“You can't just leave me like this and expect me to do...any of it,” my mother said.
“I don't,” I said, looking her right in the eye. “I don't. If you want me to...I'll take the memories you need gone in order to make you a harder person.” I pursed my lips. “If I can.”
My mother blinked at me. “You mean...I won't remember any of this? At all?” She swallowed, and then turned redder. “You can't do that to me. Sienna, you can't. I want to remember this.” She looked me up and down. “I want to remember you. If I have to do terrible things to that little girl to keep her alive...” She balled her fists and bowed her head. “How am I supposed to do that if I can't at least remember that it all turned out okay for you?”
“I am afraid your choice is even more stark than that,” Akiyama said, surprisingly straitlaced given that he'd been holding back time for days. “The only reason I knew about...all this, this incident,” he waved a hand at us, “is because on the night of your death, you told me a message I give you now: 'the next time we meet will be on the day of your death. But your death will save your daughter's life'.”
My stomach dropped like I'd been flying along and Gavrikov had been sucked out of my head midair. “Wait, what?” I looked from him to her, then back, in disbelief. “She knew?”
He nodded.
I looked to my mother. “I - I had no idea that you-”
“I... die?” she asked, looking the calmest she'd been since we'd left Des Moines. “Between now and...” She looked at me. “And when you get back?”
I almost couldn't look her in the eye. “Yes,” I said, finally. “You die in... well, it's a hell of a fight. And yeah...you do save my life.”
She took a long, hard breath, then covered her mouth with her hand. “I die.”
“We all die sometime,” Lethe said quietly.
“Oh fuck off, mom, you're still alive,” my mother said. “And your mom is still alive.”
“I'd die in a heartbeat to save any one of you,” Persephone said.
“Same,” Lethe said.
My mom thought, then blinked, then looked right at Akiyama. “How much time do I have?”
Akiyama just shook his head. “No one should know when their hour is at hand until it is arrived. But...you have some time.” He looked at me. “Enough to see your daughter grow up.”
“You help me save the world, mom,” I said, and I realized in that moment that my mother had known... that she'd been cruel to save me...she'd known that she was going to die saving me, and...
She'd done it all anyway.
“I've got some time, then,” my mother said, straightening up. “I do want you to take some memories from me, yes.” She nodded. “But...not this.” She looked at Persephone, then Lethe. “You can take the surrounding events, take Wolfe – hell, gladly take Wolfe – but don't take this.” She looked at each of us in turn. “I want to remember this. This moment, with the four of us.”
“The day four generations of our women stood together and kicked Omega in the balls,” Lethe said with a smile.
“I can do one better than that, I bet,” Persephone said, and disappeared behind the kitchen counter for a minute. She rummaged in a drawer and came back around with a silvery camera the size of a land mine. She looked at Akiyama. “Any chance you'd be kind enough to oblige us on this?”
Akiyama gave a nod, and we all shuffled over to the couch as he stood before it, camera in hand. I didn't plan it, no one did, but we ended up with Persephone on one end, then Lethe, then mom...and finally me. Chronological order. We barely fit, but we did make it, just.
“It really does help me to know you're going to be okay,” my mother said as she settled in next to me. She wouldn't look at me, though, at first. “I can endure almost anything if I know you're going to be okay.”
“I'll be okay,” I said, thinking of the world ahead, and how surely...surely it must be worth the sacrifice. Seven billion people were still alive because of her death, after all.
“I'm not sure I quite believe you, with all that enthusiasm,” she said, looking at me sidelong as Akiyama fiddled with the camera. It was an old model. Maybe new to him, though, since he'd given up on modern life around the fifties. “You know there's more to life than just saving the world.”
I thought back to how my life had been going before Akiyama had pulled me out of time. That room in DC, with the blank, bare walls, and no one talking to me. Just when I thought I'd finally gotten clear of that stupid fugitive business...
“I know. And it will be all right,” I said, mustering confidence I didn't entirely feel. “I've been through a lot, but things are coming together. And there's...someone...now.”
A little hint of sadness settled in around her eyes. “Good for you.” She looked around. The picture still wasn't happening. “You're the stronger succubus? Of the two of us?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I guess that tells me a little something about our future relationship,” she said.
“It turns out just fine,” I said. “I love you, mom.”
“I love you, Sienna,” she said, putting her arms around me and giving me a squeeze, her cheek directly to mine. As she pulled back, before my powers started working, she looked me in the eyes. “Your father would be proud of you, too.” She sniffled. “When he's done...” she brushed her back and gestured to her neck. “Take what you need to, okay? Before you go.”
Lump in the throat like a stone the size of a coffee cup. Gulp. “Okay.”
“I think I have figured this out...maybe,” Akiyama said, lifting the camera.
“It's an old model,” Persephone said. “I ain't been here for a while.”
“Whenever you're ready, ladies,” Akiyama said, pulling up the camera. “It would appear we have twelve exposures remaining.”
“Have at it,” I said, settling back into position next to my mother. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my grandmother and great-grandmother.
Four generations, right there. Not a wimp among us.
“You know, if you ladies don't have any plans later, we could probably take over the world together,” I said, and that prompted a round of giggles as Akiyama snapped away.
50.
“How did it go?” Lethe asked as I walked out into the waning summer sun. She was waiting with Persephone and Akiyama, both of whom were blinking at a brightness that would not have been a problem if this had been January. Ah, Minnesota.
“I took what she asked me to,” I said, not looking back. “Any memory of you two being alive.” I nodded at her and great-grandma. “Part of me wanted to leave her with it, but she didn't recall you being alive when we talked about it, so I sort of sculpted the memories as best I could. Not sure what she's going to actually remember, but I think I left her the impression you're both dead. Which is going to be an interesting issue for you to deal with, since now she doesn't know where this house came from, or how she got here, or where all that casino robbery money came from. I tried to suggest a few logical items, plant some ideas, but I'm not sure I'm capable of inception.”
“I don't know what that is, but you're very capable,” Lethe said. “I'm sure it'll all come out fine.”
My gaze fell on the small roll of film clutched in Persephone's hand. “What are you going to do with that?”
“Develop it,” Persephone said, eyes glittering. “Hope it turns out all right given that it's such old film. Hang onto it for a bit...til you're ready to come get it. Which will be when, exactly...?” She was wearing a teasing smile.
“I don't know how to say this to you,” I looked at Akiyama for guidance, but he was Sphinx-like. “Use your best judgment for trying to contact me. You've saved me multiple times in the last year,” I pointed at Lethe, “though I didn't know your actual name and relation until very recently.”
“Hmph,” Persephone said, looking at her a little judgy. “You're back working for your daddy, then.”
Lethe scrunched up her face and turned to
her mother. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Because I wouldn't have you lying like a dog if you were doing whatever it was on behalf of me,” Persephone said, pure southern grandma pronouncing judgment. She looked over to me. “How do things end out between you and your great-grandaddy?”
“We got to an understanding,” I said, trying to be careful of how much I divulged here. Especially since the last time I'd seen him, his face had been mush and he'd been forced to belly-crawl away from me while bleeding from the beating I'd given him.
“I just bet you did,” Persephone said, drawing another one of those looks from Lethe. Two parts suspicious, one part, “What the hell, mom?” I recognized that myself from when my mother would say something questionable or overly blunt around other people.
“So... we'll see you again,” Lethe said.
“You will,” I said. “For sure.”
“Soon, right?” Persephone asked, sidling closer to me and putting an arm around my waist. “Because I know I don't look it, but I'm an old lady now, and I could go any time, so you really need to come see me, y'hear?” She was smiling as she said it, that perfect combo of guilting and love that I'd never known growing up.
“Just...keep your distance until it's time,” I said. “Yes, I will come to you. But I need time to grow up. Time to become...well, me.”
“I don't like this,” Lethe said, folding her arms in front of her, “and if it was coming from my five year-old granddaughter...there's not a chance in hell I'd let you go through what you've proposed.”
Persephone nodded along. “It's a little different, though, coming out of the mouth of a grown-ass woman who knows she's about to be put through hell and is willing to walk right on into it for the sake of the world.”
“Every day of hell I went through made me a stronger person,” I said, looking down at my hand, then over at the box, which rested on the back of the trailer on the back of the truck we'd driven here. Mom could move it in later; she knew what to do with it now. “Every adversity I went up against...I kicked the ass of. I lost a lot along the way, but life has a tendency to do that to you, y'know? Even when you're not trying to save the world.”
“It can be a little tough sometimes,” Persephone said. “Like beef spareribs if you don't cook 'em long enough.”
Akiyama cleared his throat. “My strength is waning.”
“I've gotta go,” I said, and Persephone stepped forward to give me a hug. It was strong and snug and perfect.
“You come see me, girl,” she said right into my ear, sounding a little choked. “I'll keep my distance from you as long as I can, but I swear to you, if you don't come see me as soon as you get back – I'm going to jerk a knot in you, I don't care how old or strong you are. You saw what I did to Wolfe – you know I'll do it.” She put her hands on my biceps and pushed back, looking me in the eyes. “I'm in New Asgard, Texas, all right? You're welcome there anytime, you just show right up and I'll roll out the red carpet, y'hear?”
“Loud and clear,” I said, and she let me go with more than a little regret.
Lethe came at me next, wrapping me up just as tight, maybe a little less warmly than Persephone, though we both took care not to touch skin to skin. “You can still call me anytime.”
“I might need some alternate numbers for you in the future,” I said, trying to hedge on giving too much away about what happened in Revelen.
She pulled back, studying my eyes with some intensity. “You don't need a phone.”
I blinked. “I don't?”
She peered at me, and there was a little knowing to her look. “You're a succubus, aren't you...?”
“Oh, dreamwalk, right,” I said, nodding. “Duh. Of course. Yes. I will dreamwalk to you when I get back.” I looked at Persephone. “Both of you.”
“You better,” Persephone said, a twinkle in her eye. “I don't have that many great-grandbabies that have kept in touch. I ain't letting go of you, girl, so you best get used to that. If I don't hear from you, I'm going to find this fella,” she seized Akiyama's arm, hauling him off balance and making his eyes go ridiculously wide cuz she was strongggggg, “and I'm going to come back in time and kick that door right down and give that little girl in there some serious hugging, consequences be damned.” She let go of Akiyama and wagged a finger at me. “You take that to the bank.”
“Consider it banked,” I said, trying to hide a smile.
She waved her hand at me, the little film canister clutched in her fingers. “You can consider this banked, too. 'Til then.”
“If you are ready?” Akiyama asked, having regained his balance. He brushed some of the lines out of his suit where Persephone had messed it up when she grabbed him. He made a couple attempts, then finally seemed to write it off as hopeless, because he looked at me. “If we could, please.”
“We can,” I said, and moved to stand by him.
“Don't you go forgetting us,” Persephone said. “Because I promise you, however long ahead it is for us to get to your time...we ain't going to forget you, Sienna.”
“We'll be waiting,” Lethe said as her mother put an arm around her shoulders.
“You ain't alone in this world, ever,” Persephone said, her face starting to get hazy. “If you don't remember anything else, you remember that.” Lethe nodded, silent, emphatic agreement.
“I will,” I said, as they started to fade, their faces taking on a hazy quality, like mist rolling in.
Because this time...I would remember.
51.
Gerasimos
“We retrieved Wolfe from a nearby truck stop,” Bast said, her head nearly hung. A proud woman, she was not the sort prone to humility. “He had been hung from a tree, he said. Our resulting investigation yielded the trailer that was used to transport the girls as well as the vehicle used by Lethe and the unknown assailant to stage their attack.” She pursed her dark lips. “They struck while the vehicles were in transit. The unknown subject-”
“We still have no name for her?” Gerasimos asked, his fingers templed in front of his lips. “Even after all this?”
“No,” Bast said. “She appears to have taken Wolfe's memories of her. He has no knowledge of the last few days. He does not appear to even recall that Lethe is still alive.”
“She's another succubus, then?” Gerasimos asked.
Bast half-shrugged. “Lethe could have done it. Succubi are rare. Lethe, Charlie and Sierra are the only three we have on record outside of...Andromeda. Though this new girl could be another of Lethe's offspring.”
Gerasimos nodded, contemplating. “I dislike that there are four possible succubi not in our control.”
Bast raised an eyebrow. “Incubi are the same, and I don't see you scrambling to gather them up. You let Fries parade around doing whatever the hell he wants, leaving me to clean up more bodies than Wolfe.” She paused, thinking. “Of course, that's because Wolfe eats his leavings, but still...Fries makes a mess. This is known.”
“There is always a cost associated with doing business,” Gerasimos said, “especially with the powerful people with whom we deal, and whose appetites require more...latitude. We will pay this cost gladly, for the alternative is to deal only with the powerless, whose appetites are never satisfied for they have no strength with which to make their will manifest.”
Bast surveyed him with a wary eye. “You finished?”
Gerasimos smiled. Few would talk to him as she did. “For now. What of Henderschott?”
“Thrown from a truck, but retains his memories,” Bast said. “However...”
“Yes?”
“There was...an incident,” Bast said. “When they retrieved Wolfe. He remembered nothing, of course.”
“So you have said.”
“Henderschott pressed him,” Bast said, with distaste. “Regarding his lack of memory. Wolfe...did not appreciate it.”
“And what happened?”
“Wolfe tore his face off,” Bast said, hands clapped behind he
r. “Or tore his mask off and brought his face along.”
Gerasimos did not raise so much as an eyebrow at that. Wolfe had long been in his service, and he had done considerably worse than this to considerably more powerful people. “Make some accommodations to Henderschott to satisfy him. He is a valuable member of the team and I would hate to see his loyalties waver over this.”
Bast nodded. “It will be done, but...this project of yours?”
Gerasimos eyed her. He knew what was coming. “Yes?”
“It exacts a heavy toll.”
“All worthwhile ends require a certain amount of sacrifice,” Gerasimos said after a short pause for thought. “Surely you agree, having been one who once received great sacrifices in your very name?”
“I agree to a point,” Bast said, “for I was never making sacrifices in anyone's name. This project...it drinks our monies like a beggar through the choicest wine.”
“We have plenty of money,” Gerasimos said. “And if the worst comes, you will be glad I have stewarded our monies in this way. It is the future, the Andromeda project, you see. A bulwark against coming troubles.” He touched his face. “Against the worst troubles, in fact.”
“We have many troubles that are unrelated to your fears about the offspring of Hades,” Bast said, “and your belief that at some point they will seize their true legacy.”
Gerasimos just smiled. “You say that because you have perhaps never dealt with an unleashed incubus or succubus, or a Hades that has drunk a hundred metahumans.” He wagged his finger at her. “If you had, you would know...there is nothing more fearsome, more dangerous to our species. Even a Gavrikov is limited in the scope of their destruction. An unleashed child of Hades, willing to feast upon the souls of our kind?” He shook his head. “There is no limit to the carnage they can achieve.” He stared at the outline of London on the horizon. “It would be the end of everything we have built. The whole world, even, maybe.”
“As you will it,” Bast said, and he heard her surrender. “I will leave you now, if there is nothing else.”
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