by E. J. Mellow
The only silver lining in any of this is that my grandfather’s thoughts still live on inside me, the ones Elena has given. It’s a small reprieve, but it feels like everything to be able to pull them forward and be with him, even if it’s only in my mind. I try to do it now, try to think what my grandfather would say. What advice would he give to keep me going? His words about it getting worse, much worse, come back to me, and I almost laugh. Is this what he meant? Is this as bad as it’s going to get? Is this when I shouldn’t lose faith, when I need to keep going and be strong?
Strong.
I barely keep in a snort.
I’ve never felt weaker in all my life.
“Here, Turtle, I got you a water.” Becca’s gentle voice pops into my internal thoughts, and she takes a seat beside me on the front-row pew. Her wavy hair shimmers ruby red under the beams of sunlight that filter in, her short-sleeved black dress simple and to the knee.
“Thanks.” I fiddle with the bottle’s label as I hold it in my lap.
Becca has been with me since I stepped out of the portal in the bookstore. She held my hand the whole car ride to Pennsylvania and dressed me this morning when I found myself standing in front of the mirror in a blank stare. Out of all the horribleness going on, it is her unwavering support that has almost brought me to tears.
“I think Hector is scaring some of the visitors,” she says, and I follow her gaze to where the tall, lanky Vigil stands cross armed by the foot of my grandfather’s coffin. His white hair is pulled back in a severe bun, the scar over his left eye frighteningly red as he narrows his eyes at all who approach, as if he’s watching for anyone who might defile the body inside.
While having his fair share of shadows pass across his features, pain in the pinching of his brows, he’s accepted Robert’s passing as gracefully as any could. Their reconnection at the hospital seemed to make some peace with whatever demons Hector had held on to for all those years. And I’m glad for it. I only hope my own serenity will come soon as well.
Though, I wonder if I’d even realize it if it did.
My parents have stopped questioning Hector’s strange behavior toward a family member they believe he had never known. They now seem blind to it actually, too lost in their grief.
Rae steps over to sit on the other side of me, having just ended a short conversation with my father. Seeing him all in black again reminds me of our training days together under the dark sky of Terra, the laps we’d run around the city.
“We’re going to leave soon to continue the smaller service back at your house,” he says, draping an arm around me.
I nod.
“What can we do?” he asks softly, his golden eyes strained after another moment of us sitting in silence.
“This. Just more of this,” I say.
And with that, Becca curls her fingers into mine, and Rae squeezes my shoulder, and we watch the rest of the wake pass by. A few distant cousins and friends of my parents come up to tell me how sorry they are for my loss. I thank them, murmur my agreement that yes, he was a good man. Yes, he lived a good life. Understanding they need to hear this more than I. After the things I’ve experienced, had to live through, people I’ve lost, I’ve come to realize that someone’s presence oftentimes far outweighs one’s words in comfort. So while I appreciate their need to pass on their regrets, it’s that they showed up at all that means the most to me. And the fact that the two people on either side of me understand this is enough to slowly mend my broken heart. I only wish Dev were here. I could see the anguish in his eyes when I needed to leave, his anger with not being able to hold me through my sorrow, and the torture of letting me go only when he just got me back. When I just got him back.
I’ve never resented the difference in Nocturna and Vigil more than I do now. That he can’t just as easily slip through a dimension like his brethren is maddening. For if anyone can thaw the cold that has iced over my heart, it’s Dev. But even with my cells screaming out to be with him, yearning for his touch and reassuring gaze, I know I can’t go back to Terra, not yet, not until I’m somewhat whole again. I’ll be useless to anyone otherwise.
“Molly.” My mother is standing in front of me, looking at the back of the room, her brown gaze questioning. “Do you know that woman?”
The three of us turn in our seats, and I nearly fall out of mine. A woman in an immaculately tailored long-sleeved black wrap dress stands against the far wall by the door. Her hair, which I know is pale blonde, is covered up by a charcoal scarf tied at the base of her chin. She slowly removes her large round sunglasses, showing off startling blue eyes. Two large men flank either side of her, looking every bit like the bodyguards they are.
Elena.
She’s here.
On Earth.
Oh. My. God.
My mind spins. Is it possible? I guess she is a Vigil. But… Oh my God.
“Did you know she was coming?” Rae whispers to me.
I shake my head.
“Who is that?” Becca asks in awe, clearly impressed by the vogue being before us.
“Elena,” I say.
“The Elena?” Her brows creep up to her hairline.
I cut her a look, telling her to not be so obvious.
“So, you know her?” My mother asks again.
“Um…yes.” I’m slow to answer as I search around for how to explain. But just then Elena walks up the aisle, her pace slow and regal, and the entire room stops to watch her. Not only because she is such a rare rose among all us weeds, but something in her aura commands that we do. Even here she is ethereal, almost more so, and a shiver goes through me.
She stops in front of my grandfather’s coffin and places a delicate hand on top. Not even a cough breaks the tense silence. It’s like we’re all waiting for something to happen. I’m not even sure what, but there’s an anticipation in this moment that can’t be explained. Her eyes are closed, her head bent, and I can barely make out the smallest bob to her throat, an emotional swallow. My chest tightens, all the memories of her and Robert flashing before me like a flip book. Their love. And then, ever so slightly, a weird heat expands in the room, starting from where she stands. Almost like a tickle of energy, and I sense my muscles relaxing, the throb of a headache at the back of my eyes lifting, a drop of relief, and I hear a sigh go through the guests when she lifts her hand away.
She approaches my parents, my father coming to step beside my mom, and they both regard her with dazed expressions. My mom looks as if she’s staring into the eyes of some celebrity, and my father appears a bit like a gaping fish.
“Charles, Kathy.” Elena’s husky voice accompanies her grasping each of their hands. “I am so sorry to hear of your loss. I’m Elena. Your daughter and I work together, and I know how close the two of them were, how much he meant to all of you.”
“Oh, yes, thank you,” my father says, a bit delayed as he bounces a glance my way before returning it to Elena.
She smiles, and even in its subtleness, it’s dazzling. “I’ve unfortunately experienced loss many times myself,” she says. “And I’ve come to believe the pain that feels so suffocating at the time is merely your heart remembering everything beautiful about that person at once.”
Even though she’s looking at my parents, I know these words are for me.
“It’s difficult to lose someone,” she continues gently. “To understand why such things happen and to find your way back. But one of your great authors, Philip Pullman, once wrote something about death that I find extremely comforting. ‘You’ll drift apart,’ he said, ‘but you’ll be out in the open, part of everything alive again.’” And then with another empathetic nod, she turns to me. “Molly,” she says. “Rae.” Her gaze holds his a beat longer, pride gleaming in their blue depths before she’s walking away, her two guards following on her heels, as she pushes open the doors to the outside and steps through, letting the morning light swallow her whole.
“Whoa,” Becca breathes.
I stand. �
�Um, I should go thank her for coming.”
Just before I slip from the room, I hear my dad ask, “What did she mean, one of our authors?”
I squint at the accosting brightness that hits me as I exit into the parking lot and shield my eyes, finding Elena about to get into a black luxury town car parked under the shade of a tree.
“Elena,” I call out, my heels clacking against the concrete as I approach. “What are you…I didn’t know that…” I’m not even sure where to start.
“You look better,” she says, ignoring my obvious sputtering and running an astute gaze over me. I blink as she takes in a deep breath and glances around. “I forgot what it smells like,” she says and then seeing my confusion adds, “the sun.”
“When’s the last time you were here?”
She smooths a nonexistent wrinkle from her dress. “One hundred and sixty-eight years ago.”
My mouth makes an O shape, but no sound comes out.
“It’s much changed since then,” she says nostalgically.
“I would think so.”
She smiles.
“Thanks for coming. It really…it means a lot.”
“I loved him too,” she says softly.
I nod. “I know.”
Her brows slightly pucker as she looks across the street to a young girl kicking a soccer ball with her father in a park. “Things are changing,” she says. “Our world is becoming something new, and that means so will it here. I’m not sure in what way, but I’m hoping, with your help, it will be for the better.”
I press my lips together and look at my hands, fiddling with my nails.
“Take the time you need,” she says, placing a gentle yet strong hand on my shoulder. “Find the peace that this home can give you. But, Molly”—her blue eyes seep into mine—“you do need to come back.”
Then she’s slipping on her sunglasses and dipping into her town car, leaving me standing in the parking lot with the bright sun shining down and the jovial laughter of the young girl echoing around me as I watch her drive away.
—∞—
The next week and a half goes by in a slow crawl of monotony.
And I love it.
No one has knocked on my door demanding my presence or commanded that I perform tricks in front of a crowd of people to win their favor. There’s been no sounding of alarms to rush off and destroy monsters or sessions to infuse my memory with new thoughts and feelings of an old predecessor. I sleep in, eat home-cooked meals, watch horrible reality TV, and let my mind wander into caring about mundane things like, do I want to wear yoga or sweatpants today? It’s funny how much I took such trivial matters for granted before, that I actually begrudged them. How naïve I was.
Becca, Rae, and Hector remain with me at my parents’ house, and despite my quick and affirmative denial, my mother is convinced Hector is my new boyfriend. Even though we hardly speak to one another, let alone physically touch. Still, she has somehow gotten it into her head that there’s a romance. Can we say, disgusting? And despite Hector’s slight awkward stiffness around my mom’s doting, obviously never experiencing something like a mother before, he actually infuses quite well with our little family. He’s even sat back and watched a baseball game with Rae and my father. Something I was sure he’d turn his nose up at, he instead seemed to rather enjoy.
Becca has taken it upon herself to give me a makeover while she’s got me trapped with nowhere to go, and I’ve let her. Knowing it’s her way to make up for the guilt she feels for what happened to me, even though what Aaron did is in no way her fault. Still, I sense her anxiety, her silent frustration that she can’t keep the threat of any more hurt coming my way. She doesn’t agree with what I must do, what fate seems to have landed in my lap. I’ve even overheard her arguing in whispers with Rae about it, but I know she also accepts there’s no way around it. So I let her paint my nails bright reds and purples, curl my new short hair into something of a 1950s pinup do because it gives her a sense of usefulness, of bonding with her best friend, who has recently been so unreachable. And the benefits of all this are paying off, for I actually am finding my laughter again. The first time was when I watched Hector’s repulsive reaction to Rae and my father having an impromptu burger-eating contest. I’ve never seen a man actually turn green in the face before. It was hilarious.
So yes, my joy seems to be slowly returning, the part of myself that I thought was forever lost, stolen in the dark by a man and his vengeance, is showing itself again. And this is why, as I lounge on the couch reading a book, my parents and Hector preparing our dinner in the kitchen and Becca and Rae watching TV curled up on a smaller love seat next to me, I grow annoyed when the news turns on and a very dismal picture is painted of the state of the world. Gun violence reported in every state over the past month, terrorist attacks rampaging through Europe, nuclear threats in Asia, and all this mixed with natural disaster after natural disaster. The Earth is sick and only getting sicker, and my stomach curls in on itself, the weight of it all falling once again on my shoulders.
“Can we change the channel?” I motion to Rae, who holds the remote.
“I think it’s important to watch this,” he says pointedly, his gaze not reaching mine, but I’d have to be an idiot not to get what he’s insinuating.
The news anchor chatters on about the latest mass shooting in Nebraska, the high body count. My breathing grows heavy, and I try plugging my ears from the inside.
“What’s wrong with people?” My mom says in disgust from the doorframe that leads into the kitchen, one of her hands covered by an oven mitt. “Things have been such a mess.” She unknowingly smears a bit of sauce onto her jeans.
“Yeah,” Rae agrees. “It makes you wish there was something you could do about it.” He lets out an oof from what I assume is Becca jamming an elbow into his stomach. I grind my teeth together, reading the same sentence in my book over and over, before I close it with a thud and drop it on my chest. I know what Rae is trying to do, and I get his need to do it. I can’t stay here forever. I can’t ignore the inevitable. But god damn it, I really, really want to. And it’s not just the droning of the news that is filling my stomach with acid. No, it’s also the notes Hector has been passing between Dev and me, the ones from him that are filled with the growing onslaught in Terra. It’s bad there. The pinnacle of the war has very much been reached, and yet here I sit, curled up on a couch, the sounds of a calm summer night coming through the open screened windows and the comforting chatter of my parents in the kitchen. But despite the serene scene, the TV obviously is telling a very different story. One that I’m forced to listen to for another hour, which, not surprisingly, puts me onto thoughts of death.
My life could have ended many times. It could have ended during any of the hours in that cave. But it didn’t. So I wonder how many lives this cat has left and if I’d be willing to give the last one up for a greater good?
I’d like to think so. I’d like to think I’d sacrifice myself for the world, be that selfless person who understands the concept of one for many.
But here’s the thing.
I’m not.
I don’t want to die.
I want to grow old and see my friends and family grow old with me. I want to travel the world, both my worlds, and meet new people and eat exotic foods. I want to learn another language that I can speak, not through the memories of another, but from my own mouth.
This might make me the most selfish person across two dimensions, but I guess I’m her. I care about my own neck enough to search for all the other solutions before I reach the one that’s my sacrifice. Because honestly, all those characters in books I’ve read and movies I’ve watched that think it’s an act of heroism and nobility—I’m sorry, but it’s simply an act of laziness.
If it’s my ultimate demise that’s written in the stars, fine, but I sure as hell am not going to walk out to the slaughterhouse willingly. No way. I’m going to fight tooth and friggin’ nail until my last breath.
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And that’s when it hits me like a crack of lightning.
My grandfather was right. How can I enjoy any of this if there will be no one around to share it with? If there are no worlds left to explore?
I have to keep going for them. For us.
I bolt upright, ignoring the inquisitive stares of Becca and Rae as a new urgency fills me.
I need to go back.
I need to return to Terra.
I need to do everything I can to end this.
And this time, when a certain someone attempts to take my life again, I won’t hesitate to do everything in my power to take them down with me.
— 42 —
I’m coming home.
—A letter from Molly to Dev
The wind was a never-ending force against Dev’s face, weaving between the gaps in his clothes and sending licks of icy caresses against his bare skin. His hands gripped the handles of his Arcus that straddled the zipline, giving in to the way his body swayed left and then right as he danced through the skyscrapers. The stars seemed brighter tonight as they zoomed overhead, accompanying him forward, both speeding toward a destination that only could be reached in flight. Dev’s of course was a feeling rather than a physical place. He decided to take the longer route back to his apartment after the last security meeting with Alex, needing the sense of freedom and relief it brought him. Even though the information shared at the gathering was that of progress, it still left him in a foul mood. They found the leak in the energy orb manufacturing facility—an older Nocturna who was bringing the product onto the black market and who, though unknowingly, got them into the hands of Aaron and subsequently the Metus. Terra only knew what other things Aaron used to manipulate the beasts, what else he had procured from the underground trade for his own gain. The thought of him using the bomb in the cave resurfaced as Dev’s jaw clenched. Did no one ask questions there? As crazy as Aaron was, he was more than capable of covering his tracks. Not only had his whereabouts still eluded them, but there was no way, after the explosion, they could have taken inventory of what he had hidden in the place he took Molly. Dev’s grip tightened, and he closed his eyes, forcing his mind to clear and erase the negative thoughts that had consumed him in the past weeks.