Morpheus was spoken into being knowing many things. He knew there were others who called Mother by the name Opium. He knew that he had two parents. It seemed natural to call his second parent his father, as he more or less preferred male pronouns. Father had many names; the easiest for Morpheus to say being Sleep. American was his mother tongue.
There was someone named Maya who had been created in the same instant to the same parents. The word for her was sister.
Morpheus knew the place in which they had come into being had the same name as his father. He knew that Sleep was but one region of many in the Night Regions. Morpheus knew Night was his ancestor, possibly his grandparent or great-grandparent. Some concepts did not translate well to and from American.
Morpheus knew that there were many worlds, and in them many souls and bodies. He knew that his mother was one-half Human, and that in her tongue his father's kind were called Angel.
Morpheus had memories that came to him from his mother. He knew the places she had lived: Bóinne, Paris, and Los Angeles. These were places in the world of his mother's mother. Morpheus did not know who Opium's mother was. It seemed odd among all the other facts: this absence of knowledge.
Morpheus wondered. He wondered who his grandmother was.
Yet, he was not bothered by the absence. Nothing bothered Morpheus. Life seemed just about perfect.
He was invited to sit on a couch. Its base was made of wood that was black, ebony he thought was the word. Its cushions were the same color, made of a fabric spun from thread excreted by small animals, silk. It was decorated with large black plumes that glinted green and violet. This style, Morpheus knew, was typical of Sleep.
They had seated his sister, Maya, beside him. Newly created and half delirious, Morpheus gazed at her. He smiled and reached to touch her long black hair, noticing the skin of his arm was white while her skin was blue.
There was blue in his hair. He knew this without viewing himself. When Morpheus willed himself more like his sister, he changed. Once he stopped concentrating on their similarity, he shifted back to his natural state.
Soon, others came to look on them. All bowed politely, many smiled and gave their preferred names, and some brought gifts. First came the tall Angels with elaborate wings, then the smaller bright-colored ones, and later the small paler ones. After these came a procession of Angels cloaked in black; these were Children of Night, as Sleep was. Other Halfangels, like Mother greeted Morpheus and Maya. Finally, their brothers came, ninety-eight of them....
And then ninety-ninth, heir apparent to Sleep's regency should he ever abandon it. He brought with him his half-sister, who was not Morpheus' sister. Morpheus liked this brother immediately and realized he knew his name.
"Laudanum," Morpheus said as the cinnamon-haired Halfangel kissed his face. He blinked slowly as Laudanum kissed Maya.
The other, her relationship to Morpheus difficult to translate, bent over Morpheus. Green tendril-like wing parts reached from her back to touch his arms.
"Absinthe," Morpheus sighed. He knew her father was Opium's father.
The last person to which Morpheus and Maya were introduced could not come to greet them. She slept beneath a thin shroud on a bed placed near the couch. Laudanum said her named was Metro, and she was mother to him and Absinthe. Morpheus knew she was a prophetess.
Morpheus felt as if something cool had shot up his back and into his head. Though the experience was new, he knew it indicated the sensing of something. He looked for Mother and saw her take Maya's hand.
"Someone's pulling," she said, her voice shrill.
"Someone has summoned?" Sleep asked from behind. The couch's cushion moved as he changed position.
The pale Angel with all-colored eyes stepped forward. His preferred name was Jibril, and he was father to both Absinthe and Opium. "Can you sense who calls you?"
"Not without scrying. This timing totally sucks!" She reached her free hand toward Morpheus and called his name.
Morpheus took Mother's hand.
"Can you come through with me?" She asked.
Morpheus understood. He opened his vision. His eyes went black to the corners. He saw the worlds spread out before him and their dimensions of time and space. He knew he had the ability to travel to any one, and to appear as any of the native peoples if he chose.
"I have my own way," he said.
But, beside him, Maya said, "I do not know."
Morpheus pulled a single black feather from his wing, "Come with us, Maya," he said, giving this to her.
Then they went.
Morpheus brought Mother and Maya into the space of his arms and wings, then sent his body through the void between worlds. He felt its coldness against him for an instant, as Mother's mind urged him toward their goal. Feeling heavy, Morpheus came into the world with the sound of wings.
There was a male Human standing in a large room staring at them. Morpheus could not feel his mother or sister, though they stood before him. Frantically, he grabbed at his mother's clothes and felt only air and the presence of a soul.
Her eyes found his. He knew she had the ability to show visions to others, if they gazed in her eyes; Morpheus saw only a mother's eyes.
"It's cool. I'll explain later."
Morpheus looked to Maya. She seemed translucent and shimmering, while he stood on the floor, feeling substantial and something he thought might be hunger.
Morpheus turned slowly to study the man.
"Steven Jewel," Mother said.
The human gulped, swallowed saliva. Morpheus tried it. He wondered why the man had done it.
"It's Joy," said the man, "She taught me the trick. She's dead. I don't know what to do."
Morpheus saw his mother glance back at him a moment. "Where?"
The man, Steven, took them from his penthouse and down a hallway to another. Morpheus liked walking on the knobby gray carpeting. At his side, Maya appeared to hover.
There was a woman in the apartment, about the same height as the man, with striking red hair. Morpheus thought the brightly colored hair angelic. When he looked at her, right in the eyes, he knew things he hadn't before. Her name was Helen.
Helen was the one who directed them to the bathroom. Morpheus saw the dead soul, and her body, and an Angel.
Morpheus knew the Angel. Not only had the information come to him from his parents, but he remembered being introduced just a short time ago. Zerachiel was one of the Children of Night, and manifesting as female at the moment.
Zerachiel hovered in mid-air, and her black hair floated about her head, as large white wings extended from her back, along with two secondary tendrils. It was somewhat unusual; the slighter and less colorful Angels of the lower orders had secondary wing parts.
"She's not one of mine," she said.
Mother turned to Steven. "You and Helen should go."
"But, what will-?" His head was bowed, looking at the lifeless body, as if he didn't see the soul crawling on the bathroom ceiling.
"Give us the room for a bit," Mother said.
Steven turned his head and gave a nod to Mother. Morpheus watched as he walked toward the wide windows where Helen waited. When Helen looked past him, toward the bathroom, her eyes seemed to focus well above the floor.
"Yeah, she's one of ours," Mother said looking at the body, "let me think."
Maya was in the bathroom, reaching a finger toward the soul. Like the body, the soul appeared a female with tan skin and brown hair and eyes, only less solid.
Mother, although intangible, had the appearance of being solid as she crouched near the body.
"This is Joy Lesleigh Fortnight," Zerachiel said. "A soul who believed she was Human. I take it this death comes unexpectedly?"
"She is Human, of a sort," Mother said. "She's programmed to breakdown every ten years, to prevent her understanding she's ageless. We collect her, bring her to a new home with false souvenirs and IDs, and we wake her, memory wiped clean." Mother turned her head to glance out the bathroom door, toward the windows. "This is a year early."
"The death is self-inflicted," Zerachiel said.
"Heroin," Morpheus said. He just knew. "It could be accidental."
Mother glanced up at him, her dark lips in a tight smile.
"If she's one of yours, I do not need to be here," Zerachiel said, "I've a lot of souls to collect downtown."
Someone coughed. Helen. Steven remained behind in a chair near the windows, with his head in his hands. Beyond the glass a column of smoke rose over distant skyscrapers.
Helen gestured toward another door, toward an adjacent room of the penthouse. "It's in the refrigerator, what you're looking for."
Morpheus did not understand what Helen believed they were seeking, but he knew what a refrigerator was.
Morpheus walked into the kitchen and opened the chilling appliance. There was not much in the fridge; the old bottle struck him immediately. It was unlabeled and, though sealed with a cork, smelled of blood.
"Vampyre blood," Zerachiel said, as Morpheus returned.
"I don't believe they left her like this," Mother said, "but there's really no other choice now." She reached a hand towards Morpheus.
He gave her the bottle.
"You can go now, Zerachiel," Mother said.
The Angel faded from sight.
Mother uncorked the bottle. The blood smelled good in a way, but Morpheus also remembered something about his mother giving up blood offerings.
"I can make my own way back," Mother said, "It's better if she's not able to see you as she's re-animated."
Morpheus reached for Maya and thought of home.