by G. Bailey
“Why would he?” asks Maria, shaking her head. “For all he’s concerned, she would just be a bastard hybrid, and a threat to the higher gods. Besides, he broke up with me two months ago, and I’m sure he has forgotten me by now,” she adds, and I can hear the heartbreak in her words. Mum simply nods and tilts her head to the side. I’m sure she was a shoulder to cry on; they look so close right now, the same way Peyton and I are close.
“He is a fool, but you are not alone,” Mum tells her. “I will be here for you, I promise, and Peyton will be a brilliant cousin to this little one,” she says. “And one day you can meet another man, a kinder one, and no will ever have to know who this baby’s real father is.”
“Do you mean that, Blaine?” asks Maria, a wave of emotions seeming to pass over her.
“Of course I do, Sister,” says Mum. “We can keep it a secret, you and me. I’m the only one who knew you were dating a higher god in the first place. This never has to leave this treehouse.”
“I love you, sister,” Maria says, smiling widely as she places her head on my mum’s shoulder. “It’s going to be difficult. She’ll have abilities. Eventually she’ll have questions.”
“We’ll deal with those when they come,” Mum assures her. “Now is the scary part,” she continues, grinning a little. “Now you have to tell Holly and Daniella. They are going to freak out that everyone is having babies.” They both begin to laugh at that, the sense of relief that passes between them palpable. My eyes begin to drift closed again, and although I fight it, desperate to remain in this moment, the magic is too strong. My head bows as my eyes shut, and I can feel the environment changing around me.
When I open my eyes again, I find myself in a completely different place, and the sight is hard to see. The smell of blood and medicine fills the air, and the small room feels almost stifling. Maria is screaming blue murder on a bed, and my mum is at her side, holding her hand. An older woman is kneeling between her legs, shouting at her to push. This older woman has curly grey hair, but the tips are still red, so I have a feeling she is related to us somehow.
I look to my left, where two women are holding hands and waiting. One has curly black hair and looks so much like Damien, whereas the other woman has short red hair with big bright blue eyes. They must be my aunts, Holly and Daniella, if I had to take a guess. I look back just as a baby’s cry fills my ears, and the older woman hands Maria a newborn baby, covered in blood. There’s a dusting of freckles on her face, and on her head is a tuft of red hair. It’s me.
“Thank you, mum,” Maria says, sounding out of breath as I step forward and pull my eyes from the woman who must have been my grandmother. Everyone rushes to Maria’s side as my mum wipes the baby down in Maria’s arms. I don’t move, but I can’t help but hear everything she says anyway.
“My sweet little girl. I love you so much,” Maria softly says, leaning down and kissing the baby’s head. Another sob leaves my lips when I see the way Maria looks at her child, and how much love there is in her eyes. How she looked at me. I’m the baby she is holding, the baby she is so in love with.
“The girl is extremely early, a good four weeks, Maria,” my grandmother tells her.
“She’s perfect,” Maria insists.
“Yes,” agrees my grandmother, “but there is so much blood. Why doesn’t someone quickly take the baby to a healer and come back? I can heal you for when the baby is back, as you need to be strong.” She puts a wrinkled hand on Maria’s shoulder; I guess I was in a rush to come into the world. Mum never did talk about my birth, though she spoke a lot about the boys and how painful they were. I feel like a million clues were right there, but until the right part of the puzzle came to light, it never made sense.
Maria gives a curt nod. “You’re right,” she says, before turning to Blaine. “I trust you, Blaine. Will you take her?”
“Of course,” says my Mum. “I will be right back; I’m sure is she completely fine, but mum is right as usual. Best to be safe, and a magical healer can quickly check her.” She places her hand on Maria’s shoulder, and they exchange a loving look. “Then you can finally tell us the name you’ve been keeping a secret.”
“Oh stop being silly. Blaine and your baby girl will be back in a second,” my grandmother says, making Maria laugh as my mum picks up the baby, wrapping her in a white blanket.
“I will get the portal as I’m best at them,” Holly says, jumping off the bed and crossing her arms before clicking her fingers. I didn’t know Holly could do that. It’s pretty nifty. A gold portal burns into the room, and my mum looks back at Maria and her family once more.
“Thanks, Hol. I will be right back.”
My eyes are forced to close once more, and it makes me dizzy as I open them again, this time it makes me scream. Blood is everywhere in the hallway I’m in, slathered across the walls and the stairs. On the stairs is my grandmother and a man holding her, who I assume is my grandad. Their throats are slit, and sickness fills my throat as I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. I look to my left, where my mum has just stepped out of a portal, holding the baby. She lets out a cry, a purely pain-filled cry that I will never forget. The look in her eyes, the pain in her voice is haunting. I’m just watching a memory, and it kills me to see this…but mum had to live it. She lost her entire family.
“MARIA! HOLLY! DANIELLA!” my mum screams, making the baby cry from the crying and shouting. Mum climbs up the stairs, careful to step over her parents. I follow her, even though I don’t want to see what I’m sure is up there. I know this story...but I just didn’t know about me.
“Holly,” mum cries when she finds her at the top of the stairs, a massive hole in her heart. “Daniella,” she softly cries next, finding her next to her sister, both of them holding hands as they died. Her throat is cut like her parents’, and there is so much blood that mum slips in it, almost dropping the screaming baby. My mum hurries, getting to the end of the corridor and pushing the door to the bedroom open. There, in the middle of the room, is Maria on the floor, with a gold sword pressed into her stomach.
“Oh god,” my mum cries, rushing over and falling to her knees next to Maria, who is still alive, I think. I run over, standing over them as my mum places her hand on Maria’s cheek, as she coughs up a little blood.
“Your baby is okay. You will be okay. Then we can figure out a name for her and go hide somewhere. It’s all going to be okay,” mum tells Maria, though we all know this story doesn’t have a happy ending. “Who did this?”
“Neritous,” she whispers, lifting a blood-covered finger and placing it on the baby’s cheek for just a second.
“I can heal you somehow. I will go and get a healer; you can’t die now! Maria, your baby needs you! I need you. Please, please. Gods, any god, please don’t let her die.” My mum’s pleas aren’t heard though. No one comes as Maria takes my mum’s hand in hers.
“K-arma,” Maria coughs out before her head rolls to the side, and my mum screams as she cries. The baby cries too, just like I do as I fall to my knees at the side of Maria. I shakily place my hand on Maria’s hand, my voice catching in my mouth as I look at her. I wish I could close her open eyes; I wish I could tell her that I love her too.
“Thank you for being my mother. I will not forget you.” My eyes close, and this time when I open them, I’m back looking at mum on the sofa. The room is so light, so bright and clean compared to where I just was that it is startling. I quickly drop the charm as my hands shake, and my mum tries to reach for me, but I can’t let her touch me yet. I crawl off the sofa, shaking my head as a sob leaves my lips.
“Why did you name me Karma?” I ask, and I’m not sure why, but I need to hear her say it.
“You know why. It was the last word your mother said, and it’s who you are. You are Karma for the man who did that to them. Neritous wanted to kill you, but he was too late, and then you delivered his karma in the end by killing him. Everything has a price in this world,” she softly tells me, trying to reach for
me once more, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m running out of the room as tears stream down my cheeks.
I wanted the truth, but I never expected it to crush me like it just did.
6
I can feel my heart pounding in my ears like a drum as I run down the corridor, making a hard left at the end and finding myself in front of a massive stone archway. It frames a set of ancient oak doors that stand open wide, beckoning me to the world outside the palace. I don’t know where I’ll end up when I leave, but right now, I don’t care; my brain feels full to bursting, my emotions are like a live wire, and fresh air under the tropical sun feels like my only lifeline in this moment. Everything I saw in my mother’s memories is swirling around in my head like a vicious torrent, and it’s all I can do not to throw myself onto the stone floor and cry out in pain and confusion as I struggle to process the images. Breathing like I’ve just run a marathon, I rush through the arch and onto the cobblestone pathway that snakes away from the palace. Far off in the distance on either side, I can see the castle walls, which continue all the way up to the shoreline. Even though I’m outside, I’m still trapped.
The pathway winds its way down the hill and onto a big pebble beach. Out in the water, I can make out the forms of large rocks jutting into the sky on the horizon, the waves crashing rhythmically against them. The fact that there are stones and not pebbles slows me down once I step off the path, crunching into my feet and digging painfully into my soles until I’m forced to stop. I suppose that’s a good thing - where would I go, anyway?
I let my shoulders slump as I stand there on the beach, staring up at the bright early morning sky and feeling the warm salty air blow my dress around.
This is the real world, Karma, I tell myself, closing my eyes and trying to focus on the smell of the sea, desperate to ground myself in something other than the blood and pain of my loved ones. This is the real world, not the world you just saw.
Except those reassurances ring hollow. Those images might only be memories now, but they’re memories of true events. And no matter what I might say to convince myself otherwise, that is my true past. That’s the story part of me has been seeking out ever since that night at the club, and possibly even long before that. I’ve spent so much time agonizing over this, searching for the truth, and now that it’s finally been shown to me, I find myself at a total loss. I’ve sacrificed so much to get to this, only to learn that all this tragedy and death was because of me in the end. Maybe it’s not logical to blame myself, but what part of this is logical? And at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter if I wanted any of this to happen or not. If I hadn’t been born, my mother would still be alive. Jade would still be alive.
Neritous wouldn’t have killed my mother and her family if she hadn’t been pregnant with me. He probably wanted to kill me, and didn’t realize that I had already been born by the time he reached my mother. I guess being early into this world actually saved my life in the end… but that’s all I can say for it. The image of that gold sword pushed through my mother’s stomach is not something I will ever forget. The agony in her eyes, her last rattling breaths… it doesn’t matter that I never knew her. She loved me, and she died to protect me. She seemed sweet and kind, and even though we only got a few moments together, I still felt how much she cared for me, across the vast distance of space and time.
I suddenly feel all the life go out of my legs, and my knees buckle. I drop to the ground, pebbles skittering out all around me as I stare out at the infinite ocean, and slowly I drag my knees up to my chest. Before I can fight it, more tears are coming, and I drop my head onto my knees as my shoulders shake with sobs.
My father killed my mother. My aunts. My grandparents. And if he could have, I’m sure he would have killed me, too. Innocent people died because of me; all these years, they have been forgotten, never even spoken of out of fear that Neritous will one day track me down again. This secret has poisoned my entire family, and now it’s poisoning the only people I have left.
“Karma?” a familiar voice shouts over the sea breeze. It’s like something out of a dream, and for a moment I nearly laugh at the absurdity of it all. But then the voice calls my name again, and I drag my head up from my knees to identify where it’s coming from. What I see is nearly enough to make me do a double take, my eyes going wide and my jaw dropping open.
Mads is running toward me across the beach. I had theorized that maybe the higher gods had put her here with the rest of my family, but after seeing Mum and Peyton, I had nearly forgotten that she might have been taken prisoner, too. It pains me to see another one of my loved ones threatened because of me, but some selfish part of me feels uplifted when I see her. I didn’t realize how much I missed her until just now.
Her long blonde hair is up in a messy ponytail, swept and tangled from the wind, and her clothes suggest she has been running. I’m surprised when I look at the sky and realize it must be close to sunrise. Mads has always been one of those crazy fitness junkies who like to run before the sun has even come up - back in Ireland, she set up a running club where a group of athletes would meet up to go jogging every morning. I called them the crazy feckers club, a nickname that made Mades hit my arm every time I said it. I don’t know why, but that thought makes me smile, in spite of the trauma and grief I’m feeling right now. Mads is my best friend, the one I turn to when I’m lost and clueless in the world. She’s been a shoulder to cry on, a co-conspirator in all of our crazy schemes, and loyal to me through thick and thin. She shouldn’t be here on this cursed island, but I couldn’t be happier that she is.
My breakdown nearly forgotten for the time being, I struggle to pick myself up off the rocks, wiping my tears frantically with the back of my hand and unable to stop the grin that’s spreading on my face.
I run to her as she approaches, throwing my arms around her when I’m close and clinging to her like my life depends on it. She chuckles a little and hugs me back just as tightly before pulling back to get a good look at me. “Karma,” she says, her eyes as big as saucers. “I can’t believe you’re here. You… I mean, how…?”
“I can’t believe you’re here either, Mads,” I tell her, squeezing her shoulders as if to make sure that she’s not a hallucination. “How did you get here? Did they bring you here with my family? Oh my god, Mads, I’m so sorry I sucked you into all this. Have they hurt you? I...”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she tells me. “I’m fine. They haven’t touched me. I mean, well, those guards definitely aren’t gentle, but nobody’s hurt me. Unless you count being a complete arsehole as hurting someone.” She shakes her head, seeming to remember that we haven’t seen each other since the night at the club. “But that doesn’t matter,” she says. “I should be the one asking you all these questions.” She peers at me, her eyes narrowing a bit as she takes in the sight of my red, puffy eyes and slouching posture. “What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice filling with concern. “How are you here? Oh, Karma, I have so much to tell you, but I know something is wrong. You don’t hug me that often.”
“I’ve just missed you,” I reply with a sheepish chuckle, letting go because she has a point. My hugging game has never been strong.
“Karma...” She gently says my name, and I can tell from one look that I won’t be able to brush her off so easily. But I don’t know what to say to her. How do I even begin to explain what’s happened to me since I fled the twins? How do I get into Storm, and Jade, and Neritous, and my heritage, and the fact that until she showed up, my situation felt (and might very well still be) utterly hopeless? It feels like we haven’t seen each other in years. “What’s going on?” Mads asks gently, touching my arm delicately as if she doesn’t want to upset me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this sad. You know you can talk to me.”
I let out a long sigh, knowing she’s right. There might not be time to get into all of it right now, but talking to someone - someone normal, someone with no connections to the gods or their gr
and conspiracies - might help ease the burden a little. Especially if that someone is Mads.
Clearing my throat, I slowly sit back down on the stones, despite how much they dig into my arse. Mads takes a seat next to me, grimacing a little at the feeling of the rocks but not complaining. There’s a long moment of silence, and she slowly leans over and places her head on my shoulder. It reminds me uncannily of the way Maria and my mum sat in their treehouse, in that memory.
“My mum isn’t my real mother,” I begin slowly, choosing each word carefully, “and my dad isn’t my father, either.”
To her credit, Mads doesn’t have a huge reaction to that, instead keeping her gaze fixed on the rocks in the distance. “How did you find out?” she asks at last, not looking at me.
“Mum told me,” I explain. “Well… I guess she’s not technically my mum, but she’s the one who raised me. She… she showed me images of my real mother. Of the way she died. It was all too much, so I came out here, and that’s when you found me.”
“Ah.” Mads doesn’t say anything, instead waiting for me to speak.
I feel like I’m parsing through the emotions even as I continue. “Everything is so confusing right now,” I say, “and the worst part is that we are stuck here with two halves of my biological family.” I’m aware that this probably doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but the immensity of the situation is almost overwhelming - it’s all I can do to give her little pieces at a time and hope she understands. “There’s my family - my real family, the ones who raised me,” I say, “and then there are these higher gods, these monsters who have turned our lives upside down. And there’s no getting away from any of it.”
Mads is quiet for a long time, both of us just listening to the waves lap against the shore. I’m sure she is thinking about what to say, and probably coming up short. I don’t blame her, I don’t have a clue of what to say, either.
