by McGill, Brie
Feeling crazy, he sat up, wiped his eyes and laughed. “Why?!”
Lilith rolled her head to the side, staring at him with curious eyes. “Why?”
This wasn’t the Lilith he worshipped and loved: it was an animated corpse sustained with the saddest filament of a tortured soul forbidden rest.
Orion wiped his eyes again with the back of his hand, sniffling and trying to contain himself. He wasn’t sure what hurt him most: her untimely death, her untold suffering, or her impartiality to his belated return, testament to the nightmare she endured. “Just because I couldn’t stop him—” He jerked away, hiding his face in his palms, decades of emotion cascading in the callous face of infinity. “It didn’t mean I’d never come back to make sure they got what they deserved!”
He lost it, oh, he lost it. He was ashamed of his existence.
“It changes nothing.” Features softening, she spider-walked her fingers across the floor, reaching to him in an effete gesture. “Did you forget?”
Squeezing her hand, he climbed over her, supporting himself with one elbow. “Forget what?”
“Everything I gave for you to leave this place.” She wouldn’t smile.
It killed him. “Of course not.”
“You must have.” She rolled her eyes and turned away.
“Lilith.” Orion cradled her face with both palms. He lowered his head and felt her hair in his fingers, the contour of her skull. “I love you.” He planted a lingering kiss on her forehead.
“I know.” She remained motionless, averting her eyes. “Too much.”
The Constellations
XXVI.
It was at that point she instinctively felt she should leave.
Ninkasi had never seen a grown man cry in her life. Not once, not ever. Her father had been particularly remorseless; it was how he made a living.
And Noah didn’t count.
Hanging her head, Ninkasi shuffled away from the alcove, feeling estranged, like there was a part of Orion she could only experience from behind a pane of glass. Whatever he was dealing with. . . it wasn’t her place.
Aleister was nowhere to be found.
A small hand tugged at her wrist.
Ninkasi looked down.
Renwick found her. He pulled on her wrist, angling his body so that she might follow him down the hall.
The poor boy never spoke a word: she wondered what went on in his head.
“You want me to come with you?” She softened her voice, and tried to smile. She felt too raw for a real smile.
Renwick nodded, beaming, and scuttled through the cavern, rounding a corner that led to another alcove.
Dragging her feet, she plodded along, lingering some distance behind him.
“Ninkasi!” Wolfram stood up, meeting her with a dire face. “You’re alright!”
Ninkasi frowned, rubbing her neck. “I think so. . .” She stared at the floor. “Mostly.”
“What of Aleister?” Wolfram leaned against the only object in the alcove, an enormous, gold-framed mirror. The mirror was turned sideways, an eccentric grid of notches resembling the notches on a wheel inside a music box covering the back panel.
Knitting her brow, she stared at the mirror. “No idea. He ran after Echidna. She tried to get away.”
“Orion?” He locked one arm over his stomach.
Ninkasi sighed. “He’s with. . . Lilith.”
“She lives?” Wolfram blinked.
She dragged hands over her forehead. “She looks like she’s about to die. But, I already saw her die.” Ninkasi waved a hand. “A countless number of times. . .”
“So it is true.” He stroked his goatee. “Lilith is the first woman.”
She squinted one eye. “The first woman?”
Puffing his cheeks, Wolfram exhaled loudly. “Echidna tried for centuries to successfully craft a woman, with varying degrees of success.”
Ninkasi raised her eyebrows. “I. . . noticed that. . .”
“It would strengthen our species, allow evolution and diversity if we could successfully integrate sexual reproduction.” He grabbed the side of the mirror. "It would be vastly superior to the madness and slow decay of cloning."
She raised a finger. “You’ll have to excuse the fact that this might take a while to register in my brain.”
“There was a rumor that Echidna had successfully created the first woman, but that she kept it a secret, under lock and key.” He shrugged. “It would make sense, from Echidna’s perspective, to clone her excessively for use in experimentation.”
Ninkasi couldn't think about it anymore; she lifted a hand to her face. “What is that mirror?”
“This old thing?” Wolfram slapped it affectionately. “It’s a transportation device.”
She wandered toward the mirror, and knocked on the pane of glass. “I don’t see how.”
“These switches on the back” —he motioned at the mirror— “mirror the celestial bodies surrounding the planet. If I can calibrate it properly, we can use the mirror to travel to any location we specify on the surface.”
“It’s that easy?” She met him with a blank stare. “Then switch on my home address!”
“It’s not that easy.” Wolfram frowned. “If I make the slightest mistake in entering the coordinates, we could be transported anywhere—to the bottom of the sea or two miles up in the air.”
Ninkasi crossed her arms. “Do you have any clue where you’re sending us?”
“There is an ancient island. . .” Wolfram adjusted his glasses and stepped behind the mirror. “A sacred site once used as a depository for various technologies when we first arrived. I should be able to remember the coordinates to take us there.”
Wandering toward the wall, she slumped into a seated position on the floor. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to jog your memory.”
Orion strode into the room, commanding an awkward silence. Crossing his arms, he surveyed the mirror, and glanced to Aleister and Wolfram behind the mirror, hard at work. “I’ll be damned.”
“Look who decided to show up!” Aleister stood up, throwing his hands in the air, unintentionally punching Wolfram in the head.
Wolfram ducked away, wincing, rubbing his head.
Ninkasi looked up from her game of tic-tac-toe: Renwick was ready to beat her again.
“You crafty shyster.” Orion flicked the pane of the mirror, smirking when the surface rippled like water in a pond.
Narrowing her eyes, Ninkasi craned her neck forward, intrigued by the mirror; she hesitated to approach Orion.
He acted cool, like nothing was wrong. Stoic bastard.
It perturbed her that he could flick a switch and act like everything was okay. She felt like she had cried until she ran out of tears, and a moment ago, he was in the throes of a meltdown—
Drawing an O in the dirt, she smiled.
Renwick eagerly drew an X, crossing a line through his three letters in a row.
“You’re too smart for me, kid!” Ninkasi erased the board and redrew the grid.
“Was this your plan the entire time?” Orion nodded at the mirror.
“Not exactly.” Wolfram adjusted another set of switches. “Not this mirror, anyway. We were lucky to have found another.”
“Is it calibrated?” Orion tilted his head.
“I believe so—” Wolfram inched up on his toes, straining to reach the top of the mirror. “Aleister, would you mind resetting the three points left of Denubius?”
Aleister hit the switches with a swipe of his large hand.
Wolfram brushed off his hands. “We’ve been over the settings countless times. They should all be correct.”
Aleister raised an eyebrow. “You do know what happens if we fuck this up, right?”
Orion flicked the mirror, transfixed with the ripples.
Ninkasi stood, guiding Renwick toward the mirror.
“Wolfram!” Aleister belted him across the back with an open palm. “You can go first!”
&nb
sp; He groaned, casting a cautionary glance at Aleister.
Renwick shadowed him.
“Orion, you go last to close the connection.” Aleister pointed at him. “Plus, you arrived last, so if the connection short-circuits before you make it through, it’s your corpse and not mine. You got us into this mess.”
Orion crossed his arms. “Provided you fit through the mirror.”
Wolfram stuck his hand into the mirror. “Let’s hurry.”
Renwick grabbed his hand, both disappearing with a splash.
“Ladies first.” Aleister bowed, allowing Ninkasi passage.
“It’s okay.” Ninkasi lifted a hand, holding back. “You go ahead.” She wanted to speak with Orion.
Aleister opened his mouth to protest.
Orion kicked him in the behind with a pointy shoe.
Growling, Aleister disappeared into the mirror.
Ninkasi squeezed his arm. “Are you okay to leave?”
Closing his eyes, Orion nodded.
“You’re sure?” She grabbed his shoulders.
He pressed his lips together. “I have no reason to stay.”
Ninkasi poked her foot through the mirror, sensing with her toes for solid ground on the other side. Happy to have made contact with the earth, she climbed through.
Orion stepped through after her, glancing suspiciously over his shoulder at the mirror’s rippling surface.
The ripples settled; its cool silver light extinguished itself with the stillness.
Curiously, Ninkasi reached through the dark and tapped the surface of the mirror: it was hard again.
“The energy fields of a surface dweller’s body are incompatible.” Wolfram’s matter-of-fact voice echoed in a vast auditorium.
“Ah.” She turned her head in all directions. “Now what?”
Aleister switched on the rifle’s faltering light scope, pointing the flickering light beneath his chin like a flashlight for telling ghost stories. “We find a way out.”
“Aleister, may I?” Wolfram reached for the rifle.
Aleister swatted at him. “Don’t touch my gun!” Clutching the device, he defensively took a step back. “The anzein cell will give you a headache.”
“Fine.” Wolfram wore a flat expression. “But I’m the only one who knows how to open the door to get us out of here, and I need to see to do it.”
Aleister pointed the light scope ahead.
Wolfram nodded. “Thank you.”
He marched ahead in a huff.
Wolfram approached a stone wall, riddled with ancient carvings, tracing a finger over the glyphs.
“What is this?” Ninkasi squinted, ogling the wall in wonder.
Orion loomed behind her.
Sighing, Wolfram continued to scan the wall until he found a loose brick. Sliding the chalky block from the wall, he revealed smaller lines of glyphs inside, and three buttons. Inserting his hand, he pressed two.
With the rumbling grind of stones, a large slab of wall retracted, revealing the night sky and stone balcony of an ancient temple.
“Oh my god!” Ninkasi thundered outside, flailing her arms. “We’re outside!” She raced down the stairs, looking up, admiring the ziggurat, desperately absorbing her surroundings.
The temple was built on a secluded island, with white sand, palm trees, and fragrant flowering bushes. Enormous stone statues, twice the size of her house, speckled the island.
“Oh my god!” She slammed her hands against her face. “We’re halfway across the globe!” Sinking onto her heels, she dragged her hands down her face, gawking at the statues in disbelief.
They were all weatherbeaten, testaments to the mysteries of antiquity—
Only, their origin was no longer a mystery.
In school, she had been taught that no one knew how such magnificent statues were built at an epoch so distant in time. The statues, though human in form, were all carved with six fingers—
She fell onto her back, covering her face with her arm, and laughed hysterically. She wagged her legs side to side, rolled onto her stomach and pounded her fists in the dirt.
What a joke. Reality was such a joke!
Renwick sped down the dirt path, approaching her, arms outstretched like the wings of an airplane. Leaping into the air, he dove into the dirt, and rolled around beside Ninkasi, laughing hysterically.
She calmed herself, watching the boy. This poor kid had no idea.
Or maybe he knew all too well and she was the fool.
Kneeling beside her, Orion placed a hand on her shoulder.
Ninkasi shook her head. She wasn’t sure if she was laughing or crying. Her brain felt like soup.
He shook his head, negating her. “Aleister’s RCU picked up a signal. He’s on the phone with Nero right now. It’s a seven hour flight to the island.” He paused, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “If Aleister gets his way—well, you know Aleister—someone already jumped in a vehicle and is making the trek to pick us up posthaste.”
“Renwick!” Wolfram pointed and marched toward him. “Come now! You mustn’t roll in the dirt.”
Renwick sat up, beaming.
Frowning, Wolfram brushed him off. “You’ll get. . . dirty. Heavens.”
She sighed, rolling to her side and propping up her head. “I guess we’ve got some time to kill.”
“Let’s go for a walk.” Wolfram extended his hand and pulled the boy to his feet.
“Heh.” Aleister approached with crossed arms.
Orion shot him a curious glance.
“I couldn’t kill Echidna.” He shook his head, squatting beside them.
Orion stared into the trees. “That’s unfortunate.”
“I gave her a nice knife in the leg.” He settled onto the ground. “I bet she hasn’t felt one like that before.”
He pursed his lips.
Aleister shrugged. “If the scarring is bad enough, I guess she can clone a new one.”
Ninkasi widened her eyes. “That’s a comforting thought.”
“You know, Orion. . .” Aleister hugged his knees into his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “I would have helped you if you had asked. I mean, really helped you, like we could have done the whole thing together from the start, and—”
“I know.” He shut his eyes.
Ninkasi observed the holy moment of bro-mantic silence between them.
“I couldn’t do it.” Aleister shook his head. “All these years, I’ve done everything in my power to change myself, change my identity, rewrite my purpose. I’ve taken more substances than any sane person could imagine to travel into my mind, to delete the noxious shit my own upbringing left behind, but. . .” He stared at Orion. “I tried to let it go. I never had the guts to go back there and tell anyone that they were wrong, that what they were doing wasn’t okay.”
Orion shrugged. “It doesn’t change what happened. It won’t change the fact that I’ll have nightmares every night for the rest of my life.”
They shared a moment of grievous silence.
“Being angry. . .” Orion traced a finger in the dirt. “It isn’t nearly as difficult as facing the things that made you angry, exploring the ways they’ve fucked you up inside. I can’t ever do what you do.”
“I might disagree with you.” Aleister stood up. “But thanks.”
Orion looked away.
“Wolfram owes me a tour of the island!” He planted his hands on his hips.
Ninkasi lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, he does?”
Nodding, Aleister raked fingers through his hair. He waved and barreled into the distance.
“So. . .” Ninkasi sat up, pulling on Orion’s arm. “Want to go for a walk?”
Ninkasi sat beside Orion on a rugged crag overlooking the ocean. The full moon glittered on the black water; a gentle breeze ruffled broad-leaved trees amidst a crooning symphony of insects.
She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in the salty air. “It’s beautiful here.”
He stared pensi
vely over the sea.
She shut her eyes, unable to blot out the terrible image of Andrealphus. “You don’t feel bad about what happened, do you?”
Snorting, he took a moment to respond. “No.”
Ninkasi snuggled closer to him. “You shouldn’t.”
Orion wrapped his arm around her, resting his head on her head.
Waves crashed against the rocks below.
“Was it true?” She placed a hand on his bare chest.
“Was what true?” He held her, avoiding her gaze.
“Did Andrealphus do all the things he said he did. . . to Lilith?” She felt his heart.
He said nothing.
Ninkasi pressed her lips together. “He deserved it.”
“He deserved worse.” Orion jerked his head away.
She squeezed his arm.
He sighed. “Lilith wasn’t the only one that he. . .”
Her eyes widened: she realized the motivation for his anger was like a bottomless chasm, and she stood on the edge, feeling a dangerous wind rushing up from the abyss. How much did he keep inside? How much had he hurt, for so long?
Turning to face her, Orion grabbed her by the shoulders. “Listen, Ninkasi.”
She nodded, staring at him. She wasn’t sure what to say.
“I know I was all over the place back there, but I want you to know that I would have never let Andrealphus hurt you.” He shook her. “Do you understand?”
Blinking, she nodded, stunned.
“I’m serious.” Orion leaned over her, pushing her onto the ground. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. They’ll have to go through me to get to you.”
“Okay.” She smiled in spite of herself, relishing each moment of security in his arms.
“That’s another thing.” He hovered over her, his nose above her nose.
Ninkasi pushed his hair behind his ears, away from her face.
“If anyone ever dares to kidnap you again, I’ll find you.” He ran a finger along her cheek. “Always. No matter what.”
She clasped his hand.
Orion sat up, pulling away from her. “I. . . I’m sorry that. . .” He blew out a huge puff of air, absently grabbing a handful of dirt.
Concealing her inner amusement, Ninkasi observed the strenuous effort his apology required.