Company Unknown 5, page 39
My only solace was that no one had joked about this afterward like I would have expected. Something like this would normally never die down. It was just that awful and ridiculous. There was no way I could have blocked out years of that kind of abuse. But I didn’t remember a single mention. No sideways chuckle. No pointing. No laughing. No ribbing. The Crew really were my friends and my family.
I might have been right about that, but I was badly wrong about something else. I should have known not to count myself out. Right as One-Tooth hoisted Persephone off me, my defiant manhood came to life. And . . . blessedly, the memory ended.
53
THE VERDICT
Less blessedly, I now had to face the few members of my family who hadn’t been in the room that day. No one could look me in the eye, except for Lyre. The question on her face and the way her attention was darting around must have meant she hadn’t seen what the rest of us had. She could look me in the eye, yet I wanted her attention least of all. Impossibly smart for her age as always, she got the gist of that look’s meaning and shut her mouth.
After what seemed like an eternity, Mom finally spoke. Her gaze pointedly took the long way to Persephone so it wouldn’t come anywhere close to me. “That memory proves that though very bright and talented, this young dhampir is not my son’s.”
Lyre’s face fell. Tears welled but she held them back.
“Cast that spell on me, and I’ll show you what happened after. Those thug friends of his were more interested in protecting him than capturing me. Obviously, since I’m still here speaking, but they weren’t terribly of a mind to clean up afterward.” A broad smile spread across Persephone’s porcelain face.
And it got even worse. Well, at least I’d never have to see Mom’s disapproving scowl again. Kind of hard to when we would never make eye contact again. The ground would now be my best friend. I’d have to dig a nice hole in it and stick my head inside.
Thankfully, Mom was just as mortified as I was and similarly unable to speak. Lyre was too crushed by what she’d heard. I only hoped she’d been too distracted to hear what her mother had said. She didn’t have enough context to make sense of it, but then again, she was pretty quick . . .
Dread Katie cut through the silence like one of her spells. “We must prove this with a spell of paternity.”
Persephone sniffed. “If it was that easy, I would have done that before I handed my little darling off to her father. That magic will not work on our kind.”
The purple-skinned wizard nodded once. She’d known that but wanted everyone to hear it before moving on. “Then there is just one thing left to do.”
All the haughty confidence left Persephone’s perfect face as Dread Katie knelt and touched Lyre. The dhampir slid back half a step before succumbing to the gentle expression on the wizard’s face. It had been a long time since I’d seen this side of Dread Katie. It was easy to forget the usually guarded mage could be like this when away from the rest of the company. I’d only seen the softer side of her when I was younger—before I’d become an official member of the company—or in those rare instances in some room with her, Garin, and Mom, and with her forgetting I was there.
I had a feeling Dread Katie had been a mother at one point. How long ago was yet another in a laundry list of unanswered questions about her. She looked somewhere in the mid-twenties to early-thirties range for a human. But she wasn’t a human. No one knew of any other purple-skinned beings in this world. Most questions about her were only met with silence or further questions that put you further from the answer than you’d been before. Was she hiding something, or did she just love watching us squirm? Like nearly every mystery about her, we’d likely never know.
“Young one, do you want Mer as your father?” Dread Katie asked in a sweet voice that brought back my own childhood.
Lyre gave me a long look over and turned back. “Yes.”
The surprise looked wrong on the peerless mage—so perfectly appropriate for the conversation. “You seem so certain. It would be wise to think it over more.”
Defiance and determination made the words redundant, but Lyre spoke them all the same. “I’m sure. Been thinking about it nonstop since my mother dumped me on him. But he seems pretty cool.”
“‘Seems pretty cool’ does not sound like certainty to me,” Mom said.
The pout on Lyre’s face finally made her look her age. “I mean . . . I mean, yes, I want him as my daddy. He’s fun and smart. Well, not all the time, but more than most. He looks out for me and gives me important things to do. And he doesn’t make me feel like I’m a burden as much as some people.” Lyre turned toward Persephone, whose body was pretending to be bored while her eyes focused on the scene with rapt attention.
Dread Katie searched the small dhampir’s face like she was using a Scan spell on her, but I knew it was just plain old gut and wisdom. Eventually she ended the look with a nod and walked over to me. She did not put her hand on me or meet my eyes with a never-ending stare. Dread Katie had learned long ago how much I hated such attention. General applause and an occasional woot at my feats of awesome were the only kinds I ever wanted.
“Do you want Lyre as your daughter?” she asked.
Though I’d known this question was coming, I was no readier for it than I had been a few minutes ago. Somehow, I was less ready than when Persephone had dumped the little . . . no, not dumped. Lyre wasn’t a plant or pet your friends asked you to feed or water when they went on vacation. Lyre was a person. A young person. Way younger than she looked and acted. Technically, she wasn’t even four years old, but the crazy illogic around dhampirs made her look more like ten and act twenty. But no matter which number you picked, she was still a kid. A kid who’d had one crappy parent. Something I could more than relate to. What I wouldn’t have given for at least one normal, loving parent. I was starting to finally get one now . . . Could I deny her that as well?
But I wasn’t her father. I wasn’t fit to be anyone’s unreliable older brother, let alone a parent. I was too young. Heck, most of the members of the Crew still called me “kid.” I hated it, of course, and while it wasn’t accurate, not long ago it was. And that memory . . . well, it strongly suggested I wasn’t her father. Downright unlikely. Probably not true.
Those weren’t the real questions though, were they? No one was ever ready to be a parent, from what I’d heard. And those who said they were almost always discovered they were the least prepared. Not that most realized it. But every story had taught me that being a parent wasn’t about you, the parent; it was about the kid. Not everyone succeeded—
Wasn’t that what Lyre needed? She was like me when I’d first joined the Crew at fifteen, and like most level-ones too. She just needed a place to learn and belong. If I thought of her like some new recruit, was the situation really any different?
Of course it was, in a lot of regards. She was a child, but one with super regeneration, incredible speed, brawn, and fortitude. Despite those, I would not be putting her in the front line by any means until she was a lot older. A lot, lot older. Probably not even let her get involved with anything but the weakest stuff for now. But she’d belong to a place. How could I deny her that?
I moved past Dread Katie, who made no effort to stop me, and knelt to meet Lyre eye to eye. “Look, I’m not going to say I’m your father. That memory was completely inclusive. But if you want to think of me as that, I won’t stop you. What I can do for now is offer you an official place in my company, as an auxiliary. Light stuff like you’ve been doing: scouting, carrying messages, slapping around stuff that’s a lot weaker than you. A lot, lot weaker than you.”
Lyre blinked a few times before displaying that ridiculous speed of hers and embracing me in a crushing hug. “Daddy!”
I knew she put a little extra oomph in it to mess with me. The pain wasn’t so great, but the thought behind it was. I still wasn’t convinced she was my biological daughter, but she definitely was in spirit. Maybe having a little junior me around wouldn’t be so bad after all? Someone to whom I could teach all the dirty tricks I’d learned over the years, someone who was too fast for Dink to catch putting stuff in his food, and yeah, someone I could teach how to be a better person than someone else had made me when I was growing up. This might not be so bad after all.
54
WAS THIS REALLY WHAT I WANTED?
Idon’t remember much of what happened next. It was all kind of a blur. The embrace ended with my patented awkwardness, something Lyre had not yet picked up from me. She was a lot more like my mom—all dignity and control, minus the smile at the end—and that was very new.
After the ick Persephone implied at the end of her story, I really didn’t care what happened to her. Since she was a monster, Mom and Dread Katie naturally wanted to kill her. There were standing bounties for vampires just about everywhere, though with the government of this place gone, I wasn’t sure where they’d turn those bounties in. Too much money was involved to hand vampires over to the Hall as an official mission. None of that mattered, however. Though Persephone hadn’t shown much in the way of motherly concern for her daughter, the opposite wasn’t the same. Lyre vowed she would die fighting if anyone tried to hurt her mom.
No one doubted her claim. Eventually, Dread Katie compromised and clamped some artifact on Persephone that prevented her from attacking the living. After the wailing about starving stopped, the mage explained that she could still drink blood, as long as it was given willingly (while not under the effects of any mind control). It didn’t make the vampire much happier, but it was the best she’d get.
Lyre and Persephone had an awkward talk alone after that. Dread Katie finally dropped the magic cage, and the vampire left the area in haste. A very dignified haste. I wondered if Lyre could teach me how to run away while still looking stylish but decided now was not the time.
And speaking of wrong, I nearly walked past one of the last people I wanted to even think about right now as I exited the tent. Oblivious as always, Warham took my glazed-over eyes and the rubbing of my forehead the wrong way.
“Not a good time,” I blurted out.
Her wink got cut short and her smile weakened into pouting lips. “Then that’s perfect for what I have planned. A little stress relief is just what the doctor—”
“Not now. Not ever.”
Warham’s shocked expression was probably mirrored on my face. I’d waffled and wavered over what I’d thought of her since our first meeting, but in this instant when all my troubles had piled on at once, I’d finally and clearly come to a decision.
Though Warham and I had always been more alike than anyone I’d met—both loving battle over anything, both being half-Gaelkini of the same age, both swinging first and considering questions optional—she’d always been a lesser version of me. No, that wasn’t true, like a younger version of me. Like the one I’d just seen in that memory. The one who’d nearly made a fatal mistake with a vampire because he was too horny to bother thinking at all.
But in the years since then, I’d grown enough not to make such a mistake, barely and at the last second in way too many cases, but I’d always come around before any serious damage was done. And in the weeks since I’d first met Warham, I’d grown even more. So much that the version of me she represented was practically alien to the present me.
Like all the mes, she recovered quickly. Despite the bluster being all too obvious, she shrugged nonchalantly. “You’ll come around.”
I wanted to smirk or eyeroll or even rub my rejection in her face, but I felt bad for her. (More that she’d likely never grow out of this, and only a little that she’d never get a piece of such man-perfection.) But when in doubt, I still went for the classics: misdirection.
“Phrasing.” This time deciding a fake smirk was more justified, I plastered on one in all its plastic glory.
Her head scratch, however, was perfectly genuine. “Huh?”
“Exactly.”
“Double huh?”
And with her paralyzed confusion as the perfect cue, I spun around and walked away. Two skips later, it occurred to me that she’d definitely give her attempt another go. Saving both my annoyance and her dignity, I triggered a Dimensional Trip/Swap combo that sent me in a random direction that she wouldn’t possibly guess.
The flaw was that she’d have no problem figuring out my final destination. I considered hiding under a pile of my squad’s spare equipment in the training area, but that would just be delaying the inevitable—not to mention a complete reversal of the dignity scale when she found me. But thirty minutes later, it was clear she wasn’t coming, and even more so when Kickinstein walked over and asked me if I knew why Warham might have left the camp in such a huff. My smile answered for me, and after a reluctant nod the big half-orc left. I thought he might have been grinning too as his back turned, but that might have been my imagination.
Determined not to give my gawking squad such satisfaction, I immediately changed the subject. It wasn’t much of a cop out, as I had planned this speech before the other half-demon interrupted me.
My announcement to the Unknown that Lyre had officially joined us was met with confusion. Evidently, they all thought she already was a member. Once the confusion died down, they met her with cheers and open arms. The two of us had agreed beforehand to not mention the whole daughter/father thing, and Lyre kept to her word.
It was impossible for Dink to have heard that conversation, yet he immediately jumped in with five minutes of material on the subject. His rant only ended when I sent him off to do today’s bout of extra training. He’d likely have never worked all of that training off before Lyre joined, but now it was guaranteed. Though she pretended she wanted to watch his training to get more insight into her new position, I knew it was just to return the favor. Metric put a stop to Lyre throwing things at Dink, but the bird liked the idea of heckling him more. “It good simulation of battle noise,” as the tepu put it.
And with all of that over, I finally sat down for the first bit of uninterrupted thinking (while conscious) in weeks. I’d say it was a whirlwind, but all my life had been that way since I’d created my own company. Business as usual in that way. Mom had unintentionally usurped my position as commander of the Crew, but she was leaving. I’d have to have a conversation to see if they wanted me back, but I was pretty sure they did. Didn’t even mind that they’d given her the job either. That probably should have bothered me, but, I didn’t really have the time or opportunity to properly lead them during those fights anyway. I was more needed in my secondary role, off on my own.
The thing with Lyre was settled for now, though I had no doubt there’d be more decisions to make in the immediate future. The two of us would be able to figure it out while being as awkward as possible. Dink would definitely continue to make everything worse, but Lyre just might be the perfect person to sic on him. If not, Lex was floating around here somewhere. I couldn’t remember which squad she was in now, but she would be the perfect person to fill our latest vacancy.
Speaking of which, we had a funeral and memorial to get to for Boomer. I finally had enough time to properly mourn her myself. It was yet another part of being a commander that I hated but had accepted. Probably after one of my pep talks with Mom now that she saw me as an equal.
And speaking of awkward conversations, I’d have to have another one of those with her before she left. Fifty/fifty on whether she’d come for me or just try to disappear, but I needed to make sure it occurred. “The best way to gain levels is one experience point at a time,” as she would say. This may not have been experience in the literal sense, but our relationship might as well have had some boring numbers assigned to it. Maybe we’d level up on these too. Probably not, but a guy can dream.
The one thing I had left to worry over was the one that might be moot. Sundover was dead, according to all the evidence—but my gut said the opposite. I don’t need to tell you which one I believed. He’d be back, and we’d prepare for it every day. The longer he waited, the higher our levels would be, the better gear we’d have, and the more of us there’d be. I was kind of looking forward to it . . . but in the future. For now, I would just be rebuilding.
Was there really only one thing left to worry about? That was downright easy by my recent standards. It was all so manageable. It was all so boring. It was all so what we needed.
55
RECONSTRUCTION OF THE SOUL
Unexpected as it was, the rest of the night and the new morning went exactly as I’d planned. I should have also planned for some crazy, super-destructive thing to appear out of nowhere and break everything. That would have been downright expected of my life too . . . if you expect the unexpected, doesn’t that make it the expected?
I should have known better. Since I was kind of anticipating something like that, nothing of the sort happened. Should have known my life can only be boring when I’m not planning for it to be.
We had a memorial for Boomer and several other fallen. Each group had theirs separately but with everyone flittering between groups, paying respects, sometimes just standing there silently, and listening attentively to the grieving. Everyone had a particular style and way of managing the condolences, and no one complained. As the few who really knew the other groups very well, it was up to Mom and me to be present for everyone. Kickinstein described us as “her with the kind words, and Mer with the kind face.” I doubted the truth of that, but I wasn’t going to complain to the big half-orc. Whatever helped him get through this was fine by me. Knowing I helped the rest of them grieve was all that mattered. I’d have time to do some of my own grieving later—but for now, it was all about them.
