Ascension

Chapter 9

“’And now my bitter hands chafe beneath the clouds of what was everything. Oh, the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything...’”

Mick clamped his mouth shut when the little girl in front of him began screaming at the top of her lungs, each head at a different pitch and harmonizing with each other. Her haggard looking mother quickly set her baby down on her knees and tapped a quick pattern on the girl’s forehead, making her quieten and slump listlessly against the plastic seat. She threw Mick a murderous glare.

He made a face at her. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t control her own kids, nor was it his fault that said kid couldn’t appreciate good music.

“Abigail Munroe?”

The woman set the baby in a carrier and gave Mick the stink eye before shuffling forward into an adjacent space screened by a partition. He leaned his head back against the wall, stretching his legs out listlessly. The little girl was watching him, one head staring with cold, dark eyes, while the other was tilted in childish curiosity. He thudded his head against the wall once, closing his eyes. As much as he loved his town, he hated City Hall and he hated Compensation Days.

There had been a time in his life when Rachel had been everything he had. He had always had the tendency to be protective with a need to take care of people and with her, it had multiplied exponentially, especially after their parents died. Even after they went to live with Eric and Donna, at least in the initial years, Mick had refused to let them take care of Rachel. She had been his to care for, his to love and protect. The overbearing attitude had mellowed with time and her arguments as she grew up, but she had been the centre of his life and the one person he had loved most.

She had been a pretty thing as well, and had looked so different from him that many had wondered how they were related at all. She had taken after their father with her fair hair and light green eyes, while he looked more like their mother, with his dark mop of hair and the dimples in his cheeks. When she had gone through a phase of loving fairytales, she had called him her ‘prince of night’ and herself as the ‘princess of day’.

It was all gone though. Nora was right. The Powers were not kind gods.

“Who are you here for?”

Mick lifted his head from the wall. The little girl had hopped off her seat and was standing in front of him, hands clasped behind her back.

“Who are you here for, mister?” asked the left head.

“Not that I really care,” added the right.

Mick straightened in his seat, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He didn’t have many two-headed friends, but they generally gave him headaches, especially if they had contradicting personalities. Nevertheless, he leaned forward and gave the girl a friendly smile.

“Does your mother know that you’re talking to me?” he asked.

“Of course not, stupid, she’s inside.”

“You looked lonely, so I thought you might want to talk. I put the baby to sleep too, so you don’t have to worry about him.”

Mick gave the right head an appraising glance, still annoyed at her screaming at his singing.

“So, who are you here for?”

“Again, not like I care.”

Mick raised an eyebrow at the right head. “If you don’t care, then why do you ask?”

“She does care! Don’t listen to her, mister. She’s just grumpy.”

“Lefty here is whiny. Just answer her question.”