Laughter Lines

Comparing Your Past To My Future

It wasn't just Kay in attendance. Another presence had joined the observation. It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment the song started, for now it flowed smooth and swift as a river around them. It was certainly siren song, but unlike any melody Arthur had ever heard from Kay. When she sang, it was as if she offered back lost knowledge of who he already was. This new song wove in notes of who Arthur could yet become.

The melody buoyed Artie to a higher level of consciousness where he could easily see multiple connection points forming between current facts and past memories. Arcturus was not permitted to struggle or despair of this new bond that closed around them, for the song kept his thoughts focused on retrieving relevant information from the past. Yet, for all the focus it demanded, it did not allow the consciousness of Arcturus to dissolve into the morass of the creature he'd emerged from. Artie, Arcturus, Arthur. He was known, he was respected and honored, and he was incapable of becoming anything like the Shiker, so the song proclaimed.

Artie zipped along at the peak of his processing powers. Between the information he received from Arcturus and the direction and clarity this new siren song afforded him, he raced about between conclusions, made ecstatic by the puzzle pieces he was finally able to join. That Demeter was goddess of harvests he already knew, but he'd never considered further implications. That Demeter could, herself, harvest-not just plants, but names. Whole identities. Perhaps even abilities. Persephone had called her mother a thief and a warden. Had Demeter stolen Persephone's abilities? Persephone, goddess of vegetation and curses over men's lives. Was that how Demeter came by knowledge of how to craft curses? How she commanded the lush, controlled growth of her realm? She had stolen the vast majority of her own daughter's abilities and wielded them-for how long? No, that was an irrelevant question.

Demeter had "given" the sirens wings to search for her daughter, an ability that manifested itself as a minor, controlled form of shapeshifting. Demeter should not have had that ability, but she had taken command of a shapeshifter. Could she harvest this ability from a kitsune, or did she need Mother for that?

Demeter needs Mother, but she has no thought of wings yet. No, it is her own daughter, Persephone, that she has in her sights. Demeter has been watching me. Has deduced whom I serve and how far Mother's abilities extend. She takes from me my name and brings me across seas and plains to one of her temples. I recognize it, for I have thieved from here. Here she sits on her altar and bids me lie at her feet.

I am here seconds. Ages. Moments. A lifetime. What warmth there is in me slowly ebbs away. Demeter does not take it from me, merely watches as I ration for myself all that is left. Shame wells up in me, stronger every day, as I consume reserves I had gathered for my pack. For Mother. Long enough, though, and even shame is consumed.

The emptiness creeps in. I lie at the feet of another mother, one that stares at me with stone eyes that do not blink. She offers me nothing as I waste away, my insides hollow and cold. There is not strength for movement. There is not strength for thought. There is not strength for the smallest act of will.

Artie seized on this. Drained. Arcturus had said that Mystery was "utterly drained" when he showed up a few days ago. Mystery could still move quite a bit, but there had been no wasted motion and no intonation in any words he'd spoken. If he had little to no will of his own, a direct order was probably all that was keeping him moving. If they could give Mystery enough warmth-Love? Loyalty?-maybe he could break free of his new orders.

A note of sadness struck in the midst of the song, and Artie's heart turned with it. Refusal had never an option for the Shiker. Artie grieved for the lost kitsune, damned from the moment he'd handed over his name.