We stood on the cliffs of Fiallan, facing the sea.
Far across the bay, the tower was gone, large blocks of it scattered or submerged into the sea below along with a good portion of the cliff itself.
Behind us was the left cliff tower, which still stood, its top blazing with the setting sun’s light. If I had to guess by the amount of activity going on across the bay, only an hour or two had passed since the collapse.
The waves rolled in and out. The wind whipped at our clothes and hair, bringing with it the salty, wet air.
“Did you bring us here or did Panopé?”
“The goddess,” he answered, staring at the destruction. “I have yet to master that power.”
I squeezed his hand. “You okay?” This was his home, his people, his history . . .
He gave a faint shrug, his profile unreadable as he continued to gaze at the city.
“How could the Circe have trapped a deity?” I asked at length.
“Panopé gave them her power to help create the grid. It was supposed to be temporary, drawing on her powers and the Malakim to make the walls impenetrable. The Circe must’ve devised a way to keep Panopé there. They saw an opportunity and took it. Panopé waited, all this time, for someone to come along.”
“Someone like you.” I smiled and wiggled my eyebrows at him.
He snorted. “Yeah, who knew . . .? Come on, we need to find a mage to get us out of here.”
We left the cliffs behind and walked a winding path through the inner city, to the main gate. A few curious looks were thrown our way, my gown and jewels drawing the eye, but attention was focused on the chaos of the three towers falling, the recovery effort, the wounded . . .
“Why do you think she waited so long, though?” I said as we went. “I mean, every year during the rites, sirens walk through her waters. Why didn’t she say anything?”
“Maybe she did. I don’t know. Maybe she knew that if she did communicate, the Circe would immediately silence the person and the goddess from speaking again. Maybe she was waiting for the right moment, an enemy of the Circe. Who knows?”
Once we were in the outer city, Hank arranged for a mage to take us back to Ithonia. He bent down and unclasped one of the ankle bracelets and handed it to the mage, whose eyes turned to saucers. “Will this do?”
The mage stammered and managed a nod.
Hank turned to me. “He’ll take you first, straight to the terminal in Ithonia, then he’ll come back for me.”
Part of me wanted to tell him to go first. I’d left him behind once, and didn’t want to do it again. But I knew he’d brook no argument, so I nodded. The mage pocketed the anklet, took my elbow, and we were off.
I arrived at the terminal and waited for Hank to join me. He appeared in short order and then we headed toward the gate. Unfortunately, the gate agent from before wasn’t there as I was hoping.
With no ID or papers, we had to be fingerprinted, run through the system, and then had to wait for temporary passes before being allowed through the gate and into the sphere. We also nearly came to blows with several gate officials about the head in the bag.
We spent three hours sitting in a windowless room, getting the basic interrogation tactics. Amateurs. I told it like it was. Sandra had given specific instructions to her guard in the event of her death. An agent had gone through the gate into Atlanta, contacted Tuni, her jinn bodyguard, and had returned with him to confirm the oracle’s last will and wishes.
A jinn’s presence in Ithonia, even at the gate, was a memorable event. Tuni was huge, with smooth gray skin, bald head, pierced ears, and a bolt through one eyebrow. His eyes were violet and intense, and he strode from the gate like some demon lord who had every right to be there.
He pretty much stopped everyone in their tracks.
I stood from the long bench against the wall near the gate agent’s desk. I had no idea what kind of relationship Alessandra had with Tuni, but I did know he was her number one, and he took his job seriously. My anxiety rose the closer he got. I waited for his eyes to glow violet, but he strode by me without a glance and followed the agent into a room.
There was silence over the entire terminal as everyone in the know waited for the explosion, for Tuni to flip out when they gave him Sandra’s head. But the only sound was the click of the door as it opened.
Tuni strode out with the sack. This time he stopped in front of me. His eyes swept over my gown and his brow lifted a fraction. He reached to his back pocket, pulled out a letter, and handed it to me. “She wanted you to have this.”
I took the letter. “Tuni . . . I’m sorry . . .”
“Don’t be. She knew what she was doing.”
With that, he gave a curt nod to Hank and continued on. The entire terminal didn’t release their collective breath until Tuni disappeared into the sphere.
Since Hank and I were both in the system with federal law enforcement status, and our story checked out—as much as it could be checked—we were eventually given clearance to leave.
From Hartsfield-Jackson, it was a taxi ride into the city, Sandra’s letter still clutched tightly in my hand. Hank was quiet for most of the ride, staring out the window at the dark landscape of steel and concrete and lights. Coming back to Atlanta felt surreal after where I’d been, what I’d seen, the things I’d done . . .
“How did you know about the NecroNaMoria?” Hank asked quietly.
I started at the beginning and told him about walking through the city, trying to use my mark to get a lead on his location, finding his home, and my altercation with Leander. “He seemed to know a lot about you. Do you know him?”
Hank shook his head. “Is he siren?”
“Might be. It was hard to tell. He’s old and powerful, and he knows a lot about First Ones.” I explained our fight and how Leander had called back my power before it escaped enough to draw Sachâth, how he knew about First Ones and their Disciples. And the tablet. The fucking tablet. “And with it, went my chances of getting the cure for ash.” Which, after everything, was a hard pill to swallow. I stared out the window for a long moment. “Leander knew about your family, the history, everything. Was he right about all that? About what the Circe did to them?”
Pain flashed through his eyes, pain and deep, deep guilt. I knew what he was thinking. If he’d never left the grid they’d all be alive. I thought about fate, and was on the verge of telling him that maybe he was meant to leave Fiallan, to become a different person, one worthy—because of what happened—to be given the Source Words.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “About your family.”
He was staring out the window again, his only response a curt nod. Hank had taken his revenge, and he’d blazed one hell of a bloody path to do it. I would’ve done the same. The Circe got off easy, all the lives they’d taken over the years, an entire family wiped out . . .
The taxi pulled up to the curb on Alabama Street to let Hank off. “Make the meeting with Leander, Charlie. I want to know what he knows. Sachâth is still out there. Neither one of us will be able to rest until that thing is dead. If we take the offensive and face it on our terms . . .”
Which was better than having an accidental power surge, or drawing it here in the heat of battle, or simply becoming divine enough until it sensed me all the time, in which case, I’d be on the run for eternity.
Sachâth could be killed or Sandra wouldn’t have given me the prophecy. I—we—just had to put the pieces together to figure it out.
“I’ll call you when I have a time and place.”
Hank opened the door and got out, leaving me feeling a bit dumbfounded. He handed the driver a card, which was scanned through the machine in order to pay the fare, then gave him the address to my house.
I sat there, wondering if that was it. Now that we were back home, things had suddenly turned weird and awkward. I’m not sure what I expected, but even a See ya later, thanks for the out-of-this-world sex and trying to save my ass would’ve been better than . . . nothing.
I was so deep in thought that I didn’t see Hank come around the front of the car and open my door. I nearly fell out of the car. He righted me and leaned in quickly, kissed my lips, withdrew just enough to look into my eyes, and said, “Put the jewels and the gown in a safe place. We’ll be needing them later.” He winked, shut my door and then banged on the top.
Before I had a chance to gather my wits and respond, the taxi was already pulling away from the curb.
The ride passed in a blur.
I used the spare key to let myself in the house. Emma was in school and my Tahoe was gone, which meant Rex had gone somewhere.
I set the letter on the bedside table, hung up the gown, hid the jewels in an empty shoe box in the closet, and then took a long shower. After rummaging for leftovers and filling my belly, I crawled into my bed and went to sleep.
Emma’s sweet voice saying hello and her soft kiss on my cheek made me smile, but I didn’t open my eyes right away. I’d slept damned good for once, thanks in part to Panopé healing my wounds. I’d vaguely acknowledged Emma and Rex coming home, heard the back door slam and the usual sounds of people in the house, but then must’ve drifted off again.
“I bet if you pinched her nose and covered her mouth, she’d wake up.”
Rex.
“She’s already awake, Rex.” Emma’s weight settled on my bed as I opened my eyes and stretched.
I pushed up to a sitting position and then froze, eyes widening in disbelief. “Rex!” He had pulled the chair from the small writing desk next to my bed, had his feet propped on the mattress, and was reading Sandra’s letter.
I leaned forward and swiped at it, but he was too fast, moving it over his head and out of reach. “That is mine. Give it back before I hurt you.”
One eyebrow lifted, then he handed it over. I snatched it and folded it back up, promising revenge with my look.
“So . . . what happened?” Emma asked. “Where’s Hank?”
I proceeded to give the short, PG-13 version of what had gone down in Fiallan, then turned my attention to my daughter, intending on asking her about her week and school—the usual. “Are you wearing eyeliner?”
She sat back, tucking her foot beneath her thigh. “No.” A beat passed. “Okay, yes, but just a little bit. You can barely tell.”
“You let her go to school like this?”
Rex rolled his eyes, huffed, and then studied Em’s face, shaking his head. “I don’t see anything.”
Emma, of course, grabbed on to that. “There. See, Mom. You can barely notice.”
“No makeup,” I told her, then glared at Rex. “How many fingers am I theoretically holding up?” I asked, meaning the middle finger.
“Funny. My eyesight is perfect. So what’s with the letter?”
“Gee, I don’t know . . . maybe that’s because I haven’t read it yet. You might’ve noticed it was sealed.”
Rex shrugged. “Might’ve. So?”
Emma made a grab for it. “Let me read it.”
I gave up, let it slip through my fingers, and fell back onto my pillows as Emma cleared her throat, intending to read it aloud. “Ohmigod, that is so freaky! She knew I’d read this to you! How cool is that? I just got goose bumps. Okay, starting over . . .
Since your daughter is reading this to you, I will behave. Charlie, I write this because my end has been revealed. I cannot see yours nor all the events that will lead me to mine—I only know that it will happen and I must follow the path Fate has laid out for me. I have, however, seen a glimpse of Death, and your future, when you drew it here last night to my club (thanks for listening by the way. You owe me three grand in damages).
Sachâth will soon recognize you as divine, and, stating the obvious here: it will kill you unless you kill it first. It’s you or it, Charlie. Plain and simple, no?
Ask yourself why it has been so successful, why the Archons themselves feared it. Not even they had the power to end its existence. Therefore, neither do you. Though, in a roundabout way, you do. Makes you crazy, doesn’t it? Welcome to my life.
Here’s the thing. I see random bits and pieces. I don’t see the complete picture. But (and I hate to say this) the things I have seen tell me that (gag) you and I bond, become (gag, again) friends, so I want to help you. Who knew, right? You will hurt for me, which is nice to know. I hurt now even though I don’t understand all of it.
Just know that I will be with my sister Fates in the end, and the prophecies I will continue to give will be more powerful than ever (if such a thing is possible, because, hello, World’s Best Oracle here).
And remember this: the Creator didn’t account for everything.
Bye, Charlie. I don’t get to say that in the end, so I’m saying it here.
~ Sandra.
P.S. I hope you find your siren.
P.P.S. On the three grand: I take cash, credit cards, and checks. Just give it to Tuni.
I pressed my palms to my eyes, feeling a sting in my throat and behind my eyelids. My chest felt like it had been punched. I wanted to laugh and cry, and wished to God that Sandra was still around so I could shake her and hug her. Damned oracle.
After a heavy moment, Emma cleared her throat and said, “So you have to figure out how to kill this Death person. And what’s an Archon?”
I sat up to find her sitting cross-legged, the letter in her lap, a thoughtful expression on her cute face, and a dimple in her cheek that told me she was biting the inside like I often did. I stayed quiet, not about to clue my kid into the fact that First Ones still existed, but I couldn’t deny the threat that Sachâth posed.
“But you won’t be able to,” she continued, however, not waiting for me to answer. “But you kind of can.”
“Frustrating, isn’t it?” Rex told her. “Oracles are always like that. Take my advice, avoid them at all costs.”
I told them about Sandra’s prophecy. Accept yourself to make the shadow whole . . . together, together . . . but not by your hand . . . and death will come to death . . .
“So, if you accept yourself, you make the shadow whole . . .” Rex said, resting his chin on the teepee of his fingers. “Whole could mean physical. If it’s physical, flesh and blood, it can be killed.”
“And accepting yourself could just mean all your powers coming together or something,” Em said. “And not by your hand . . . does that mean you use your power, Mom? Like from a distance? I don’t get it.”
I sighed. I’d already worked most of what they were saying out for myself. “I don’t, either.” And I needed to work it out because I sure as hell couldn’t call Sachâth here to fight unless I knew how to defeat it.
“The oracle seems certain you become divine,” Rex observed.
I’d definitely come into a strange sort of power in Fiallan; the fact that I could use my arm with the same effect as Ahkneri’s sword; the fact that everything seemed to work together inside of me to make that happen. It hadn’t been just one power, but all of them, everything inside of me, all the human and off-world genes coming together. And I was starting to suspect that I’d had a little help in that department from a certain earth sylph who had once told me I was fractured on the inside and offered to fix me. I’d temporarily been given the gift of Nwyvre, the Hidden Element, in order to save my sister Bryn, and now I was starting to believe it had brought peace to the warring powers inside of me, made me whole.
“How much homework do you have?” I asked Emma.
“A ton. Geometry and more Geometry, Astrology, and I have to study for a Crafting Vocab quiz tomorrow.”
“You’d better get started, then,” I said.
Since it was only four o’clock in the afternoon, and Sandra’s letter burned in my brain, I decided to pay a visit to the one being I knew had some answers. “I need to make a quick stop at the Grove and grab another cell phone from the station.” I already had a duplicate ID, badge, and weapons at the house, but the cell would have to be configured with my old number and contacts by the tech guy at the station. “How about I pick up a pizza on the way back and then I can help you study? Sound good?”
“Two pizzas,” Rex said.
“One cheese,” Emma said.
“One with everything. And get some of those breadsticks,” Rex added. “And you’ve got yourself a deal.”
I stuffed the letter back into the envelope and then held out my arms to Emma. “Hug.”
After a long, tight hug, I kissed the top of Emma’s head and smoothed the wispy hairs that had escaped her ponytail. “Missed you, kid.”
“Missed you, too.”
Rex cleared his throat. The lifted, expectant eyebrow and the exasperated look in his lavender eyes had me nudging his foot with mine. “I know,” I said. “You missed me, too.”
His eyes rolled to the ceiling, but his lips curved into an attractive smile. He promptly removed his feet, stood, bent over, and kissed my forehead. “I did, actually.” And then he walked from the room, calling out, “And don’t forget the breadsticks, woman!”
Em laughed. “He’s so weird.”