Anne Winchell - The Last War

“Wow,” she said, not knowing what else to say. “Should we bring it somewhere? Outside the city or something where it can live?”

“It seems to be happy here,” Raven said, glancing at the nearby produce. “There must be more of them somewhere nearby. We’ll have to be more careful when we’re out here.”

She nodded. The word ‘we’ sounded especially good. They finished collecting the ripe vegetables and returned inside. Klaus was at the stove, as usual, and Raven quickly excused himself and went upstairs. Klaus had grudgingly lent him the use of one of the spare rooms. Nalia set the basket down and told him about the animal.

“Well, the soil is from a rural area,” Klaus said, sounding disinterested.

She wondered if he really felt that way or if he were just being difficult because Raven had been interested in the animal. Nalia couldn’t figure out a way to make Klaus see that Raven had changed and that Raven sincerely regretted the loss of lives at the Graveyard Massacre. They hadn’t talked about it, exactly, but she could tell. Raven looked around sometimes like he was seeing ghosts and his behavior around Klaus and other relatives of the deceased was much more withdrawn than he was with Nalia.

“Last week’s march in Paris went well, I heard,” Nalia said. “You talked to the rep?”

The European representative was a thin man who visited every week with news. Normally he insisted on talking to Nalia and Nalia alone, but she had been gone when he arrived. Klaus said the rep had wanted to stage a full search and immediately blame the government for interference. Personally, Nalia thought the rep just wanted a few minutes alone with her. The thought disgusted her; his flirting was so crude and over-the-top. But Klaus said he was important to the movement so Nalia put up with him. She even led him on, a little, just for fun. It was kind of nice knowing that someone thought she was beautiful, even if she thought he was slimier than the snail had been.

“He said everything was peaceful, they made their point and the police allowed the march. Doesn’t think it’s going to change anything. The European state is the weakest in the Eastern World. We need protests in all major cities in all the states before something happens.”

Nalia agreed. She didn’t bring up the fact that he was almost quoting something Raven had said earlier about the movement’s realistic chances of being heard. Raven had been quite pessimistic about the matter but he had offered good, sound advice that even Klaus found appealing.

“I’ve been trying,” Nalia said. “But the weather’s so bad right now for so many places, it’s hard. We might have to wait for winter, or at least fall.”

It was an argument she had heard before, and one she had given. Marching in NeoLondon or Paris was one thing, but expecting the same in NeoCairo or Seoul was entirely different. Below the 40 thparallel, going outside in the summer was rarely even an option. Most places had either violent desert storms or heavy humidity and monsoons, and people remained in the carefully fortified cities as much as possible. While Nalia did expect her people to be willing to risk their lives for liberty and equal rights, she didn’t want anyone hurt unnecessarily. Winters weren’t much better, but a larger number of people were able to move freely then.

“I was thinking of asking Raven to contact the African states to see—”

Klaus sighed heavily and Nalia stopped in annoyance.

“Look, father, he’s helping us now and we might as well make use of his connections.”

“He’s helping us now,” Klaus conceded. “But why? He has an ulterior motive, I’m sure. And even if he doesn’t, he’s just going to leave eventually. You shouldn’t count on him for long-term support. Or anything, for that matter.”

Nalia resumed putting away the vegetables. It was impossible to talk to her father about anything relating to Raven. She shouldn’t have even tried, but the thought of all the possibilities his presence opened up was exciting to her. She wanted to share that excitement with someone.

“Look, Nalia,” Klaus said, stopping his work and taking her hand. He led her to the table and sat down, keeping her hands in his. “I know you think I’m being harsh with him. I know Bryce is a good person at heart. He was then, he is now. And I know that he takes his responsibilities very seriously, and I’m sure your mother’s death was as traumatic for him as it was for all of us. But you have to understand that he’s done things since then, terrible things. He’s killed people, Nalia, you know that.”

Nalia lowered her head. She did know. Raven never tried to deny it. He didn’t talk about his past much, not directly. It was just hard to imagine a sane, intelligent person taking another person’s life on purpose. Raven was sane, he was intelligent, and Nalia simply couldn’t believe that it was true. Maybe he had caused people’s deaths, or been in some way responsible. But it shouldn’t be possible for one human to deliberately take the life of another. That was what Kaonism taught, and what Nalia believed. People died to protect what they loved, people sometimes killed to protect as well, but those people were never the same after.

It was why murder or any form of killing resulted in the death penalty in the Western World. One of the images that Nalia and the others used to protest Kaonite laws was the picture of a young woman, a new mother. She had been driving her child to the doctor when a man jumped from an over passing walkway and landed on her car. She crashed and the man died, with a suicide note strapped to his chest. She and her child were injured but alive. She was given a trial and sentenced to death because she had been driving the car that caused the man’s death. Motive didn’t matter in Kaonite courts, but it did matter to Nalia. Maybe Raven had been forced into similar situations where he had killed someone on accident, or because there were no other options.

“Well,” Klaus said, awkwardly removing his hands and rubbing them on his apron as he stood up, “I just want you to know that I do understand. I do. But he isn’t who he appears to be, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” she said.

He looked pleased by the name; she hadn’t called him Daddy since her first transformation into a díamont. Since then, he had been more of a coach and instructor than a real father. Nalia hadn’t even considered that he might have her best interests in mind. She had assumed he was trapped in the past, stuck on his wife’s death, but he was only trying to look out for her. She offered to help in the kitchen and he accepted, and Nalia couldn’t remember the last time they had felt so peaceful together.

Raven had been living in the slums for several days now and hadn’t slept soundly a single night. It wasn’t just the memories of his time here, he thought as he pulled the thin blanket to his chin and attempted to relax. It was seeing Nalia and her father interact. He could remember a time in his life when he had parents who cared for him the way Klaus cared for Nalia. Every time he fell asleep, he had the same dream. The dream was based in memory, he knew, and it had haunted him his entire life. The dream had changed over time but not much. It always started with his mother singing a lullaby, and images and words and sounds from the dream leaked into his mind whenever he shut his eyes.

I am six when they are killed. Too old to be sung to sleep, but my father is working late and my mother is giving me extra attention. Her voice is sweet and gentle, and I know that I am loved. Completely, unconditionally loved. I am safe. My mother is at my side; my father will be home soon to kiss my forehead goodnight.