Chapter 3

The first person called was a willowy girl with tight curls and poor posture. She took her time walking down the aisle, and I couldn’t blame her. The crowd’s eyes felt heavy even from where I sat, and none of us even knew what was about to happen.

Noticing her hesitance, Ephraim walked forward and put a hand on her shoulder, guiding her onto the wooden steps next to the casket.

Despite his appearance, he had a soothing quality, and I wondered how long he’d been dealing with the young and confused. But when he gestured for her to get inside, she froze.

“In the casket?” she asked, voice squeaky.

“It’s surprisingly comfortable, lumbar support and everything.”

I could tell she wanted to argue further, but impatient jeers from the Ultor section had her hurrying to the wooden box.

She lay down and automatically crossed her arms over her chest.

Ephraim snapped his fingers. The room transformed, and everyone gasped.

Our pews became metal folding chairs, and the ceiling became a crisp blue sky. Bright spring light flooded the space, and the smell of cut grass and car exhaust filled my nose. The casket turned white with pink lining, and surrounding her was a huddle of teddy bears and pink peonies.

People appeared out of thin air, resting their hands on the casket, seemingly unaware the girl had her eyes open, staring at them in horror. She shot up, knocking teddy bears out of her coffin and onto the grass. No one in the tableau seemed to notice.

“Easy,” Ephraim said, putting a hand on her shoulder as she hyperventilated. Stooping with a grunt, he picked up a teddy bear and handed it to her as the cathedral came back into focus. “Messor.”

The Messors on the balcony erupted in applause, and a light ignited out of the darkness behind us, illuminating a door.

“That door will take you up to the balcony,” Ephraim said, helping her out of the casket.

Her plain black attire had been switched out with her funeral garb, a lacy dress. She seemed to glow as she walked between the aisles on her way to the door.

“Arlie,” he called, and the blond next to me flinched.

She spun to face me, as if I were supposed to intervene. With her rheumy eyes, long pointed nose, and small jaw, there was something oddly innocent about her. Not the innocence of a child but rather a distressed animal.

Her lips parted, revealing two front teeth that withdrew inward toward each other like gossiping friends. I don’t know what she planned to say, since Ephraim called her name again, snapping her attention away from me.

The shake in her legs was obvious as she approached the stage. She was so focused on not appearing nervous that she bypassed Ephraim’s offered hand and climbed straight into the casket without hesitation.

She lay down, whispering a question that somehow echoed around the room. “Do I have to see?”

Ephraim shook his head, and she closed her eyes. Then, with a snap, her funeral appeared around us.

Her casket was an orangey wood, and the walls were striped with pink. Most attendees wore a kind of sports uniform. The only woman visible was in regular mourning clothes next to Ephraim, curled over the casket. She wasn’t making any noise I could hear, but her back shook and hiccupped.

Ephraim reached up, and for a second, I thought he was going to rub her back. But instead, he plucked out one of the decorative clips holding her hair back, and she faded with the scene.

“Arlie,” he said somberly, holding the clip up to her.

She opened her eyes slowly, as if afraid of what she might see. But when she only saw Ephraim, she sat up, looking relieved that the ordeal was over.

“Custos.”

She nodded and took the clip, wrapping her fingers around it until they shook.

Afterward, the following funerals passed in a haze. It had never occurred to me how objectively generic funerals are when you see them all side by side. Some are bigger or smaller, with only a few guests or a whole crowd. But, depressingly enough, it got old fast.

One guy in particular got a few murmurs when his funeral came into view.

“Rigel,” Ephraim had called, eyes scanning the pews until they came to land behind me.

Curious, I turned just in time to see a shockingly tall figure rise from the last pew, which was almost entirely cloaked in darkness. He was handsome but in a gaunt way, all hard angles on a long boney frame. It wasn’t only his unique attractiveness that was odd, though.

Nearly too long for the casket, he had to curl his limbs inside like a funnel-web spider.

The moment Ephraim snapped his fingers, he disappeared inside a wood casing, casket tightly closed.

His funeral was a grim one. Everyone in the room flinched as rain poured over our heads from the rapidly appearing grey sky. No mourning apparitions appeared around him, nor did flowers decorate his casket. A smashed up black umbrella hurdled through the air out of nowhere, and Ephraim’s turkey vulture head had to curl against his shoulder to avoid it.

Flinching, he snapped his fingers hastily, melting the angry storm away. He picked up the umbrella, crunching its bent arms into place and shaking the water out before handing it to the boy. “Ultor.”

Expression unchanged, he pushed himself out of the casket and snatched the umbrella from Ephraim. He was wearing a purple velvet tuxedo, which had grown dull and creased with age. As he stalked past us, the flash of his sharp ankles made me wonder how old he was when the outfit was his size.

I’d almost forgotten I was a part of the whole ordeal by the time it was my turn.

“Agnes?” Ephraim called again, searching the dwindling crowd for me.

“Sorry,” I mumbled as I pushed to my feet.

I hurried onto the stage, trying not to seem flustered by the large mass of watching eyes that bore into my back.

Ephraim offered me a hand into the casket, and I took it. “Feeling good?”

I snorted. “Never better.”

“It’s a piece of cake.”

Smiling, I nodded as I lay in the casket, feeling the warm silky lining brush my arms.

“Ready?” he asked in a low voice.

I nodded.

I kept my eyes open, sure I wouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. In fact, I was hoping for hints about my life, just enough to jog my memory.

When Ephraim snapped, everything went black. I jumped a little, wondering if I had a closed casket as well, which was a little boring. But the reassurance of the satin lining was gone, and I was suddenly freezing.

When I uncrossed my arms to check my surroundings, I realized two things: I was lying on metal, and I was bare-ass naked.

The dark box jostled and light poured in over my feet. A mechanical screech filled my ears as I was tugged forward. Ephraim stood over me, but the room behind him had changed from a beautiful cathedral to a windowless, sterile, white-tiled room with harsh, buzzing lights.

I opened my mouth to ask him what was going on, but his gaze broke from mine. His eyes trailed down to the yellow card attached to my big toe with a rubber band.

He pulled it off and held it out to me.

I had to sit up to see what it said, but all I found was a sloppily written Jane Doe.

“Iudex,” Ephraim said, handing the card to me.

I took it, weighing the information, as my bare thighs clung painfully to the cold metal table. It felt almost too on the nose.

Justice.