The swap went with little issue. Being back at the apartnts ant being in comfortable ntal communications range with Azure. Miles—thankfully—relaxed so, figuratively and literally, from where he lounged on my living room sofa beside my mother. According to Azure, they were halfway through the first season of so island show when Azure used the built-in excuse to get ice from the machine down the hall, which unlike the fridge, didn't flavor whatever it was dropped into tallic, and vaguely acrid.
We t there. I dropped the mask, locked the door, and started changing into the jeans and t-shirt Azure had been "wearing," while he filled the bucket with ice and brought up to speed.
"We're safe, talking here?" I worked the shirt over my head and pulled my arms through.
"Nothing spying on us. Magical or otherwise. No reason to go overboard when he's got people posted at every exit," Azure assured .
"Good. Bring up to speed."
Azure did so, thodically covering and summarizing every topic of conversation, including random asides and idle chatter. Coincidentally, Miles either skipped lunch today or the man just talked about food more than I'd ever realized. Still, I appreciated how thorough Azure was being. The most dangerous part of the swap would be the mont I walked through my own front door. If there was a sudden shift in my mood or deanor, Miles would pick up on it. So the more detail he fed , the better.
On the surface he was confident, but his expression was tinged with worry. My summon dumped another scoop of ice in the bucket, and paused, gripping the handle tightly.
"What aren't you telling ?"
He pushed his lips together and sighed. "It could be nothing. Because of the patron interference, I've never gotten a look at Miles' psychology. How he thinks. How he lies."
"We know he lies well."
"It's more than that." Azure disagreed, slowly working through what he wanted to say. "Miles got back here not long after I did. At the ti he was pissed, on account of us ignoring his advice, fucking around instead of heading straight back here."
I cocked my head. "What'd he say to you?"
"That's the issue." Azure shrugged. "Nothing. Beyond extending initial pleasantries and asking when the others were arriving, he barely opened his mouth. Just posted up on the couch, like a sentry, regardless of what I did or where I went."
"Probably just doing fed things. Throwing a wrench into our usual dynamic as ans of establishing his authority." I did a spot check in the window's reflection, adjusting my hair slightly so it matched my doppelgänger's behind .
Azure shook his head. "Got that impression as well at first. Sothing felt wrong about it. Like he was doing ntal math, working through the situation—your situation—and the numbers kept coming up bad."
"Bad how?"
"Like this whole thing was sunk cost, and he's deciding whether to let it go. Whatever it is, he's worried about sothing. After your mom showed up, he buried whatever it was and got a lot more social."
"That's not unexpected." Especially for Miles. He'd be buttoned up around my mother. Distressing innocents and a willingness to hang ordinary people out to dry wasn't his preferred flavor of fed. Even if it was, given the many, many ways this could get fucked sideways, he'd want to portray a sense of perfect confidence, so that if it was an "accident," it ca out of left field.
Azure pushed the bucket of ice into my chest. "It's not. But she was worried. Given recent events there's been even more rumors circulating around the tower than usual. So she ca in with a lot of very concrete, very legitimate fears and concerns. Started grilling Miles."
"And?" I tucked the bucket under one arm.
"He's telling her, as if it's the honest to god truth, that there's nothing to worry about."
It took a second. But I got it. It was small enough that if Azure hadn't pointed it out individually, I wouldn't have seen the issue. "Doesn't necessarily point one way or the other. Whatever they are, he genuinely cares. She doesn't need to know the situation. Looping her in accomplishes nothing other than overwhelming her with anxiety, not to ntion making it easier to backslide when the people most likely to check her will be out-of-sight-out-of-mind."
"Which on its own is fine. She believed him. Not surprising, given she likes the guy." Azure leaned close, and pointed to his chest. "Thing is, despite not particularly liking the guy, and knowing for a fact the possibility of safety in the tower is bullshit, I wanted to believe him."
I absorbed that, feeling a rising displeasure. "He blew the baseline. So, realistically, you can't give a read on him, one way or another."
"Not only that, I'd counsel you to be particularly dubious of any intuition or insight you hold regarding Miles for fear of a misdirect." Azure hung his head in frustration. "We have to face the reality that you could be in real danger, almost imdiately. If whatever's chewing on him continues to bother him, he may suddenly decide it's not worth it after all and act quickly, with little warning."
The air felt heavy. Suffocating. "Should I run?" I asked.
Azure chewed his lip. "Not yet. If he breaks, confronts you about whatever's bothering him by tonight, consider it an extension. But if he doesn't…"
"It might be ti to get the hell out of dodge."
I didn't enjoy entertaining the possibility. Thinking about what I'd lose. How much it could cost . That I'd gone through hell for the simple goal of establishing a better life for myself and the people I cared about, and upon securing that, continued to stick my foot into shit that had nothing to do with , and that lapse of selfishness now threatened to undo everything.
/////
Either as a gesture of equanimity or so half-cocked mind ga, Miles suggested taking the dogs to the park. I always felt paranoid in open spaces, even more so since the necromancer attack, but sohow the dull amber glow of the streetlamps and the sound of my sisters' laughter as she was playfully chased around by stomping dogs both large and strong enough to knock her flat provided comfort. They were too well trained for that. As wild and reckless as they appeared, tearing up the periter, leaping onto and over anything that remotely resembled an obstacle, a snap and whistle would bring them all over, where they'd line up, ready for more trivial directions that inevitably led to treats.
It's odd. The things we take for granted.
I spent a good chunk of ti over the last few weeks dodging my mother. Not out of spite. There just… wasn't much point in it. If you've never had the pleasure, it's difficult to interact with soone in recovery while neck deep in your own shit. Always in the back of your mind to not stress them, or bring their mood down, or tip the precarious scale of status quo. Accommodating all of that amid your own personal crisis typically requires so degree of deceit. And for whatever reason, lately, the lying didn't co quite as compulsively as it used to.
So I'd stepped away from her since the first transposition, under the belief it'd be good for her to relax, and not have a crisis brewing for the first night since my father didn't co ho.
I just. I always assud there'd be a chance to revisit. That once she was through recovery and had a good rhythm going, and Ellison was back ho, we could just, pick up where we left off. Be us again. The truth was, it was more comfortable keeping her at arm’s length. Because I didn't have to think about it. How I'd simply shoved her in the ntal categorization of the unreliable parent, the failing authority figure who never cos through in a crisis, for literal years, all-the-while ignoring the part I played in her slow, decade-long downward spiral.
Ghee leapt straight up, snapping canines ascending directly for the slobbered-on yellow and orange tennis ball clutched in my hand. I released my grip, and the ball bounced off his rising snout as his eyes widened and he thrashed, frantically readjusting and snapping at the ball one final ti. The collision sent the ball spinning through the air, where it slamd against the corner of the concession stand, up onto the tal counter, its montum dying as it made one last small bounce onto Tara's tray. Credit to her reflexes, she nearly caught it, before it rolled off the tray and started bouncing again, eventually landing directly in Miles' waiting palm.
There was a flicker as his eyes retraced the ball's path until he finally disregarded the notion and tossed it back to . "Is it smart to use that shit out in the open?"
I tossed the ball to a very unimpressed, very annoyed looking Ghee, who caught it, dropped it, sniffed at it, then walked away. "Gotta grind the skill. Practice whenever possible. Making it look natural takes a lot of work. And if you didn't know how I did it, would you honestly put it together?"
Miles made a 50-50 gesture. "Almost did back in the transposition."
"When?" I asked. Then a mont later. "That first scuffle."
He nodded. "When you shot the hanging light down. Nailed a dude with it. That wire was thinner than my thumb. Would have bet my left nut sothing was up with that, but sothings tend to get lost in everything when there's a million people running for their collective lives. Good chance you're more obvious than you realize."
"Noted and logged."
Tara sidled in between us tray first, and Miles stepped back to make room, eying the contents. "So the legends are true. Doggers and Margis."
Tara ducked her head in amusent. "Can't knock the marketing genius who ca up with serving hotdogs at a dog park—but I will warn you, they don't really pair. You're better off eating the hotdog and belatedly rembering the margarita." The cluster of drinks wobbled unsteadily, so accented by small red flags, others by green. "Green-flags are alcohol free, red are Cuervo."
I grabbed one of the reds, as Miles lifted a green. Tara shifted one of the red-flagged drinks to the side and snuck a sip until I pulled it off the tray and held it for her. "You realize you already clocked out for the day?"
Tara shrugged. "Hospitality is muscle mory." She glanced at the glasses we'd chosen. "You boys get your colors mixed up?"
"I'm working," Miles said, side of his mouth pulling a little. "On call, anyway."
Classy.
She looked at a little closer and leaned in. "Sure you want that?"
I did. Want it. I wanted that margarita, and another margarita, and the entire half-full handle of whatever well tequila was leftover after the employee refilled the machine. Alcohol wasn't like nicotine. Too much could severely affect my judgent and my ability to function. If I played my cards right, and so bets from earlier in the day paid out, I would need to be at the top of my ga for the latter part of the evening. So one at most. But my fight or flight had been malfunctioning in a partake heavy direction for the greater part of the day, which Jackson's pack of cigarettes could attest to. Tara's concern wasn't necessarily warranted, but it was, perhaps, appreciated. An excuse to not take a step in an unwise direction, even if I didn't think I'd make it very far.
I snapped my fingers. "Dang. Forgot. I'm straight edge."
Tara smiled a little as she passed over an alcohol free beverage and put the original back on the tray. "Not judging. From the sound of it, you've all had one hell of a day. Just want to be sure it's a conscious choice."
I nodded appreciation. There was a brief, quiet mont before Miles stepped forward and smoothly lifted the tray from Tara's palm. He grinned at her, pulling the tray away when she reached for it. "I'm making a conscious decision to give you the night off."
"Look, babe." I elbowed Tara. "New federal subsidies just dropped."
"He's just mad I beat him to it." Miles grinned.
Tara smirked. "Fine. Just set whatever's left on the picnic table. Lets see your form."
Never one to back down from a challenge, Miles raised the tray into the serving position, his face dead-serious as he walked a surprisingly competent line, turning back towards us at the end for comnt.
"Stiff as hell." I called over.
"Ignore him. That was good. Really good!" Tara giggled. "I swear you've done that before. Just relax a bit."
"Sway your hips." I suggested helpfully.
Miles stared at Tara intently. "Am I being led astray?"
Tara slowly nodded, sohow maintaining a straight face. "I was thinking shoulders, but… a little more fluidity in your gait could help. Not to ntion, you'll get better tips."
"Wait—" I slowly dropped my hand as Miles sashayed across the dog park in my mother's direction, hips full-on swinging rather than swaying, tray readily in hand. "See what you did?"
"It was your yes, my and." Tara stifled a laugh, then paused, still watching Miles. "He really is a natural."
"Man of many talents." It was a throwaway comnt, but in the mont of levity, I'd forgotten that Tara had a natural talent for sniffing out anything inauthentic. She peered at , seeming to weigh the pros and cons of comnting, eventually siding with the pros.
"You know it's alright, if it feels weird." Tara ventured.
"Hm?"
"Miles, dating your mom."
"Oh, no. That's the least of my worries." I waved her off, a little relieved she'd drawn that conclusion instead of another.
"Really?" Tara cocked her head.
"If he was a piece of shit, we'd have problems, sure. But he's good with people, intuitive, pretty agreeable if there isn't a bug up his ass, and, to top it all off, has experience dealing with loved ones with substance abuse issues."
I watched with a degree of grim satisfaction as Miles' loafer caught the ground. He didn't trip—all told he was too thodical for that—but the slight hitch in his step was confirmation that he was listening in to my conversation with Tara sohow. It was a reasonable precaution. Tara was a civilian, completely vulnerable to which made any contact I had with her a potential security risk.
"What's the story there?" Tara prompted with interest, fishing for tea.
I shook my head. "Out of the loop. It only ca up briefly as a side comnt. Sothing about his ex-wife." There was a loaded pause, as Tara processed that. "What?"
"Nothing." Tara said carefully, glancing over to where my mother was laughing, dabbing sothing off Iris' mouth with a napkin. "A less… magnanimous person might consider the history along with how that particular relationship ended with divorce and draw a less generous conclusion."
"Because he married an addict and it ended in divorce?" I summarized. Across the park, Miles didn't move, didn't even flinch. If I hadn't caught the reaction earlier, I'd be inclined to believe he wasn't listening at all.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
"You didn't have to say it like that, but… yeah." Tara inclined her head, wincing a little.
"It's alright. In my experience, addiction doesn't work that way." I thought through the many recoveries, the subsequent relapses, the endless etings and mantras and pontificating on the process. "What you do simultaneously matters and doesn't matter. The threat of relapse is never more than a shot glass away. You can go out of your way to make it easier to make better choices, but when it gets down to the wire, the only one who can make that choice is them. Even if you're endlessly supportive, tend to their every need and want, they may just decide one day that it isn't enough. That they'd rather have your support and access to whatever they've sworn off."
A sudden gust of wind kicked up the scent of freshly cut grass as Tara swayed a little under the park lights, her mouth tight. "That's what you really believe? There's no point in trying to help?"
"Not at all." I shook my head. "Support can make all the difference in the world. Especially if you're all that person has. But like so much else, it's possible to do everything right, and still lose."
I zoned out for a while, watching the dogs run donuts around the field, dodging various obstacles and leaping through hoops unprompted. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tara draw closer and felt sudden warmth as she slipped her arm through mine. "Are we still talking about addiction? Or are you stressing about the tir?"
I smiled at the read and squeezed her arm. "Two things can be true. But… yeah. I'm worried. We tried this before. and Nick, bull rushing the tower. Sneaking around whatever we could, strong-arming whatever we couldn't. Bum rushing the elevator."
"You never ntioned that." Tara tilted her head.
"Well, it's not exactly a fun story. It almost got us killed."
She rubbed my arm, a little too hard, like she was trying to start a fire from the friction. "It's different this ti. There's safety in numbers. You've got a larger group. All big hitters—I've seen Sae punch straight through a brick wall before."
"When?" I asked, curious. Beyond being there when they'd t, the night of my maligned birthday party, I had no idea they were spending ti together socially.
"Snapped up for a girls' night not long after you introduced us. Barhopping in Deep Ellum." Tara chuckled. "Really took back."
I rolled my eyes. "Of course she did."
"Relax. It was fun."
"She didn't interrogate you?"
"Only a little." Tara half-shrugged. "We bonded at the party, so there were plenty of other things to talk about. So dude kept following us around and would not take a hint until Sae made it… uh… less of a hint."
"By putting her fist through a wall." I finished.
Tara rounded on , placing her hands on my shoulders. "It makes feel better to know she'll be looking out for you, but I'll say it, anyway. Co back in one piece."
I smiled, letting her kindness distract , if only for a mont. "That was always the plan."
"Was it?" Tara let the mont hang, her eye-contact unflinching.
"Uhuh."
"Good."
/////
Tara took off not long after. Sothing about her brother needing a ride. I was pretty sure it was bogus, the real reason being she wanted to give so ti alone with family. As always, her presence was a balm, so, part of didn't want her to leave, but I'd had precious little ti with my mother and sister as of late, and tonight might be the last chance.
I'd made sure Tara would land okay. But I didn't want her to worry. So all the arrangents went through Kinsley, who'd reach out to her in my stead should sothing happen.
Iris was exhausted by the ti we got back to the flat, so I spent an hour lounging beside her in the guest bed reading as she fended off sleep, covers pulled up and tucked under her chin. The book was alright. So YA novel about two teens who t in a cancer ward and the relationship they built. It struck as a little morose, and I had a sneaking suspicion from the horrific amount of foreshadowing that it didn't end well, but it was one of Iris's favorites, so I held it out in front of us, tracing along with my finger to help Iris associate the spoken syllables with the text. I read it in my typical plodding monotone, and she was gracious enough not to complain.
Mom watched us from the chair in the corner. She'd been chatting with Miles and co in partway through. The longer she listened, the more her eyes glistened. After about ten minutes the sniffles began. I was worried Iris would hear her and panic, but that never happened.
It pained that since we'd co back from the park, Iris was mostly nonverbal. She got like this sotis. When the world got too overwhelming or scary, she shut down.
"I don't want to push you, when you're feeling this way." I hedged, signing along to make sure she caught the aning. "But if there's anything you want to talk about, now's the ti."
There was a long hesitation. Her gaze remained fixed on the book, as she slowly signed. "Do you really think Ellison's still alive?"
"Of course. You don't?"
"He left us. And I was so angry at him for leaving us that I pretended not to care. But now he's in trouble… and…" The signing stopped as Iris gripped her hands together tightly, pressured skin turning white.
I brushed a lock of curly hair out of her face. "That's not how it works. Manifesting isn't real. And if it doesn't work for us, it doesn't work against us either. You can't wish soone into disappearing. Trust . If you could, I would have managed it by now."
"But I didn't ssage him. I thought about it, but every ti I started writing him I just got so angry. And maybe if I'd just gotten over it and just sent him so ssages, just let him know we were thinking about him and missed him, he would have been more careful." Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she sobbed.
"Ellison's smart. But he's always been a free spirit. I expected too much from him. Constantly called him out for being a kid when that's literally what he was. Let the friction between us fester instead of addressing it, and now we're here."
"It wasn't your fault. You were just trying to take care of us."
"Okay. But if you don't want to fault myself—considering how I did far more to contribute to the current situation—you can't take the bla either. What do I always say?"
"Don't waste ti pointing fingers. Find a way to fix the problem instead."
But repeating the mantra didn't seem to help her fear much. Without knowing what else to do, I pulled her to , and let her disappear into my shoulder as she quietly cried, clinging tightly to until sleep finally took her, and her grip eased.
I caught mom's eye and gestured towards the living room, where she followed . We caught Miles blankly staring at a wall near the door, displeased.
"Don't bore a hole."
"Hm?" Miles startled slightly and looked between and my mother, then seed to realize he'd been a million miles away. "Sorry. As soon as we're all supposed to be spending ti together work won't leave alone. Tale as old as ti."
"All good?" I asked.
"I think so. Getting so odd intel." He smiled thinly. "Ever heard of the Steward?"
My heart jumped into my throat even as I remained perfectly impassive. "Rings a bell. Leader of a decent sized guild. Couple heavy hitters on the roster, but the guild is mostly civilians who stay off the radar. The Drifters?"
"The Driftless." Miles nodded. "But close. Any chance you've t the guy?"
"Haven't had the chance." As a region leader, it was to be expected that I'd have so degree of awareness of any guild larger than thirty people operating within the do. It was my business to know who they were and how they operated, but there were simply too many to be on speaking terms with all of them.
"Damn. That would be too convenient." Miles smiled thinly and shrugged, letting it go. "Gonna step out to make a call. Either of you kids want sothing from the QT?"
"I'm good." I said.
"Debatable." He looked at my mother. "Decaf?"
"Please."
"Alright. I'll be back."
As he left, I wondered if there was actually a phone call, or if this was bait. If I was rattled and reckless, the logical conclusion would be to follow Miles and listen in to the conversation. The Steward callout dropped the floor out from under a little, but one reason I'd chosen The Driftless as my backup plan was because of the existing tensions between them and law enforcent. If there was an actionable problem, it was almost guaranteed they'd deal with it themselves. Snitching wasn't in their vocabulary.
I reminded myself that even if he had sothing substantive, I'd been wearing the mask the entire ti.
Still, it took a while for my heart rate to return to normal.
While we waited for Miles, I finally took a much overdue look at Mom's most recent project. The forum. It was basically Reddit with a mildly improved UI. She hadn't gone out of her way to advertise it, but word-of-mouth spread quickly, and there were already dozens of threads on the front page.
Missing Female, 38, Hispanic, pictures in thread.
ALERT: Active Bounty Near Henderson West
Dungeon Thread - PLEASE mark submissions as Open, Occupied, or Closed and provide the region and street address along with difficulty if known. Submissions without an address will be deleted.
Is this sword any good?
The Cat Corner - FOR ADMIRING ONLY, THIS ISN'T EBAY DON'T PUT IN BIDS FOR OTHER PEOPLES PETS
Darius's Guide to Reaching Level Fifteen Without Fucking Dying
Missing Female, 21 or younger, answers to sweetheart and calls DADDY
The last thread was deleted in real ti as I scrolled through the list, genuinely surprised at how well it was all put together. The missing persons sub-forum had the most posts by far, though the others appeared to be slowly getting more traction. Like any forum, it was primarily composed of two camps, people who were mostly clueless and asking questions, and people who were pretending to be less clueless.
"What do you think?" My mother asked, perched on the edge of the couch, antsy for a reaction.
"You really outdid yourself." I comnted, still scrolling through. "It's so nostalgic."
"Hopefully more useful than nostalgic." Mom rubbed at her still red eyes, and laughed to herself, nonplussed. "People certainly post a lot about nothing."
"Well, that hasn't changed. Best thing about an algorithm system is that the best posts are pushed to the top." I paused. "In a perfect world. Where there are no bot farms, or advertisents, or scamrs and so on."
"I've taken so precautions there." She pulled her horn-rimd glasses from the side table and put them on, all business now that we were talking about the project.
"Oh?"
"Verification thods." She held up two fingers, one after the other. "You can either register with your full na, your street address and market account, or through an established Guild."
"Nice. You got the guilds to go for that?" I asked, checking the Guild section. My eyes widened. There were dozens of sub-forums dedicated to the guilds. When I tried to access one I didn't recognize, I was prompted to register. "You got a fuckton of guilds to go for that."
She shook her head. "Kinsley did most of the selling. I just made the thing."
"Was it her idea to give them their own private sub-forums, or yours?" I asked.
"Mine." Mom admitted. "There are system dms that can accommodate multiple people, but they're basically big group chats. And group chats were a little unwieldy even back when the platforms we used were more feature reach, so I figured giving them more tools to coordinate would be a good incentive."
"Well played. Seriously. This is impressive." I looked up at her, imagining how this would change things long term. It'd make coordinating against any large-scale threat infinitely easier. Encourage people to cooperate.
Mom grinned in a way that was utterly unlike her. It was light, even a little mischievous, a side of her that almost never rose to the surface after Dad died. "You're not going to ask?"
"Ask what?" I deadpanned.
"I'm your mother, Matthias."
"No idea what you're talking about."
"Well, if you're not worried about it, I guess I'm not either." Mom leaned back on the couch, utterly smug.
I cleared my throat. "You… of course, have so sort of thod to access said sub-forums."
"I do." She confird curtly, scrolling through sothing on her UI. "And now, so do you."
"Look at that." I clicked on a random Guild and found that my access was now unrestricted. The posts contained within were more casual and personal. There weren't many of them, which was to be expected, as this was a recent developnt and there still weren't that many people on the main forum, let alone the private ones. But I could see the potential.
I closed my UI and sat back, feeling more than a little guilty that I'd put this off for so long. She'd been working her ass off, and I'd just… done what I always did, kept her at arm's length. Because it never stuck. Her monts of clarity. The manic half of the manic-depressive. They were always temporary. It was only a matter of ti before she backslid. Which was why I kept distancing myself. Taking the lapse from addiction for what it was, a montary reprieve, had always been a better option.
But she'd been sober for months now. Which had never happened before.
Since the do ca down, I'd recovered mories. Details about the way my father died, the blacked out vengeance that followed, and the ordeal my mother went through to cover my ass. The shit I put her through. The shit that contributed to what she was. To who she was.
So I said the words I hated. Because she deserved them. Because there was nothing else to say.
"I'm sorry."
Her head snapped up, attention fixed on as her breath hitched. "For what, sweetheart?"
"I…" The words stuck, like I couldn't quite get them out smoothly. "I didn't know. I'd forgotten… most of it. Suppressed the mories. What happened after Dad died." That was all I could manage, without taking a mont, working through it. Mom was silent, her face impassive, posture perfectly still. "It uh. It sucks? It really, really fucking sucks. Because I spent so much ti hating you for the drinking, and the fucking off, and refusing to pick yourself up like we all did. When we—when I—was at least part of the reason you had so much pain. Because it was the worst day of your life too, and you had to spend it… learning what I was. And cleaning up my ss."
I stared at the floor so intently that I didn't notice she'd moved until her arms wrapped around from behind. "What's the first step?"
"Acceptance." I recited numbly.
"You can't take it from . The bla."
"I can share it."
"No, you really can't." Her voice shook, laden with emotion but resolute. "I stopped drinking for your father. Because he was worried about , and loved , and even then, my god, it was barely enough. But I stopped. Because we were getting older, and I had children, and none of the other neighborhood moms carried flasks in their purses. So I learned to say no. Put the bottle down. And when he was gone it just… ca back, sa as it ever was."
"You were afraid of ."
She shook her head, gripping tighter. "No, baby. I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of losing you. Every day. It just seed so obvious. You were dripping wet. And the police that were there… I was convinced they knew. Terrified that they were biding their ti, gathering evidence, getting their ducks in a row, and that one day they'd just… co and take you away, and that would be it. But they never did."
"All the fights we've had. All the terrible things I've said to you. All this ti and you never threw it in my face, not once."
"Because I wanted you to move on." Her voice broke. "And you did. And I'm so proud of you. Everything you've achieved. The way you took care of Iris and Ellison when I couldn't. I got knocked on my ass for years and you picked up the slack. I wanted to get clean and despite what you must have thought, what anyone would have thought, you got the pills and made it happen."
"You want to be a family again? A real family?"
She circled around in front of and knelt, clasping my hand. "It's all I want, Mattie. All I've ever wanted."
"Then I need you. We don't know where Ellison is. If he's even alive. I'm going to go in there, and I'm gonna tear that place apart looking for him. I'll give it everything I've got. But shit happens. You saw how bad it can get, during the transposition." My shoulders shook. "If sothing happens to , that's it. It's just you and her. And I need you to take care of Iris. Really take care of her. Sober."
"Mattie..."
"Promise ."
My mother grasped my hand, as tears of joy and sorrow stread down her cheeks. "I promise."
/////
The usual helicoptering followed. Demands that I be safe, followed by counseling to stick close to Miles and do whatever he told . It was, at tis, comically off-base, but she ant well, and she was only lacking better context because I kept her out of the loop.
We watched TV and talked on and off until midnight. When my mother retired to the guest room with Iris, Miles still hadn't returned from the gas station.
I turned off the light, slipped into my bed, and waited.
Around one in the morning, the doorknob silently turned, and the door pushed open. Miles stood in the doorway, half of his face covered in shadow, the visible half emotionless and grim, clad in the sa style of gray and black weaved armor he'd worn during the transposition. The gray in his blonde hair seed more pronounced than it was back then, the lines on his face far deeper.
"Here to finish off?"
He grimaced a little. "Hey kid." Slowly, he raised his arm and brandished a hand crossbow, its bolt's dark tip glistening with an unknown coating.
"That was supposed to be a joke."
Miles didn't smile. Didn't banter. "I've been reading over the sheet you sent . Probably read it thirty tis between then and now. It's taken a while to parse. Consider it from every angle. Tell you the truth, I have half a mind to just go through with what we agreed on. Because I'm still not sure. And I prefer to be certain before taking action."
"Oh?"
Again, he didn't smile. "Here's the rub. Several generally unpleasant people in our shared sphere have vanished, as of late. People who were obstructive, destructive, or causing problems in so way. It's been suspiciously smooth sailing lately. And I'm guessing most of that was you."
"Can't take credit for every Joe Dickhead that goes missing."
"But more than a few."
There was no point in lying. "Yes."
"So of those people had it coming. Others didn't." Miles' grip tightened on the hand crossbow. "Either way, there were a lot of them. They all dead?"
"See, it's tough." I blew air. "Because no matter how I say this, it'll sound like I'm leading you into a trap."
He bared his teeth, the smile vicious and an. "Try ."
"So are dead." I stated simply. "No way around that. Like you said, they had it coming, or there were limitations in place that stopped from doing what I did to the others. But believe it or not, most of them are fine. Thriving, even."
"Uh-huh. And you can take to them, if I just drive you sowhere in the dead-of-fucking-night."
"Told you it'd sound like a trap." I watched him carefully, ready to cast at the slightest movent. "Besides, we could have had this conversation earlier. If you didn't spend all night jerking off behind the QT."
"Joyless as it was. Fine. I'd rather deal with this now than later." Miles stepped back, smooth and slow. The tip of the bolt left briefly as he gestured down the hallway towards the door, then aid it back at . "You first."
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