Dead Spark by Al K. Line

Author:Al K. Line [Line, Al K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-10-26T23:00:00+00:00

Things Get Freaky

"What are you talking about?" Numb, I turned from Dancer to, what had she called herself, Amber? They both looked serious. Her beautiful, Dancer like utter death. We didn't have long, but at this point in time I didn't care. I had to know.

"She's your daughter, Spark. She came to me, decided she wanted to meet you. But you were still denying magic and pretty low, and once I'd told her all about you, what was going on, she decided to wait. I'm sorry, but she made me promise and I said I'd let her know when you were back being yourself. Guess I left it a little late."

"This makes no sense. Amber, you look just like Sarah, so similar it's hard not to think of you as her, but whatever you think, I'm not your father. I don't even see how she's your mother. How old are you?"

"Forty-two."

"Oh." I studied her and as I looked, really looked for the first time, it was obvious it wasn't Sarah. The cheekbones were higher, the mouth smaller, nose more pointed and her frame more petite. It was all so long ago, it was incredible I remembered her well at all. She had features that could have been inherited from me. My blue, intense eyes, the slightly large forehead, the set of the jaw, but that could just as easily have been me looking for similarities and finding them, not meaning it was true. Hell, it couldn't be true.

"Look, um, Faz, can I call you Faz?"

"Sure, for now." Nobody called me Faz, just Kate and Grandma, but I was muddled and what if? No, it couldn't be. "Look, Sarah died forty-two years ago, you can't be her child. Can't be mine. She died, and I think I'd know if she gave birth."

Amber leaned forward and put her angelic head in her hands, eyes focused on mine. Then she glanced at Dancer for a moment and I saw him nod. "Okay, here goes." She sighed deeply, reached out for the ashtray beside her and lit the joint, inhaled sharply then set it back down. "This is all what I've pieced together after the fact, but I think it's close enough to the truth for it to be the explanation."

"Go on."

"Do you remember maybe a month or maybe two before Mum died? When you, er, had a final intimate encounter when she was feeling a little better?"

"I do," I said warily, memories flooding back, almost overwhelming me with grief. "She was between treatments, resting up, ready to go back into battle once she got her strength back. It didn't work, but anyway. Yes, we had a final... Damn, what is wrong with me? Yes, we slept together a final time not long before she passed."

It broke my heart. That night we cried like we'd never cried before. Her body was a wreck. She hurt and ached and was bone weary. I asked if I should stop multiple times. No, she'd said, she needed this.

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