Chapter 1
She was clinging to life below me. I just had to get down there. Wind whipped at my jacket. The sky above me churned with a storm that was quickly becoming more violent than expected. Every muscle in my arms and legs quivered. Instinct told me to abort. Higgins did too, screaming at me over comms. If I left, she would die. This wasn’t the first time I’d found myself in a tense rescue situation. It wasn’t even the first time I’d ignored someone yelling at me to get out of there. But something about the gale-force gusts and the lingering sense of dread in my gut told me I was cutting it too close. Closer than too close. A life was on the line. So I kept going. I lowered myself carefully, inch by inch. Careful. Steady. She deserved life, just as anyone else. Just had to trust my grip. Then my grip failed me. It was a split second, just a moment of mistake. My hand slipped, and my heart leapt into my throat. The rope caught and I felt relieved. It was short-lived. An ear-splitting crack rang out. I couldn’t tell from where. Then the rope was hissing through my gloves. I gripped tighter through the friction’s burning heat, but couldn’t hold tight enough to stop. Everything came unmoored. I was pitched backward into free fall. That was it. Neither of us deserved life. Maybe I could recover. Depended on how and where I fell. Something might break my fall. I could survive. I could fix my mistake. I could get us out. I just— There was no jarring impact against rock. No snap of bones. Air didn’t rush out of me, and there was no pain. Instead, the wind and thunder of the storm vanished as though someone had flipped a switch. When I opened my eyes, I was standing in a quiet gray expanse. Unharmed. Unanchored. Still wearing my climbing gear, though. Fog ran in soft waves beneath my feet, though I sensed a floor where none should exist. The emptiness stretched in every direction. No sky nor horizon. My breath echoed unnaturally, like I was both in a vast cavern and a cramped closet at the same time. I wondered if this was a dream or a hallucination. Everything felt uncomfortably real. Realer, even, than the mountainside I’d just lost my grip on. But some things seemed odd. I was in my rescue rig. And I wasn’t alone. A woman stood about fifteen feet away. Watching me. She had midnight-black hair and a silver streak near one temple. There was an effortless, timeless beauty to her. She wore a fitted black coat over a long black dress. Both accentuated what few curves she had. Fishnet stockings finished the look. She had the sort of porcelain complexion mall goths wish they could have. Pale, flawless, perfect. For a few seconds, I stared. “Welcome, Sean Donovan,” she said. Her voice rolled through the silence like the thunder I’d left behind. She spoke my name as though she’d known me all my life. But where was I? “Who are you?” I couldn’t think. My pulse was still racing from the fall I hadn’t completed. Mouth both full of saliva and dry as a bone. The adrenaline hadn’t crashed yet. “And where am I?” The pretty goth woman smiled patiently. There was a deep sadness in her violet eyes. “You may call me Dee,” she said. “And this is the in-between.” I blinked at her. “In between…where?” “Life. And death.” I wasn’t sure how to process that. Despite the calm stillness of this place, my mind was still very much trapped in the memory of the mountain storm. My rescue attempt was incomplete, and the woman on the ledge was still in danger. “I can’t be here.” I blurted. “That woman is going to die. I can’t just—” Dee raised her hand, and I fell silent. “I’m sorry. The woman you tried to save has already been tended to by others. She lives. You, however.” She paused, shaking her head with slow, languid motions. “You fell a great distance. Your body hovers on the brink, and so you found your way here, to me.” She had to be lying. Had to. And yet…the proof of her words was all around me. I couldn’t exactly argue while I was standing in a featureless foggy void. My breath came in shallow bursts. My heart still wouldn’t slow down. Did my heart need to beat? Did I need to breathe? If I held my breath, what would happen? Somehow, I felt afraid to even try. Dee studied my face. It felt as if she were seeing right through me. Seeing every regret, every hope. “Ordinarily, souls move on quickly. They continue their path toward their apportioned afterlife.” She smiled thinly at me. “But you fight. You won’t release your grasp on the world of the living. And that’s why you’re here, stuck between.” “You’re Death?” “Dee,” she said again, touching her chest with splayed fingers. “A psychopomp. I guide the souls of the dead out of the in-between.” The difference between the cultural personification of Death and a psychopomp was splitting hairs. A debate for college kids to have while avoiding their actual studies. But what was important was what she said. Dee was a guide of souls. Her aim was to guide me out of this in-between world, but not necessarily towards the afterlife. I felt feverish. My racing heart was suddenly jumping at opportunity instead of seized by panic. “That means there’s a way, right? A chance I can return?” Dee gave me a sympathetic look. “Whether there is or isn’t, that doesn’t matter,” she said. She folded her hands in front of her. “Why do you want to return? That woman has been saved. Your final duty complete.” “There are other people besides her,” I said. Nervous energy made me pace. “More lives hanging in the balance. People who will need my help.” “There are others.” Her words were so quiet I almost couldn’t hear them. Her violet eyes tracked me as I paced back and forth before her. “If they are to be rescued, Fate will provide another person to rescue them. It needn’t be you.” “Screw that.” I stopped pacing, turning to glare at her. “Screw whatever fate and screw you too, lady. I want out of here.” I shook a finger at her. “There’s a way. I remember the old stories. We can play a game for my soul, right?” Her eyes flickered with mild amusement. “That’s true. I’ve allowed some souls to challenge me across the ages. A rare occurrence, but not unheard of.” “Then let’s do it. Let’s play. I want to live.” Dee gave me a long, sorrow-filled look. But she extended her palm. As if conjured from the smoke, an elaborate chessboard appeared between us on a translucent pedestal. The squares were polished marble, black and white, with swirling details around the edges of the board. Sleek black and ivory pieces stood like perfect soldiers, already in place. “Chess,” I said, exhaling. “A classic.” I hadn’t played in years. It had been a hobby during college, a way to keep my mind sharp. I still remembered how the pieces moved and some strategies. But was it enough to win against Death herself? Would I bet my life on it? “It’s a game of choice and consequence,” she said, unaware of my turmoil. “Always appropriate for a man hovering between two destinies. Chosen by your fate.” “Fine,” I said, stepping forward. “If winning means I get to live, I’ll play. But if I lose…” She dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Then your path is set.” I studied the board. White pieces laid out before me like a mountain range waiting to be climbed. White moved first, according to tradition. An advantage I’d use. “So what are the rules?” I asked instead of making a move. “What exactly happens if I win? Do I get to wake up, just like that?” Dee’s expression remained neutral. “You ask many questions for someone in your position.” “I don’t take deals until I know the terms.” I crossed my arms. “I need specifics.” “Very well.” She gestured to the board. “Win the game, and your soul has proven its will to live. Your body may recover.” “May?” I took a step back. “That’s not good enough.” Her eyes flickered with impatience. “I cannot guarantee what is not mine to give. The physical world has its own laws.” I took a step back. Then another. “Maybe I’ll find another way out, then.” The moment I turned to walk away, the fog thickened. It was like walking through barely opaque soup. Ten steps out, I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I’d been in whiteouts with better visibility. The fog clung to me, dragging at my gear like it was trying to hold me back. Another five, the fog lifted. Dee stood there, offering an amused smile. “There is no ‘out’.” She gestured at the board. “Only the bargain.” “So it’s rigged,” I reasoned. “You’re only offering this chance because it’s not a chance. You’ll always win. Right?” “I influence this realm, but my only influence over the challenge is my own skill.” A flash of genuine hurt crossed her face. “I cannot lie about such things.” “So the specifics?” I asked, gesturing at the board. “If I sit down to play, what happens?” “As a psychopomp, I can only guide your soul,” Dee explained patiently. “If you win, I swear to guide you back to your body. What happens then is up to the wonders of modern medical science. If you lose, you will allow me to guide you to your apportioned afterlife.” I studied her, looking for deception. Found none. “Fine.” I returned to the board. “How long will this game take? In real-world time?” Dee shrugged. “Time moves differently here. What might feel like seconds here could be days or weeks for your body. But it can also go in the other direction. We could spend years here and yet seconds pass there. However, I have no more control over it than you do. It is the will of the powers outside of us. The rules of life, and of death.” I stared at the board. “So, that’s it? We just start and whatever happens…happens?” Dee nodded, giving me a patient smile. I took a deep breath and then pushed my king’s pawn forward two spaces to square E4. The most classic opening move. “Do you play often?” I asked, trying to get a read on my opponent. Dee’s fingers hovered over a pawn before selecting it with graceful precision. “I’ve played across centuries. Against kings and philosophers who thought themselves above natural law. Against farmers and factory workers desperate to return to their needy families. The game changes, yet remains the same.” Great. I was playing against someone with literal centuries of experience. But I’d never backed down from impossible odds before now. Wasn’t about to start. “The game reflects the challenger. Your soul chose chess because it requires strategy. Foresight. Risk assessment. The qualities you value most.” As we exchanged some pretty standard opening moves, I studied her. Not just as an opponent, but as…whatever she was. Death. Psychopomp. Demigod. Figment of my imagination. Her movements were measured, her expression mostly neutral. But there was something there—a raised eyebrow when I made an aggressive push with my bishop, a small twitch of her lips when I developed my queen early. “You’re not what I expected,” I said, queenside castling my king to safety from her kingside development. “What did you expect?” In return, she captured one of my pawns with a smooth motion, fighting for control of the center of the board. “I don’t know. A skeleton? A guy in a black robe? Not…” I gestured at her. “You.” She tilted her head. “Appearances matter to you so much?” I ignored her question and studied the board, planning my next three moves. I’d need to sacrifice another piece to regain position in the center. Just like in rescues, sometimes you had to give ground to ultimately succeed. “How many others have won against you?” I pushed a pawn forward, setting up my attack. Dee paused, her violet eyes meeting mine directly for the first time since we’d begun playing. “None.” My stomach dropped. “None? As in, not a single one?” “Not at chess. I’ve been challenged at other games. Riddles. Music. Every board game humans have ever devised. Even a drinking contest once.” Her eyes sparkled with something like humor. “I lost that one, actually.” Despite everything, I laughed. A short, rusty sound that surprised even me. “So, what happened to that person?” “He returned to life. Went on to become a poet of some renown even in your era.” There was a slight sinking feeling in my gut at that. Despite her assurances, it felt like the outcome was already determined then. If I was supposed to win, then why was it chess? If I was supposed to win, it should have been something uniquely my own, and not the game she was undefeated in. And yet… I wasn’t going to give up. I advanced my knight, threatening her bishop. “And you’re not worried I’ll ruin your perfect chess record?” She studied the board, her finger lightly touching the top of her bishop before moving it to safety. “Perfection is not something to chase or cherish. It is something to be lost when the time is right. Everyone loses eventually, Sean.” The way she said my name sent an odd sensation through me, like standing at the edge of a drop and feeling the updraft against your face. I focused on the game. There was a clear target now. The retreat of her bishop opened up attacks on Dee’s central pawn structure. I advanced my bishop one turn, then my queen the next, creating pressure. Dee defended skillfully, but I saw my opening. In three moves, I could capture her center pawn and wrest control from her. Decisive move. Strong move. I slid my bishop diagonally across the board. Knocked her pawn from the square. When I grabbed it, the world shifted. The fog rushed upward. Dee’s face blurred. Then everything changed. There were harsh fluorescent lights. Beeping machines. The antiseptic smell of a hospital room. I was looking at myself. My body lay in a hospital bed, tubes and wires connecting me to various machines. My face was bruised, one leg elevated in a cast. A doctor and nurse stood at the foot of my bed, reviewing a chart. “The fact he’s survived this long is remarkable,” the doctor said. “Multiple fractures, internal bleeding, head trauma. The next forty-eight hours will be critical. If he makes it through, he might have a chance.” The nurse nodded. “Should we allow visitors? His emergency contact is here.” What emergency contact? I couldn’t ask them. Couldn’t interact. “It’s too soon,” the doctor said. “Let’s wait and see if he stabilizes overnight.” As quickly as it had appeared, the vision vanished. I was back in the gray expanse, facing Dee across the chessboard. My fingers were still wrapped around the pawn I’d captured. I jerked my hand back as if burned. “What was that?” Dee’s expression was unreadable. “That is your body, in the world of the living.” “I’m still alive.” Hope and despair crashed simultaneously on the shores of my mind. “So this is…what, real?” “Correct.” I looked down at the captured pawn in my hand, then at the board. As if really seeing it for the first time. “And this game affects what happens to me?” Dee folded her hands. “Each piece you capture offers a glimpse of your physical form. The progress of the game mirrors your journey.” “Does the outcome truly determine if I live or die there?” Dee shrugged. “What if I win?” I asked, repeating my earlier question. Maybe her answer would be different now that I didn’t lose in the first three seconds. “Then perhaps your body will be in a proper state for you to return to it. But even I cannot predict the exact outcome.” I gripped the edge of the pedestal. “So I’m gambling. With my life.” “You gamble with your life with every rescue.” She motioned to the board. “Is this so different?” I thought about that for a second. She was right. It wasn’t so different. My normal life in a different framing. “Let’s continue,” I said, putting the pawn I’d captured aside carefully.
