I’d been considering taking up this journal again for a while, Ash. There are so many things I need to say to you, so many things I haven’t said. I’m not even sure where to begin.
I just want to make everything stop, just for a moment. You were gone for so long, and then it’s been one thing after another. We’ve always had difficulties in our lives, difficulties as epic and ridiculous as you are. But then, we’ve had times of peace, months on end when the people were content, the economy prosperous, and you and I could get to know each other better.
Get to know each other? It sounds ridiculous, since I’ve known you for…is it 50 years? We should have a celebration. Of course, for nine of those years, I only knew you as a tree. And then for another 23 years, I knew your emanations – Daniel, Sloane, Evan, Jack, Mickey, Tommy, Patrick, Cuinn and Jamey. I had no idea they were different faces of the same entity. Considering that there are 34 of you now, that’s a lot of getting-to-know.
After all these years, I barely know Wynne, and I’ve never slept with Aran, Thomas, Malachi or Seth.
Between the writing of your book and when you left to go to Eden, we had almost two uneventful years. I was starting to feel that we were safe. But there is no safety, is there? You have an absurd amount of power, and it provokes an absurd amount of risk. So many times I’ve almost lost you. The nightmare came back to me all at once the other night. Seth almost died. You almost died. And the next day, Lucius had to go back to the Combine. He had to go – for all our sakes – I understand why. And as he sat there, entranced and glowing, I wanted to cry. I couldn’t let myself do that. I wanted to scream. I couldn’t let myself do that either.
I wanted to take Gyre. I wanted to be back in the dream where I meet and marry Ailann. But that dream has already come true, minus the happily-ever-after that I expected. I regret nothing, but it’s been hard, so much harder than the vision seemed to promise.
I can’t lose you, Ash, I can’t. I can’t lose Daniel’s lopsided smile, or Sloane’s taciturn fortitude. I can’t lose the winding silk of Evan’s voice, as rich and golden as his hair. I can’t lose Whirljack’s perfect strength, or the strength of Blackjack’s imperfections. I can’t lose the sweet sinews of Mickey’s body pressed against mine in love or in war. I can’t lose Tommy. Period.
I can’t lose Patrick, my handsome prince. I can’t lose the beauty of Cuinn’s awkward genius. I can’t lose long afternoons in the garden with Jamey. I can’t lose Ailann- the world might as well cease to exist.
I can’t lose the gentle roughness of Cillian’s hands. I can’t lose Davy, the bringer of miracles. I can’t lose Wynne – not after one night of love and a lot of mystery. I can’t lose Owen or Lugh, so different, and yet so alike in being the most innately good men I have even known. I can’t lose Driscoll, who slices the world to ribbons with his tongue, all because his artist’s eyes see too well and too clearly.
I can’t lose Ross, who will always be my hero, and Callum, who will always be my slave, two men who love me enough to suffer anything for me. I can’t lose Suibhne, whose mask of madness hides his strength, his sweetness, and his pain.
I can’t lose Tarlach, who is so much wiser and kinder than you recognize. I can’t lose Chase who brings me delightful escape, or Lorcan, who serves me delicious sin, or Hurley, who delivers dreams to me. I can’t lose Dermot, whose beauty stops my breathing. Nor can I lose Ari’s passion, Manasseh’s innocence, Valentin’s sensitivity, Constantine’s loyalty or Lucius’ understanding.
Do I even need to explain why I can’t lose Aran, Thomas, Malachi or Seth?
You changed your priorities, Ash, because you said you understood – or at least Patrick said so. Your life has value. It has value to me. So please just –
No, I have no right to ask. Not when everything you’ve done has ultimately been for my sake. So that one day, we might be together as equals in perfect understanding. If I want that, I’d better be willing to suffer for it, as you have suffered.
I’m getting maudlin. Actually, although I wanted to say all of these things, that’s not what prompted me to write. The thing that actually prompted me to write was a small voice, warning me of trouble.
“Heyhey,” it said.
I dismissed it as some form of crickicada. Or perhaps lack of sleep. I hadn’t been sleeping much lately. Also, it’s impossible for me to take a nap while Lucius is at the Combine. I’m worried about him, about Lilith, about the fate of humanity, about a million other issues. That and the glow: you try to sleep when there’s someone in the room covered with brilliantly glowing bubbles.
“Heyhey.”
Was someone listening to a broadcast on the verandah? Was my adjustable desk chair in need of lubrication?
“HEYHEY!”
Well, that was unmistakable. “Um, yes?” So I was talking to a disembodied voice. Perhaps I had finally lost my sanity. But then again, stranger things had occurred.
“YO TARA.”
“Yo. I don’t believe we’ve met. You don’t have to yell, though.”
“Connie and Jeff. Sorry about the volume. Is Ashtara still at the Combine meeting?”
“Not right now. He went back to Eden.”
“He really did it. Telepathic projection. He really jumped the SongLuminants’ train.”
“He what?”
“He’s the bee’s knees.”
“Bees? I’ve never actually seen one, although I know there are honey hives on Skarsia. But what do their leg joints – metaphorically, I hope – have to do with Ash?”
“We have a message for him. From the beyond. Tell him that Phil sent us. Tell him to expect trouble from unexpected quarters.”
“Oh, business as usual then.”
“Tell him that if he needs us, to just give us a call.”
“Does he know how to reach you?”
“Just give us a call.”
“Does he have your message id?”
“No, lady, look. Give us a c-a-l-l. Like YO CONNIE.”
“And you’ll hear it?”
“Someone will, and get the message to us.”
“Are you, um, staying nearby?”
“Damn, how dumb are you humans? You’re going to really have to step up to the plate if you want to get into the clubhouse.”
“Plate? Plate of what?”
“The Twist are everywhere, missy. There are about 29 million of us colonizing this room.”
Lucius had told me a little about the Twist. If they were really ten-dimensional entities much smaller than the smallest particle, there could be 29 million of them here. “I’m not sure what to feel about that.”
“Aw, come on. It’s not like we get our jollies from intentionally watching your mating activities.”
The other one chimed in, “At least, you don’t kill him and eat him when you’re through.”
For a moment, I wondered if this was some bizarre CenGov plot, designed to make me paranoid to the point of instability. But then I thought for a minute about what Lucius had told me about the Twist and the Combine in general. Like the Floatfish, they all seemed to have a really strange sense of humor. “Better to have you watching than microcameras, I suppose.”
“Oh you mean those enormous floating things in the curtains and under the cabinet and in that pile of dust over there in the corner?”
“Time for a security sweep,” I said. I called for one of my personal guardsmen, even though I knew that if these twisted little creeps were having me on, I was going to look like an enormous fool.