by T. R. Hamby
She held it out to him--The Tempest--and he frowned, taking it.
“I finished,” she said proudly.
“You don’t want it?”
“Of course I want it,” she replied, wandering over to the bookshelf, “but I don’t have a bookshelf. All I have is my humble tent, with no shelving at all.”
Roone laughed. He stood next to her, close enough to smell the shampoo she had used. He tucked the book back into its old spot, and Theresa looked satisfied.
“I trust you to guard it,” she said, and he laughed again.
“You’re in good form after all that,” he said, leaning against the shelf.
She smiled. “I’m happy to see Them happy. If I had known….I wish I had.”
And she looked a little pained. “I could never imagine.”
“Me either.”
She smiled sadly, before looking at the shelf above her. “What’s that one?” she asked.
And she stood on tiptoe, giving a pitiful reach.
“You’re too short, silly,” Roone said, grabbing the book for her and opening it.
“One can dream,” she replied, turning to him. “Anything I would like?”
“I think you would like anything here if I read it with you,” he said, without thinking.
Shit. That was stupid.
He stared at the book for a moment, hoping that Theresa hadn’t heard him. But her silence told him that she had, and he finally forced himself to look at her.
To his surprise she was smiling, mischievous again. “Well, Mr. Harrison,” she said chidingly, “how rude of you. Insinuating that I only like Shakespeare because of you.”
Roone chuckled, relieved. “What about Plato?” he asked, holding up the book.
She hesitated, and he laughed.
“Don’t worry,” he said, putting the book away, “you don’t have to like everything I like.”
“Ruder and ruder,” she shot back. “Now apparently I’m only aiming to please.”
“I have something for you.”
The idea had just popped into his head, and he acted on it before he could stop himself. Theresa looked surprised, having their banter halted so quickly.
He went into the bathroom, plucking something off the counter, and returned.
He held up the little sprig of holly, and she gasped. “You still have it?”
“Yes,” he said, grinning. “You did a good job pinning it.”
She touched its pointy little leaves, and her hand brushed his as she did. She was very close to him now.
He was supposed to feel nervous. But she looked so happy, so pleased, that his nerves--and his inhibitions--seemed to fade.
“Here,” he said, “it’s your turn.”
She took her hands away, and he carefully lifted the neckline of her shirt, pinning the holly just under her right shoulder. She stayed very still, and he moved very carefully. But again, there were no nerves--they were both very calm.
“I hope you’re doing as good a job as I did,” Theresa said, and he chuckled. “I don’t want my holly crooked.”
“It’s not crooked.”
“Says you.”
He finished pinning it.
He shouldn’t be doing this. He knew she shouldn’t. He was putting her in danger; he knew that….
But she looked so….happy. She was smiling, so gorgeously. He didn’t want to see it go.
So instead of taking his hands away, he put them on her arms instead. She didn’t step away. She continued looking at him, smiling. She was so small.
“So you don’t trust me now,” Roone said, continuing their teasing.
Theresa gave him a look, and he chuckled. “Of course I trust you.”
His heart leapt a little, hearing that, and before he could stop himself he cupped her face in his hand. She flushed, beaming, and he grinned, elated.
He kissed her, and it was just as good as he had imagined. She drew closer, slipping her arms around his neck, and he held her waist.
When they broke away they were both flushed and grinning.
“Still aiming to please?” Roone teased, and Theresa laughed.
“I knew Them was up to something,” she said. “Lilith, I mean. When she asked me to keep you company.”
“‘Keep Roone company’ is kind of vague.”
She smiled. “I should have read between the lines.”
Roone was suddenly nervous. “What would you have done if you had?”
She looked soothing. “I would have kissed you first.”
Roone tried not to look amazed. This was really happening.
But he hesitated. He couldn’t lose her--didn’t want to let her go. But there was something he knew he had to say.
“Theresa,” he whispered, pained, “I don’t think I can promise that I won’t….lose myself. That I might….”
He felt an awful pang and sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve already hurt before.”
She studied him soberly, and after a moment said, “You won’t hurt me.”
“We don’t know that--not for sure.”
“I do,” she said firmly, her gray eyes gleaming. “I know you. I trust you.”
She was so firm that Roone was soothed, at least a little. She kissed him, and he was so lost in her. Then when they broke away she laid her head on his chest, and he held her.
“Stay with me tonight,” he said.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“You don’t need to be near your regiment?”
“Well, considering that my regiment is fifty feet away,” she said dryly, “I think I’m still technically near them. And Lilith will keep an eye out. She knows I’m here.”
“I’m glad this is Lilith-approved.”
He pulled away and smiled at her. “So. What do you want to do, Miss Gillespie?”
Theresa giggled. “I want to read Shakespeare.”
“Now?”
This time she laughed.
She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “Later.”
Mel
Mel spent a lot of time soothing Michael. For the first time--the first time--since Lilith’s death, they embraced.
“Don’t forgive me,” Michael said hoarsely. “I don’t deserve it….I don’t deserve any of this….I don’t deserve to live….”
“Michael,” Mel said firmly, “I don’t have to tell you how much you mean to me. You’re….”
It was hard to get the words out. “You’re my best friend. And I forgive you. So….just calm down.”
He knew Michael was stunned by his words. But he didn’t reply, just got himself together, pulling away and brushing at his eyes. They sat in the kitchen for a long time, drinking and talking--about Rome, about life before this. Cars, music. It was how they had talked before Lilith’s death--but better. It was welcome.
It was almost midnight by the time Michael was calm enough for bed. They walked up the stairs together, still talking quietly.
“When do you think the three hundred will come?” Michael wondered.
“Tomorrow, I imagine.”
Michael looked at him. “You all right?”
Mel frowned. He thought of Lilith--god, Lilith--and his heart raced.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I had no fucking clue.”
“It makes sense now.”
Mel nodded shakily.
Michael nodded too. “I guess we should….”
“Yeah.”
And Mel turned for his bedroom door.
“Mel.”
He turned around, worried. “Yeah?”
Michael looked awkward. “Good night.”
Mel’s lips twitched. “Good night.”
He slipped into his room, careful not to disturb Nora. But she was awake, sitting with a book in bed.
She put the book aside and stood. “How are you?”
Mel frowned again. He had expected her to draw to him, to be soothing, but instead she stood there, nervous.
He didn’t know w
hat to do, so he stood there too. “I don’t know.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“What’s wrong, love?”
She flushed. “I just….I wasn’t sure….”
Then it clicked, and Mel felt an ache. Nora was afraid he wouldn’t love her anymore, that he would start over with Lilith. Or else, maybe juggle the both of them, until one of them finally resented him.
He went to her, held her face in his hands. “I’m not leaving you,” he said firmly.
She didn’t look convinced. “You love her.”
“We’re different now, Nora. Both of us. She isn’t you.”
“But do you love her?”
He sighed.
He honestly had no idea. He had been carrying the loss of her around his neck for hundreds of thousands of years now. Did he love who she was now? Or who she had been before her death?
No. He didn’t love her. Not like that….not like Nora.
“No,” he finally said, brushing at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “No. I love you.”
She began to cry in earnest, burying her head in his chest. He held her, holding back his own tears.
He had been ecstatic to see Lilith again. Joyful. Amazed. But it was still a fucked up situation, and he didn’t know how to solve it.
“Please don’t leave me,” Nora breathed, and he felt a horrible ache.
“I won’t, love,” he moaned, squeezing her. “I won’t. I love you, I love you.”
It took her some time to calm down. When she did she lay down, and Mel took a quick shower, washing away all the blood and grime. He got dressed and lay facing her, brushing at her curls.
“What do we do?” she whispered.
He wasn’t sure if she was talking about Lilith or the war.
He settled on Lilith. He didn’t want her to think he was avoiding the subject. “I don’t know….she’ll be leading the army now, I imagine. When she isn’t training Andreas.”
She sighed. “She seems so….kind. Gentle. The kind of person that you want to like you. I want her to like me.”
“I’m sure she does, diletta.”
“How? I’m her rival, aren’t I?”
He gave her a look, and she managed a small smile. “She isn’t like that.”
She picked at his shirt. “Do you think she still loves you?”
He heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t--I hope not. Not like that. I want her to be happy without me.”
“But I have a feeling she’s been carrying you in her heart just as much as you’ve been carrying her.”
It was a shrewd statement, and Mel nodded. “Yeah.”
“Do you think she’ll agree to try to kill God?”
He looked at her. “Yes.”
“I guess there’s no other way.”
He brushed at her cheek, loving those soft brown eyes. “I love you.”
He wanted to make sure she knew, without a doubt. He would say it over and over until she was sick of it.
She smiled another tiny smile. “I believe you, love. I was just afraid.”
“I can’t lose you,” he said hoarsely.
“Shh. You won’t.”
They were quiet a moment.
“How’s Michael?” Nora asked.
“He’s better. Lilith….she never blamed him for what he did. It was hard for him to hear. I….”
And he hesitated, feeling awkward. “I said some things.”
Now Nora looked amused. “Oh?”
“Don’t smirk,” he replied, his lips twitching.
“I can imagine what you said. You told him how much he means to you. You told him you forgive him.”
He stared at her, a little taken aback by her shrewdness. She knew his mind much better than he did, and it was a little unnerving at times.
He felt himself turn red. “Yeah.”
“Good. I’m happy for you two.”
He looked at her. “Does this mean we should join a football team?”
Nora giggled, and it was a lovely sound. “Maybe not. I can’t see you being very good at football.”
“Oh? What would I be good at, then?”
She thought. “Well….I suppose you could be a quarterback. Less contact required.”
“You would find me sexy in all that padding, wouldn’t you?”
Now she laughed, and he grinned, heartened. “Yes. Your ass would look great in those pants they wear.”
“You could cheer for me.”
“I could,” she said. “I was on the cheer squad my sophomore year of high school.”
“Really? You never told me that.”
“Yeah….I had to quit. I couldn’t juggle it with my singing.”
Her face fell at the mention of her singing, and Mel felt a pang.
He squeezed her arm soothingly. “When this is over, we’ll move back to Rome,” he said firmly. “You’ll sing again. We’ll buy a house in Aventino. You’ll have a piano. Everyone can visit--we can have dinner every night.”
She was smiling. “That sounds wonderful.”
“It’ll happen. I promise.”
It had to happen. All this would end, and they would be happy. Nora would be safe. No war, no fear. Just them.
They closed their eyes and fell asleep.
Michael
He was pacing.
His feet padded on smooth cool stone. He was on a balcony, overlooking the forest below. There was a river in the distance, and above him was the mountain, overwhelmingly large.
Michael….Michael….
Michael instantly knew he was dreaming again. He felt a rage, and a sickening fear, that weren’t his. His hands shook, and he seethed, pacing back and forth.
He hissed, balling his hands into fists, and turned on his heel. He stretched out a hand, and a surge of power ran through it, so strong that Michael was pained. And before him, lying on the stone, materialized a pale woman. She was naked and sleeping.
Michael snapped his fingers, and she awoke. She slowly sat up and looked at him, puzzled.
“Hello, daughter,” he greeted quietly, and Michael shivered at the sound of his voice. “You know me now. Don’t be afraid.”
It was as if a switch had flipped. She straightened and nodded, and Michael knew everything that had happened was known to her now.
“When?” she whispered, in a quiet, almost raspy voice.
Her speech sounded almost impaired, and Michael wondered if Father’s anger had prevented him from Creating her to perfection.
“Soon,” he replied darkly. “I have to get my forces ready….you’ll soon know your own power….a power given to you by your Father here.”
She nodded firmly. “Yes, Father.”
A small pile of clothes appeared beside her.
“Put those on,” he said. “You train now….”
Michael….
The scene changed, which was a first. He was on the balcony again, but his fury was so powerful that it nearly woke him from his sleep.
Michael….
The woman, who Michael finally recognized as Calypso, was hunched over on the stone, sobbing. He ignored her, pacing again, positively livid.
He whirled around. “You filthy excuse for a Creation,” he growled, and the woman sobbed harder.
“I couldn’t….forgive me….she was going to kill me….”
“Don’t lie to me,” he hissed.
“I was afraid….she’s too strong for me….”
Michael felt a surge of fear that wasn’t his.
“You are a waste,” he said.
He turned away and looked down into the valley below. He could see the clearing where he had burned those bodies on the pyre. He felt a strange sense of regret, and Michael wondered if Father was thinking about Adel and Reina.
He let out a bitter chuckle. “My beloved brother,” he whispered, “and my pitiful wife. How dearly I didn’t want to kill them. But I had no choice….they were both weak….”
He paused, then turned. “Then my da
ughter,” and he scowled at Calypso, “my little demigoddess….how quick you were to prove the same.”
Calypso raised her head, shaking from head to toe. “Let me try again, Father,” she pleaded. “I’ll do better this time….I’ll kill her….”
“You can’t kill her,” he growled, and Michael felt a surge of frustration. “You’re not strong enough. I have to do it.”
That fear again.
Michael….
“But there is another like you,” he said quietly. “You can kill him.”
“Yes, Father….I will….”
“You will,” he replied dangerously, “because you came from nothing, and I can make you nothing again.”
She hesitated, brushing pathetically at her tears. “Will you kill them all?”
He was quiet for a long moment. Michael held his breath.
“Yes,” he whispered, “I suppose I should, once Them is finally dealt with. I’ll inherit her power when I kill her….I’ll be stronger. Yes, I’ll kill them. Not just them….but my Creation as a whole. All of them. They have become….such base things.”
Michael felt his own wave of horror wash over him.
He paused, then said, “I had hoped, maybe….my son would return to me. His brother is weak, like mine,” and he took a shuddering breath, “but my dear Michael….how far he has fallen from me. And I have a feeling he won’t return.”
He folded his arms, looked out over his kingdom again. “He won’t answer me, and I know he hears my voice, however faintly. Can you guess what his first words were?”
Calypso only sniffled.
“‘Here I am,’” he recited. “‘Here I am.’”
Michael….
And then he was awake.
His heart was racing, and it took him a moment to catch his breath. Gilla was curled into him, and he couldn’t avoid waking her as he sat up.
“Sorry,” he said as she sat up too. “Another dream.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “Another memory?”
“Memories,” Michael replied slowly. “Recent memories. I saw him Create Calypso.”
It took Gilla a moment to recognize the name. “Oh--that woman.”
“Yeah.”
He was quiet a moment, remembering Father’s words. My Creation as a whole.
He shivered. “He might destroy everything--us--humanity. All his Created dimensions. He might destroy it all.”