I stare down at the sleeping goblin, overcome with worry, but I seem to have run out of tears over the past few days. I’ve placed Kit in a shoebox, along with a decent amount of bedding, and although he’s still breathing, he remains comatose. I’ve done everything I can think of to wake him up, consulting everyone in the house as I try to figure out what’s wrong with him, but nothing is working. If times were normal, we could track down someone specialising in supernatural ailments, but just bringing Ruby back was a big risk, and besides, we don’t have time. Tomorrow is the day that, for better or worse, we’re going to London to face off against the higher gods. I’ve known it was coming, obviously, but that doesn’t make the reality of it any more bearable, especially when our method of transportation is down for the count. Storm did an admirable job bringing us back from Emerald’s place, but arriving in London via tornado isn’t the best way of keeping a low profile. Still, what choice do we have?
The idea that Kit might have overexerted himself at my command fills me with guilt, and I don’t know what I’m going to do if he doesn’t pull through. I don’t think I can handle having any more blood on my hands. It’s just too painful.
Letting out a long breath, I give the goblin a gentle nudge, but he doesn’t stir. The shallow movements of his chest are the only thing proving that he’s even still alive. I took the liberty of leaving some food upstairs with him in case he wakes up, but I’m losing confidence. Whatever optimism I once had has gone by the wayside over the past few weeks, and when I look at myself in the mirror, I hardly even recognise the person looking back at me.
And it all comes down to Neritous.
I can feel my nails digging into my palms as I clench my hands into fists, staring down at Kit glumly while he continues to sleep. There’s nothing for it now, though; it’s out of my hands at this point. Gently, I set the box down on the floor beside my bed, so that if he comes to, he’ll have easy access to his hidey hole. Just straightening back up leaves me feeling immensely tired, like an old woman. How ironic, I think bitterly. Immortal, but this whole thing has still managed to age me. I can hear the others downstairs, strategizing, and I know I should join them. What allies Seth still has will be pouring into the city right now, and Neritous isn’t going to let them slip past his defences. I’m not under any illusions that there won’t be a battle, and the prospect of losing people is looking less and less like a possibility and more and more like an inevitability. It hurts, but there’s no way around it: we have to end this, one way or another.
I’m overcome by a sudden wave of exhaustion, and I drop heavily to a seat on my bed, bowing my head to rest in my hands and closing my eyes for a long moment. I’m so caught up in my own thoughts that I barely even register the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and when there’s a knock at the door, it makes me jump. “Come in,” I say, forcing myself to sound peppier than I feel.
The door opens slowly, revealing mum’s face. Her expression is stoic and unreadable, but it’s a relief to see that her eyes aren’t bloodshot from crying currently. The level of her grief has never been lost on me. “Hey,” I say, a little surprised to see her.
“Hi,” she replies, lingering in the doorway. She looks fidgety and unsure of herself. “How is Kit?” she asks.
“The same,” I answer. “He won’t wake up, he won’t eat, he won’t respond. At this rate I’m starting to wonder if—” But the words catch in my throat, the possibility too sad to imagine.
“He’ll come around,” mum says, but I can see the uncertainty in her expression. “Just give him time.”
“Yeah,” I reply listlessly. “Maybe.”
There’s another long pause. “Do you mind if I come sit with you?” mum asks tentatively.
“Um, no. Of course not. Feel free.” I’m a little taken aback; this will be the first time she’s come to talk to me of her own accord since Hugo’s death, her days usually spent ruminating or crying. I know she needs space, and I’m not going to be the one to tell her how to mourn, especially when I’m at the heart of this whole thing. My entire family has been fighting Neritous since I was born, knowingly or not, and he has taken so much from my family and me. It might have been Xur who killed my mother and my extended family, but it was because of Neritous. But still, if I had never been born, my family wouldn’t be suffering this way, so it still feels like my fault.
Mum slowly closes the door behind her, taking a few slow steps into the room, her arms wrapped around her small frame in a sort of hug. Wordlessly, she moves to sit down next to me, and I scoot over to make room. Part of me wants to ask why she’s here, but I don’t. Instead, we just sit in silence for a few moments, each lost in her own thoughts. “Do you remember your last birthday?” mum asks suddenly, turning to look at me. “When I brought you that lightning charm?”
“Yeah,” I reply, straightening up. “You brought me breakfast in bed. Peanut butter. And gave me a surprise charm that would help boost the powers inside of me.” I snort, shaking my head. “I didn’t take it seriously then.” Meeting her gaze, I add solemnly, “I won’t be making that mistake again.”
Mum swallows. “Karma…” Her voice trails off, and she breaks eye contact, looking like she’s searching for the right words. “I don’t want you to think you’re responsible for any of this.”
Strangely, that just makes me want to cry again. “People keep telling me that,” I say glumly. “I know you’re my mum, and I know you love me, but you don’t need to act like I’m innocent.”
Mum sucks in a ragged breath. “I’ve been thinking about your birthday a lot, you know,” she tells me, making my brow furrow. “About when I gave you that charm. In that moment, I came close to telling you the truth, about everything. Neritous, your biological mother, your abilities…” She shakes her head. “But I took the easy way out. I thought letting you learn for yourself would be an easier transition. If I had known it would lead to…any of this, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“Mum…” I move closer to her. This is the first I’m hearing of someone else feeling guilty for their involvement in all this. “You did the best you could,” I tell her. “Not just with my birthday, with all of it. You raised me. You loved me like I was your own daughter. How could you ever blame yourself for what happened?”
Mum sighs, giving me a smile without much mirth in it. “I guess we’re in the same boat then, huh? Regrets.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Lots of regrets.”
She turns to me suddenly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You need to know that I don’t regret taking you in, Karma. Not for a moment—not for a damn instant.” The language startles me, and the sudden conviction in her eyes warms me a little somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach. “I may not have given birth to you, but you are my daughter. And I could never fault you for any of this.”
“But—” I protest.
Mum holds up a hand. It’s clear that she’s struggling to keep a hold on her emotions. “If you’re going to blame anyone,” she tells me, “blame Neritous. Blame the higher gods, and their corruption, and their prison. You’re as much of a victim in this as anyone else. But you’re also a survivor, and I…” She swallows hard, blinking back tears and refusing to let me look away. “I couldn’t be prouder of the woman you’ve become, Karma. I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”
“Mum…” Trembling a little, I reach over and hug her, more tightly than I’ve ever done in my life. She seems to relax a little, stroking my hair like she did when I was a little girl.
It’s not until we break apart that she says anything else, and the next words out of her mouth hit me hard. “Maria would have been proud of you, too,” she says, her voice soft and sincere.
I blink, the corner of my mouth twitching in a sceptical half-smile. “You think so?”
Mum chuckles, putting an arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer. “I know so. She didn’t anticipate any of this, either. She planned on raising you, you know, her own way. I did the best that I could to give you a good life, the only way I knew how.”
“You did a great job,” I tell her. “Don’t ever doubt that.”
Mum doesn’t reply right away, and briefly I wonder if I said the wrong thing. “You’re so much like her,” she murmurs, not looking at me, and I’m not sure if she’s speaking more to me or to herself. “So much so that sometimes it hurt to look at you in the beginning. It was like looking at a carbon copy of Maria.”
“Well,” I say, hoping to lighten the mood, “red hair and green eyes isn’t exactly a common combo.”
“Not just in looks,” mum says, shaking her head. “In the way you see the world. In your idealism. I know that you’re tough, and that you usually don’t let things get to you—chalk it up to having all male siblings, I suppose—but you’ve never once let the world of the gods make you cynical. Maria was the same way: funny, charming, powerful. Always seeing the best in people.”
I sigh. “I don’t know about that, mum. I’m starting to lose faith in the whole system.”
“As well you should,” she agrees. “But I want you to promise me something, Karma.”
I turn to her. “I’m going to try my best, mum, but there’s no guarantee that—”
“I know,” she interrupts, holding up a hand. “I know you have to go, and I know there’s no other choice. I came to terms with that a long time ago.” I feel a bit relieved at that; it’s a conversation I’ve known was going to have to happen sooner or later, but the idea of telling the woman who raised me that I might not be coming back from my trip to London feels almost unspeakable. “I want you to promise me that you won’t let this make you cold, Karma,” mum says, and I’m surprised by how easily she asks it of me. “The world of gods is a brutal, ugly place,” she continues. “The world of humans, too. Some things are universal, I guess. But they don’t have to be,” she adds. “At the end of the day, the choices you make are going to shape the world. If the higher gods are defeated, there will need to be a new order, a new system…a new everything.
“You have the chance to make things better,” she tells me, and she sounds almost sure enough to make me believe it. “So don’t let Neritous turn you hard. Keep that fighting spirit. The genetics are great, but at the end of the day, that’s the most important thing that Maria ever gave to you.”
It’s a simple request, but it makes something stir deep inside me, and I feel a fresh wave of hope wash over me. Neritous let power and malevolence turn him into a tyrant. His evil runs in my veins…but so does my mother’s good. It’s in that moment that I resolve to continue to nurture that, whatever it takes. “Okay, mum,” I say, nodding. “I promise.”
“Good,” she says, getting to her feet. “Do you want some lunch? The others are getting ready to eat.”
