Maddie Mackenzie’s eyes are whirlpools of darkness. Her pupils are swarming, flickering and fluttering as though full of insects. She rolls over in the salt bath, face up, covered with the pink-ish, grainy residue. Staring up at the labyrinthine ceiling, she does not see the cavern around her. Her eyes are watching something else - something only she can see. She closes her eyes and smirks as she drags her nails up her thighs, grazing the skin, and stinging them with salt.
Judd takes a handful of the slush and deposits it at the base of her throat. His hand hovers there as Maddie murmurs too softly to hear.
He knows exactly which words she is speaking: “We come from salt, and we return to salt.”
Spreading the grains across her sternum, rubbing them down her chest, he elicits a small murmur of painful pleasure from her. He keeps moving his hand down, until he is rubbing the salt into the heat between her splayed legs.
Maddie arches her back, hips rocking, red hair sprawling around her head like a rusalka: Salacia herself, rising out of the salt with a head full of fire. Almost curiously, he watches her. Her lips part and more mantra comes out, arms outstretched, over her head.
And this is how he leaves her. Letting go of his wife’s writhing body, he dips into the plunge pool until he is completely submerged in salt, letting it twist and tangle his hair.
Cold, subterranean air pinches his cheeks as he surfaces. He thinks of his brother. Or what’s left of him. His body growing mushrooms, as he and Maddie wallow in salt. He drags a hand down his face, almost relishing the sting.
Maddie sits bolt upright, eyes snapping like birds’ beaks. “Judd.” Her voice sounds far away, even as it echoes around them. “Come here.”
He is nothing if not dutiful, wading through the slush, leaning his arms on the side of the bath.
“Why did you stop?” she asks, innocently enough.
He waves a hand in front of her eyes. “Because you weren’t there. I could have been anyone.”
She narrows her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the sensation of salt. It is our birth rite.” She shifts her whole body to face him, bringing her knees up and hugging them. “I won’t apologise for feeling connected to the goddess.”
Judd grits his teeth. “It would just be nice if you could recognise my face while you’re connecting with the goddess.”
Maddie’s face does not soften. Her abyss eyes have cleared and focused right on Judd’s. Slowly undoing her arms and leaning back on her hands, she lifts a leg and places her foot on his shoulder. “Shall we?”
He grips both of her calves, nails digging in and yanks her into the plunge pool. Pinning her against the side, he breathes into her ear, “Shall we what, dear?”
She cackles. It is a witch of a cackle - a crow’s cackle, a cackle that send shivers shooting to the tips of Judd’s fingers as he grips her resolutely raw hips. She turns around, bending over the side of the pool, pushing herself into him. Salt rubs between them - fierce friction - as she reaches for a briefcase leaning against the side of the cavern.
Judd lets go. Steps back. He swings his neck around on its hinge, hearing the internal cracking and sputtering, stretching it out. He cocks his head to the right, neck ready for her.
The syringe in her hand glows with a light blue substance. Judd’s lip arches, twitching as the scorpion-like needle burrows into his carotid artery. Once his neck has drunk the daylight liquid, he leans over and takes an identical syringe out of the briefcase.
“Look,” Maddie says. “The memory is the same colour as the salchrometer. It’s like a little baby one.”
“Maybe the salchrometer runs on memories,” he quips, gripping her chin. He flips her face to the side, enjoying her sharp intake of breath as he lets the needle bite into her for a little too long.
The salchrometer above the entrance has grown two crystals since they started marinating in Salacia’s bounty. Judd relaxes, his back slightly sliding down the side of the bath. Maddie backs up into him, slotting herself between his arms and legs, her back scouring salt across his chest.
A man appears, just in front of the entrance. He is nearly see-through. Black-suited and black-booted, black hair slicked back into a smooth semblance of self-assurance. He struts towards them, the slick smile on his face fading, and becoming more of a grimace.
“Daphne Warner,” he says through the gritted teeth of a false grin.
“Alexander Zampion.” The cold reply echoes around them as a woman, equally as translucent clacks into the cavern in impossibly high black heels.
Maddie giggles. “Zampion? What is he, some kind of Tripedium deal worth of a champion? Can’t afford the full thing? Get a Zampion, instead.” She coughs through her own laughter.
In spite of himself, Judd chuckles, resting his hand across his wife’s stomach. “Skyreen’s answer to the rise of Salacia’s people.” His throat scratches. “Not enough pangols to cover the extra consonant.”
Maddie snorts. “Well, it’s better than ‘Hampion’.”
“Could have gone with ‘Campion’.”
Alex and Daphne don’t hear them.
“I haven’t seen you at one of these things for a while,” Daphne says.
“Yeah, well, you made it quite clear that the Memory Market Corporation was your ground, so-”
“All dealers need to come to these things. It’s a convention. I don’t own conventions.” The brunette fiddles with the cuffs of her blazer.
“I haven’t exactly been in the mood,” he replies, pointedly.
“We can still be friends, Alex, even if-”
“No, we can’t. You saw to that last night.”
“Oh,” Maddie whispers. “It’s about to get good.”
“Alex, I-”
“Save it. Unless you have any other earth-shattering revelations up your sleeve - which I highly doubt, in that excessively tight suit - I suggest you just fuck off.”
The salchrometer grows another crystal, inch by inch, above their translucent heads. Judd watches it. He moves his eyes back to Alex. He focuses on his face, forcing the man’s scowl into a passive, expressionless expression.
Maddie hums when she manipulates. Judd can feel her small back vibrating against his ribs, his bones feeling like they are melting together. She changes Daphne’s ashamed, eyes-down stance into another emotionless countenance.
Alex and Daphne shake hands, kiss each other’s cheeks, say goodbye. As though there is no bad blood between them. As though there has never been a nasty word spoken.
Feeling Maddie’s humming subside, Judd’s chest returns to its emptiness. The translucent couple dissolve into the damp, salt-ridden air.
Maddie breathes out and turns round, wrapping her arms around his neck. She hovers her lips just above his, her legs forming a trap around his waist.
“Well done, darlings.”
The voice from behind forces her to abandon her entrapment. Her legs slide down Judd’s, landing on the bottom of the salt bath.
Mother Minna seems to float into the chamber, light as air, barely there. But also, extremely, almost unbearably present. The sting of his brother’s execution hasn’t quite worn off yet and Judd has to make an effort to control the shape of his mouth.
The older woman’s face wrinkles into a smile as she looks down at them. “Some beautiful work there.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Maddie croons.
“Thank you, Mother,” Judd echoes.
She shrugs off her dove coloured robe to reveal herself and steps into the salt bath, rubbing the granules into her wrinkled skin. It looks painful, like her fragile flesh might rip at any moment. Judd looks away.
“Another step forward, my children. Our exodus beckons. The salt has been speaking to me.”
“Oh, me too,” Maddie whispers, breathless with anticipation for something Judd is certain will never happen.
“You always have been so open to Salacia’s spirit and guidance, my girl.”
“What has the salt been saying, Mother Minna?” Maddie asks.
“It has been speaking of the Surface.”
“Is it nearly time?”
Mother Minna cups Maddie’s cheek, giving it a gentle tap, “Salacia has not revealed that to me yet. But she will tell us. She will tell us. And when it is time, we will return, reborn, and claim our birth rite.” She closes her eyes as she speaks. Maddie copies her.
“Just as well. The hydroponic fields aren’t doing too well.” Judd breaks the moment in half, snapping the sonorous promises, turning them into no more than a series of unrealistic, jagged dreams.
Mother Minna turns her steel-grey eyes to him. “Not enough water, my boy. We have salt, but a dearth of water. Salacia gives but she also takes. You should know that better than anyone.”
A few times, I did think 'ouch' about the salt 😄 this is a really cool world you've got going on here.