by Tara Brown
“I am.” I have to grin, despite it all.
Blake knows me better than anyone, even better than Dorian. He understands my vision, though I’ve never told him what I see. We know each other well enough to see the same thing. We think the same.
“I can almost hear you overthinking everything. There’s no point in overthinking, Aimes.” He plants himself next to me, shuddering. “It’s shitty leaving the bubble at Shane’s and coming here. The in-between has become terrible.”
“I know. The moment I enter one of Lorelei’s little havens, the hate in the world washes off all the stains I have covered myself in. But it’s the same as hanging up your coat; everything you’ve taken off is waiting for you just outside the bubble.”
“Yup. You leave the bubble and it attaches again, like a rain-soaked coat, weighing you down.” He stares at the house. “I have a question and I need an honest answer.” His words are slick with dread. I know the question he’s going to ask. I don't want him to. It’s the same sentiment Dorian just gave me. We are all considering the end, but I don't want to, not yet. I’m not ready.
“Wait a little longer,” I whisper back.
“For what? Demons to come? For a horde to find them? What am I waiting for?” Blake’s voice cracks. “Sam knows where they are.”
“Lorelei’s bubble will keep them safe until we have to do it.” I can’t turn to him and see the despair in his eyes. I can’t. Not that I need to. It’s in me too, poking me with what-ifs.
“What if—”
“No,” I interrupt his question. “Don't what-if. Just wait a little longer. Please”—I turn, taking in the entirety of his pain—“we can take turns watching the house. Shifts.”
“We can’t spare people, Aimes. We have a mission, and we need to fulfill it before this gets worse. And any day now we’re going to go for Sam and the army and kill him, and then what? What if we go to Heaven and Alise and everyone stays here, in the mess, because we didn’t do it soon enough?” His nickname for me, the one everyone now uses, brings a smile to my lips. Familiarity is almost food in this word. Famine doesn’t apply to just physical hunger. Famine means a lack of everything. We’re starving for love, support, kindness, happiness, peace—everything. Nourishment is more than just eating. It’s everything. “We’re all losing hope, watching Sam with his huge army. We need to end this, all of it.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to do it. I’ll gently send them all to Heaven, separately. They won’t even know it’s happening. Delicate and comforting is better than terror and being victimized.” He shudders again. “I saw a horde of vampires kill a group of people last week. I was with Luke, and we waited for them to be mid feast before we killed them. We had to—there were so many, we couldn’t risk Sam being there and killing one of us. I can’t let our family go that way.” His words sound garbled as though mixed with vomit and fear.
“Okay.” Tears block anything else from slipping from my throat. “I’ll help.”
“Tonight.” Blake meets my gaze, confirming the appointment.
“Tonight. When they go to bed.”
“We spend one last evening with them.” For a second his eyes suggest he wants me to stop him, to talk him out of it. It’s there and then it’s gone. “And then, when this is over, if we don’t go to Heaven, you send me there to be with them. Promise.”
“I promise.” I know the hardship of making this decision, for us both.
My entire purpose in this world, in this never-ending fight, has been to keep them safe. This is the final step in that journey. A final step I never wanted to make. But love is keeping those who are important to you safe. Yes, it’s keeping them alive when you can, but it’s also sending them to Heaven peacefully when you must.
That is the place we have reached.
A fork in the road.
It’s either continue on and risk the possibility that Lorelei dies, ending her bubble. Or risk one of our family members leaving the bubble and bringing death down on everyone. There’s also the likelihood that Sam will come. He knows what I would do for these people. He knows what their torment and death would do to me. Killing them would be a smart move on his part.
Or we take the other path and send them off kindly, gently. In a way they won’t even know it’s happening. And we remain to suffer with the loss, alone.
Blake is right.
This is the better way.
“You ready?” He sighs, sounding defeated already.
“Yeah.” I take his hand and wink us both into the house.
It’s different now. The clean little cottage it was is cluttered. Everything is manual. The fact they have lights and water is magic; the rest of their life is hard. Like pioneers, they live off the land.
My mom is in the kitchen cleaning dishes. She’s tired, exhaustion is all over her face. She’s constantly tired now. She’s weary as if the state of the world she cannot see is sucking out what’s left of her through those eyes, those windows to the soul. The bags under them and the thinness of her face make me sad, but it’s the expression in those eyes that confirms we are making the right choice.
She forces her lips up at the sides when she greets us, “Hello.” She feigns joy in seeing me. I think she’s indifferent now. No longer a mom but a hostage of my desire to keep them here, for me.
My selfishness knows no bounds.
“Hi, Mrs. James,” Blake imparts and walks away, going to find my sister.
“Hi, Mom.” I offer a hug but take something else away, something more. It’s her smell. I’ll need it later. The smell of her got me through dark times before, and I suspect it will again.
There’s a tremble in our grip, the desperate way we cling to each other. Touches speak for us now, saying all the things we won’t. Or can’t.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Out back, checking on the irrigation. The heat has made the watering a full-time job. The well’s having trouble keeping up.” She nods her head to the garden door.
“I’ll go see if I can give him a hand.” I kiss her cheek, lingering for too long before leaving.
The heat of the day is intense. It’s been this way for too long. We’ve noticed that since the temperature change began, there are less people to send off. They’re not lasting in the desert-like conditions. I barely assume I can last in it. Ari really is the only one enjoying it, even pregnant. She relishes the dry warmth that roasts the flesh off everyone. She sleeps most of the day now, windows open and heat pouring in. It’s like a sauna. I can hardly bear to be in her room. In fact, I don’t recall the last time I was in her room. I need to remember to see her when I get back.
Outside, the well that also runs on magic is silent. No more generators or power supplies. Lorelei has the house running along like it’s a scene from The Sword in the Stone. My father loves it, but still toils away in the garden. Even her magic isn’t enough to keep everything alive or all the work easy.
His face is weathered; time spent worrying in the sun and eating less to make sure there’s enough for everyone else. It’s thinned him out in every way. There’s more and less of him.
“Hi, Dad,” I bid weakly.
“Hey, kiddo.” He still sounds like him, determined to make this work. “What brings you by?”
“Nothing. Just wanted to hang out.”
He pauses mid dig, his fingers gripping the small shovel. “Hang out?” He says it like he doesn't understand the words and then lifts his gaze, flinching as if he’s reading my mind. “Have things gotten worse?”
“What? No,” I lie.
“You’re a bad liar, Aimes. Always were.” He puts the shovel down and dusts off his hands. “Tell me the truth. Is something wrong?”
“Yeah.” I sigh.
“What kind of worse?”
“The bad kind. You know how this whole religious scripture thing works, right?”
“I do.” He never believed, but he does now.
“The antichrist is actually S
am.” The words taste like ash.
“Sam?” His eyes widen in disbelief. “Your Sam?”
“Yeah. He knows roughly where you are. He can’t come into Lorelei’s bubble, technically, but he knows how important you are.” I leave it there, not needing to say more.
“How much time?”
“None. Anything longer would be a gamble,” I whisper weakly, hating how I lose my strength with them.
“None.” He folds his arms and stares at the ground. “None? I suppose being here until now is more than I ever thought we’d have. When the cities fell and the power went down and we came here, I knew things were bad, but I had faith this would end.”
“It’s ending, just not the way we want.”
“This is the end?” His lip trembles a little. “Then I’m grateful for the time I’ve had. All this has been extra . . .” He lifts his gaze, meeting mine and killing the last of the hold I have on my emotions. “You’ve managed to create this little Garden of Eden for us, protecting us from whatever it is that's out there. You bought us time, more than anyone else got, I suspect.”
“It’s not enough. I wish I could do more.” I blink a tear down my cheeks.
“But it has to be enough and you have to let us go. We can’t stay here like this, living this half life.” Tears flood his eyes as well. “Is this the last supper then?”
I nod. I can’t speak.
“Okay.” He smiles causing the tears in his eyes to overspill and trail down his cheeks. “Then I better get the good shit out.”
“Good shit?” I chuckle which results in my tears overflowing as well.
“I’ve been saving some things. I knew it was only a matter of time before this little haven ended.”
His words play on my mind. Garden of Eden. Haven. Thoughts creep about in my head. There might be one we can save. There’s something I never even thought about.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” I wink out, no longer pretending I can’t. Something I’ve done in front of him a few times.
There’s one person I need. One person who can answer the question burning in my brain.
Chapter 2
A bad plan
Lorelei narrows her gaze from the chair in the sunroom, contemplating what I’ve just asked of her. “I don't know, Aimee. Sounds like a long shot. If she’s a regular Nephilim she don’t have magic. I don't wanna say yes and get your hopes up. Can I see her before I answer this?” Her twangy Southern accent always makes me smile.
“Yeah. I’ll take you now.” I hold a hand out. Marcus opens his mouth to say something, but I lift a hand and cut him off, “You can’t come.”
“Aimee, darling, why do you always assume the worst of me? I love last suppers. I’ve had many a last supper with the common folk.” He climbs up off the couch and saunters over, charming me with those eyes.
“You mean you had many a commoner for a last supper,” I add drolly.
“Semantics.”
“Marcus, your actions speak louder than your compulsion. This is my family we’re talking about.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” He rolls his eyes. “The saintly James family. How dull.” He strolls past me into the kitchen.
I don't have time to be drawn into a Marcus Dragomir drama.
“Oh, don't pitch a fit, Marcus. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” Lorelei waves and holds out her hand. I wink before he complains about how we’re leaving him to fend for himself, as if he’s some stay-at-home dad cooking a four-course meal for the kids.
We land back in the greenhouse in front of my dad. He nods a greeting. “Lorelei.” The winking doesn’t shock him anymore. Not since the house first began to run on magic. In fact, I think he likes it all.
“Good afternoon, Mr. James, sir. How ya holding up?”
“Better than I ever deserved.” He winks at me.
“I know that feeling. How y’all managing with the heat? It’s hotter than a two-dollar pistol out here.”
“We manage all right, thanks to you.” He chuckles at the weird Southernism she lends.
“Be right back.” Gripping her hand, I jerk her toward the house. “I’m gonna introduce her to the baby.”
“She’s lovely.” He smiles at Lorelei and goes back to work.
I drag her to the makeshift nursery where my sister sleeps and Blake sits holding the baby. His eyes widen when he sees me. “Not yet.”
“No.” I turn back to Lorelei. “Well?”
“Aimee, are you sure?” Lorelei asks softly.
“Yeah.” I ignore Blake's annoyed stare.
“I don't know what she is, but even from here I can tell she’s more than Nephilim. She’s like the children.” She steps closer, her voice lowering, “May I hold her?”
“What’s going on?” Blake growls.
“Trust me.” I plead with my eyes.
He presses his lips tight as though he might say no, but he reluctantly passes his tiny daughter to Lorelei.
“Oh my.” She takes a deep inhale like she’s smelling perfume. “Yes. She’s very special. She’s part witch, angel, and human.”
“Witch?” I give Blake a dubious scowl. “Is your mom a—?”
“Not a chance. Maybe yours. Or a grandma we’re unaware of.” He says it flatly, obviously implying it’s my mom.
“Wait.” Lorelei pauses, tilting her head. “Aleks’ weird daddy came after your momma, before. I was there. He came to your town.” Lorelei turns to me, still smelling the baby. “In some twisted version of the past, didn't he kill her?”
“Yeah.” I pause and then gasp. “Of course. That’s why he was in town. That's who he was looking for. He smelled a witch. Those are his favorite. Like O. My mom must have something she doesn't know about.” My skin crawls with shivers. “That's how he found me on the beach. That's why he attacked me too.” The realization makes me wonder what else is going on with our parents and why us, in all of this.
“I can’t say for sure, but I suspect she’d be welcome in the garden.” Lorelei smiles softly at the baby. “So, would your momma and sister, if they have the magic too.”
My heart stops. “But my dad?”
Lorelei’s eyes lose their hope. “No. Aimee. I’m sorry. The garden needs magic, bringing more witches will always be allowed. Regular folks have to go to God. The fae are real sticklers. Which I don’t get. The fae can go to Heaven, but regular folks can’t go to the garden without special invitation.”
“My parents are not on that list then.” Blake winces, his eyes never leaving Terra’s sleeping face.
“I’m sorry, Blake.”
“It’s okay, Lorelei. You've done so much for them already.” There’s no bright side to this, not even for Blake. “At least some of us will survive this.”
“She’ll get the chance to grow up. That’s better than anything else this old world has to offer. And no child should go to Heaven before she has had a chance to live.”
“But if Alise and Terra go into the garden—?” He lowers his voice.
“You won’t see them again, and if you do it’ll be ages from now,” she answers, aware of exactly what he’s thinking. “You angels can’t go in there. You have to be invited in by the fae, and I wouldn’t bet on them trusting the fallen again.” She swallows hard. “I’m so sorry.” She hands the baby back to him. “I’ll go now and ensure they'll let her pass.”
“Okay.” He blinks and releases a single tear down his cheek. His fingers nervously push up glasses that aren’t there.
Heartbroken, I grab Lorelei’s hand and wink to the place I know she wants to go. It’s the entrance to the garden. I don't see what she sees. I don't see lush woods or gardens or beauty. It’s hot and dusty and the wind is cruel. The garden has become less and less available to us. Even the small measure of witch I apparently have in me doesn't sense the surrounding magic.
Lorelei vanishes, not speaking.
I lower my gaze and wait. Knowing my mother, sister, and Terra will be saved doesn't see
m to weigh equally to the fact my father will not. His death will hurt more this way. He’ll be alone there, in Heaven.
When Lorelei comes back, she pops out of the air with an expression on her face that makes me uncomfortable. She swallows hard and nods. “They can come. Not your father or Blake’s family. Just your momma and the baby.”
“Alise?”
She twitches her head back and forth.
“You can’t expect my sister to leave her brand-new baby.”
“Too far removed from the magic. Your momma has magic, your sister doesn't. Not enough. It saved her life in birthing Blake’s baby, but that’s all. Your momma can claim the magic and save herself and the baby.”
It’s the worst news. “How the hell do I tell Blake? How do I even broach that subject with him?”
“The baby would be saved,” she suggests weakly, knowing this is not much of a bright side. “There’s another option—”
“What?” I’m at the end of my last string of hope.
“If your momma could claim her magic, your sister could—”
“Jesus. That’s the other option? Alise kills our mom, takes her magic, and goes with the baby?” I can’t believe this is her other option.
My nostrils flare as she lifts her hands slowly. “Calm down.”
“I can’t calm down! Alise has to kill Mom or leave her baby? Imagine if this were—” I stopped myself just short of saying the very thing Lorelei once had to do, maybe even more than once. “Fine. I’ll go tell Blake what the plan is.”
“Y’all need my help. Your momma won’t know how to claim her magic.” She takes my hand as I wink.
The moment we’re back in the bedroom, Blake narrows his gaze at me. “What?”
“It’s complex.” I bite my lip and contemplate how to say this. “Essentially, Alise isn’t witch enough.”
“No!” He stands, saying it too loud. Alise stirs but falls back to sleep as we lower our voices. “You can’t send Terra away without her mom or her dad.”
“My mom can go.” I sigh, dissatisfied with my own answer.