"Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality." - Edgar Allen Poe
"Hermes?"
"Uh huh. You know... the guy with wings on his sandals?"
"Right." This brave new world never failed to grow stranger every day. I said to Atsheena., "Please don't go. I need you. I will be with you, no matter what."
She returned to her task at the stove, hiding her tear-filled eyes. "I'll stay as long as I feel I can," she said, and I knew it was the best promise she could make just then.
"Atsheena?" I began, trying hard to shift gears and adjust to this new bit of information presented to me.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Are all of the so-called gods real?"
"I've only met a few. I suspect, like with all of the creatures of legend, they're all based in some bit of truth," she said.
"Have you met this one?"
She carried on with her work as she spoke. This was obviously not as impressive of a moment for her as it was for me. "Not Hermes, no. But I've heard of him. He's like a popular kid at school. I'm just the girl
"Can I trust him?" I asked her.
She shrugged. "I wouldn't go so far as to say you can trust him. He's a thief. He's sneaky and known to serve his own ends. He has, from time to time, caused some extraordinary bits of trouble among humans but, for all that, he's not a bad guy. His heart is good. He will consistently choose the Light over the Darkness. Ages ago... I mean a long time ago... so long that it's a time of faint and distant memory, even for those such as Raziel, Hermes helped to defeat some of immense strength who moved against The Light. He was brave in battle and great Good resulted from his intervention."
OK, so that wasn't all bad but it wasn't exactly a glowing endorsement, either. I braced myself to meet the unexpected visitor.
The Greek god, Hermes, looked exactly like I'd expected: as thin and muscled, lithe and graceful as a cat, with curly dark hair and warm brown eyes.
He gave a polite little half bow. "Prophet."
I was as bemused as Susan had appeared to be. Hermes was in my dining room. He was a celebrity, even among the creatures of legend, and I was a tiny bit star-struck. "Welcome to our little community. What brings you among us today?"
"Thank you," he said, with a charming smile. "If you'll forgive me, the matter I am here about is fairly urgent. I'd like to get right to the point."
"By all means."
"I'd like to get in touch with my son."
"I'm afraid I don't understand how I can help you with that," I said.
He spread his hands wide, "Well, he lives here with you, does he not?"
"Here?" I genuinely had no idea what he was talking about. "I'm afraid not."
"No?" He rubbed at the five o'clock shadow on his chin. "I was quite certain that he was here. Alexandros? Cute kid." He smiled. "Looks like his dad."
I gasped in understanding. Alex. The kid who could build anything, who just knew stuff, and who had, more than once, been caught helping himself to the belongings of others. "Alex is your son? I had no idea! I thought..." I trailed off, not wanting to be rude.
"You thought he was human?" he asked.
"Well, yes," I admitted.
Hermes shrugged. "His mother was human. She was a lovely woman, pretty in form and bright in wit and as brave as anyone I've ever known in this life that has gone on for far too long. She lived with him on a little farm. When the supposed king demanded that she use her land to produce food and crops as he deemed fit, she refused and told him to go back the Hell from which he came. He had her executed and took her land and everything on it." He said all of this in the disturbingly matter-of-fact way of one who has seen far too much death during millennia of life. "The boy escaped. I didn't know, at first, what had happened. When I found out, I assumed that the child had died with his mother but then, when I looked into the matter further, it became clear that he was still alive. I followed his trail here."
I was astonished. "How is it that none of us recognized that he wasn't human?"
"Well, he is. More or less. Did you see nothing special in him?" He asked.
"Yes. The child is extraordinary, but there have been extraordinary humans through the years," I said.
"Or perhaps, through the years, the sons of the gods have dallied with the daughters of men more often than you realize," he suggested.
Point taken. "Alex is probably out back building some gadget or fixing one. It's what he does all day and half the night. We try to get him interested in other things but he is quite passionate."
"He has a gift. Sometimes gifts have a way of taking over our identity." He smiled at me in a knowing way. "We are very alike, you know," Hermes said.
"Are we?" I was curious what he meant by that. I saw few similarities.
"Of course. For both of us, our destiny is wrapped up in serving as a messenger between men and those who are not men. You were born on one side of the veil. I was created on the other, but we both stand, now, with a foot on either side.
"Do you think that our messages are heard?"
"Yes. I think it is heard and I think it is understood. As to whether or not it will be heeded, well, I suppose we will find out. I know many things. I have many gifts. Seeing the future is not one of them."
"Raziel is constantly telling me that the future is unknowable."
he said, rolling his eyes. I couldn't help but laugh. "He's right, though," Hermes continued. "None of us can know the future as a certainty. Free will is constantly in motion and creatures will make surprising choices all the time. Especially humans. There's no telling what a human will do! But there are probabilities, you know? Think of it like this: if you look at a twenty year old man who is a regular user of illicit drugs would you guess that, over the next ten years he would sober up and become a successful businessman? Or lose himself to his addiction and wind up in prison for some petty crime he had intended to commit only as a way to support his habit? You can't know the man's future because it is his, alone, to build, but some roads lead to others."
At that moment Michael ushered Alex into the room and the conversation took off in rapid Greek, punctuated with a great deal of hugging and kissing and laughter.
My heart ached for my oldest son, even as my younger one pushed himself under my arm, the fingers of his left hand corked securely in his mouth and his right arm wound tightly around my leg.
We invited the werewolves to join us for dinner. Their presence added an air of festivity. They were boisterous, unmannered, and hilarious. Gaia came with them, and I basked in the comfort of her presence. By the time the food was served, Hermes seemed like part of our group. Atsheena was right about him being like one of the popular kids at school. He was stunningly charismatic. Everyone was drawn to him. In particular, he and Michael seemed to have some sort of instant male bonding thing going on. I observed their banter from my vantage point of one whose soul is slightly detached from their body. Everything seemed so distant now. If it weren't for the warm, solid weight of little Ike on my lap, I'd simply drift up into the sky and separate into an infinite number of particles, each destined to waft through the many universes forever.
Hermes told Michael. "I respect that you are a talented painter. Art is great. I've always had an appreciation for it. But I prefer the spoken word, myself. It's clearer. There's less chance for confusion and misunderstanding."
"I'm not so sure about that. It seems to me that people get confused and misunderstand one another all the time," Michael retorted. "Plus, haven't you ever heard it said that a picture is worth a thousand words."
"Ahhh," Hermes leaned back in his chair and raised one finger in the air. He was clearly enjoying himself immensely. "But all of that, the confusion, the misunderstandings, and the need for a thousand words could be corrected by the proper use of language. Those who fail to make themselves clear or who babble on: they're simply not masters of the form."
"Charles Dickens is considered a master of the form and he could go on for hours about what he ate for dinner. And don't even get me started on Melville! Tens of thousands of words to say 'The whale was big.' Let me paint a picture of a whale next to a tiny fishing boat and you'll instantly understand that the beast is massive."
"Dickens. Melville. Authors." Hermes waved a dismissive hand. "Their works are sempiternal."
Michael laughed. "Remind me never to play Scrabble with you."
Hermes chuckled and then said, "Have you seen Alex in the last few minutes?" He looked around for a moment and then narrowed his eyes. "Were there any of those cookies left?"
No one could recall seeing the boy since before dinner.
Judith answered him. "Yes. There was a whole plate full. I told the children they could have them tomorrow when they'd finished the studies they've been working on."
His fist thumped the table. "That kid!" the Greek god stomped off to the kitchen to retrieve his thieving son. I wondered if Zeus ever chased Hermes or if he just tossed lightning bolts at him. Even in my pathetic state, the image caused the corners of my mouth to curve up. I imagined Hermes was probably quite the pompous little turd when he was Alex's age. I knew first hand that the "tween" years could be... well... sempiternal. I stopped that thought right there. To dwell on my "tween" and what would have been would undo me. I focused, instead, on my husband, leaning forward on his elbows to tell me something.
"You know what sounds good right now, even if we did just eat a perfectly adequate dinner?" he asked.
"What?"
"Lena's pizza."
I sighed. "Ahhh. I can almost taste their spicy sauce. I would need cold pumpkin ale to wash it down."
"Perfect!" he said. "I really love you, Simone."
I looked into his eyes and found the warm, beautiful, comforting peace within him that I'd always adored. "I love you too, my husband. Always and forever. I miss you." I became conscious, then, of the fact that I wasn't just mourning my son. I was mourning everything that I'd so loved and cherished about our lives together as a family in the days before chaos reigned. I decided on the spot to tell him what he probably already knew. "Things have been... slipping. I don't know how long I can keep this up. I'm cracking, Michael. Something about this constant flow of Power. Missing Donny. Everything... I just... I was not built to endure this. I may have a spirit but I am physical. At least for now."
"I have faith in you," he whispered, brushing the bare skin on the back of my hand and resting his hand on my sleeve. It was the maximum contact he could bear, and I suspected it caused him a bit of discomfort.
"A lot of people have faith in me. Maybe that's part of the problem. I've never been great under pressure."
"You've done better than anyone else ever possibly could have in these past few months."
Hermes came back to the table and dropped into his chair with an air of mild defeat. I suspected the cookies were a lost cause. "So I came here for my boy.I found him well and cared for and, for that, I thank you. But I also come bearing news for your community."
I wanted to groan out loud. Experience taught me good news always came quickly. When the messenger waited for the right moment it was because he was about to share something unpleasant. Was it too much to ask to just live in a happy little bubble of oblivion? Isn't that exactly what Acedia offers? I pushed that thought aside and focused on the moment at hand.
"Tesscati knows you're here and, man! Girl, he does not like you. Apparently you caused a bunch of people in his city to turn tail. A legion of the creatures of the realms defected because of your message. Then you burned up some of his favorite goons. You even had the audacity to give hope to the dying and save a few lives, so... yeah. Remember what he did to the city down the street? Well, those guys haven't got too far to get to you and they seem to be headed this way so, if I were you, I'd pack it up and move on before they get here."
He was coming for us. I wasn't surprised. I closed my eyes and sent out the only plea a desperate, weary woman could send to a God who had asked for everything. Help me. Ike shifted uncomfortably and slid off my lap to make his way to where the other children were getting ready for bed as Power filled me. Gaia took my hand in hers. I was thankful for her grounding presence.
I tapped my glass to get everyone's attention. I asked Hermes. "Will you please tell us what you know?"
"Tesscati is moving against you," he began and there was a general murmur of worry. The werewolves growled. "He is coming, personally leading his army, and he'll destroy everything in his path. He'll be here by the morning after tomorrow. That's all I've heard, and I hear a great deal."
"We need to send runners to warn anyone living in the area to run or take cover. He'll show no mercy," Susan suggested and I sensed agreement from the people around the table.
"I know where we can get at least two dozen high quality rifles. It's not exactly a military arsenal but it's a start. It might hold them off just a little longer, until we can get something better," Andy offered in a quickly-scrawled note. The deaf and mute man at whom I'd raged had been showing extraordinary leadership skills and doing far more than his fair share of work around the compound, but this wasn't the first time I had the thought that perhaps he wasn't quite fully comprehending the peace and love message we promoted.
"I know how to set an explosive," Eddie said, earning him a few odd glances and raised eyebrows. "What?" He asked. "A guy picks up skills."
Maybe that's the whole point. Raziel's words echoed in my mind. I met Freyja's gaze across the table. From the look in her eyes I was certain she was remembering my time in her realm. I have to wonder if more war will bring us something new and better, she'd said.
I made a decision. "No," I said, nipping the discussion in the bud before it could get any real momentum. "That's not the message we stand for. This place is supposed to represent something new and better. Since the beginning of the age, humans have been killing and fighting wars and where has it gotten us? We won't fight. We will kill no one. Not one soul. Life and death will be in the hands of That Which Is, alone."
"He's coming with an army! He'll decimate us!" Andy argued in his silent way.
Michael's voice rang soft and strong. "He'll decimate us no matter what. We are a handful of unarmed, untrained civilians. He has a fully equipped army of supernatural creatures. If Simone says we are to face this in faith, then we will. If we don't trust her to lead us in a new way of doing things, what are any of us doing here?"
I wanted to weep with love for him. The thought crossed my mind that it would be awfully nice to just in the car with my husband and child and drive away to some perpetually sunny place and never look back. But, of course, that wasn't an option anymore. As he'd reminded me a short time earlier, far too many were counting on me.
"If we aren't going to fight, what are we going to do?" Eddie asked.
He will destroy you, prophet.
We will stand with you.
He cannot be stopped.
You will not be alone.
"We are going to stand in faith," Freyja said.
I agreed. "And we are going to protect as many as we can. Knock on every door. Track every being you can, and warn them. Tell them they are welcome here if they wish to come. This place is open to them, and it has been blessed, though we can make no guarantees of anyone's safety. If they say they will fight, advise them against it. If they're going to run tell them to run far and fast, and don't look back. That goes for all of you, too. No one will think less of you if you go."
"This is foolishness!" Andy wrote and thrust the note into my hand.
I smiled at him, knowing my face showed every bit of my exhaustion. "Faith often is," I said. "This is a new way and it's better. We have to believe that." I was working hard to convince myself as well as everyone else.
"I can't agree to stand still while my pack and our allies are slaughtered," Charles said. "We won't turn away from you, but we will return to the woods."
"I understand," I told him.
When we were out of earshot, I asked Freyja, "Are we doing the right thing?"
Her smile was as warm as ever. "That's for you to decide. You're the leader here, not me."
"But what do you think?" I asked.
"I think the Light is very powerful in you."
"That sounds like something Raziel would say. It's not very reassuring," I complained.
She kissed my cheek. "We're all with you, Simone. You're not alone."
Her support echoed that of the others, but it did little to calm the fear that chipped away at me.
We moved as quickly as we could, spreading out in ever-widening circles to get the word out. After all I'd learned, I was astonished at how many people remained in the area. Most of them choose to stay. "We've made it this long," they said. A handful came to the compound, full of fear, and hope, and prayers for another day, and an end to the turmoil. Hermes took his son and went toward destinations unknown.
On the appointed day, as dawn broke over the horizon, I stood on the sturdy slate roof of the old factory. Michael and Eddie, Jake, Andy and Fayette stood with me watching as the werewolves emerged from the forest. They prowled through the overgrown fields, shrouded by the morning mist. The others were tucked inside, the children hidden in the storm shelter beneath the building with Judith and Atsheena reading them fairy tales and feeding them warm, crusty bread and milk to keep them quiet and pacified.
The army was still three or four miles away but their presence was already undeniable. The horizon was filthy with smoke. They were like a plague of locusts, destroying everything in their path. I prayed for those who'd remained in their homes.
"It's not too late to fight." Eddie said, next to me.
"No. We've been fighting for an entire age and it's gotten us nowhere. Nothing good comes from war," I told him. The words were not mine. My broken heart wanted any excuse to fight, but that which spoke through me was bigger than my pain.
"The Jews who were freed from the concentration camps by trucks full of soldiers might have said differently," he answered. I said nothing. What could be said? Then I heard Freyja's musical voice addressing him.
"Do you consider yourself a Christian?" she asked.
"I reckon. I always went to the First Presbyterian Church on Franklin Street with my old granny when I was a kid. Not so much when I got older, but I still remembered the lessons I learned there and I always voted Republican."
I rolled my eyes.
"Well you know there are some amazing stories in the Christian Bible of God conquering a troublesome adversary without anyone having to raise a sword to his fellow man. Do you remember Gideon?"
Eddie grumbled, "Well I don't have the whole Bible memorized."
"Of course not," Freyja said. "And Gideon's story isn't as popular as some of the others, but it is pretty interesting. He got quite a reputation for speaking out against Simone's old buddy, Ba'al," she teased at my expense.
I stuck my tongue out at her.
"One day God told Gideon to muster an army to fight Ba'al's followers. And he did. It was a doozy of an army. He could have taken out just about any kingdom on earth at the time. God looked at it and said, 'This army is too big. Tell the men anyone who wants to go home because they are afraid is welcome to do so without fear of consequence.' Gideon did that, and he still had the ten thousand strongest, bravest men in the bunch with him, agreeing to stand and fight.
"That seemed just fine to Gideon, but God has his own ways, and so he told Gideon, 'I'm still not happy with these odds. Take the men down to the water to get a drink. Pay attention. Anyone who drinks politely, by cupping the water in his hands, send home. The guys who just stick their face in the water and suck it up like an animal, keep them. Let that be your army.'
"Gideon had his doubts but he did what God told him, and ended up with a very scruffy lot of three hundred. This was the group God sent him into battle with.
"God gave him a plan. He split his group into three companies of one hundred each, and gave them all trumpets and torches covered by jars. They surrounded their enemy, each man with a trumpet in one hand and a torch in the other.If you're counting hands, left no way to hold a sword. All at once they blew those three hundred trumpets, and shattered the jars so that the torches shone brightly, and yelled out a mighty battle cry. The entire opposing army jumped up and ran away in terror from the three hundred ragamuffins.
"In this way, the Israelites took control of the entire land."
Eddie looked from her to me and back again at least twice. Finally, he settled his eyes in my direction and asked, "Got any trumpets?"
I smiled. "Plum out of trumpets, I'm afraid."
"Hmph. That's what I thought." And with that he started pacing the length of the roof once again.
The army had obliterated the countryside they'd crossed, but they made no move against the compound. They surrounded the property, making a wide berth around the grounds. On the street in front of the main entrance an enormous tank, flanked by armored trucks with horse-mounted soldiers on either sides of those held a place of prominence and command. I stood and faced that direction. The silence pressed down upon me, a leaden burden from both sides of the veil, more difficult to bear than any chatter had ever been.
Tesscati himself stepped out of the truck. Baachus and Popobawa flanked him. The three of them radiated power, confidence, and malice. He called up to me.
"Why do you hide in your fortress, Prophet?"
I spread my arms. "Do I hide?"
"Come down and face me," he said.
"By what authority do you command the servant of That Which Is?"
"You have no power in this place," I responded.
He made a show of sighing regretfully before motioning with his hand. The silence shattered into uncountable deadly shards of sound as the soldiers descended upon us. The werewolves dashed toward the melee. The sound of the doors and windows being ripped open assaulted my ears."
"Help us!" I cried out. No answer came to me. Fear tore at my gut with ragged claws. My powerless human hands trembled. I shouted to the others. "Make no move against them!" I yelled, even as slavering, fanged creatures burst through the rooftop door and, physically dragged each of my companions away. Freyja was the last to disappear from view, her arms held behind her by a small demon I knew she could overpower. She was doing as I'd instructed. Dread rose in my throat like hot burning bile. If they were harmed, their blood was on my hands. A single creature approached me, the guard from Kansas City.
"I told you he was the biggest and the strongest," he said, tossing a lasso over my head and pulling me along like a reluctant calf.
Help us! I cried out silently. I watched as my friends and neighbors were lined up and forced to their knees in front of the soldiers. No help came when a yank upon the rope caused me to stumble and nearly fall. No help came as Judith gasped for air and visibly struggled to maintain consciousness. No help came when the butt of a gun smacked the back of my head and I collapsed to the pavement in bloody dark slumber.
Help us!
I awoke, certain somehow, that not much time had passed. My head throbbed with every heartbeat. Sticky hot blood was congealing on the left side of my face. My arms were bound so tightly behind me I feared my shoulders would be ripped from their sockets. The ties wound from my wrists to above my elbows. My legs were secured to the legs of a chair. I could breathe, barely, and I could see, but I could not move or speak. A gag cut into the corners of my mouth.
"It amazes me that you, a mortal woman, flesh and blood and fragile little bones, would ever hold the notion that there's a single damn thing you could do to defeat me. You're one woman with days that are numbered. So you glow in the dark? Who gives a fuck? You're nothing, Simone Fitzgerald. You're a joke." He studied me. "Do you know who I am? I'm King of the whole damned planet. And make no mistake, mortal. The earth is damned. Destruction will come as surely as anything. In the meantime, I intend to enjoy every privilege of my station. Fine things, beautiful trappings, great sex, and even better food. I do love fabulous food, don't you?" He asked this last question in an eerily quiet voice before carrying on with his performance. And it was, quite obviously, a performance. It was a grand play meant to frighten and intimidate those who had dared to take a stand against him.
In the periphery of my vision, I saw the army stretching in either direction, hunger and amusement on the faces of the soldiers. On the ground in front of them, my fellows were still kneeling, sobbing, and shaking in rage and fear. Those with the strength to fight--Gaia, Hnoss, Gersemi, Adam--knelt, captive, because of my command.
Freyja's eyes were closed. I felt the warmth and peace radiating from her more powerfully than ever before, but it failed to reach past the surface of my being. With my back to them, there were several people I could not see. I could only pray that they were still alive.
Tesscati continued. "Of course my tastes run to the exotic: Shark fin soup. Tiger steaks. I ate the very last white rhino. He was a tough old thing. I suppose I waited a bit too long. But for all that, do you know what my very most favorite food is?" He bent down so that his eyes were at exactly the same height as mine and his sweet breath was hot in my face. I felt as if he were looking into the broken hole of my soul. "My most favorite food is little boy, Simone. Human boys are tender and sweet and utterly, perfectly delicious. Their blood has a better bouquet than any fine wine. Their marrow is just the right amount of chewy.
"They have to be just the right age, mind you. Too young and there's no meat on their bones at all. Too old and they get all oddly flavored from hormones running wild. I'd say the perfect age is... oh... four or five years old? I can't think of a thing I enjoy more than
The world swam in front of me. I felt my gorge rise. I was sure I was going to vomit with the gag on and choke to death on my own fluids. My limbs shivered violently. I was helpless to stop them. I strained, impotently, against my bonds.
"Lucky me," he whispered. "I recently found just such a boy."
He smiled and stood, turning his back to me. "You see, you miserable, insufferable bitch, The Light really does make you fairly untouchable at times. I'm able to bind you, which is far more than any lesser being could do, but I can't tear your flesh apart and kill you right now. Though who's to say what happy surprises the future will bring, eh? You're already falling apart. You're much weaker now than when you came into my city like some self-righteous stooge."
He looked back at me as though he was expecting an answer. "I figured if I couldn't render your flesh, I could destroy your soul. It was just a matter of how to do that. I could have killed your mate: that preposterously happy fool of a man bounding through life truly believing that art is significant in some meaningful way. But women thrive as widows all the time. So I considered your other role: mother. Of course, you already proved that you're a total and complete failure at motherhood when you allowed us to take your oldest child right out from under your nose. I'm sure you figured out that he was taken on my command. He wasn't even hard to get. But then I thought about the little one. Oh, the littlest is always closest to mom's heart, eh?" He clucked his tongue and wagged his finger at me. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it isn't nice to play favorites? But you did play favorites, didn't you? So what would happen if you lost the chosen brat? What if you didn't just lose him? What if you watched his pathetic little life end right in front of your eyes? I bet you'd crack like a clay pot dropped from a rocky cliff."
He laughed at his own wit. "Prepare to be destroyed, Prophet. Your king is hungry and the banquet is all prepared and ready to be I yanked against the ropes, my shoulders screaming in protest. My head thrashed back and forth, silently roaring in protest. I could barely see through the torrent of tears, or breathe through my running nose. Spots of color and light blossomed behind my eyes.
"I thought about letting you say goodbye but I think it would be more fun to just let you scream and cry in all your helpless fury."
He snickered again, telling the guards. "Take the gag off. I want to hear her begging for mercy."
He started to walk away, and then faced me once more. "Maybe if you denounced your god..." then he laughed. "No. You've earned what's coming to you, and I'm having the ever-loving time of my life dishing it out. My goodness,
The monsters handling me ripped the gag off and I sucked in great breaths of air. I begged in every way I knew how. I pleaded. I fought. Oh, how I fought. How could I have been so wrong? We should have been fighting all along! We should have tried to kill them all before any of this could have happened!
The doors opened. Popobawa came forward, dragging my sweet boy. He held him, one hand around his chest, the other wrapped in his fine blonde hair. Ike cried and reached for me even as Tesscati approached. I expected more taunting, but he said nothing. He looked at me with his dark, glittering eyes and produced an old fashioned straight razor, holding it up as if for my inspection.
My terror was so entirely all-consuming that there was not the smallest space for faith. I was wholly powerless at the hands of the demon. I thrashed in my bonds, screaming to God until my throat was raw. "Save him! Stop this! I've served you! Save him!"
But no salvation came. eyes went dim as the demon watched with hungry eyes. Baachus held a bowl to collect the blood--so much blood came out of that tiny body. It seemed it would never end. My tears poured from my eyes Finally, the bowl was lifted up. Tesscati took it, drinking in deep draughts of my son's life force. When he was done, he looked at me. His mouth dripped of my child's blood. His eyes mocked me.
"I guess your Creator was sleeping today." He tossed the bowl at my feet. "Let her go. She is nothing." He gestured toward my body. "And toss that to the mob. They look hungry."
I didn't scream or fight. When they released me from my bonds, I collapsedto the ground and sobbed. I had no intention of doing anything, ever again, except lying there on the rocks until I died to rejoin my child in the spirit world. I had nothing left to give. I wasn't even "just a mom."
Tesscati was right.
I was nothing.
Freyja took me inside. Hnoss and Gersemi gathered up my son's remains and sealed them tightly in a hastily constructed coffin. Gaia took care of Judith, who was gravely ill. Someone took the time to learn been slaughtered when they'd attempted to fight. They were the only casualty other than Ike. I did nothing. I considered trying to move, but the weight of my grief pinned me down.
Huh, I thought vaguely. He did it. He brought me to a place where I really truly and honestly could not have possibly cared any less. Let them kill me. Let them kill everybody. Let God wipe the earth clean and all the Realms along with it. Sweep the whole entire disaster into the garbage can of the universe. Start over. Do it without free will. Do it without humans. What kind of a sick God would create a finite, flawed, weak, fragile being and set them up in a lovely garden and imbue them with even the tiniest bit of the power of the source of all life? What a joke! It was like expecting a newborn to pass the MCAT. I was done with the whole thing. Just... done. I wished I'd never been born. I wanted to die but I couldn't even muster up the energy to kill myself. I just lay there while time passed. An hour was a day. A week was an hour. I assumed time would do for me what I could not do for myself.