Volume VIII: Inherited Dysfunction

22. Show Me Something Real

I slept for a short lifetime. It was necessary, or so I convinced myself. In my mind, I spoke to my parents and the dead and damned and everyone else who had been lost over time. When I woke up, I was alone, leaving me time to write endlessly until my hand cramped up, getting all the madness out so that a sense of peace could settle in. But there was no peace, no sense, no logic. Everything ceased to make sense the moment I laid eyes on my mother. The mother I buried, who had died and left me long ago. The master storyteller who left me with nothing to tell of but madness. She had left me the bar as it was my birth rite, but little else in terms of support. Family, sure, but not blood. She had robbed me of a mother, my father, what then? Could he too be alive?

Could all the dead still be wandering around and it’s all just been some elaborate game, some clever hide and go seek trend? Or maybe I was just getting ahead of myself, too hopeful, too lost in the sway of things. But anything was possible, right?

“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

The voice was a soft purr, right over my shoulder, watching my hand scrawling all over the page. She leaned over and pointed. “Oh, and you spelled that wrong.”

I tried to spin around, finding myself slightly dizzy in the effort. She sat down next to me, looking me up and down calmly. “Well I guess they weren’t kidding when they said like mother like daughter. I don’t think we could have any more in common if I told you explicitly how to live your life…which would be a good time for me to apologize.”

I had a million good questions in my mind, but none I could figure out how to word. I wanted to scream and cry and deal with a million emotions at once, but she was so calm and relaxed, like she belonged here all along. I couldn’t come up with any sort of logic to it. I had been deprived of her for so long, and here she sat, as calmly and collectively as anyone else. We would converse like any other two people on a Sunday afternoon. And this would be like any other day. Or would it?

I got up to face her and just started wailing on her, punching as hard as I could like the frustrated child that I was. And she took it, every swing and hit and blow, every scream and rant, until I’d had enough and dropped to my knees. She held on to my wrists, coming down with me, still searching for my eyes. I was bawling uncontrollably, more infuriated with her than happy.

“How could you leave me?”

She clutched me tight to herself. “But I didn’t, I was always with you. You needed to learn to handle yourself on your own. I barely survived the ordeal, but you had to. You needed to carry on in my stead, keep the stories in your heart and embrace what you will become. Your fate is much larger than you think. You’re a part of something more now Relic, you always will be. I’ve been watching you every day since then, I’ve run the bar under the tables, I’ve never left your side. You just didn’t know it.”

“And Dad? I don’t understand.”

“And you’re not meant to right now. You’ll make sense of it later I’m sure. Angyl kept you safe for me and kept me breathing. Our loyalty to her was important then, and will continue to be. But there will be a time where even that will become dangerous, and I need you to be aware of it. You need to keep yourself on the right side of the line at all times, do you understand?”

I looked up at her, confused and hurt. “No. But I’ll try.”

And she held me as close as a mother could, her body just as cold as my own. “Well that’s the most I can ask of you.”

I heard the footsteps come running down the hallway, stopping abruptly at the door with indecision. My mom called out to them to enter before they ever got the knock off.

“It’s started. The war. Linkon’s heard of his sister’s innocence and is demanding the heads of all those that persecuted her. He wants revenge.”

She laughed, still clutching me. “He wants power. You keep him out of here, you hear me? I hereby banish him and any of his followers from the underground, and you can quote me on that. He wants to wave banners for old sins? You let the word out. Harley Morrow is back, and she will take over what’s rightfully hers.”

He nodded and ran off. I recognized Colt Brogan, our top officer on this side of things. He would be our general. He would lead the charge. Until this was over or he was defeated. The control of the streets had laid with a series of people over time. After Revere Ransom was killed my father took over again and after him Colt stepped into his cursed shoes. And after Colt? Who knows. But apparently Linkon Ransom was determined to take what he felt was his by birth. And we couldn’t allow that. Despite my admiration of his character, the sudden lust for blood plus his love of himself were a dangerous combination for a leader.

“Times are going to change Relic, you know that right?”

I nodded slowly, still trying to keep up with my mother’s game. This had all started generations before me, so the art of keeping track was something I had just barely inherited.

“What will happen to Dacien? She did shoot me, didn’t she?”

My mother nodded. “She did. She also saved you, so for now, her life is safe - from me anyway. That doesn’t mean someone else can’t lay claim to it. Her and Angyl have sorted things out, so she’s clear to keep her head down for the time being, which is what I suggest. She’s going to go help Colt reason with her brother, I’m sure.”

“And Angyl?”

“She had business upstate to deal with. Irish went with her, said she wanted to visit her father.”

“I didn’t know Irish had any family, thought the gangs raised her.”

She laughed. “Me too, but who knows. The way people just come and go, it’s anybody’s guess.” She kissed me on the forehead. “The real business in this town is hats.”

“Hats?”

And she laughed again. “You’ll understand someday.”