[Love passed, the Muse appeared, the weather of mind got clarity new-found; now free, I once more weave together emotion, thought and magic sound – Alexander Pushkin.]
Death was starting to lose patience with her siblings. This was not the millionth time that this had happened, but thousands of years of the same aggravations took their toll, even on the most patient and compassionate of beings.
She stood watching the choir of small children lifting their voices in song, their faces rigid with concentration, thirty or so small faces in a sea of white cloaks and red sashes. One of their hearts was about to give out, because although the little boy had been having chest pains for weeks, he was so fixated on his goal to sing in the choir that he'd been ignoring his pain. As the crowd applauded at the fall of the last note, Death caught a tiny glimpse of her sibling at the back, not quite standing in the confines of the church itself but nestled under a tree just outside the main doors. Desire, watching the throngs of rapturous, devoted mortals, with something sinister on their face.
The children were filing off in rows when the boy fell. The conductor rushed forward to catch him, but the little soul was already untethered, blinking slowly as he watched his own body crumple to the floor of the church. Death approached him softly.
"Zach?"
The boy turned. He gazed up at Death's face with confusion at first, then a gradual understanding blossomed.
"Was I good?" he asked, his piping little voice hopeful. Death knelt down to meet him at his level.
"You were fantastic," she assured him, holding out a hand. There was the clap of wingbeats, the shudder of air displaced and she had taken him over to the other side, guiding him to the Sunless Lands faithfully. When she returned it was to find Desire beckoning with one finger, as though she'd kept them waiting. With a sigh, she wandered out past the screaming, horrified churchgoers who had called an ambulance as Zach's body lay prone on the tile.
Desire was stunning, the very image of want but characteristically a laughing, shameless creature. They lounged under the trees as though waiting to be painted into a portrait, oozing sensuality. Death just glared and crossed her arms.
"I have work to do," she warned Desire before they could get too carried away. The yellow-eyed being just grinned, displaying perfect teeth in the sunlight.
"As do I," Desire said, stretching out like a lazy cat on the grass. "Am I not allowed to ask for help from my big sister occasionally?"
Death wasn't fooled by the fake pout but was intrigued enough to ask a question. "Help?" She could count on one hand the times Desire had admitted any sort of vulnerability or requested anything from her. There was a wariness between them; many mortals who had pined away from Desire's or Despair's power ended up in the arms of Death.
"I have a problem," Desire admitted, deepening the beautiful pout on their face.
Death raised an eyebrow, silently begging their sibling to get on with an explanation. But Desire did always like to make a scene.
It would have been highly unusual if any of the mortals could notice the two black-clad figures arguing in the shade as an ambulance tore up to the building and officers raced inside with a stretcher prone between them, yelling instructions and pushing aside any of the worshippers that were stunned, immobile. Both siblings were unfazed by the chaos ensuing around them.
Desire rolled onto their back, gazing up at Death's less-than-impressed face. "You know what I offer is all about the want, never the outcome…"
Death rolled her eyes. "I've heard this before. The two tragedies – to lose or gain your heart's desire. That's hardly a problem." She started to walk away, down the long drive that led to the road. Her boots crunched on gravel, but still, no one mortal detected her presence. She noted the graveyard to one side, hoping to slip through it after Desire finally revealed their real intention in waylaying her.
"You know me well but… Not a problem? Something is disrupting the balance," Desire called out after their sibling, a bit more anger in their tone than they would have liked to admit to. "There are too many fulfilled desires. Hope come true – a great more…" Desire stood to continue crying out after Death. "… satisfaction! Inspiration driving the mortals to feel content."
"This is a you problem," Death laughed drily over her shoulder. "Not one for me."
"What if I make it a 'you problem'?"
That had her stop in her tracks. Death was not unused to Desire pulling out threats (especially at shared family dinners), but she was tired of her siblings making more work for her. Ironically Destruction had been the most considerate of them in that respect.
"I believe that might fall under the category of 'interfering with a family member's realm'," Death noted, waiting for Desire to disagree. "And that's a definite break in the rules, little one."
Desire actually stamped a foot. "But Dream harbouring the cause of this interference in my work doesn't?"
The ambulance had announced the child deceased. In twos and threes, holding one another up, occasionally praying, the congregation departed the church. Silently the children from the choir followed their parents, bewildered and numb. Someone turned the flickering blue and red ambulance lights off and wailing from Zach's father could be heard growing from inside the recesses of the church.
Death rubbed her face, resigning herself to delay the next departed soul she needed to collect.
"What are you talking about?" she groaned. "The Muses have been here since the Waking World realised what art was. You're only complaining about it now?" Death continued to walk, flicking a farewell wave behind her in Desire's general direction. "Anyone can see this is just another stab at Dream, Desire. My suggestion - get a new hobby. Move on." Before her sibling could protest again, Death let her wings carry her away, pushing aside the fact that there would be repercussions later for her lack of tact.
She had a lot of time to think, in between picking up souls. Hours after the confrontation, Death pondered that perhaps the smartest thing to do would have been to hear Desire out, rather than dismiss them so quickly. But the competitive streak went deep in the twins, even if Despair looked like they never contributed much to the pursuit of ambition. Death concluded it might have just been a wasted effort even if she had tried to let Desire feel heard. Even if Dream would never admit to it, he at least had the decency to listen when she had a go at him for his faults – the same could not be said for the twins.
As she picked up an elderly Chinese-American woman from a nursing home, Death's considerations turned toward the future. Was it prudent to send her brother a warning that the twins had found a new fixation? Forewarned usually meant forearmed for Dream and Desire was clearly clutching at straws, blaming a 'disruption' in the balance they could easily rectify, should they really put their mind to it. It sat uncomfortably with Death because she knew the one Muse could never hope to match the work of all of her siblings so either Desire was lying through their lovely teeth, or the poor Muse was working herself to a dizzying degree…
Death materialised in a field. It was a rich orchard, plotted in neat rows as far as she could see. Bees hovered around budding flowers, but there were a few ripening apples on the lowest of the branches. Death took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the afternoon, letting the scent of honeysuckle and pollen dance. Life was a beautiful, incredible phenomenon; this world had so many small wonders.
At the trunk of the tree was a family of sparrows, hovering and pecking at the earth for morsels. Death crouched. Like Dream and his ravens, she had an affinity with sparrows, the birds that could cross over to the Sunless Lands and return at a whim, sometimes carrying tiny souls. Their dark eyes and quick movements reminded her of herself sometimes.
Too busy to go to her own gallery, Death whispered in one of the little bird's ears. It jumped to her shoulder for a moment, playing with a strand of her hair. She laughed, plucked the hair and gave it to the obliging bird who no sooner had it secure in its beak than it was taking to the skies.
"Fly well," Death shaded her eyes to watch its glorious flight. "Stay safe."
Somewhere nearby one of the fruit-pickers, clumsy from a night of heavy drinking before, fell from her ladder. With a startled gasp her body hit the ground hard, her head at an odd angle. Death turned to continue her work, shrugging her concerns away for the time being.
The sparrow held a true course, far above the hills and valleys where the farmers and fruit-pickers toiled, sailing high above the lake and out towards the ocean. Flocks of many kinds of seabird coasted along with the tiny messenger, shrieking out warnings and greetings. Without tiring, the small creature trained on their target, down on a coastline not too far away. It fell into a steady dive, making sure not to lose the hair in its beak.
There on the beach was a great tree, with several ravens hidden in the uppermost canopy. The little sparrow got their attention and relayed the message faithfully, chirping around its prize. The flock was startled into action and a dozen or so surfers watched in amazement as the tree was vacated by every bird, save the tiny sparrow, clinging happily to a branch and eyeing the coffee vans pulling into the car park.
Matthew would receive the warning many hours later and make all haste to deliver it into the Dreaming.