by Jes Battis
And my mother appeared, running across the dangerous street.
“Tess! Are you okay?”
I don’t think I’ve ever loved her more than I did in that moment. I grabbed her and held on for dear life.
“Where have you been all this time?”
“I got sucked into watching The Tudors and ignored the phone. You have no idea how great this season is.” She surveys the street. “I’ve obviously missed something, though.”
“You’re damn right you did! I talked to Dad.”
“Well.” She smiled. “I always knew you would someday.”
In many ways, nothing visible has changed, except that now the CORE remembers that it was once a single core among many. Our building, our fortress, is still there. But now we’re putting fewer funds into forensic analysis and more into research and preservation. I realized, while dancing with my father, that you can’t mete out justice when your own past is silent and collecting dust. We’re even building a museum in the subbasement, with dioramas.
For years, we were obsessed with handing in reports to the faceless. Now Selena, my mother, and I are the ones who read the reports. Selena is our public face (because of her sunny personality). My mother gracefully accepted a position as CORE historian, and she’s slowly but surely working her way through a thousand years of records. I think she enjoys it. What’s my job? Well, I’m on the phone a lot. I’m learning new languages. I’m meeting new demons. And when I get time, I lead investigations and teach classes. I take sparks on tours through the lab, saying things like, This is where we used to keep the giant fuming hood, but now it’s a day care. Tell your parents not to worry. It’s safe.
Lorenzo is back in Trinovantum, trying to make a ghost community. His efforts have been hit-or-miss so far, but Lucian smiles whenever he gets a spectral text from his brother. They’re learning to be in each other’s undead lives again.
My mother gives Mia an insulated bag. “There’s meat loaf in here. It should last you until you reach Edmonton.”
“Thank you.”
We gather outside on the front porch. Mia stands in front of the car that she bought after graduating high school. I can’t believe this is it. I’ve been saying good-bye to her in fits and starts for years, but now she’s about to drive four provinces away from me, a heavenly body breaking orbit to run away. I want to snatch her back, but I know that it’s impossible.
“This is it,” Mia says. She hugs Derrick and Miles. “Take care of each other. Promise that we’ll Skype.”
“We’ll Skype our brains out,” Derrick says. “I love you, kiddo.”
“I love you, too. Both of you.” She turns to Lucian. “And this guy? Come on, give me some sugar.”
Lucian hugs her. “Drive carefully. Observe the speed limit.”
“Okay, death-dealer. I’ll watch for students and baby ducks crossing the street. You watch out for Tess.”
“I’m always one step ahead of her.”
“Thank goodness.” She hugs my mother. “Thank you for everything, especially the food. I promise to send you letters.”
“Yes. Real letters, on stationery. Nothing typed.”
“Only high-quality card stock. Got it.”
Patrick hugs her. “Sis. Take care. If you meet any vampires, mention my name and you’ll get discounts.”
“Thanks. I’m gonna miss you, puppy.”
He kisses her on the cheek. “Me, too.”
She turns to me. “Well?”
“Well.”
We both look at each other for a few seconds.
“I’m so proud of you,” I say. “I’ll love you forever. Text me every time you stop for gas or have to pee.”
“I’ll send constant biological updates.”
“Don’t make me worry.”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t just study. Toronto’s a beautiful city. Go places. Make a few bad decisions. Ride a street car at random.”
“I will.”
“Be happy.”
“I am. You made sure of that.”
I hold her lightly. Then I let her go. She gets into the car. It’s so packed with things, she can barely fit, but she squeezes into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. She waves.
“I’ll text you at the first Shell station! I promise!”
Then she backs out carefully, turns, and drives away.
Oh, daughter, I can’t imagine you flying across the provinces like a meteor, kicking up dust, fearless. But I trust you to be who you are. I don’t know if you’ll keep taking your medicine. I don’t know who you’ll become in this new city. But I look forward to meeting you when you return. These locks will never change, even if we do.
About the Author
Jes Battis is the author of five novels in the Occult Special Investigator series. He has also written or edited books on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Farscape, young mutants, and grad students. He earned a PhD in English literature from Simon Fraser University in 2006 and currently teaches in the Department of English at the University of Regina.