Where do people like us float?

Hands deep in the pockets of her cardigan, Sue walked slowly through the park.  She felt safe enough here where the trees were few and the lawns expansive.  It would be, she hoped, more difficult for someone to sneak up on her than the winding trails dense with early spring buds.

A man sat on a park bench not so far up ahead.  Sue loathed the thought that skittered through her head: would it be safe to pass him?  Yes, any woman alone might have been nervous of a strange man in an isolated spot in a park.  Then again, Sue was ex-FBI.  She could handle the average lurker.  The problem with the Isle was that no one at all was an “average” anything by the human standard of average.

She gripped the ankh amulet that was Meres’ token tighter in her hand for comfort.  Iron and silver with all the protection a demi-goddess could infuse into a chunk of symbolically-shaped metal, the ankh had become Sue’s “transitional object” in this frightening world where she was so out of her depth.

Thus, she didn’t expect it to react to the man on the bench at all.  The cord she’d looped around her wrist and the top loop of the ankh tightened suddenly.  The amulet leapt of its own accord from her pocket, jerking her hand with it.

Sue squeaked.  It was embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as being pulled towards a stranger by a bit of errant metal as though it were an eager puppy spotting a potential friend; and the intent did seem positive.

“She lives in America.  That’s not where she’s from,” said Sue.  “I’m obvious the moment I open my mouth and speak.”  A little smile tugged at the corner of lips.  “I’m Sue,” she said, not offering a last name and taking his hand with the deliberate motion of someone reluctant yet wanting to be polite.

“It’s funny you say that - the amulet talking to you.”  How much was safe to reveal?  Meres had asked her to find Hob.  Only a few months after arriving, Sue’d learned that Hob had died, and she’d made this trip - gotten trapped here - for no reason.  Yet, in Sue’s limited experience, most people in the business of death had contacts everywhere.  The amulet brought her to him, not away.  He treated the ghosts with respect, too, even though none of them were much more than persistent flickers of memory.

Something told him it had to do with a big old dog.

The news of another steward of the dead wasn’t exactly surprising, but it was welcome to meet someone else versed in the area. He and the other fledgling grims still had a lot to learn about their role- it was hard not to feel thrust into it a little. He had taken it on willingly, but it was still overwhelming at times. He nodded impassively, trying to recall if Hob had ever mentioned such a figure. There wasn’t much to go on, really, and Sue clearly wasn’t about to trust guarded information with just anyone, but he didn’t think it was a person he had been familiarised with by name.

Hands deep in the pockets of her cardigan, Sue walked slowly through the park.  She felt safe enough here where the trees were few and the lawns expansive.  It would be, she hoped, more difficult for someone to sneak up on her than the winding trails dense with early spring buds.

A man sat on a park bench not so far up ahead.  Sue loathed the thought that skittered through her head: would it be safe to pass him?  Yes, any woman alone might have been nervous of a strange man in an isolated spot in a park.  Then again, Sue was ex-FBI.  She could handle the average lurker.  The problem with the Isle was that no one at all was an “average” anything by the human standard of average.

She gripped the ankh amulet that was Meres’ token tighter in her hand for comfort.  Iron and silver with all the protection a demi-goddess could infuse into a chunk of symbolically-shaped metal, the ankh had become Sue’s “transitional object” in this frightening world where she was so out of her depth.

Thus, she didn’t expect it to react to the man on the bench at all.  The cord she’d looped around her wrist and the top loop of the ankh tightened suddenly.  The amulet leapt of its own accord from her pocket, jerking her hand with it.

Sue squeaked.  It was embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as being pulled towards a stranger by a bit of errant metal as though it were an eager puppy spotting a potential friend; and the intent did seem positive.

Liam called them back to him, and she couldn’t believe her eyes.  For one, the man pulled water out of the earth like a milder, very British Katara.  Then he turned it into a portal for the errant spirits.

Sue sat down on the bench mostly so she wouldn’t be tempted to go inspect the portal more closely.  The remaining ghosts glided or flickered over to her - more accurately to the amulet.  This time she loosened the cord that kept it about her wrist and set it a fair distance from her on the bench, the better for them to see.

“I… It was a gift,” said Susan evasively.  “A friend worried I’d attract the, uh, wrong kind of spirit because I started spending more time with her.  She can’t leave home for….”  Sue chuckled without much humor.  “For a whole bunch of reasons.  Lots of… dependents to protect.  Since she couldn’t come with me, she gave me some portable protection.”

Hands deep in the pockets of her cardigan, Sue walked slowly through the park.  She felt safe enough here where the trees were few and the lawns expansive.  It would be, she hoped, more difficult for someone to sneak up on her than the winding trails dense with early spring buds.

A man sat on a park bench not so far up ahead.  Sue loathed the thought that skittered through her head: would it be safe to pass him?  Yes, any woman alone might have been nervous of a strange man in an isolated spot in a park.  Then again, Sue was ex-FBI.  She could handle the average lurker.  The problem with the Isle was that no one at all was an “average” anything by the human standard of average.

She gripped the ankh amulet that was Meres’ token tighter in her hand for comfort.  Iron and silver with all the protection a demi-goddess could infuse into a chunk of symbolically-shaped metal, the ankh had become Sue’s “transitional object” in this frightening world where she was so out of her depth.

Thus, she didn’t expect it to react to the man on the bench at all.  The cord she’d looped around her wrist and the top loop of the ankh tightened suddenly.  The amulet leapt of its own accord from her pocket, jerking her hand with it.

Sue squeaked.  It was embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as being pulled towards a stranger by a bit of errant metal as though it were an eager puppy spotting a potential friend; and the intent did seem positive.

“Nothing to apologise for,” he said, staying a polite distance away, frowning mildly as the spirits crowded the woman, seemingly very interested in her trinket. “Hey,” he chastised them, “Don’t mob her.” Something interesting was going on with the lady and her trinket, but he ignored the feeling for a moment, focussing on making sure the half-dozen spirits moved back some. 

“Sorry about them,” he said, running a hand through his hair as the most impatient of them scurried back to him, vying for his attention now that he was no longer lost in thought. “Alright, alright, go on then,” he murmured, waving his hand and drawing moisture from the grass, which had recently been spattered with rain, creating a shimmering window in the air. The ghosts- one elderly woman who bowed her head in thanks and one young man whose form shivered so it was had to tell what he looked like- left through the portal and dissolved, their forms vanishing from the world like footprints washed away by waves.

As the curtain of light turned back to just water, the grim let it fall, making a small damp patch on the ground below, where the more patient spirits sat, content to wait until he had done talking. They clustered in groups of two or three, some hovering above the bench in a semblance of sitting, not actually touching the wood, whilst some drifted off and half-faded into a solitary oak nearby.