking about it.
***
When Jim regained consciousness for the second time, he was in the same position he'd been in for the first coming-around: flat on his back, grass beneath his palms, eyes closed. Except this time there was something wet on his face.
Popping his lids, he found Colin's face right above his own, and as the guy's blood dripped onto Jim's cheeks, the “rain” was explained.
“Ah, you're awake, well-done.” Colin pulled back a fist and cracked Jim right in the puss.
As pain exploded, Bertie let out a cry, Tarquin whimpered, and Byron rushed over.
“Right, now we're even.” Colin hopped off and shook out his hand.
“You know, taking human form has its benefits, indeed. That felt rather nice.”
Nigel shook his head. “This is not going well.”
Jim had to agree as he sat up and accepted the handkerchief Byron held out. While he stemmed the bleeding from his nose, he couldn't believe he'd exploded like that at those castle doors, but then he was always shocked afterward.
Nigel eased down on his haunches. “You want to know why you were chosen, and I believe you have a right to know.”
Jim spat out the blood in his mouth. “Now there's an idea.”
Nigel reached over and took the bloody handkerchief. The instant the cloth made contact with his hands, the stain disappeared, the white fibers as pristine as they had been before they'd been used to stop a red geyser.
He gave it back for further use. “You are the two halves together, Jim.
The good and the bad in equal measure, capable of great reserves of kindness and profound depths of depravity. Thusly, both sides found you acceptable. We and...the other...both believe that when you are presented with the seven opportunities, you will influence the course of events according to our values. We for the good, they for the evil—
with the outcome determining the fate of humanity.”
Jim stopped mopping up his face and focused on the Englishman. He could dispute nothing of what had been said about his character, and yet his brain remained scrambled. Or maybe he had a concussion, thanks to Colin, the knuckle-cracking motherfucker.
“So do you accept your destiny?” Nigel said. “Or does all end here?”
Jim cleared his throat. Begging wasn't something he was used to.
“Please...just let me see my mother. I...I need to know she's okay.”
“I'm so sorry, but as I said, only the dead may pass to the other side.”
Nigel's hand came to rest on Jim's shoulder. “What say you, man?”
Byron came in close. “You can do it. You're a carpenter. You build things and you rebuild things. Lives are constructions just the same.”
Jim looked at the castle and felt his heartbeat in his busted nose.
If he took everything at face value, if everything were true, if he were some kind of savior, then... if he walked away, the only peace his mother knew was gone. And as attractive as he might find the emptiness and timelessness of nonexistence, that was a cold exchange for where she was now.
“How does it work?” he asked. “What do I do?”
Nigel smiled. “Seven deadly sins. Seven souls swayed by these sins.
Seven people at a crossroads with a choice that must be made. You enter their lives and affect their path. If they choose righteousness over sin, we prevail.”
“And if they don't...”
“The other side wins.”
“What is the other side?”
“The opposite of what we are.”
Jim glanced over at the table with its white linens and sparkling silver.
“So...we're talking about a bunch of ass-scratchers sitting on Barcaloungers watching Girls Gone Wild and drinking beer.” Colin laughed. “Not hardly, mate. Although that is an image, indeed.”
Nigel glared at his buddy and then looked back at Jim. “The other side is evil. I shall let your mind summon the appropriate reference, but if you should want a place to start, you have but to think of what was done to your mother and know that those who hurt her enjoyed
***
When Jim regained consciousness for the second time, he was in the same position he'd been in for the first coming-around: flat on his back, grass beneath his palms, eyes closed. Except this time there was something wet on his face.
Popping his lids, he found Colin's face right above his own, and as the guy's blood dripped onto Jim's cheeks, the “rain” was explained.
“Ah, you're awake, well-done.” Colin pulled back a fist and cracked Jim right in the puss.
As pain exploded, Bertie let out a cry, Tarquin whimpered, and Byron rushed over.
“Right, now we're even.” Colin hopped off and shook out his hand.
“You know, taking human form has its benefits, indeed. That felt rather nice.”
Nigel shook his head. “This is not going well.”
Jim had to agree as he sat up and accepted the handkerchief Byron held out. While he stemmed the bleeding from his nose, he couldn't believe he'd exploded like that at those castle doors, but then he was always shocked afterward.
Nigel eased down on his haunches. “You want to know why you were chosen, and I believe you have a right to know.”
Jim spat out the blood in his mouth. “Now there's an idea.”
Nigel reached over and took the bloody handkerchief. The instant the cloth made contact with his hands, the stain disappeared, the white fibers as pristine as they had been before they'd been used to stop a red geyser.
He gave it back for further use. “You are the two halves together, Jim.
The good and the bad in equal measure, capable of great reserves of kindness and profound depths of depravity. Thusly, both sides found you acceptable. We and...the other...both believe that when you are presented with the seven opportunities, you will influence the course of events according to our values. We for the good, they for the evil—
with the outcome determining the fate of humanity.”
Jim stopped mopping up his face and focused on the Englishman. He could dispute nothing of what had been said about his character, and yet his brain remained scrambled. Or maybe he had a concussion, thanks to Colin, the knuckle-cracking motherfucker.
“So do you accept your destiny?” Nigel said. “Or does all end here?”
Jim cleared his throat. Begging wasn't something he was used to.
“Please...just let me see my mother. I...I need to know she's okay.”
“I'm so sorry, but as I said, only the dead may pass to the other side.”
Nigel's hand came to rest on Jim's shoulder. “What say you, man?”
Byron came in close. “You can do it. You're a carpenter. You build things and you rebuild things. Lives are constructions just the same.”
Jim looked at the castle and felt his heartbeat in his busted nose.
If he took everything at face value, if everything were true, if he were some kind of savior, then... if he walked away, the only peace his mother knew was gone. And as attractive as he might find the emptiness and timelessness of nonexistence, that was a cold exchange for where she was now.
“How does it work?” he asked. “What do I do?”
Nigel smiled. “Seven deadly sins. Seven souls swayed by these sins.
Seven people at a crossroads with a choice that must be made. You enter their lives and affect their path. If they choose righteousness over sin, we prevail.”
“And if they don't...”
“The other side wins.”
“What is the other side?”
“The opposite of what we are.”
Jim glanced over at the table with its white linens and sparkling silver.
“So...we're talking about a bunch of ass-scratchers sitting on Barcaloungers watching Girls Gone Wild and drinking beer.” Colin laughed. “Not hardly, mate. Although that is an image, indeed.”
Nigel glared at his buddy and then looked back at Jim. “The other side is evil. I shall let your mind summon the appropriate reference, but if you should want a place to start, you have but to think of what was done to your mother and know that those who hurt her enjoyed
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