Chapter 98: Kvornan Faces A More Appropriate Homecoming

Sat, December 12, 2074 12:40 am—88 Wilkins Ave.; Camden, Pleasantview

Elise entered the living room to the sound of a late night studio audience exploding with applause. The host threw his arm around tonight’s musical guest, all handshakes and plastic smiles. Kvornan slid over to make room and as she settled onto the couch, the host thanked everyone for being here tonight. Out of the corner of his eye, Kvornan could see Elise fretfully wringing the hem of her t-shirt. She stared at the screen but was not seeing it.



The closer they came to leaving Pleasantview, the more she sulked. He was familiar with her anxiety, not only because he could feel it but because he had lived through it long ago, when he was not so much older than Elise herself. Sometimes, he still thought about the three days that he spent on the train to Pleasantview, watching his home drift away until it vanished. He remembered passing the time by tugging at his waistcoat to ease the foreign tightness around his chest and mashing his much-too-short hair against his head to block the cold air from his scalp. On the first day of the journey, he ordered chicken salad for lunch, having assumed that “chicken salad” could have only referred to salad greens topped with chicken. When it arrived as a mixture of chicken and mayonnaise, he remembered simply staring at it. Fae dietary laws forbid him from consuming meat prepared with egg, and so he just stared. He wanted to ring for the steward, but he did not have enough of the language to say what was wrong. It seemed ridiculous now, but he could have burst into tears at that moment. He had never felt more alone, and perhaps Elise would feel the same. The world that he was dragging her into was so obscure that he could have told her they were going to the moon to the same effect.

“Can’t sleep?” Elise shook her head, face forward into the glow of the television set.

“You watch a lot of TV,” she remarked. Kvornan placed his hand on top of hers to stop her agitated twisting.

“I can turn it down.”

“No, it’s fine. Just a lot of TV.” Kvornan flipped her observation over upon its belly, searching for its hidden meaning like an animal foraging for insects beneath a stone. He thought, perhaps, that her mind would not rest until his did.

“If I start going to bed earlier, will that help you get to sleep?” Elise gave him a noncommittal grunt. He noted that she had not looked at him once. “Talk to me, Elise.”

“We are talking.”

“Then what do you need from me right now?” Elise drew a sharp breath and groaned.

“Why is it that I have to need something? Can’t I just sit here with you?”



“What do you think?” Kvornan realized too late that he was rising to the level of her annoyance, and that it would do neither of them any good. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—when she cut him off.

“It isn’t that I don’t want to leave. I know that we can’t stay here, so whatever. I mean Ermengarde is sick, this place is a crap-hole, and there are psychos lurking around every corner who would love to kidnap me. I get all of that. It’s just that Pleasantview is our home. We’ve never been anywhere else. This is what we know, and we can’t even keep that anymore. And what if we’re out of the kettle and into the fire or whatever? Plenty of psychos are probably right there at Ethelden, you said so yourself. I feel like-- I feel like if anything happens to the others, it would be my fault.” Kvornan switched off the television. It was not worth it to say that her family’s safety was not her sole responsibility, and that he was a lot more scary that anyone who would try to harm her or her siblings. A sizeable part of her was screaming just that. But what her limited experience could not teach her—that was what Kvornan was for. Homes could be remade.

Elise gathered her legs onto the couch, pulling the t-shirt taut over her knees, then scooted up into his lap. Kvornan wrapped his arms around her. She was so thin.



“Are you cold?” Asking was a silly gesture. He knew that she was cold. Kvornan rubbed her back with his palm. Elise yawned, covering her mouth with her first.

“This should be happier, you know. I mean, now that we’re together. We should be just glowing, shouldn’t we?” Kvornan paused his rubbing to smooth stray wisps of hair away from her face.

“We’ve never truly been apart, Elise.” Elise planted her head upon her knees and threaded her fingers between her toes.

“This is different,” she whispered. There was a pause during which her mood plummeted until he could feel her shoulders heaving. He had not seen this outburst of emotion coming.

“Elise?” She scrambled to her feet, pushing him at the center of his chest. He caught up with her just a few feet away from the couch and she crumpled, more rag doll than child. Kvornan hoisted her to her feet as she struggled.



“Mom and Dad are gone, and you weren’t even there! I can’t—” The sentence fell apart but he knew what she intended to say. I can’t forgive you for that. Kvornan held her tighter in part to provide support and in part to reassure himself of her permanence. There were other words that she could not force, but he heard them just the same. Coward, she thought. Monster. Murderer.

December 12, 1998 12:40 am-- Ethelden Palace; Amhurst, Veronaville (Seventy-Six Years earlier)



The water around him was black and growing blacker. Kvornan watched as the dirt lifted from his skin and circulated all around him. He followed it with his eyes. Gentle hands ran a washcloth over the back of his neck. How had he gotten here? He peered over the ceramic edge of the tub. A small pile of discarded towels had collected on the floor, so caked with blood and grime that it might have turned another man’s stomach. His mother was humming as she dampened his hair. Her voice and her touch were so familiar that they seemed out of place amongst his otherwise broken existence. He was a child again in this apartment. Maybe he had never left it. Maybe he had only dreamed the past twelve years. This new possibility washed over him and drained away without cleansing. If he were comatose then Fricorith had never been, and it changed nothing in Kvornan’s heart. He refused to allow even the delusion of his son to pass from him without grief or recognition. Perhaps this was the most indisputable proof of his existence.



There was no comfort for Fricorith in his death throes. That the universe had deemed Kvornan deserving of his mother’s love on the cusp of insanity was infuriating to him. Weakly, he removed her hands from his hair, where she had been combing the gore loose with her fingers. He would have done the same for his own son under the same circumstances, he knew. It was not a matter of what Kvornan deserved. This task was a parent’s responsibility alone.



Kvornan met her eyes, perhaps to tell her off or perhaps to thank her. Her lips quivered though her hands held steady. She too had lost her only child. All that remained for her was this vacant likeness of her son, naked and wading in the blood of the two women that he had slaughtered.

“Mata?” It was the first word that he had spoken in days. His voice was hoarse, unrecognizable. The creases in her brow deepened.

“Kvornan!” There was an urgency to the sound of his name as the last leg of her composure disintegrated beneath her. She cupped his face with her hands and moaned. Kvornan did not have it in him to feel sorry for her sake. He had reached the point where he could take on no more.

The door flew open just then and there was shouting. He recognized his father’s voice, but did not bother to move until he felt himself hauled from the tub. His mother was calling out his father’s name, and Kvornan was tripping across the tile, face-to-face with a far more appropriate homecoming.



His back hit the wall first, then his head. The impact sent his vision swimming. Magenta floaters rained down before his eyes, glowing against the backdrop of his father’s livid face.

“How dare you come back here after what you’ve done?” Kvornan averted his gaze, both unable and unwilling to respond. His mother raised her voice above the commotion.

“He’s just a boy!” Kvornan’s father closed in on him, pinning him to the spot.



“Your ‘just a boy’ is by his own free will the lowest, most depraved sort of abomination,” Here, Kvornan’s father struck the wall with his closed fist so hard that the mirror shook. Kvornan had a feeling that he had done it to keep from committing violence in front of his mother. “Goddamn it, look at me!”

His mother was wailing in the opposite corner of the room. Kvornan picked up his head to find that his father was so close that their noses were nearly brushing.

“I knew, I knew, what was in your nature the day they placed you in my arms and by God, I nearly gave you back. Just see what what you’ve done to her!” Kvornan’s father made a swooping motion behind him without turning around. “What happened to your wife will not happen to mine. Make no mistake; you are to blame for that as well. Just a boy? You are the festering root of all evil.” Kvornan’s father punctuated that last by spitting on the floor. “I have reached and exceeded the limit of my forgiveness. Kvornan Tricou, you and I are done.”

Chapter 92: Kvornan Sees The Invisible Axle

Fri, December 11, 2074 11:44 am-- Camden Municipal School; Camden, Pleasantview



Kvornan's cell phone was buzzing when he exited the school. To accept the call after spending ten minutes in the men's room throwing cold water on his face was to run the risk of someone hearing the stress in his voice. He would answer only if it was Elise phoning from a janitor’s closet for no reason again, and then he thought that he would spill everything. He would start from the beginning with the man on the dredger ship who was kind enough to share his lunch and who could find something to laugh about on the worst of days. He would continue his story down the road to Veronaville, where he chose not to say goodbye. He would talk about Millhaven in autumn, Emilia’s pies, barroom brawls, the Garrisonian Tribunal, rock and roll, and Antoine’s drunken poetry. He would talk about teaching Alexei his language by way of taping notes to every object in the house. He would talk about nights spent lying on the lawn, renaming the stars. He would explain why he and Alec slept heads to tails on Wednesdays, why mashed peas are not so good for sculpting, why winter is the only time to swim.

He would even say things to Elise that only Alexei knew, moments both terrifying and beautiful that had been theirs alone. Then he would confess to why he was always the first one to drop his gaze in a staring match, confess that the life he gave to Alexei had belonged to Alexei all along, and finish by warning Elise against the ruin that attachment can bring.

Kvornan wedged his fingers into his pocket and gripped the phone by its sides. It was pathetic to be upset at that moment but being too cowardly to answer the phone only compounded his embarrassment. The incoming call was listed as "Data Unavailable", which only ever meant "Addison London". It was the first time that Kvornan could remember being relieved at that blinking blue "Data Unavailable". Kvornan dragged his feet toward the swing set at the edge of the lawn and sat down with the phone still vibrating in his fist. The frigid air was beginning to make his nose run. He ruffled his hair and sniffed back, wishing he had a cigarette.



"Yeah?"

"You got a minute?" A red leaf landed on Kvornan’s lap. He brushed it away.

"What do you need?"

"It's about the new Magus." That was a newsflash. Kvornan pressed the receiver closer to his ear with his shoulder.



"Did someone die?"

"No, no one died. Rodin Chi'en got the sack after you left." Addison sounded annoyed, as though Kvornan should have been keeping better tabs on the palace. Kvornan snorted derisively. He had not spared a thought for Rodin Chi'en in weeks. "I took the liberty of suggesting a candidate for the position." Kvornan trekked backwards on the tips of his toes, gaining momentum.

"And the Magi took a suggestion from you seriously?"

"You know me. I work with subtly and finesse." Kvornan pushed off. Finding it too difficult to swing with just one hand, he focused the magical force around him to propel the swing forward.



"Hm. What's that thing the kids are saying these days? 'TMI'?"

"Funny you should mention kids. The Magi are inducting Jack Dalton as an Ovate on the solstice."

"'The Kid'?"

"The very same. So my question for you is, 'What would you say to having a man on the inside?'" In truth, Kvornan was not sure how he felt about that. He slowed down the swing.

"Can we trust him?"

"He's like my own blood. And you're welcome, by the way."

"You're a genius, Addison."

"It's what I do." Addison hung up the phone. The swing came to a stop. Kvornan pushed the antenna back down into his cell phone and watched the frozen leaves tumble by.

May 14, 2052 4:17 pm-- the 200 block of W. Larimer Ave; Tolsbury, Pleasantview



"Cheaters never prosper, Vincent Randall!" Kvornan's sandals were barely touching the ground. He was using his energy to disrupt the way that gravity acted on his body in motion, just enough to stay ahead of Alexei. He sprinted backwards to face his opposition and cupped a hand over his ear.

"What's that? I can't hear you. You're too far behind!" Alexei dove at him. Kvornan jumped out of reach, about five feet back."You know, if I wanted to, I could be at the movie theater by now," he said.

"Over here, Cory!" A little girl's voice cut the air. For an instant too quick to measure, everything stopped. Cory. The name brought Kvornan's past crashing down. He turned towards the source of the sound.



Two children were racing around the playground. The boy called Cory ducked behind a ladder beam. Behind him, Kvornan could hear Alexei's feet scuffing the pavement.

"Bang! Bang!" Cory spun beyond the range of the girl's imaginary bullets.

"Nah, nah-na boo-boo!" He taunted the girl with a raspberry. She loaded her weapon once more.



The children circled, guns drawn, going round and round some great invisible axle.

"Bang!" Cory ducked but did not return fire. Kvornan felt Alexei touch his back. Kvornan shot him a glance to let him know that he was still in the moment. This small courtesy was part of a vast language of gestures that had developed between them over the last couple of years. The 'Are you okay?' pat. The 'I'm still with you.' stare. Alexei moved his hand to Kvornan's waist.



"I am going to ask you something, but I don't want you to lash out at me or withdraw." Kvornan smiled weakly.

"I can't make any promises," he murmured.

"What happened to your son?" Wind hissed through the grass. Kvornan's mouth was dry. He swallowed against it.

"What kind of a question is that?"

"Well, you and I are close. This is something that affects you deeply, and you never talk about it."

"I had a little boy with pale hair like yours, and he was burned alive. What more is there to tell?"

"You're not alone anymore, you know." He did know. Cory tunneled up the sliding board to safety.



"Fricorith had a spiritual deformity of sorts. It allowed for the transfer of foreign entities into his body, into his life force. It's a pretty common defect and for most people, it never becomes a problem. They go through their lives not knowing that they have it. I have it, in fact. It's congenital. But some people, for whatever reason, are targeted by these foreign entities, usually daemon energies. The results are often diagnosed as schizophrenia. And Fricorith... Sometimes I would catch him passing by and I could look in his eyes and see that wasn't my son. Someone else was operating him like a piece of machinery. I can't tell you how terrifying that was. We tried everything. The Magi performed rites and held vigils. The attacks only got worse. That was when my father-in-law started studying the plant life in Arbormoor, particularly the distilled variety."

"He thought that he could find a cure?"

"He thought that he could treat it like the flu. 'Down the hatch, young milksop! Easy does it!' Jon was a quack. It was little use, anyway. He made some extraordinary discoveries in his research but a cure for his grandson wasn't one of them. Fricorith sank deeper into himself. He went catatonic for days. The Magi told us that this was a very dangerous sign and that the structure of his energy could collapse in that state. Fricorith would cease to exist. We gave up hope. Then one day, while Jennail, Nylissit and I were away from the house, my mother-in-law locked my son in Jon's laboratory. She set a fire and made it look like an accident. Then she ran away."

"My god." Kvornan rubbed the underside of his right wrist, over the scar tissue that he had acquired before he turned. He remembered what it was like holding his arm above a stove burner and imagining Fricorith's last moments. It should have been him.

Alexei was watching him, concerned. Kvornan buried his hands beneath his arms. Alexei placed his chin on Kvornan's shoulder, pressing his nose against Kvornan's cheek.



"In her mind, she was protecting Fricorith from oblivion by ensuring that he died fully conscious. She didn't know that my brother-in-law and a maid were trapped inside. We think my niece climbed through a window to save Fricorith. Halfway across town, Jon was shot to death by a Townie woman all in the same day. We told the press that the fire was an accident because that was what we genuinely believed. Jon's murder got the rumor mills turning. Soon it leaked that Jon had been a nerdy old philanderer with fifty lovers, all Townie women, and a score of illegitimate children. Everyone assumed that he had been killed by a jealous lover and that Jennicor set the fire in the lab to punish him for his dalliances." Alexei turned his head, laying his brow against Kvornan's neck.

"So he wasn't killed by a jealous lover?" Kvornan shook his head.

"He was killed by a lover but not for jealousy. He was responsible for the disappearance of their son, Addison Wolosenko. But that's a story for another day." Kvornan looked down at Alexei's arms circling his waist. The sun made the translucent hairs on Alexei's forearm shimmer. He stroked Alexei's arm with the backs of his fingers.

"Bang!" The little girl's voice broke through the stillness. "Lie down, Cory! You're dead."

Chapter 91: Kvornan Shouts Down the Avalanche

Fri, December 11, 2074 11:07 am-- Camden Municipal School; Camden, Pleasantview

The last time Kvornan set foot in a school, it had been to tender his resignation. That was nearly seventy-seven years ago. Treading over the endless linoleum of Camden Municipal, he was struck by just how little had changed about the institution. Electric bells still sounded the end of the class period. Students still scribbled away in their copy books while teachers still droned from that nether-region located between their desks and the chalkboard.

Kvornan did not know what he thought he would see. To his mind, this was a brave new world and he was a lost relic in it. Feeling out of touch was meant to be a constant. Alexei always said that the world was inherently more boring than overwhelming, and that if Kvornan expected to be surprised by it at his age then he was asking too much. He had to modify his own behavior, his own way of thinking. If he wanted to find something new in familiar places then he had to be the catalyst.

Kvornan stopped at the end of the hall and knocked on a door plated with the words Mr. Amin Bruty, Upper School Administration. A voice from within told him to enter.

A wavy-haired Townie man was seated inside the office, somewhat obscured by his cluttered desk. Grinning broadly, Kvornan took the seat opposite him and bowed in greeting.



"Peace be with you, Administrator Bruty." Kvornan spoke in a much thicker accent than what came to him naturally. It could have been the idle thought about Alexei that sparked his sense of fun or his curiosity at the fact that school was still so tediously school-like, but he felt inspired to be the source of his own surprises. Amin clasped his hands and bowed in return.

"Mr. Randall, I take it? I am very pleased to meet you." Amin extended his hand for Kvornan to shake. Kvornan clasped it with both hands.

"Yes, very pleased! It has been not easy road," he said.

"I couldn't agree more. The journey has been difficult for us all. The children especially so." Amin was a soft-spoken, delicate thing. He struck Kvornan as a warm but sober man. Kvornan leaned back in his chair. He thought that Amin's sincerity would allow him to take greater liberties with the Vincent Randall that he was fabricating second by second.

"Children? Oh no, children are fine. They sleep in the car more longer when I make wrong turn." Amin furrowed his brow.



"You mean that you got lost on the way here?" Kvornan looked off to the side as though it was the silliest question he had ever heard.

"Yes, it is what I say. 'Not easy road.'" Kvornan's feigned exasperation seemed to amuse Amin. His eyes glittered with a fondness that people usually reserved for children and the elderly.

“So you did. My mistake. I just cannot tell you how relieved I was-- How relieved we all were here at Camden Municipal when we heard the good news about you adopting the Mindelsohn children.” Kvornan gave Amin the same adorably serious pout that Elise made when she was considering something grave.

“Agatha and Li were like family. Sad to grow apart. Very sad.”

“Yes but I am certain that they would be happy to know that their children will be in the care of a trusted friend.”



“Ai, Deus ir hosanish! My heart, it broke when I hear about Little Vince occupying his sisters and brother with no other family for the doing of this. But of course, I should not say ‘Little Vince’ now. He is not so little on these days. Fourteen! He will have his spúrtzi in Veronaville when we return.” Amin who had been nodding silently throughout this garbled monologue took a moment to pause.

“Ah, forgive me. What is a spe-yort-see?”

“Spúrtzi is a ceremony in temple."

“I see.”

“Vince, he swallow bees in temple and then he will be a man.”

“Bees, Mr. Randall?”



It was all that Kvornan could do not to laugh. The incredulous horror in Amin's eyes made the entire exchange worthwhile. Still, Kvornan did not miss a beat.

“Yes, forty bees. Make him a man. He will be first human to have royal princess at his spúrtzi.”

“Live bees?”

“Ai, of course! No point if they are dead.” There were a few seconds of silence. Kvornan thought that he must have stumbled upon a phobia of Amin's. He had not considered the position of power that he was occupying until this instant. He resolved not to make any more wild claims while Amin aligned the pencils on his desk.

“I'm sorry, I... It is just a little shocking for someone who didn't grow up with these same traditions.”

“Yes, is very old rite. Very sacred.”

“Well, I... I have the paperwork all set-up. I'll just need you to initial the bottom right hand corner of each page and sign the last page as 'parent or guardian'.”

“Of course, of course.” Kvornan skimmed through the release forms. On paper, the children were being withdrawn from Camden Municipal and enrolled in the Royal Academy of Amhurst, a secular school just a few miles from Kvornan's home at Ethelden. In reality, all but Elise would be attending RA of A, that bastion of the terminally over-priviledged. Kvornan did not know how they would get on there but this was their social position now.

When he was finished authorizing the document, Kvornan clapped the pen onto the desk in a gesture of finality. Even though it was part of the act, he really did feel relieved. This was the last puzzle piece. The children were now free to go with him. Amin reached across the desk to shake his hand.

“Congratulations, Mr. Randall, to you and your new family.”

“Thank you, Amin Bruty.”



“I hope that you and the children will keep in touch. Let us know how things are going.”

“Yes! We send you nut cake for Volithxen. 'Winter Festival', yes?”

“We will look forward to it. Have a wonderful day, Mr. Randall.” Kvornan nodded enthusiastically.

“Laoniq Deus in nos vedden proximus.”

"You too," Amin said. Now Kvornan's smile was genuine. This guy really did not speak a word of Ashkay. Kvornan stood to go then stopped at the door, both remembering something and pretending to remember.

"Is something wrong?" Amin asked. Kvornan turned around, thumping his forehead in mock-realization.

"I get it now! Yes, a very difficult journey for children. Very difficult! Thank you, Amin Bruty!" Amin chuckled. Kvornan thought that Amin would go home to his family that night and regale them with the story of how he met Princess Tara's consort, that strange reclusive painter who never appeared in public.

Kvornan closed the door behind himself with barely a sound. The hallway was deserted. He walked out of the view of Amin's door and leaned against the wall, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. Every muscle in his body tensed to prevent him from sobbing. He thought time and distance had obliterated what he was feeling now, but it clawed through him without warning. He emptied his mind to regain composure. He had been walking around for the past month with a wound that was starting to hemorrhage. As much as he wanted to deny, dismiss and repress his emotion like he had spent the better part of a decade doing, those options were lost to him now.

Alexei had been close enough for him to touch. Alec. His Alec.

December 22, 2050 10:18 pm: Mithra Station; Lloren-On-Acheron, Veronaville (Nineteen Years earlier)



"Will you just smell that air? Being by the river is so invigorating. I love it this town. Everything about it is so quaint, you know? Like stepping back in time." Alexei was struggling to keep up. Kvornan did not feel the need to remind him that they were not on a Sunday stroll. They had a train to catch. Kvornan was going home. Alexei had offered to see him off as far as Amhurst Station, and Kvornan agreed only because they would probably never see one another again. After spending several weeks accompanying this man from one side of the country to the other, part of Kvornan thought that he had all that he could take. Still another part of him would be disappointed to lose his prattling acquaintance.



"This station was built during the reign of Queen Pehkhet II. It was originally a butchers' market. Can't you just imagine the stone masons chipping away at all these blocks by hand?" Alexei's enthusiasm was legible through his every movement. "Okay, I'm not blind. I know Lloren-On-Acheron is a slum. I just appreciate the history of the place." Alexei often held entire conversations on his own in this manner, responding to thoughts that Kvornan was not even having. Sometimes Kvornan kept quiet just to hear Alexei's assumptions. "When I'm in a place like this, I like to think about whose footsteps I might be walking in. Politicians, movie stars, musicians, philosophers, lion tamers, tax dodgers…" Alexei's sentence fizzled away. At first, Kvornan thought that he had run out of phantom pedestrians but then he realized that Alexei was listening. There were people talking nearby, at least two. Kvornan could not make out what was being said. Alexei sped up. Being taller than Kvornan, Alexei managed to surpass him altogether. He was headed towards the voices before Kvornan could stop him.



An elderly couple was waiting for a taxi. They looked up at Alexei as he approached at full speed. Kvornan hung behind, puzzled.

"Oh my god, this is extraordinary. How have you been?" Alexei exclaimed. The couple exchanged glances. "It's me, Al! Al Garrison from Pleasantview? Don't you remember?" Alexei shook their hands one at a time. They smiled politely.



"Are you Miss Vicky's boy?" The woman inquired. Alexei frowned. He looked crestfallen.

"Well-- Well, no. I-- I saved your life!" The couple seemed bemused but no more or less than anyone else on the cusp of senility.

"Well thank you," the man said. Alexei patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't mention it. Gee, you really don't remember me do you? It's no big deal. Look, give the kids a hug for me. It was really nice running into you. I'll be on this side of Veronaville for a while. We should get together and play some pinocle."

"That sounds lovely." Alexei took the woman's hand and kissed it.



"Y'all take care of yourselves now, you hear?" Alexei reached over and shook the gentleman's hand once more for good measure. He walked by Kvornan as though he were invisible and now it was Kvornan's turn to keep up the pace. Alexei threw his arm around Kvornan's shoulder.

"What was I talking about just now?"

"Who were those people?" It was the first thing that Kvornan had said in over an hour but curiosity drove him to it.

"Beats me. Never met 'em before in my life." Alexei delivered that information in a way that was so plain and so matter-of-fact that Kvornan was forced to do something out of the ordinary-- He laughed. He laughed until he began to hiccup. Alexei raised his eyebrows in concern. "Are you okay? You're making noises I've never heard you make before." Kvornan shook his head. He could feel the color flooding his cheeks.



"What… is… wrong with you?" Kvornan spoke between hiccups.

"What do you mean?"

"That was tasteless. Absolutely tasteless. Don't you think that it's a bit grim, picking on people their age? You're old enough to be that man's father." Alexei waved it off.

"They'll have forgotten about it by the time they get home tonight."

"And that makes it alright?" Alexei's shoulders shook with laughter. The two of them passed into an archway under the railway tracks.



The green lanterns lighting the path made Kvornan twinge with nostalgia. He was in Veronaville. He was home.

A train roared above their heads as it neared the station. Alexei hooted, attempting to match the train for pitch.

"Do you ever do this? Try to be heard over the whistle?" he shouted. Kvornan shook his head, still hiccuping. An idea that puerile might never have occurred to him. Alexei threw back his head and called at the train once more. He tapped Kvornan on the chest with the back of his hand. "Now you try," he urged. Kvornan held his breath to rid himself of his affliction.

The train got closer, causing the rafters above them to shudder. When the whistle started up anew, Alexei hooted and Kvornan joined him, figuring that there was nothing to be gained or lost by it. Soon, neither man could be heard over the din. Kvornan was shouting down the avalanche of dust that fell from the ceiling as it shook. He was shouting down the train, the bridge, the sky above.

When the train came to a halt, his throat was hoarse and his ears were ringing but the hiccups were gone. Alexei pushed his hair out of his face. He tried to say something but physically could not. Kvornan refused to even make an attempt at speech. Their voices, he knew, had left their bodies as vapor and escaped into the night.

Chapter 80: Kvornan Receives An Affirmation

Sat December 5, 2074 11:24 pm: 88 Wilkins Ave.-- Camden, Pleasantview



Kvornan rubbed his nose with the heel of his hand and waited. Each stroke of the dial tone increased his anxiety. Two rings. Leaving a message would not be the safest practice. Four. This was the last call that the Mindelsohns' landline would ever make. Their service was scheduled to be cut at precisely midnight. Kvornan began to pace the kitchen slowly. Six rings.

"I'm sorry! I'd only just stepped out." Tara sounded somewhat breathless, as though she had been running. Little time had passed since he last heard her voice-- a few measly weeks-- but even the language that she spoke seemed to belong to separate era. Thoughts of her sly grin and warm violet eyes were part and partial to a time labeled before in Kvornan's memory. He cleared his throat.

"Are you alone?" He regretted the necessity of asking. It was not the most personal of hellos.

"Yes, of course. How is everything?" Kvornan let go of the phone, holding it between his ear and his shoulder. He might have started his monologue with the occupation of Ermengarde's psyche or the discovery of that peculiar Jack creature or Elise in all of her resilience. He might have even told her about Imina, over the phone and at a distance, like a coward. But some unknowable force within him wanted to keep the conversation as expedient as it was sterile.

"It's a bit complicated. I'll explain when I get home," he said.

"Which will be when?" Kvornan sat down on edge of the kitchen counter.

"Two weeks. Less, maybe. I just thought I'd call to check in. Am I cleared for arrival?"

"Your home is always here for you. And the children?" He rubbed his jawline, momentarily losing himself in the thought of her nude body, the curvature of her back as it faced him, their legs entwined. No matter how many times he told himself that she understood just what she was committing to, it still felt so unjust.

"I'm bringing the children with me. I miss you, Tara." She clicked her tongue at him.

"You don't mean that but I appreciate the gesture," she said.

"Honestly." He dropped down from the counter and took the phone in hand. He did miss her, but not as profoundly as she deserved.



"Shall I see you soon, then?" Kvornan nodded as though she were standing right in front of him.

"Yes, soon." Silence. Kvornan was holding his breath. He didn't know what he was waiting for her to say.

"God go with you, then." There was a soft click and the line went dead. Kvornan stood for a moment with the receiver still up to his ear. The electric hum of the refrigerator cut into the static night air. Hers had been too empty of a goodbye in their language, one that simply affirmed the separation of their paths and promised nothing of the future. Kvornan pressed the power button on the receiver and watched the condensation collect on the corners of the window panes.

February 1, 1987 9:34 am: Ethelden Palace-- Amhurst, Veronaville (Eighty-Seven Years earlier)



"Keep still, horrible boy." Jennail tilted his chin upwards. Her fingertips were soft and cool against his skin. Painting was one of the many mundane activities that Kvornan now held sacred by virtue of Jennail's involvement. She had more dexterity in her hands than what her magic could accomplish, making the chore a time-consuming one. Kvornan had grown to cherish it as an opportunity to feel her touch, to steal glances at her while she concentrated on his eyes, to be reprimanded for fidgeting. Sometimes he even requested that she paint his face at home, in Pleasantview, where he would only have to wash afterwards. But this morning, Kvornan was too distracted by the circumstance of their visit to enjoy the process of getting ready.



"Agni Hummel, Magus to the Sheut. I may never get over this, Nai." Kvornan tried to shake his head in disbelief but his wife struck him under the chin with the side of her brush.

"Can't you just be happy for him?" Kvornan frowned, somewhat affronted.

"I am happy! I'm just shocked, is all. Ag used to get himself into more trouble than any of us." Jennail blended the pigment beneath his right eye with her thumb.

"Only because his honesty made it difficult for him to hide his mischief. Close your eyes." Kvornan screwed his eyes shut and Jennail giggled. "Not so tight, stupid." Kvornan relaxed.



"He's only nineteen. Who gets inducted at nineteen?" Jennail held his hair away from his face and worked above his brow line.

"You're beginning to sound jealous," she said. Kvornan fiddled with cuffs of his sleeves.

"Maybe I am a little," he admitted. Jennail stopped painting. Kvornan realized too late what he had implied. His eyelids fluttered open.

"Nai--"



"Do you ever wish that we had never done it? That you could have finished out your studies and I had married some banker like everyone expected us to?" Kvornan stood. He removed the brush and palette from her hands, tossing them haphazardly onto the bed. Jennail was watching him with a heaviness that he never knew that she possessed.



How long had she been harboring this secret worry? And how could she? Kvornan wrapped his arms around her, kissing the bare tip of her nose. He ran his palms down her tightly corseted back. What more, what else could he have wanted from life than this woman? Than their son? Kvornan shook his head.

"This is the best and only dream that I have ever had for myself." It was an assertion of truth that tensed his shoulders like an oath. Jennail pulled him towards her by the back of his neck. He was hers to command, always.

Chapter 65: Kvornan Finds A Window Reopened

Mon, November 30, 2074 8:42 pm- 88 Wilkins Ave.; Camden, Pleasantview



“Elise, could you get out here? Everything I touch turns to pornography!” Kvornan pressed the escape key hesitantly at first and then faster, more urgently. The advertisements glittered and multiplied, promising low monthly payments for services that Kvornan could not have read aloud without blushing. The fan in the machine picked up with a whir, blowing hot gusts of air across the dining room table. Startled, Kvornan pulled his hands away from the keyboard. “Elise?”

Ermengarde's stuffed giraffe peered at Kvornan from against the wall with its dark and polished eyes. He felt a sudden urge to tip the thing over.

"What are you looking at?" he spat.



“What are you moaning about?” Elise closed the hall door carefully behind her. Kvornan could feel her silently scolding him from across the room for shouting after eight o'clock. Her disapproval was enough to make his chest tighten. It was a foreign sensation that he did not have a name for and nonetheless, he was certain that he didn’t like it.

“I just want to check the weather,” he said, a defensive annoyance creeping into his voice. Again, he hit the escape button to no effect.

“Is it important?” she asked. Kvornan snickered at the absurdity of the question and the situation that prompted it.

“No, I just want to know.” He turned to look at her then.



Elise stood at the far end of the kitchen wearing the dress that he had purchased for her arrival to Veronaville. It was formal and billowing, though not quite what it should have been. She looked more like she was headed to a school dance than to meet with royalty but this was the best that Kvornan could do in a pinch. In any case, he had hidden the dress in the trunk of his car to keep Elise from doing exactly what she was doing-- Traipsing through the house without shoes so that her hem dragged across the soiled tiles and leaning her back against the filthy wall. He knew why she was wearing the dress and it wasn't just her childish vanity. She was making a point. Their connection was where his secrets went to die. Kvornan cleared his throat.

“You look nice. Now change into your pajamas and put that away before you ruin it,” he said flatly, hoping to seem unconcerned about the growing ease with which she was learning to read him. Elise rolled her eyes and began making her way towards him.

“I’m not a baby. I think I can keep a dress clean.”

“You are a baby and I know for a fact that you can’t keep a dress clean.” She stopped at the corner of the table. Kvornan stood up somewhat automatically at the approach of a woman. A little girl. A female personage, anyway.



“Please? Since it’s my birthday?” Elise whined. Kvornan shook his head resolutely.

“No.”

“Please?” Elise reached up to wrap her arms around his waist and he took a step back, rejecting her advance. Her lips turned down into a pout but Kvornan held his ground. If she knew that she could wrap him around her fingers, she would. The last thing that he wanted on his conscience was her growing up to be the sort of spoiled brat that he was. Additionally, he was a little hurt that she would use his affection for her against him, no matter how petty the dispute.

“Don’t try to wheedle me.” He spoke over his shoulder at her as he turned to walk off.

Kvornan dropped down onto the sofa, careful to avoid the spot where Arnaud had spilled fruit punch earlier that afternoon. He picked up the remote control and typed in a random pair of numbers, not knowing what channel was which. Behind him, Elise shuffled her feet like a whipped dog seeking forgiveness. Part of Kvornan wanted to yell at her for that, too.

A couple on the television strolled through the park, languishing in the autumn leaves and in one another. The name of a drug to cure male impotence appeared on the screen, followed by the warning, “not to be taken while pregnant or nursing”. Kvornan squinted, certain that he had read something incorrectly. Elise settled onto the sofa beside him. She swiped the remote from his hand and turned the television off. Kvornan leaned back and turned his gaze to the ceiling.



“Either you’ve gone selectively deaf or I’m losing touch with reality. Didn’t I just tell you to get ready for bed?” he said.

“Tell me a story first.” Elise tossed the remote on the floor and sidled up next to him. Kvornan exhaled through his nostrils.

“All this from someone who claims not to be a baby.” He tried to avoid looking at her. He was angry but his anger lacked a concrete source and all that was left for him was to wish that she would simply go away. Elise lifted her body up from the seat and wrapping her arms around his neck, plopped down into his lap. Her formidable mass of tangled red hair brushed his nose and lips.

Go to bed. Perhaps if he thought it forcefully enough, the command would permeate her consciousness, drowning out her own stodgy inner monologue.



“I know you don’t want to get rid of me this early, hem tarshna,” she said. Kvornan's muscles tensed reflexively. He replayed the sentence in his head, assuring himself that he had not misheard her. Two words, common enough in his language but so sacred to him personally that hearing them aloud caused the hair on his arms to stand on end. A cursory sweep of Elise’s thoughts told him that she did not know what the words meant, only that it was some kind of term of endearment. Hem tarshna. My longing. But also, my thirst. Kvornan had only ever used those words with one person and only during a few, intensely private moments. He squeezed his eyes shut to keep the images from surfacing.

“What did you just call me? Elise?” Kvornan held back from grabbing her head and forcing her to look him in the eye. There was no way for the phrase to have accidentally crept into his thoughts. Elise must have actively sought it out, probing his memories for a particularly potent descriptor.

Kvornan brushed the hair from her face and gathered it at the base of her neck. He barricaded his thoughts from her behind a veil of gibberish, not wanting to alarm her by displaying the full extent of her trespass. Still, he did want her to know that she had set foot on hallowed ground and quickened the dead below.



Elise's eyes widened in realization. She grabbed Kvornan's waist and squeezed her apology into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. These were the same tiny hands that used to grab his collar in protest when he would stand up to go home. The same hands that woke him in the mornings by futilely searching for where he was ticklish. The same hands that had felt her mother's go slack while Kvornan himself tried to pretend that he couldn't feel her fear even from so far away.

“Tell me a story, Kvornan,” Elise whispered. And all at once, he understood. It was a plea for explanation. She wanted to know why she had access to the names that he called his lovers by. Why he had access to her dreams. Kvornan bit his lip and nodded compliantly. He knew exactly what he was going to say. He had preserved these words for her just as he should have recited them years ago, a time capsule of overdue confidences.

“In the beginning," he whispered. "There was nothing- An ever-expanding void, traveling outwards, filling spaces where no spaces had existed before. And the nothing was perfect and uniform and whole but as it expanded, it became increasingly polarized and eventually, it split."



“How can nothing split?” Elise giggled.

“Shah. Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“Of course. Please continue, Mother Goose.” Kvornan pinched her side through the slick taffeta of her gown and she squawked so marvelously that he was tempted to do it again.

“Anyway, as I was saying, the nothing split. And for the first time, it looked upon its self as a man might look into his own reflection. One side admired the beauty of the other, believing that there is true perfection only through diversity; through the delineation between self and other. The second side was of the opposite opinion. There is perfection only in unity and symmetry and oneness. The separation, he thought, made them imperfect. And so the sides, with their differing opinions, fought.

When the side for unity tried to recombine with the side for diversity, the side for diversity shed his skin, thereby making a Third. This Third was of the first two and when it opened its eyes unto its Fathers, there was light. And so the side for diversity was then called Creator.

Horrified, the side for unity grabbed onto the Third, hoping to recombine with it as well. But the Creator grabbed the Third by the other end and pulled to save it. And as the two pulled, the Third splintered into three and then five. The Third, though it was one, began to regard itself as many and each of the five were named.

Closest to the Creator was the Ren and he claimed the Creator as his lord, promising his soul. Beside the Ren was the Ka and he promised his existence unto his lord, the Creator. Beside the Ka was the Ib--”



“That’s me!” Elise bounced on Kvornan’s lap and he grabbed both her wrists with one hand, forcing her to settle.

“That’s you. And the Ib claimed no lord at all since he was equidistant from both. Then beside the Ib was the Sheut, who promised his service unto the side for unity. And beside the Sheut was the Ba who promised to give his body unto the side for unity.

And even as this went on, both sides continued to pull and the Third continued to splinter. Soon, there were many Ibs and Kas and Sheuts and Bas and Rens, all separate but all one. When the Creator saw that he and his reflection were of equal strength, he ordered the Ren to break a bit of his soul into many small pieces in order to distract the other side. And these pieces were not of the trinity and they scattered, claiming no lord but behaving as they would. The trinity termed the pieces ‘daemon’ and the side for unity devoured all that he could, earning him the title of Destroyer.

The Creator was pleased with this result as the Destroyer could not devour all of the daemons without letting go of his side of the Third so he then instructed the Ren to make many more, even smaller pieces for the Ka to imbue with an existence that would be unpalatable to the Destroyer. This was done and the resulting entities were animal energies.

Infuriated, the Destroyer ordered the Ba to trap the entities within his own flesh. But spurred by the Ka, the animals continued to multiply within their confines. And so the Destroyer ordered the Sheut to collect the trapped energies, releasing them from the Ka and returning them to the nothing.

Time passed. Things became more complex and sophisticated. And the Ib, weary of the conflict, offered to be an impartial mediator between the sides. They accepted the offer in lieu of everything falling into ruin. The war in heaven continues but the Ib works to steer the universe to a place where we will all be one but still separate. As his first order of business, the Ib suggested that the Third be given domain over the corporeal and incorporeal entities that had been created as a result of the war. And so, the Creator crowned the Third king, or Deus Rex.

Deus Rex, being many, grouped its self into sets of five, each set to rule for a time and then rest for eternity. But before ruling, each King would cast his body into the flesh of the Ba, assume the existance of the Ka and live upon the Earth in order to observe and assess until the Sheut comes to collect. And so that is what we are. You and I will be seated upon the throne of heaven someday with me at your right hand and you bossing me around for five hundred years.”



Elise nuzzled up to Kvornan, her breath warming his collar. She twined her fingers through his hair at the base of his neck while his preternatural sense of hearing tracked the slowed rhythm of her heartbeat. She was falling asleep in his arms. Kvornan tried with difficulty to suppress a smile.

"How does it feel to be thirteen?" he asked. Elise's arms relaxed against his side.

"I don't know. How does it feel to be... How old are you, again?" Kvornan brushed an eyelash from her cheek with his fingertips.

"I'm twenty-seven or will be on my next birthday, just as I was on my previous seventy-seven birthdays." He didn't know what made him say it. A long-barricaded window was opened, inviting him back to an empty bar and to a man who believed that there was more poetry on the pavement than in the stars.

"I'm not so good at math," Elise admitted, yawning. Kvornan hoisted her higher onto his shoulder, preparing to carry her to bed.

"You have me to do for you what you cannot," he said.

November 18, 2050 3:04 am: The Vertigo; Sleighton, Pleasantview (Twenty-Four Years earlier)

Kvornan no longer walked but drifted. His aimless and indifferent meanderings often transported him exactly nowhere; winding through feral alleys where only drainage water ever ventured. But tonight, drawn along by a feeling, he took an uncustomary turn down Lytton Hall Street.

The feeling grew stronger as he headed away from the heart of downtown and into the industrial slums of Sleighton. Here, chain link fences rattled out their malediction and hot bursts of steam wafted from the gutter like miniature clouds, inverting the ground and sky.

He stopped at the entrance to a filthy, unmarked building. The pungent aroma of liquor told him that this was a bar. The noise level told him that it was empty. His strong and vaguely familiar feeling urged him forward. He pushed open the door.



“We’re closed. We reopen tomorrow at seven.” Kvornan stopped dead at the entrance. The lighting was less than scant. Every surface was coated in a thick layer of grime and at the back of the room was an incongruously bright figure, diligently scrubbing the sink. His hair was ashen and tussled. Nearly unmistakable. Kvornan cleared his throat.



Alexei Garrison shot him a cursory glance over his shoulder, then turned off the water and made a complete about-face.

“Oh! I- Hello.” Kvornan took a few steps forward, not bothering to respond. The last time that they had seen one another, they were both covered head to toe in sludge. Alexei made a joke that Kvornan could not remember for the life of him but that had almost made him laugh at the time. In any case, it was enough to make Kvornan wish that they had met under different circumstances.

Alexei smiled weakly while Kvornan looked him over, ever vigilant in the presence of other vampires.



Alexei’s knees were grass-stained and there was quite a bit of dirt impacted on the bottoms of his shoes. He would have to make a rather lengthy trek to get to the nearest patch of grass from Sleighton. Perhaps he played a sport. Kvornan spied something sticking out of his pocket. Magenta paper, wax-coated. Staring at it, Kvornan’s mouth tasted of corn syrup and food dye. Candy. The other pocket contained something metal and jagged. A ring of keys. Behind it was a slip of carbon paper. Kvornan focused and in his mind, he read the words, PARKING INFRACTION NOTICE: The below listed vehicle… He declined to read any further. In Alexei’s back pocket, Kvornan observed a prophylactic, used, tied off and tucked back into the foil.

“You are very easily the last person in the world I would have expected to see tonight. Here, have a seat.” Alexei pulled a barstool. Kvornan eyed it suspiciously before opting to sit down. He scanned the room, turning his attention to the dead flies and flickering overhead light.



“You work here?” Kvornan asked, running his fingers along the splintering wood of the bar’s ledge. Alexei smiled.

“Yep. Here, the dairy plant, the gasworks, June’s Bakery on Fifth. I suffer from an acute case of idle hands syndrome. Randall, isn’t it?” Kvornan shook his head in response.

“Call me Vince,” he instructed.

“Vince it is. So what brings you to this vermin-infested hole in the wall?”

“Just you.”



He was uncertain about the amount of interest that he had in the conversation but something was holding him there, forcing his plain honesty. He watched as Alexei propped his elbow on the bar and tilted his head into his hand to scratch, his body forming a triangle with the surface of the bar. From what Kvornan could tell, there was a little bit of the shameless and the eccentric in everything that this man did.

While Kvornan pondered the sort of person who would bring his head to his hand rather than bringing his hand to his head, Alexei scooted his stool closer to Kvornan, who raised an eyebrow at the strangeness of the gesture.

"Do you... Care to build upon that thought?" Alexei asked. Kvornan blinked, having momentarily forgotten the thrust of the conversation.

"I was out walking. I sensed someone familiar. I investigated. I found you," he said flatly. Alexei peered at Kvornan over his sunglasses.

"Uh hunh. I followed that story up right to the point where you were walking. And then?"

"I sensed you."

"Yes, that’s what I thought you said." Kvornan breathed heavily through his nose.



"You can smell different notes in the blood, can’t you? Genetic and spiritual information that's unique to the individual?" Alexei leaned away from Kvornan in surprise.

"Well yeah but not from a distance and through a door painted with urine, mate," he said, his tone hushed as though someone might overhear. Kvornan shrugged.

"I don’t require my sense of smell to know a person’s scent, as it were. I know it intuitively."

"That has to have its conveniences."

"Sometimes."



Alexei eyed him curiously, combing him over with his copper eyes before dropping his gaze in a very self-aware fashion. People only gave Kvornan that look under one set of circumstances.

"You know who I am," he said quietly. Alexei jerked his head up, startled.

He gaped momentarily before confessing, "I know who you were, if that’s what you mean." Kvornan cocked his head to the side.

"Does my being here make you uncomfortable?"

"No, not exceptionally. But I feel like I should warn you. You might not want to engrain yourself with too many of our kind. A lot of the others are pretty spooked by you." Kvornan choked, dangerously close to laughing.



"I think what interests me more than the information conveyed within that warning is the fact that you would feel the need to warn me," he said. Alexei smiled.

"Seemed like the right thing to do."

"Why?"

"Fellow feeling?" For a moment, the pair stared at one another, their confusion mirrored on the other one's face. For the life of him, Kvornan felt as though he were looking out of a window only to find someone else staring in at him. He shook his head rapidly, attempting to lose the possibility that a man could get to be a certain age and still believe in fellow feeling.

"I’m sorry- How old are you?" Kvornan asked. Alexei's eyes twinkled with mirth.

"How old am I?" he parroted, placing stress on the word old.

"It’s only that you seem a little… Naïve for one of us."



"I prefer to think of it as having the stamina for immortality. If I don’t let life kick my ass then it won’t. You might try it sometime."

"I don’t act according to philosophies. I act according to my will."

"Well can I offer your will a drink?"

"My will and I don’t drink."

"Of course you don’t. But to answer your question, I’m twenty-one. Or rather, I will be on my next birthday just as I was on my previous eighty birthdays."



Kvornan knitted his brow, trying to make sense of it. The candy. The four jobs. The purposefully saved condom. The eighty years spent pretending to still be twenty-one. But in the end, only a solitary conclusion could be drawn.

"You’re not like other people are you?" Kvornan said. Alexei laughed aloud at the question. To Kvornan, he sounded like a cartoon chipmunk.

"I don’t know," Alexei tittered. "What are other people like?"

Somehow during the course of the conversation, Alexei had drawn closer to Kvornan without him noticing. Kvornan drew his shoulders away from the other man, almost protectively.

"Not like you," he remarked.