Lark's departure left me standing alone like an idiot in the middle of my Main Menu. Yeah, by now, I was used to this kinds of reaction. For every receptive spirit who gladly cooperated with my efforts at therapy, there'd be one who, well… didn't. I didn't feel any umbrage over it, either in general, or in this particular case.

Lark had obviously been through a lot.

I felt bad that she wasn't in a position where she could share her experiences without them breaking her. I wouldn't wish that burden I on anyone.

You'd be surprised how often the roots of trauma skulked about in our remembrances' shadowed corners. With how memories blur together over time, it's easy to lose track of our pain's origins. That was true of many; even Andalon was like that, and she was hardly human. Still, with work, even that could be overcome. Far more difficult, however, was when people held on to their grief and refused to let it go.

I sighed.

I guess it was my guilt about Jonan's death that had me feeling down over my failure to get through to Lark.

Oh well, I had eternity on my side. I could always try again later.

Speaking of which…

I stepped up to the spherical bouquet of slender crystals that floated above my Main Menu's reflective floor. Of the crystals, thousands of them were lit up from within, marking the souls housed contently within them, inside the afterlives I'd built for them. On a whim, with a swipe of my hand, I brought Storn and Suisei's soul crystals into view. Suisei's hadn't finished uploading—the crystal wasn't totally filled—but Storn's…

Storn's was filled. He…

Biting my lip, I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, I'd recentered my consciousness back inside my physical body. I was in the hallway, in front of the door to Heggy's office. Heggy was still inside, sitting on the floor, in front of her desk.

She was staring at me.

"Is something wrong, Genneth? You've been standing still as stone for a couple minutes."

"No." I shook my head. "It's just… wyrm things." I nodded. "I have to see Merritt now," I added.

"Tell Mrs. Elbock I said hello," Heggy replied.

"I will," I said.

And then I slithered off.

My trip back to the garage's first floor took a little longer than I would have liked because I had to use my wyrmsight to detect and avoid any flesh-mounds or creature remains in my path. I was getting hungrier with each passing minute, and I didn't want to confront a temptation I might not have been strong enough to resist.

Going down the stairs was a ridiculous experience. Navigating the stairs was like wrestling with a blanket that was both several times my size and also attached to me. I'd probably have laughed my butt off were it not for the ambient mood—or, for the matter, my decided lack of a butt. I had to keep my underbelly constantly tensed in what felt like a really unnatural way, because otherwise, I'd slide forward and drop from one step to the next, which was both uncomfortable and maybe even a little bit scary. Unfortunately, because it felt so unnatural, I ended up slipping quite a bit. As I slipped, my tail-body would slide forward and curl in front of me, until enough of myself had been bundled up to jam me in place.

Had anyone seen me, they'd have probably thought I was drunk.

Let the record show that grabbing the railing didn't really work. I mean, it worked fine right up until the moment I slipped, but then, when reflexively reached out to grab the railing again, the metal crumpled between my claws like a bunch of measly wires.

After much frustration, I finally reached the bottom of the stairwell. For a moment, I stared up at the eyes of the wyrm-tree growing in the middle of the stairwell, wondering what it thought about me—assuming it was thinking anything at all.

Fortunately, the staircase was the most challenging part of my journey. After that, it was smooth, though solemn sailing. I couldn't help but pause for a moment every time I heard Ani or one of the other nurses announce the name of a spirit or a wyrm they happened to be looking for.

"Any wyrms who have a member of the Culbert family, please report to Ward E."

"Elbridge Mackinson, if you're a wyrm, could you come over to C Ward? Otherwise… has anyone seen him?"

And so on, and so forth.

It wasn't long before I slithered out into the first floor of the garage.

For Storn's sake, I decided I might as well bring him out now. I didn't want to spring things on him suddenly; he'd never been a fan of surprises, no matter how well-intentioned they might have been.

Lingering against the back wall behind a row of intact cars, I focused briefly to bring Storn's spirit to the surface. As Storn's soul appeared beside me—arms crossed, back against the wall—I noticed he'd modified his appearance slightly. Nothing remarkable; he'd grown himself a couple years younger, softening his expression a tad bit, and sending the gray in his hair into a retreat. The biggest change, though, was to his wardrobe. While I recognized the softly fuzzy brown slacks, and the pale, buttoned-up shirt, the vest he wore atop the shirt was one I'd never seen before. Its had nearly the same brash red color as my car, and was decorated with vine-like patterns, inlaid in a golden thread.

Mr. Elbock looked up at me, and I down at him. His mouth hung open for a moment before the right words came to him.

"Well," he said, "that's… uh… that's certainly a look."

I focused on his vest. "I could say the same about you. Well," I tilted my head to the side, "you know what I mean."

Storn glanced down at himself and then tugged at the upper edge of his vest. "What, you mean this thing? It was my favorite vest. It got stolen along with one of our bags when Merritt and I honeymooned in Polovia."

"I see," I said. I cleared my throat. "Speaking of Merritt…"

"What is it?"

"She's here. And… well, Storn, I'd like to give you to her."

That took him aback. "What?"

"Did I not include that in the pamphlet?"

Storn shook his head. "No, you did not."

I sighed, puffing out spores. "I'll have to add that in, then."

I let my gaze wander over to where Merritt was coiled, a stone's throw from my car.

"It won't hurt or anything," I said, "but, unless your wife decides to pass your soul off to someone else, it's gonna be a one-way trip. I was planning on giving you to her, but I thought I'd ask you first. I wouldn't want to force it on you without your cons—"

"—Genneth," he said, "sometimes you're just too polite for your own damn good," he said. "Take me to my wife."

And so I did.

The other wyrms looked up and stared at me as I slithered passed, murmuring in quiet chorales. Storn followed alongside me, unfazed by the fact that he was now phasing through cars and wyrms.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

I guess he really had read the pamphlet.

I drew close. "Merritt?"

She raised her forepart from her coil like a snake duly charmed.

I glanced back at Storn's ghost. "I've… uh, got someone here to see you—again," I added, with a gentle chuckle.

Mr. Elbock looked up at me. "Can she hear me?"

I was going to say I wasn't exactly sure, but then Merritt unwound herself and slithered up to and encircled me. She crossed her tail crossing over mine and wound her head around the upper third of my body and hugged me tight.

The tingling sensations that danced across our points of contact told me she was trying to initiate a link. I let her in, and everything faded to a blur as our bodies mingled.

— — —

When I was younger—and still, sometimes, to Pel's bemusement—I had a fascination with sleeping on my bed upside-down. In case your beds weren't quite like mine, the kind of bed that I'm used to had a headboard at one end and a footboard at the other. As the name suggests, you rested your head on the side where the headboard was and rest your feet on the side where the footboard was. But… I liked doing the reverse.

The orientation of my bed in my childhood room in my father's house was indelibly printed into my mind. The windows were to the right, and the door was to the left. When I slept with my head at the footboard and my feet at the headboard, left became right and right became left, and if I closed my eyes, they'd stay that way in my mind. When I woke up, for the briefest moment, I'd forget that the two had swapped places, only to open my eyes and watch my preconceptions get washed away. I just loved that feeling, and something similar as my mind melded with Merritt's, only, this time, breaking the illusion wasn't as simple as opening my eyes.

Storn and I stood on the sidewalk on Angeltoe Street, side by side. It was a beautiful afternoon. Scattered clouds drifted overhead like waiting aerostats. I could hear the wild green parrots cackling in the cypresses. A glance over my shoulder put Elpeck in full display, in all its glory: the shining spires, the sweep of the Expressway above the Bay's glistening waves; my own house, waiting for me just across the street.

Feeling Storn step forward, I turned about face to see Mr. Elbock clip-clopping up the short rise of stairs that cut through the small brick retaining wall that held in his house's terraced front yard. I followed him up the steps, but he was faster; he dashed past the lilacs' blooms.

Their front door creaked open. A figure was visible through the door's lozenge-shaped stained-glass mosaic.

Merritt pulled back the door. "Storn?"

"Merritt?" he said.

She threw the door open and crossed the doormat. He rushed down the stone-paved path. Then they embraced, their hands plastered at each other's backs. They stayed that way for a long time.

Merritt was dressed exactly as she'd been the day my world had ended: white gloves, brown skirt, and green coat. The gentle breeze tousled the frayed ends of her wavy, ponytailed strawberry-blonde hair.

She broke down in her husbands arms and sobbed, trembling in his grasp like a hatchling—which, in a way, I suppose she was. All of us transformees had been reborn into bewildering, alien bodies we still barely understood.

Storn held her gently. "Shh, shh," he said. "It's okay. It's okay."

I let the soul transfer play out as the two of them embraced. Motes of light drifted off me and swirled around the Elbocks.

Merritt didn't notice it until the last moment. Gasping, she pulled away and stared, transfixed, at the motes of light flowing into her. Her eyes widened, lips curling in hesitation.

"Genneth," she glanced at me, "did you—"

—I nodded, but soon, it didn't matter.

I saw the look of awe dawn on Merritt's face as she realized her husband's soul had been returned to her.

Confused, Storn raised a hand to the side of his head. "Merritt, what are you—"

—Husband and wife gazed into each other's eyes for a wordless moment. The looks on their faces told me exactly what was happening.

They were knowing each other. They'd opened their souls to one another, and in the process, were experiencing a kind of intimacy that the human being I'd been could have scarcely comprehended. More than just knowing one another, they were able to be one another, and experience a self beyond themselves.

I wondered how much time they experienced before they broke free of their mutual trance. Minutes? Hours? Lifetimes?

When they next moved, they reached for each others' heads and clasped them, and then pulled close and kissed.

At this point, I didn't know if they were going to have sex, but I felt it was enough of a possibility that I ought to give them some privacy, so I teleported myself over to their backyard and waited.

Merritt called my name a couple minutes later.

"Genneth?"

"I'm in the backyard," I said.

The Elbocks' backyard was tea garden, literally so, because Merritt enjoyed having her morning cup on the patio's white, glass-topped table, beneath the overhang. A stone-paved path ran down the middle of their backyard lawn toward the flowerbeds nestled against the honest-to-goodness white picket fence that abutted the neighbors' shrubberies. Wind chimes hung from the overhang's edge, as did the Elbocks' intricate hummingbird feeder. The feeder was made from wrought iron and glass—both plain and tinted—and looked like something an alchemist might use, complete with bits and bobs that played with the wind, rising and lowering—a twist; a spin.

Merritt loved watching the hummingbirds, except when they fought.

She hated when they fought.

I sat on the cushion of the white, wicker sofa beside the glass-topped table. Merritt and her husband came out through the back door, looking perfectly prim and proper. Had they done anything debaucherous? I honestly didn't know.

Merritt brought tea, along with some soft madeline cookies. (As a good neighbor, Mrs. Elbock was very much aware of my sweet tooth.) She set the platters on the table and bid me to join her. I graciously complied. As I got up from the couch and took a seat opposite Merritt on the table, Storn sprawled out on the couch, resting belly up with his arms spread out and his eyes closed, making satisfied moms.

I reached for a cookie.

Merritt grabbed my wrist and looked me in the eyes. "Thank you, Genneth," she whispered. "Thank you for bringing him back to me."

"Don't mention it," I replied.

She let go, and I ate my cookie.

Yum!

I sighed. "After everything you've been through, I—"

Merritt brought a finger to her lips. "—No," she said, shaking her head. "We'll have none of that." Her tea kettle rose up, tilted, and poured its steaming contents into her cup, all on its own. "You tried your best, Genneth," she said. "Everyone did. And," she clenched her hand into a fist, "when I needed you, you were there for me. My Angel."

It was hard not to frown. "I blame myself for what happened."

"I also blame you," Storn quipped.

I sighed again.

"Well," Merritt said, "I don't." She gave me a smile I that found it difficult to believe I deserved. "We can't change the past," she said. "We can only move forward."

I fidgeted with my bow-tie. "Thank you, Merritt. That— you don't know how much that means to me."

She grabbed my hand again.

She'd gotten touchy, hadn't she?

"Actually," she said, "I have a pretty good idea."

We ended up talking for quite a while, maybe half an hour—though, of course, scarcely any time had passed outside in the real world. I showed the Elbocks the stars. Even Storn was enchanted by them.

"I've never seen anything like that," he said.

"Neither have I."

"What happened to them, Genneth?" Merritt asked. "Why do we have starless nights?"

I shook my head and frowned. "The fungus," I said. "What else?"

All in all, it was one of my favorite afternoons with the Elbocks.

But, even then, reality had a way of creeping through, much like my mind games with my bed. If I let myself jive with the moment, I nearly convinced myself it was real, and that everything was right with the world. But where my childhood games left me amusedly disoriented, the recreation of my neighborhood quickly began to grate on me.

By and by, my disposition soured. I didn't want to be rude and simply abandon the Elbocks. And yet, being surrounded by the trappings of the life I wished I could reclaim left me feeling guiltier and guiltier.

Merritt picked up on it in due time, and asked me what was the matter.

So I told her. I told them both.

"Then you should get going," Storn said. "Time's a-wasting."

I sighed. "It's different. With Andalon gone, I can't help but feel on edge. I keep thinking about how things have played out, and worry that it all seems too good to be true. And, now, with Lark…" Fidgeting my bowtie, I grabbed a madeleine and stuffed my face with it.

My depression and my love of sweets were very much co-dependent.

"I know it's petty for me to be obsessed over one person," I said, "but… I made a promise to Jonan, and after the hostile reception I gave Dr. Derric in the brief time we knew each other, I just want to do something to help set things on the road to being right. And now, after what happened with Heggy, I'm worried about what will happen if I leave. I feel… uneasy, and, try as I might, I can't attribute it all to my fears of how my family will react when they see what I've become."

"If worst comes to worst," Merritt said, "and you fully transform before you can reunite with Pel and the kids, you can always use your clarinet sonata."

"What?" I asked.

"The holes in our snouts," she said. "I've noticed they're like holes in a clarinet. You'd be able to play it—well, sing it. You've played excerpts for us and your family before."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"As for Lark," Merritt added, "well, I'm no expert but… part of the reason why I think you're so good with people, Genneth, is because underneath the smiles you wear, you're hurting, and you'll show it." She smiled. "I think that's why people like sharing their feelings with you. It's certainly what appealed to me." She put her hand on mine. "I'd say, show Lark your heartache. Show her that you're willing to be brave, and, perhaps, she'll follow in your footsteps."

And then, just like that, I knew what I had to do. Not just for Lark, but for myself.

For everyone.

"You know what, Merritt," I said, "you've just given me a wonderful idea."

And I smiled.

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