"Not as I can tell. It's intriguing and unusual, to say the least. Of course, she doesn't leave her Dark One blood behind, no matter her form." He gave David a level look. "So her true face may be that of a Dark One. The other forms just give her a foothold in our world. As you know, Dark Ones can't live here. They can fight and reconnoiter, but after a certain amount of time, they must go back into the rifts to their own world. Even though she's never lived in a Dark One world, as far as we know, that craving is strong in her. But the desire is precariously balanced by other parts of her."
"When I first met her," David ventured, "I was able to heal one of her older scars, but she wouldn't let me do anything else for her. If it's beyond your skill, if angels can't heal old scars that are integrated with Dark One blood, how did I do that?"
Raphael's brows drew together. Another long silence, such that David almost regretted asking. Then the angel spoke.
"That is incredibly interesting, and unfortunately, I have no sure answer. There have been cases, when there was an unusual bond between beings, where equally unusual healings occurred." Raphael stared into space thoughtfully. "She is an anomaly, a creature created out of many different creatures. A Frankenstein's monster, if you will."
He gave a faint smile. "One of my favorite books inspired by our Muses. Imagine that monster, implanted with a murderer's heart and a wise man's brain, while the soul remains a question mark between the two. All I know for certain is that she is an enigma, David. That is what I can tell you."
David nodded. Executed a short bow. "I don't wish to leave in haste, but I promised Jonah I would be back shortly, and I must visit Zebul as well. Thank you for your time, my lord. I am grateful, as always."
"Lieutenant?" Raphael held him with a hand on his shoulder, but instead of comfort, this time the touch and his dark eyes held a piercing warning. "Her way is not set. Walking inside her soul was like walking the abandoned, fallow fields of Hell, where battles have been fought over and over. There is only carnage, and no clear winner. Be cautious."
Twelve
NEXT stop.
Every soul had a Memory Keeper, who cataloged and maintained all the memories of that soul and archived them, for recall later when the soul reincarnated, or reached the final resting place as an enlightened being. Memory Keepers were typically Powers. When he made his inquiry at the Hall of Souls, David was surprised to find that Pericles was Mina's Memory Keeper.
Pericles consistently served as a Memory Keeper for souls that might have a significant impact on whatever world they inhabited. Considering Mina was the only Dark Spawn known who hadn't surrendered to the blood within her, it made some sense.
He found Pericles in Zebul, the Sixth Heaven, immersed in discussion with several Thrones about the wisdom of having ever given Michelangelo a brush. The Sixth Heaven was dedicated to study, and he was sure the text Jonah was reading had been borrowed from here. The iridescent, cylindrical Thrones hovered in the mist of a fountain, their many eyes turning toward David as he approached. Pericles sat on the fountain wall, wearing a long, sleeveless robe and sandals, making David feel he'd stepped through a time portal. But then, Pericles had been born during the time of the ancient Greeks.
"May I have a moment of your time, Memory Keeper?" David bowed, giving indication of the nature of his business with the title. Pericles glanced toward David from under a thick fall of raven black hair held off his forehead with a simple gold circlet.
While the Thrones drifted away, David felt their warm touch in his mind, though they did not speak. He returned it, offering a simple blessing and thanks for their well-being and courtesy.
As he explained what he wanted, Pericles's wings, a pale blue with silver tips, gleamed as he adjusted them. He lifted, stretched, and then folded them over his back, giving the same impression as a parent folding his arms to reinforce the cool, probing stare he leveled upon David.
"I understand the request. But a Memory Keeper does not typically spill the memories of one of his souls into the mind of an infant lieutenant."
David bit back his impatience. He suspected attorney-client privilege might have been divinely inspired.
"I'm charged to protect her, and think if I know more of her background... experience her worst memory directly, I'll be able to better anticipate her. She's not easy to guard."
"My understanding is that's an understatement," the Memory Keeper said dryly. "You comprehend what her worst memory is?"
"I do."
"Your intent is pure," Pericles said at last. "If ill-advised. Very well, then. Sit here, on the wall a few feet away from me."
David complied, watching as Pericles rummaged in his robes, reminding him of Mina, and came forth with a small fabric pouch. Loosening the strings, he reached in and withdrew one seed. Where a moment before there had been nothing on the fountain wall between them, now there was an elegant clay cup. Picking up an urn that appeared next to it, Pericles poured. The dark liquid, with an aroma reminiscent of green tea, churned into the cup, becoming moist earth that covered the seed. Kicking off his sandals, the Memory Keeper curled his toes in the green grass around the fountain, leaning back on his arms in a waiting posture. On his leanly muscled arms were tattoos of ancient script, praises to the Artemis form of the Goddess.
"You know, many up here think you are simply young and foolish. That you will realize the best thing in the end is to kill the witch."
David studied the earth in the cup, which appeared to be sifting itself. "Jonah isn't hampered by inexperience, and he hasn't come to that conclusion yet. But since everyone feels the need to remind me of my youth, maybe I should have 'young and foolish' tattooed across my chest."
"Hmm." Pericles pursed his lips. "Wasn't there a dwarf in that Disney movie? Dopey? That one word covered it, and will save you extra lettering."
David snorted. "That it will. I thank you for your suggestion."
"I am sure." Pericles gave him a smile and glanced down at the cup as well. "The memories I carry can be amusing. Unfortunately, this is not one of them. This is not done lightly, Lieutenant. While all memories are scripted, once I've given you a memory, it will fade from my mind. But I will not miss this particular one."
"I'm sworn to protect her, no matter what type of protection she needs."
"Somehow, I believe your interpretation of her protection is a bit beyond the scope of what Jonah envisioned."
"Yet you've never spoken in favor of her death." David recalled the meeting several months before, when all those involved with the seawitch had been called together for discussion. "You said you preferred less biased minds to make the decision."
"That is because I honestly do not know what is the best course for the witch."
The earth tumbled in the cup and a stem poked through. As David watched, it extended and spread, took on needles. The bonsai grew swiftly, taking the shape of a small dragon, with one small, spherical white fruit where the eye might have been.
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Pericles plucked it, extended it to David. "The memory is in the fruit. You need to anchor yourself. Stay aware of who you are. That's very important. A mind is often disoriented after experiencing a strong memory not its own. It can permanently change you."
David thought of Raphael's words. "If I feared change, Pericles, it would do me little good, for it is the only inevitable thing in the universe. A promise."
"And a curse," the Power observed dourly. "I will watch over you." He motioned downward and David, respecting his wisdom, slid to the ground, using the fountain wall as a brace to his back. He brought the fruit to his lips.
"You do not hesitate," Pericles observed. "Definitely a sign of foolishness. Most would meditate a bit before experiencing a memory this strong."
"I don't have that kind of time. Is it entirely necessary?"
"No, but it will be far more unpleasant. You will have more difficulty remembering you are in her memory, not your own reality."
HE didn't remember the taste, or even the texture. In the time it took to take the bite, all that was swept away.
Like most, he'd heard a secondhand account of what had happened to Mina when she was nine, but there was a vast difference between knowing what had happened and experiencing it. As the memory thrust into his mind like the growth of the bonsai, the heavy silence of the water closed in.
His arms were bound. No. A child's were. A nine-year-old child. For a blink, a sliver of his mind struggled to remain separate, clinging to the fading words of a distant Power. But as the emotions flooded him, the first wave of what he was about to see and feel her endure, David knew he couldn't do it. He let the memory rip away who he was, so that he became his seawitch.
Chain pulled her arms back at an excruciating angle. Her wrists were bound tightly to her tentacles with pronged restraints that sunk into her serpentine appendages so the cuffs would not slip. If they dropped her, she would sink and roll like an unbalanced jellyfish, her vulnerable stomach ripped open by contact with the coral reefs of the Abyss, and predators would close in to feed on the tender young flesh.