Six

3 The Traveler

3

The TravelerJonah used the Astralimes to step directly into his room. He wasn't interested in talking about the night.

Had the play been good? No, it was great.

But Jonah hadn't expected Vera to be in a relationship. He hadn't expected the new guy. Then again, after six months, East wasn't exactly new, was he?

And once again; what the hell kind of name was East?

He stared at the ceiling, his mind full of just about everything under the roof before he realized sleep wasn't going to come naturally. Whatever.

He braved downstairs and went to the kitchen. Reena wouldn't mind if Jonah took one of her melatonin. It did the trick. After maybe six hours of sleep, which included a weird dream where Vera, in character as Juliet Nightingale, sat him down on some stage and explained to him in detail why East was better for her than he was, his alarm woke him up at 7 AM. He'd slept with all of his clothes on, but, given where he was going, that probably wasn't the biggest deal.

Next to his phone was a note which certainly hadn't been there when he'd gone to sleep the night before. Grabbing his reading glasses, he opened it, and read the golden, cursive letters:

Use the Astralimes to Candler. Focus on the truck stop at Exit 37, right off I-40 West.

Puzzled, Jonah did as the note instructed. Two steps later, he stood in front of the truck stop off of Exit 37 in Candler. It was at that moment he'd realized he'd forgotten his coat. Candler was in the mountains, right outside Asheville. This was November, so to call this Candler morning brisk was an understatement. Before he ran into the truck stop to get some breakfast, he noticed a neatly folded note underneath his shoe. Picking it up, he read:

Use the Astralimes to Edenton. Focus on the waterfront that overlooks the Chowan River.

Jonah frowned. Edenton? That was clear on the other side of North Carolina! Why did he have to come to Candler, when he was going to be whipped off to Edenton?

With a sigh, he focused, stepped onto the Astral Plane, then stepped onto the waterfront in Edenton. There were only a few folks there this early in the morning, but all looked out to the Chowan River. It was shaping up to be a nice morning here, provided those grayish clouds on the horizon stayed tucked in their little corner.

Jonah didn't bother taking in many sights, because he spotted another note nailed to a bulletin board near the waterfront. He snatched it down, tore it open, and impatiently read:

Wilmington. The Battleship North Carolina.

The destination triggered a memory, and Jonah laughed, despite his impatience. When he was in the eighth grade, his class had taken a trip to that very spot. But Jonah had to miss the trip—plus an entire week of school—due to conjunctivitis. And now, nearly fifteen years later, he was finally going to go there…as part of Jonathan's ethereal wild goose chase. He couldn't call it a treasure hunt, seeing as how there was no treasure.

He crammed the note into his pocket. There had better be a good reason why he had just had to jump between three different corners of the state. Jonathan seemed to be taking the whole “From Manteo to Murphy” thing a little too seriously.

He took the two ethereal steps and now stood on the battleship. It was long before touring hours, so he wasn't expecting to see anyone.

But he did.

A fully dressed naval officer walked right past him and gave him a smile and a half-nod as he did so. The gesture was kind, but the guy was neither shocked nor alarmed when Jonah stepped out of thin air. Why would that be—?

Oh.

It was a spirit. Duh.

“Brilliant, Jonah,” he murmured to himself. “You didn't think about the spirits at one of the most haunted areas in the whole state.”

“Now, you know better than that, Jonah,” said a familiar voice.

He turned. Jonathan strolled towards him, his hands in the pockets of his duster. He greeted the naval officer as well then turned to Jonah.

“Spirits and spiritesses don't haunt anything,” he said. “The spirit count is high here because many of the officers find it familiar and, therefore, comfortable. Haunting is an entirely different matter.”

Jonah sniffed. “Right, sir,” he said. “Now, what was the deal with the spot-hopping across the state?”

“First things first, Jonah,” said Jonathan. “How was last night? How was visiting Vera, and seeing her at her creative best?”

Jonah looked away from Jonathan, out to the ocean. “It was what it was,” he mumbled. “Now, why did I have to go from Candler to Edenton, and then Edenton to Wilmington? It only took a couple minutes, sure, but it was still quite a trek.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, no doubt curious about how quickly Jonah had changed the subject from Vera. That made Jonah curious; it wasn't like Jonathan had ever known how Jonah had felt about Vera. Or had he?

Not that it mattered now.

Thankfully, Jonathan didn't pry. Though he did flash a quick, knowing grin.

“The strategic bouncing around was a necessary measure, Jonah,” he said. “A little disorientation couldn't be avoided, and one must perform a bit of misdirection before going to The Plane with No Name.”

Jonah took a deep breath. Jonathan had approached him with this task about three weeks ago. Many Eleventh Percenters in the ethereal world had taken the past few months as a good sign and figured Creyton had decided going up against Jonathan was too much. No one involved with the Grannison-Morris estate was that naïve, however. Jonathan had seen to that.

He had informed them the quiet they'd experienced was merely the calm before the storm. Eighth Chapter crimes had popped up here and there, expertly spaced out, so they appeared to be random. But Jonathan had taught them all to see the signs.

There had been a multi-car pile-up on Highway 220, which had ended the physical lives of fifteen Tenths and three Elevenths. Survivors swore there had not been a crash to trigger the pile-up; but a car, in front of everyone, simply stopped. The driver, they recounted, stepped out of the car, holding a twig in their hand for some reason, and vanished right before the vehicular c*****e. Tenth authorities had written these claims off as hysterics. Eleventh authorities knew better.

In the middle of July, Dace Cross, a Spectral Law practitioner, and world-class b***h, had been found at the bottom of a ravine, in a car that had been registered to no one. Tenth authorities hypothesized she'd fallen asleep at the wheel. Spectral Law, posing as the FBI, took over the case and determined in no less than three minutes that not only had Cross been physically lifeless before the crash, but there hadn't even been any evidence she'd driven the car at all. Jonathan told them Dace Cross hated Tenth means of travel, and, as such, hadn't even bothered learning how to drive. Jonah hadn't liked the woman, but to be killed in such a way was nightmarish.

But last month, about a week before Jonathan approached Jonah with this task, something rattled people even more than what had occurred with Dace Cross.

The girl that had taken over the Gate linkages when Katarina Ocean had resigned from the Curaie had headed home after work one day. She didn't go to work the next day, which was immediately taken as a bad sign, because such behaviors were not suffered lightly by those employed by the Phasmastis Curaie. Spectral Law was sent to her home and had made a most grisly discovery. She had been bound by ethereal fetters, tortured, and then murdered. Jonathan told the estate residents a source of his revealed the girl had been ordered by her killer to link up an unauthorized Gate to the weapons the Networkers had confiscated from the tattoo parlor earlier in the year. Jonah found out her name had been Phoebe Linkletter. Katarina had said she was growing more and more into her role every day. It wasn't fair or right that had happened to her. Jonathan put a marker in the cemetery near the Glade in her honor.

But there was one Jonathan had learned about that even the Curaie didn't yet know. After what happened at Blood Oath's tattoos, Jessica had been ordered to re-integrate back into Tenth Society completely, for an indefinite amount of time (Terrence had jokingly likened it to leave without pay). Three nights after Phoebe Linkletter's murder, Jessica got reactivated. Her reactivation also coincided with the disappearance of some slovenly Tenth who was a regular at a club she frequented on the weekends. Jonah took this to mean the calm was nearing its end and had become more proactive than ever.

Jonathan hadn't even looked impatient as Jonah stood there, going over events in his mind. He simply looked out over the ocean, so reverently, so majestically, he almost seemed one with it. Jonah was grateful for the task, but he had requested it happen after he had gone to watch Vera's play. He'd figure it'd be a nice balm, seeing her beforehand.

Well, it hadn't quite worked out like that.

And that was the thought which pulled him out of his own mind.

“I'm here, Jonathan,” he said, so as to acknowledge his internal thoughts had quieted.

Jonathan seemed to come out of his own trance and nodded. “Now, Jonah, the random locations I had you use were done for two reasons,” he said. “The first, as I said, was misdirection. The second one was necessary to build up your ethereality…power you up, if you will. The greater the distances, the better. I figured going from the mountains to the Tidewater to the ocean would more than suffice.”

Jonah didn't really know how to respond to that, so he nodded.

“I want you to understand The Plane with No Name is not for the faint-hearted Elevenths,” Jonathan went on. “I know you are not that at all, but it's necessary to let you know the place is uncivilized, sadistic, and, in a word, dangerous.”

Jonah couldn't remember the last time he scared easily. One couldn't be a Blue Aura and be timid. But Jonathan's words did cause anxiety.

“The focus is a little different,” said Jonathan. “Since this is The Plane with No Name, you can't really focus on a location. Therefore, you need this.”

He gave Jonah what looked like a pager. Jonah's eyes narrowed; he'd seen this before.

“This is a Tally,” he said. “Why do I need this thing?”

“Tallies keep your ethereality on file,” Jonathan explained. “They also work well with locations where you first put them, meaning they can function as a homing beacon.”

Jonah's brow furrowed. “So…once I'm on the Plane, the Tally will assist in getting me back?”

“And actually help to get you there in the first place,” nodded Jonathan. “They are quite useful items, when they're not being used for bullying.”

“I imagine so,” said Jonah. “What else do I need to know?”

“Walk proudly,” said Jonathan at once. “Be confident in who you are, and what you're capable of doing. Appearances are a mask, but true strength is a state of mind. The Plane with No Name is a place of base-level emotions: anger, despair, hopelessness. You have done no wrong, and you get to leave when you have completed your task. Therefore, there is no need to succumb to such damaging emotions.”

Jonah was of two minds on that. Despair and hopelessness? He got the pointlessness of those. But anger? That had saved his life a few times. But it had also caused him to be quite an asshole to some of his loved ones. Double-edged sword, much? “Anything else?”

“When you reach the Gatekeeper, tell him you are there on official business from Jonathan,” said the Protector Guide. “He'll have something for you.”

Jonah nodded, ready to get started. Jonathan stepped aside.

“Peace and blessings, son,” he said.

Jonah saw Jonathan's Infinity medallion on his neck. It was a good thing to focus on…something infinite. What was more positive than that?

He clamped his finger on the Tally, and saw the blue sheen flash up and down the thing. Taking a deep breath, he placed his attention on The Plane with No Name.

Wherever the hell it was.

In two steps, Jonathan, the Battleship North Carolina, and the ocean were gone.