Part 12 (1/2)

Adrastia smiled and nodded.

”I don't think she saw you,” Gwynn said.

”It doesn't matter. She knows. So...an Anunnaki at the age of four. That must be difficult.”

Gwynn laughed.

”You don't know the half of it. We had to put Wards around the property-she almost fell into the Veil. But Pridament's been helping us. I'm not sure how, but he's smuggled things out of Asgard-the Wards, even a Prometheus Circle so she can sleep without destroying the house because of a bad dream. I'd say he saved all our lives.”

”Pridament. So he would be Grandpa.”

Gwynn nodded.

”Good. That's wonderful. But why aren't you training her?”

Gwynn's face fell.

”I can't. Actually, Pridament's been teaching me too. Ever since Cain took my arm, I haven't been able to summon Xanthe, or do anything more than heal aching muscles. b.a.s.t.a.r.d made me an invalid in more ways than one.”

Adrastia grabbed his shoulder.

”Don't talk that way.” Her grip tightened. ”You can't just give up. Your story isn't finished yet.”

Gwynn pulled away from her.

”When it comes to Anunnaki, Fallen, Ragnarok, and any other insanity, yes, I am finished. I have a wife and daughter I need to think about. We've made a good life here.”

He stared hard into her eyes-his determination bordering on rage. Then he blinked, looking at her like it was the first time.

She turned her head away from the intensity of his gaze.

”Adrastia, look at me,” he said.

She wouldn't. No, that wasn't true-she couldn't. Because he was seeing her for the first time.

”Look at me,” he repeated in a tone only a father could know-not unkind, but leaving no room for questioning.

It was possible she was one of the most powerful women in existence-she had certainly lived longer than any other. But some part of her couldn't resist Gwynn's voice-as though childhood programmed her to respond to its call. No amount of time or power could overide it. Perhaps every person was wired in a similar fas.h.i.+on during childhood. It would explain why all parents learned to adopt the same tone.

She turned and stared him in the eye. On some level, she did it because fighting her ingrained obedience seemed too hard. On another, she did it to defy him, to challenge him to see her secrets.

Am I a puzzle you can solve?

Gwynn stood a full head taller than her. He bent down, so his eyes were level with her own.

”How is that possible?” he asked.

”I...don't know what you're talking about.” It took effort not to look away again. A thousand lifetimes she'd been the observer, the one with the knowledge. Being studied felt like being violated.

Gwynn stood straight, taking her shoulder with his one hand as if preparing to prevent her escape.

”How is it you have my daughter's eyes?”

Her face fell from his. Tears burned behind her eyes, and a gasp caught in her throat.

”You're her,” he nodded toward the cabin. ”I'm not sure how, but you're Allison, aren't you? I never noticed...well, of course, I wouldn't, right? Until I had a daughter, how could I know you had her eyes?”

Adrastia sighed.

”You couldn't.”

”So explain it to me.”

He was fighting back tears. Of course he was, because all the answers to Why would my daughter run through time? weren't good ones.

”I was going to. That's what I meant when I said Jason didn't need to know all the answers to why I left you for the Valkyries. I didn't leave both of you, I left you.”

”Fine, but why? Why leave me for the Valkyries, why be my imaginary friend for the first eight years of my life? Why suddenly appear again to turn my life upside down?”

The deep breath she took caught in her suppressed sobs. She'd waited so many years to tell him her story, they weren't worth counting. But where to start? Why? So many whys. She tried to steady her breathing, so the words came out right.

”Because you told me to,” she said.

His hand slipped away from her shoulder. He took a step back, running his left hand through his hair, and crumbled to the ground.

Adrastia sat down as well, staying just outside his reach.

”See, my father told me stories,” she said. ”About Suture, about the bleed throughs, and how the first time he went to investigate one, he was taken by the Valkyries to Asgard, where he met my mother. When the bleed through appeared, I made Zeus put me on that team. I wanted to make sure you would get to Asgard. Because...” Because I was still naive enough to believe things were going the way they should. ”...Because I knew you would meet Sophia. And I knew the two of you would find some happiness.”

”But that doesn't last, does it?” Gwynn asked.

Does anything? she wondered. Thousands of years-countless generations gone-the only thing that seems to last is me...and Cain.

”No,” she said. ”It doesn't. Eventually, everything falls apart. Mom dies. You die. And I go running through time to try and fix it.”

”Because I told you to?”

”In a way. Your actual words were to kill Cain. You tore a hole in the Veil, unlike any I'd ever seen, and you told me to go. You said you would send me to a time when Cain was vulnerable, when I would be able to defeat him. The only problem was...” she closed her eyes, thinking about the moment she realized her father wasn't perfect. When she realized his mistake and what it meant. ”You sent me back too far. When I arrived, you were just born. I knew for eight years there would be no difference between Cain and the person who would become my father. So I stayed close. My ability is like a better version of Pridament's trick. I don't change myself, I just make people see what I want them to, even if that means seeing nothing.”

”And that's how you were able to be my 'imaginary' friend?”

She nodded.

”I don't even remember how the idea came to me. But it was a way to stay close and make sure I didn't miss anything important. Part of me even believed I could avoid Cain existing at all. I was so confident that if I acted as an influence on your early life, I could teach you better. I would be the moral scalpel to carve away the cancer that would be Cain.”

She gave a rueful laugh and shook her head.

”I was so stupid. You taught me, If the universe decides something has to happen, it'll find a way. I forgot that lesson. On the day when the world divided, I was in your room while you tried to decide if you were going to run away or not. I whispered in your ear-”

”Go with your parents,” Gwynn said.