by Simon Hawke
While Wyrdrune, in his Modred aspect, met with Lt. Loomis, Kira and Billy saw to moving their things out of the La Fonda Hotel and into Paul's house on Declovina Street. Broom stayed behind to "tidy up" Paul's house, which was as neat as the proverbial pin, but Broom insisted that the bookshelves needed dusting and the kitchen had to be "gone through," since the familiar had taken it upon itself to assume the cooking duties during their stay. It had not consulted Paul about this, but knowing how Broom was, neither Kira nor Billy thought that Paul Ramirez would have very much to say about it.
Broom had also made a new friend. It had met Paul's familiar, a thaumagenetically engineered pet named Gomez, a ratty-looking street fighter of a cat, black with white markings on its face and paws, and one eye missing from a set-to with some local competition. Paul had taken the animal to a thaumagenetic vet, who had set a Chinese turquoise with a fine matrix into the cat's eye socket, an ornament of which Gomez was inordinately proud. Gomez looked like a perfectly ordinary cat, but thaumagenetics could be deceptive. There was a well-developed brain inside the large cat skull and, like Broom, Gomez could talk. His fondest pastime was to sit on Paul's bed and read pre-Collapse action-adventure novels. Gomez had his own bookshelf, the shelves at convenient floor-level holding an entire run of The Executioner series, The Destroyer, and the complete works of Mickey Spillane and Raymond Chandler, as well as the Steele series by J. D. Masters. Befitting his battle-worn appearance, Gomez talked like private eye Mike Hammer, out of the corner of his mouth. He had decided, for some reason known only to him, to refer to Broom as "Cupcake," which seemed to please Broom as much as it irritated Kira.
"A fucking sexist tomcat," she groused to Billy. "It figures."
"The stick seems to like it," Billy replied.
"That only makes it worse," said Kira. "You explain to me how a broom that hasn't even got a face can simper."
"I thought you liked cats."
"I do. Cats like Shadow, that rub up against your legs and curl up in your lap and purr when you stroke them. Not cats that wink at me and call me 'baby.' If he does that to me one more time, I swear, I'll have him neutered. I just can't understand an intelligent, sophisticated, well-mannered man like Paul having that four-legged geek for a familiar. What have they got in common?"
"Kira," Billy said patiently, "you're talkin' 'bout a bloody cat."
"Well, aren't familiars supposed to be your friends?"
"You can't always pick your friends, y'know," Billy replied. "Sometimes, they pick you an' then you're stuck with 'em. Like relatives."
"I heard that," Merlin said.
" 'Ey, you mind? I'm talkin' 'ere."
"We have much more important problems to talk about than cats," said Merlin.
"And what's wrong with cats?" asked Gomez, sauntering into the living room and twitching his tail back and forth. He glanced from Billy to Kira. "He talking to himself again?"
"Sod off, fleabag," Billy snapped.
Gomez hissed at him. Billy hissed back.
"Will you two cut it out?" said Kira.
"Sure thing, baby," Gomez said with a wink of his turquoise eye. "For you, anything."
"I told you not to call me 'baby,' Gomez. Save that kind of talk for your alley cats, okay?"
"Hey, no problem, sweetcakes."
Kira winced. "God, that's even worse. Why the hell can't you act like a cat?"
"You mean rub up against your legs and purr while you scratch me behind the ears? Look, don't get me wrong, honey, you've got grade-A gams, but I'm just not that kind of guy."
"Gams?"
"You want some servile pet that drools on you all the time, go find yourself a dog. I've got my pride, you know."
"Gams?"
"Legs, baby," Gomez said, stretching out upon the floor. "Pins. Gams. You got 'em in spades. They start down at your ankles and go all the way up to heaven. A woman ought to wear skirts, though. Build like yours, it's a shame to see you going around dressed like a boy."
"There's never a Doberman around when you need one," Kira said wryly.
"Meow," said Gomez.
"Don't you have anything better to do?" asked Kira. "Isn't there some tomcat that needs mauling or some squirrel that needs chasing?"
"Hey, I'm a peaceable sort of guy. I don't go looking for trouble, doll. Trouble has a way of finding me."
"What's the matter, Broom chase you out of the kitchen?"
"You ever watch someone try to make a deli-style snack out of gefilte fish, tortillas, and pickled green chilis? I had to leave, it was getting ugly in there. So, what's the buzz?"
She glanced at Billy. "Do you understand what he's talking about?"
"The buzz, the bottom line, the conversation," Gomez said. "Mr. Split Personality here was saying you two had important problems to discuss. Anything I can do to help?"
"Curiosity killed the cat, y'know," said Billy.
"Yeah, but I've got nine lives and I haven't used 'em all up yet. So come on, kids, give. What's the problem? What can ole Gomez do to help?"
"The problem is how we're going to find the necromancer and stop him from killing any more people before the fiesta starts," said Kira. "It's only four more days and there's only three of us to cover the whole town. So, smarty cat, got any bright ideas?"
"Hey, you came to the right guy," said Gomez. "I'll put the word out."
Kira frowned. "You'll put the word out? To who?"
"That's to whom, doll. To all the other cats out there. Put it on the grapevine, let it spread. Fill the night with lambent eyes, watching from the shadows and back alleys, patter of little cat feet skittering across the rooftops and along the streets, all on the prowl for the predator who strikes at night. God, that's colorful, I love that."
Gomez arched his back and extended his claws into the rug. "What can I say? When you've got it, you've got it."
"A flea collar might get rid of it," said Kira.
"Wait a minute," Merlin said, "that's not a bad idea. Cats can go a lot of places people can't and they can observe unobtrusively. If the Dark One strikes again, and we can be certain that he will, there's a chance some cat might witness it and follow him to wherever he's hiding. Gomez, how many cats do you think you can muster?"
"How many do you need, Ace? I've got a lot of pull in this town. Lot of kitties and other thaumagenes owe me."
"Owe you?" Kira said. "How? For what?"
"How do you think I lost this eye? There's some bad cats out there, dollface. Like to howl and throw their weight around, grab any kitty that they like and use her like a piece of catnip. I don't stand for that sort of thing. It's no way to treat a lady. So, yeah, I've done the Sir Galahad bit a few times and there's one or two ladies out there who've got a warm spot in their hearts for this old campaigner. You just say the word and I'll call in a few favors."
"This has got to be one of the most surreal conversations that I've ever had," said Kira, glancing at Billy. "A cat is making me an offer I can't refuse."
"Hey, any friends of Paulie are friends of mine," said Gomez. "It's no sweat."
"It's a good offer," Billy replied. "I say we take it."
"All right," said Kira dubiously. "Thank you, Gomez. How soon can you get started?"
"I'm on my way, doll."
Gomez stretched, got up, and trotted out of the room. A moment later they heard the slapping of the cat door as he went outside.
Kira shook her head. "What's happened to my life?" she asked. "Things used to be so nice and simple. I line up a job, case the joint, break in, pick up some loot, and fence it. No complications. Now I'm involved with a guy who's two different people at the same time, a kid who's possessed by the spirit of an ancient sorcerer, lovesick computers, a Jewish broom that acts like it's my mother, and a cat that talks like a hard-boiled private eye from some detective novel. Christ. Whatever happened to reality?"
"Reality, my dear," said Merlin, speaking through Billy, "is merely a matter of perspective. Look on the bright side. You'
re fabulously wealthy now, you're living with people who care about you, and you're doing something to benefit the human race. How many people can say that?"
She sighed. "Yeah, I know. But I sometimes wonder what would have happened if Wyrdrune and I had been able to fence the runestones, like we'd planned at first. Would we have stayed together or gone our separate ways? Would we ever have fallen in love? Would we ever have met Modred? Would I ever have met you?"
"I know what you mean," Merlin replied. "I've often wondered what would have happened if I had never met Uther. If I had never involved myself in Arthur's life. If I had never accepted Morganna as my pupil or if I had exercised some judicious moral restraint and kept my hands off Nimue. Or, for that matter, if my spirit had never found young Billy here. But there's little point in trying to second-guess Fate. The events that are governing our lives had their beginnings thousands of years ago."
"I'm not sure I ever believed in Fate," said Kira as she unfolded a map of the city and spread it out on the coffee table. "I always thought people controlled their own destinies."
"To some degree, we do," Merlin replied. "But none of us is ever completely in control. We are all subject to random factors, serendipity and, yes, Fate, with a capital F. I learned that lesson long ago, centuries before you were born. There is a natural order to things and I don't necessarily mean God, although that might be as convenient a term for it as any. Not some individual Supreme Being, but a pattern of laws, of action and reaction, of cause and effect on which the universe is based. It is not only our individual acts that determine our destinies, but the acts taken by others and the events that are taking place around us. Think of the spider's web as a metaphor for life. You cannot touch one strand without affecting all the others, a lesson humanity should have learned from the Collapse. There was a song I heard once, a pre-Collapse nostalgia tune called 'No Man Is an Island.' A truer lyric was never penned. None of us really stands alone."
"In our case, that's literally true, isn't it?" said Kira, gazing at the runestone in her palm. "It's amazing how you can get used to the damnedest, strangest things. The runestones changed our lives, but I never felt really changed. I always felt like the same person I was before. Just that suddenly this magical thing had happened to me and I became a sort of channel for the power of the spirits of the Council. I mean, that took a lot of getting used to, but I did get used to it, and much quicker than I thought I would. Then Modred's runestone absorbed his life force and bonded with Wyrdrune and I felt as if the rug was yanked right out from under me."
"I didn't realize it disturbed you as much as it obviously does," said Merlin. "Why do you think that is?"
"Why? Why? Jesus, Merlin, he becomes a completely different person! In absolutely every sense!"
"Well, so do Billy and I, especially when Gorlois manifests himself," Merlin replied, gazing briefly at the fire opal runestone in the ring he wore, the stone that held Gorlois's spirit.
"That scares me, too," she said. "Not you and Billy, I mean. I was able to get used to that. Maybe because there was never really a physical transformation. But with Gorlois . . . jeez, one minute Billy's standing there in his scruffy clothes and Mohawk haircut and the next, out of nowhere, this huge knight in full armor suddenly appears, sword and shield, the whole works. And he doesn't speak. We've never even seen his face."
"I have," said Merlin thoughtfully, "though I realize now that it was not his true appearance."
"What does he look like?"
"His true appearance, you mean? I don't really know. He was a fearsome-looking man. Pale, with snow-white hair, and cruel-looking, though I realize now that it was only a magical disguise. He had altered his features with a spell, so that he would not look like an Old One. As a child, I was always frightened of him. He rarely spoke then, too. It was as if . . . as if there were always walls around him. A veritable fortress, walls and barbican and moat. As a youth, I never understood what my mother saw in him. He was a powerful man and power can be quite compelling, and yet my mother was never one to seem excited by such things. It was a mystery to me."
"You've never spoken about your mother," Kira said softly.
"She was a lovely woman," Merlin said. He smiled, and when he did, Billy's face became transformed. He no longer looked like a feral, tough, young street punk, but like an innocent boy, pretty and full of wonder. "You would have liked her. She was small and frail, with beautiful golden hair that cascaded to her waist. A shy and quiet woman. My happiest memories of childhood are of sitting on the floor beside her, playing with my makeshift toys, while she worked at the spinning wheel, singing softly to herself. She had a lovely voice. Sweet and pure. I could never imagine her together with my father."
Kira smiled. "Most kids can't picture their parents making love."
"It's not that, so much," said Merlin. "I just can't imagine my father being gentle with her. Perhaps there was a gentle side of him I never knew. If so, it was a side of himself he certainly never showed to me. And I grew to resent him for it. And finally . . . to hate him. Even now, when our spirits all share the same body, he remains distant."
Kira glanced down at the floor.
It was a long moment before Merlin spoke again. "A man named Oscar Wilde once said that children begin by loving their parents. After a while, they judge them. And rarely, if ever, do they forgive them." He paused. "You see, my dear, you are not the only one with doubts about yourself, nor are you the only one who has felt profoundly affected by what we have become. I am my father now, just as I am also Billy, my grandson so many times removed. Yet, in a sense, we all are and always were. We are all but links in a long chain. Only in our case, those links are forged by magic. And magic makes them more immediate, more palpable. More real. In some ways, that makes things difficult for us, but in other ways, it makes us very fortunate. Because, thanks to the spell that we have fallen under, we perceive each other and ourselves more clearly than most people do. We understand those links because they are visible to us. We can see them, touch them, feel them. And it can help us to understand how all of us, all life, is ultimately connected."
"What's going to happen to us?" Kira asked. "I mean, when it's all over?"
"Assuming we survive?" asked Merlin with a smile. "I honestly don't know. Your guess is as good as mine."
"I never had any moral qualms about being a thief," said Kira. "But now I've become an executioner. That's what we really are now, aren't we?"
"We are soldiers," Merlin replied. "Soldiers in a war that began ages ago and never really ended."
"But it will end someday. One way or another, it's got to end. Doesn't it?"
"I sincerely hope so."
"And then what? What happens then?"
"You mean, what will the runestones do?"
She nodded.
Merlin shrugged. "Who knows? Perhaps they will remain a part of us. Perhaps, having finally fulfilled their function, the spell will end and we will all wake up one day to find things as they once were. I have no way of knowing. Contrary to the myth about me, I do not know the future."
"What will you do when it's over?"
"You mean will I remain with Billy?" Merlin shook Billy's head. "No, I think not. He deserves to live his own life, unencumbered by the astral spirit of a cantankerous ancestor. I am here because my work is still unfinished. But when that work is done, there still remains the final mystery. The one that all of us must face at one time or another. Those of us who are not true Immortals, at any rate. And I must admit, it is a mystery that fascinates me. I think I shall explore it when the time comes."
"But what if it turns out that there's nothing to explore?" she asked quietly. "I mean, what if this is all there is?"
"Is that what you believe?"
"I don't know," she answered. "I'm not really sure what I believe any longer. I saw Modred die, only he didn't die and now he's part of Wyrdrune. I saw you die, but you came back, as part of Billy. And what about the Dark Ones? The true immort
als? Unless something happens to kill them, they never die. They can live forever. Not long ago, I wouldn't have believed that any of those things were possible."
"Everything is possible, my dear," said Merlin. "Some things are merely more probable than others. I did not cheat death, I merely delayed the inevitable for a while, as did Modred. Magic does not supersede the natural balance of the world. It is merely a part of it. Despite the popular misnomer, it is natural, not supernatural."
"Is it?" she said. "What about the victims of the Dark Ones? Was what happened to them natural?"
"What happened to them was horrible," Merlin replied, "but that doesn't mean it wasn't natural. Nature can be quite savage and brutal. It is full of checks and balances. The Dark Ones were once our predators, just as other feral beasts were. And, as with humanity's other predators, once the Dark Ones were removed from the natural equation, humanity began to spread unchecked. The Collapse was the inevitable result."
"So what are you saying? That the Dark Ones were a beneficial part of nature? Hell, that's crazy! How can you even think such a thing?"
"I'm not saying the Dark Ones were beneficial," Merlin replied. "I'm merely saying that, in their time, they served a purpose. Only times have changed and humanity has evolved. The purpose that the Dark Ones once served, we now serve ourselves. Therefore, the Dark Ones are now a threat to the natural balance of our world. And that is where our purpose comes in."
"I just wish it didn't have to be us," said Kira. "I just wish we could all live a normal life."
"I know," said Merlin. "You didn't ask to be chosen for this. But at the same time, you are among the few to whom the opportunity has fallen to make a difference in the world. And that's both a great privilege and a great responsibility. The time will come one day, when all of this is over, when you may decide to have a child. That time may one day come for Billy, too. What we do now will determine the sort of world those children will grow up in. It has often been said that children are the hope of the future. Only they aren't. Not really. Always, it is what the present generation does that will determine the sort of future their children will inherit. And what they do as adults will, in turn, determine the future that their children will inherit. For far too long, each succeeding generation has vested their hopes for the future in their children, when it was really their responsibility. It is not enough merely to dream of a better world. One must accept responsibility for it, and to accept responsibility for the future means to act in present. And that is not an easy thing to do. But then again, it never was."