Something to Remember Him By
“Are you still my Veronica?” I ask as we sprint for the car. “Or are you only Jaryx now?”
She shakes her head, blonde curls bouncing. “I’m both. And neither. And more.”
I glance at her as I yank open the driver’s side door and usher her inside across my seat. Her eyes glisten with both ancient wisdom and fresh sorrow.
“I remember a future lifetime as Veronica,” she explains. “The eventual leader of the priesthood, long prophesied to guide humanity into a new age. And I did. Do. Will. There are hard times ahead, Maeve. I know I’m up to the task, but only because I remember what I’ve done to give the human race a chance to persist and even to thrive.”
She climbs over to the passenger side, crushing the paper bag of cookies as she tumbles into her seat. White powder poofs out all over the seat. Seconds later, I peel out of the driveway, swerving around a dozen wolves still clamoring over her old enemy’s body. Veronica doesn’t even glance their way.
“Did. . .did you do. . .that?” I whisper.
Should I be afraid of my little girl?
“I didn’t have to. As the teachings say, Nature reflects what’s around us. All Nature responds. Like me, it remembers.”
I say nothing. Instead, I wonder about the coming extinction event, about the storms and violence Nature will reflect on the human race.
Because Nature remembers.
Veronica clutches at the edge of her seat to stay upright. Without her legs long enough to be flat on the floorboard of my car, she can’t brace effectively.
“But Maeve, I also remember an entire past lifetime, under a name not easily pronounced in twentieth century English.” Her voice catches. “And I grieve for it. I don’t want to forget. But I don’t know how I can endure this torment of longing for what I lost.”
“Oh, Veronica.” I can’t stand to see her hurting, whether she’s a toddler or an old soul returning for a future of more impact than I could ever dream for myself.
A single tear trails down her cheek. She brushes it away angrily. “I know I’ll see him again. I’ll be with him. We’ll be together. We’ll have love again. We will.” She sighs heavily as if reassuring herself. “But right now, the pain of losing him is still so raw. To me, he died only a few days ago. And it will be so long before we can reunite.”
My heart aches for her. No child should have to carry such sorrow. No woman.
“We Daeganeans weren’t meant to recall two full lifetimes,” she continues. “If I have to forget one, I’d rather it be the past. At least in my future life, we had forty-five happy years together before I died. Okay, well, as happy as they could be while trying to salvage what we could of civilization after the pole shift. It’s strange, isn’t it? How both joy and sorrow can exist at the same time? How we can feel love and warmth even when struggle is all around us? I’m not sure I could have made it through those crazy times without my—without my Shelby.”
At the mention of his name, she dissolves into sobs. My mothering instincts take over. “Shhhh, it’s okay,” I soothe, patting her tiny knee. But she shakes her head violently.
“I’m not afraid of the wolves. Or anything they do to protect me. I’m afraid of forgetting! It’s already fading—my life as the Queen of Wolves.” She covers her face with small hands, sniffling back the tears and failing. “I’m losing myself, Maeve. I’m losing everything I was. I rarely shed a tear a thousand years ago, and I’ll rarely shed a tear in this lifetime when I’m an adult, but starting over as a child, I can’t even stop myself from crying or controlling these god-awful waves of emotion.”
I grip the wheel. “I’m not sure where we’re going, but we’ve got a long trip ahead. Why don’t you try to sleep while I drive?”
“I’m afraid to sleep. What if I wake up and I don’t remember where I came from? What if I don’t remember the past—or the future? I came into this incarnation knowing the future. I won’t be offered that gift when I Initiate into the priesthood because I already have it. What if I lose it and don’t find it again until my Initiation? What if the future isn’t set?”
I start to say something but stop myself. I don’t have any answers.
As we near the exit of our gated country club community, I spot the High Council’s two vehicles blocking the way. One speeds off to aid their fallen ally while the other swerves to trap us.
Slamming on brakes, I fling my arm protectively in front of Veronica to keep her in her seat. I throw the car in reverse, tires squealing. “Don’t worry—we’ll get out of this,” I assure Veronica.
“There’s no way out!” she cries. “They’re going to corner us!”
“No, they won’t. I’ve got it under control.”
I’m lying, and Veronica and I both know it. She’s no three-year-old.
“Maeve, no. They’re going to corner us. Some parts, I remember. Your neighbor isn’t coming to save us. Neither is your guest from last night.”
Spencer’s dead. Vanished without a trace, according to Veronica’s old enemy. Unable to get through the portal to take us away. What had they done to him to trap him in some other dimension? My heart sinks as I accept Spencer won’t be coming back.
Veronica seems to read my mind. “You’re the only one who can save me now.”
And I will. Whatever it takes.
I whip the car around, peeling down the residential street toward the golf course with the High Council gaining on us. Veronica braces herself against each sharp turn, eyes wide with fear but also with an odd sort of resignation. Today’s the day, and we both know it.
“Did he at least leave weapons?” she asks desperately.
I shake my head, one hand clutching the steering wheel and the other skimming the bumps of the pearls in my pocket. Pretty but useless. Just something to remember him by.
With a sharp turn of the wheel, I guide the car down the next narrow side street away from the adjacent golf course and its open, flat land. If I can lose them for a few minutes, I can double back through the older streets that border on a neighborhood park. Behind us, the High Council’s vehicle disappears from view.
Dead end! I’m on the wrong street.
In a moment of panic, I spot a small driveway next to one of the oldest houses in our neighborhood and swerve into it with whining tires. The car grinds to a halt in the back yard behind an old, dilapidated shed that defies our homeowners’ association rules. Its rusted metal walls, held in place by a lushly green vine, offer little cover. The smell of oil and dirt fills my nostrils as I quickly shut off the engine.
“Hurry!” I cry, scrambling out and lifting Veronica from the seat to the ground.
We crouch down, peering through the slats of the shed where the metal walls have separated. Even with my car parked behind its walls, with a house between us and the street, I’m not sure we’re fully hidden from our pursuers.
“We can’t stay here, Maeve.”
The quaint, white house sits at the very end of the street, nestled against a wide greenbelt that stretches out to meet a sprawling park full of places to hide and a straightforward path to a nearby mall full of people and, hopefully, protection. Towering trees provide shade and privacy under normal conditions, but will they be enough to shield Veronica from Moira and her entourage? Or from Ouida’s goons?
Just as I start to assure Veronica we’re okay for the moment, a door slams. “You!” an old man yells, his voice cracking as he descends the steps of his back porch. “You two! Get off my land!” He raises a golf club in the air in warning. “Now!”
I hold up my palms in surrender. “We’re being followed,” I begin as he stalks toward us.
“I don’t give a flying flip. You’re that hippie girl who lives over there next to the Caseys. I’ve seen you around with that baby of yours. No husband, lots of money, and that tells me you’re up to no good.”
I start to protest, but there’s no point. We might stand a chance if he weren’t raising a ruckus where Moira might see us. One glance at Veronica and I know we’re thinking the same thing—or maybe she’s just remembering what I’m about to do.
The old man stops yelling long enough to glare at the two black sedans pulling into his driveway. The two cars aren’t any more welcome than Veronica and I are, and he stalks toward them instead, golf club in the air like a lightning rod. He has no idea who he’s messing with!
We bolt towards the dense woods bordering the nearby park. The sounds of fighting grow louder behind us—until suddenly, alarmingly, silence falls like a suffocating blanket.
Veronica’s breath comes in ragged gasps as she tries to keep up with my frantic pace, her feet pounding against the hard ground. Ahead of us, I spot a tall chain-link fence, its sharp points reaching towards the sky and cutting through the thick trees. With adrenaline pumping through my veins, I dash towards a small shed nestled in the shadows.
“We have to climb over,” I say. Veronica nods, face pale but determined.
With a boost from my hands, I hoist Veronica up onto the roof and then quickly scramble up myself, feeling the rough wood beneath my palms and the cool metal of the roof under my bare feet.
I wince as the two-day-old sprain in my ankle screams in protest. Ignoring the pain, I help Veronica over the top and jump down after her, forcing a landing on my “good” foot, even though it’s sore from cuts and bruises from the cave-in.
We dart through the dense foliage—her feet pounding against the earth, mine limping—as we race deeper into the woods. The tree branches reach out like gnarled fingers, as if trying to grab at our clothes and slow us down. Ahead, the park comes into view, its playground equipment standing out against the natural backdrop. We can see the shining metal slides and intricate monkey bars beckoning us forward, promising hours of fun and adventure we’ll never have together.
The park is nearly deserted—unfortunately we have no crowds to disappear into. But also no innocent bystanders for the High Council to mow down in their pursuit of the former Queen of Wolves.
Without hesitation, we pick up our pace. We need to put as much distance as possible between the priesthood and us. Maybe we can disappear into a different neighborhood or find a payphone in the mall and call Mr. Casey. Another hundred feet to go before we can stand a chance at safety.
Tires screech at the entrance to the park. Instantly, I know they’re not random cars on a nearby street.
I grab Veronica’s hand, nearly lifting her from the ground, and we run, ducking behind an overturned picnic table. Our backs press against its rough surface as we frantically peek through the cracks between its wooden slats. Our breaths are shallow and quick. My chest hurts from the lack of oxygen.
The slam of car doors echoes across the playground. One, two. . .three. . .four doors. Then another four slam. A shuffle of feet through the leaves, through pine bark mulch, through polished river rock. One hangs back and walks more softly, but they’re all coming. All eleven of them.
Moira’s voice pierces the air like a sharpened blade, slicing through the tension. “Veronica!” she barks, her tone both grandmotherly and commanding, leaving no room for disobedience. “Come to me, Veronica. No one with me is going to hurt you. Veronica!”
“Jaryx,” calls another. Probably one of the ones who absolutely will hurt a little girl if given the chance. The priesthood has enemies outside and inside, even if it’s its own worst enemy most of the time. That’s something only Veronica can fix.
They spread out, calling both her names—her current name and her ancient soul name. I glance at her to see if she’s swayed, but she’s more resolute than I am. Clenching her shoulder, I will them to turn back. Once they pass the table, then they’ll spot us from the other side.
Veronica trembles against me. I squeeze her hand, bracing to flee or fight. Whatever happens, I will give my life to protect hers.
“I’m going to distract them,” I whisper so softly that I can barely hear my voice.
Veronica shakes her head wildly and mouths, “No! They’ll kill you.”
A fear? Or a memory?
I press my lips into a smile. “I’ll distract them and you run. When you reach the street, head through the alley behind the dry cleaner. You’ll come out at the mall. Hide in the arcade. It’s always busy, and no one’s going to think you’re out of place. Ask them to call your uncle. Mr. Casey’s in the phone book. He’ll get you to safety and—”
“No, Maeve. No,” she whimpers.
I can’t tell if it’s her old soul speaking or my little girl, but my heart fills up looking at her.
“I love you always, Peanut.”
Before I can stand, she grabs my hand and pulls me close. “There’s something missing. Didn’t Mythryx leave any weapons? Portals?” She blinks rapidly. “A portal. He left some kind of portal.” Her eyes search mine. “The hair pins he used as a portal. He said he and his friend Terre had been working on weapons. Portals!”
I shake my head, defeated. “I’m so sorry. Just the two pearl necklaces that—”
We stare at each other. Hands trembling, I dig them out and slip the smaller one around Veronica’s neck She pats it against her chest, but nothing happens.
“Veronica!”
“Jaryx!”
The voices and footfalls are closer, closer.
I hold the longer string of pearls in my palm. What am I supposed to do with it?
Veronica’s eyes widen. “I remember. You raised them over your head.”
I weave the beads through my fingers, like a cat’s cradle of string, and feel the sting of energy. It’s not an external power source—it’s my own life force that powers it. ”
“Veronica!”
“Jaryx!”
Footfalls crunch closer. We’re seconds away from being discovered and surrounded.
Veronica wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face in my chest, clinging to me as a bubble of spritzing electricity—my own energy—opens around us, from the tips of my fingers to my bare and throbbing toes.
Veronica seems unaffected. Blue fire envelops us both.
An intense exhaustion washes over me, leaving every cell in my body feeling drained. I stifle a scream and close my eyes.
So this is what death feels like.
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