“Did you know about this?” I asked, as we drove. Jack sat in the back with the Atlantean girl, the only one at the temple who I was able to get a hold of. Alfred sat in the passenger seat, checking his phone occasionally for the directions we had been given by Inanna. “I mean, the whole family thing.”
“You know,” I said, as we studied the crypt, “this is really nice.”
“This is vile,” I growled, pacing the streets. “It’s late September, and it still feels like July.”
I leaned over as Jack and I sat at the red light, and checked the box in her lap. “How are those files going?”
“Is her presence necessary?”
“Friends,” said Alfred, in the tone that most people reserve for people on the opposite side of the political spectrum.
The child looked up at her mother, and her grandmother stood further still behind. All three shared hair of the deepest black but few other things connected them, save for their mien of iron and blood. They were brutal women and heartless. And yet I saw on the girl’s cheek a single tear trailing down, a trace of salt, regret for what she had to do, for she would taste mortality but know all along that it was temporary.