The Butterfly Pt 13 Memory

This is part thirteen of our story. Reading previous chapters will help you to get to know Christine, Peter, Madeline, Sid, and Shan better. We join our story in progress. Christine travels with the Immortals to the site of their people's secret history, the hidden library at Alexandria. There they meet Cassandra, a former wife of Peter's, who has visited with Alaric, an Immortal they imprisoned long ago...

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They went in circles for an hour or more. Christine remained silent, and asked nothing. Didaskalos observed, as was his function. Sid and Shan were non factors. Madeline and Cassandra played a chess match of disdain with each other, while Peter tried to understand. From context, Christine ascertained that this Immortal, Alaric, was imprisoned by Cassandra, Peter, and three other immortals. He had striven for control, for enslavement of humans and the human will, and had been judged by his peers and locked away. He was like Peter, ancient and unable to remember his origins. Only now, he claimed to remember everything, his earliest memories.

"He will speak only to you, he says. He called you his brother, repeatedly, and asked for you to come. Will you go?" Cassandra asked.

Peter paced, amongst the tokens and records of his many lives. He always hated being down here; he felt it was like a tomb - his tomb.

"I don't know. Perhaps. There can be no harm in listening, even if he has gone mad. Is it possible? We have always assumed that we simply could not hold those many thousands of years of memory within our still human minds, but if he has, if it is simply a matter of remembering, perhaps we all could."

"With this newfound knowledge, we may be one step closer to understanding who we are, and where we come from. I have always wondered if the memories of the oldest of us held some special revelation. Peter, you have to go. I'll back you up." Sid interjected.

"As will I," Madeline said, never to be outdone when it came to loyalty for Peter.

"Then there is one last matter before our meeting comes to a close. One that will unsettle you even more, Pietro, but it must be spoken of."

"Go on."

"You were right. I no longer believe Alaric should be imprisoned. His actions at the time were drastic, but the world is a very different place. Mortals have this technology and the means to destroy our home many times over, and it is getting worse. We must begin taking more direct action to control them, and their actions. We must work actively to stop them, before there is nothing left worth saving. In such a brief century they have poisoned this entire world. Whether we can do this, or not, I don't know, but Alaric's crimes are long ago repaid, and his perspective is more valid today than at any point in the past."

"You are but one voice. The others..."

"The OTHERS will agree with me! Enough of them will, in any event. I have the authority to call them together, and I will. Then it will be decided."

Silence fell over the hall after Cassandra's flash of anger. Despite this entire span, and her reluctance to participate in the debate, or in any of these affairs, Christine was too chilled to remain quiet. Who would speak for humanity, in this moment, if not her?

"Peter, can this really happen? This ancient boogeyman will really be turned loose?"

"He cannot be held if the majority of those who sat in judgment of him no longer believe he should be. Besides, he is still relatively human, and out of touch with the modern world. As a physical threat, he would be nothing. As a symbol, a rallying point, a political figure for immortals who feel the same as Cassandra though, that is what worries me. Still, sadly, Cassandra is correct. But it's not over yet. There will still be a vote."

"No offense, but that's crazy. If people knew you were plotting to release someone like this into the world, that there were others of your kind that might rally to him, they would never allow it. This can't be left to a...a...parole hearing!"

"YOU have no voice here, girl!" Cassandra was suddenly imperious, and drew herself up to her full height. "What right does any of your kind have to sentence one of US to one of OUR lifetimes in shackles! None! You should not be here, and shouldn't be left alive. Didaskalos allowed this, for his own reasons, and now he has condemned you!"

"You will not touch her, Cassandra! She is under our protection." Peter moved in front of her, as did Shan. "Besides, she will tell no one. To expose one of us is to expose many of us. Even me. She is loyal."

"Perhaps, Pietro, but your protection is not absolute. You may even silence her yourself once she attempts to expose us. You heard what she just said. She will always stand with her kind. What does a few years of loyalty from a human matter? They are brief and fleeting, and change with the wind. They are not like us."

"We're going. I'll decide if...when...I'll meet with Alaric. You do what you need to, and I will be there to oppose you."

"Yes, you will, won't you? But at least we're in each others' lives again, aren't we?" Cassandra smiled for the first time since Christine laid eyes on her. It was a perfect smile, but it was bitter and cruel.

On her way out of the hall, Cassandra stopped for a moment to admire their busts, side by side. "Were we not a great team, once, Pietro? You were magnificent."

"I was cruel." He said with regret.

Madeline stepped forward in a protective gesture, as if to shield him from his past. She placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, glaring at Cassandra. Christine was sure that they would have ripped each other apart if they could have, if it would have made any difference. But in that moment, Madeline was his companion and protector as she had been for centuries. Whatever else she was, no matter how emotional or obsessed, she was loyal and ever loving, and there for him whenever he needed her, and would be for centuries more.

"You haven't been that man for a very long time, Pyotr. Do not think of it. I fell in love with you, and love you still, for the man you are, not the man you were." she whispered quietly in French, so only he could hear.

Cassandra took one last look back, then swept out of the room.

"That...could have gone better." Sid suggested.

Despite her interest in staying and looking around, Christine felt that Peter needed to get out of here, perhaps just to get some fresh air, or to simply get away from his past. Madeline was still by his side. They looked like a couple, and Christine felt a surge of jealousy, but also compassion. At least he would have someone. Always, even after she was gone, she thought bitterly. But she went to him as well, and took his hand.

"Can we get out of here? It's so stuffy. We can talk over dinner. Everyone has to be famished after the kind of day we've all had."

"I agree with your wife." Madeline said helpfully. "Let's get out of this godforsaken hole. No offense of course." she said looking over her shoulder at Didaskalos, who most had forgotten was in the room as he lurked in the shadows, observing carefully.

He was not offended. He spent nearly every minute of every day thinking of this archive in the ground as a godforsaken hole, and his body as a prison of flesh.

"I take no offense, mademoiselle."

"There's just one more thing I need to understand before we go. Didaskalos, why the change after hundreds of years? Why let a mortal set foot in our archives for, perhaps, the first time ever? What's going on here? I feel like Christine has been exposed to serious risks, and now have to regret bringing her here."

Didaskalos was quiet a long moment, and then another. At last he spoke in a stronger voice than Christine had yet heard from him.

"YOU are responsible for her involvement. And YOU." he accused, looking, from Peter to Madeline. "If what I have heard is correct, and I believe it IS, then you have all had a lovers' quarrel that has led to a mortal being exposed to many of our secrets. At times, this has occurred by accident, and has been...dealt with. This was deliberate. Madeline, you have always been a creature of passion and your emotions have gotten the best of you once again. At least this way, I know what this human knows now, and perhaps something more about her. Despite her attempts to be silent, she has strong feelings about Alaric and what may come to pass. She will have a role in this. It has been a long while since a mortal has been involved in the direction of our affairs. It is usually the reverse, as you know. Now go, I tire."

Shocked to hear such strong words from the Didaskalos, they left, making the long journey back to the surface and out into the sun. Didaskalos shuffled slowly back through the hall, to a room adjoining Peters and was not surprised to find Cassandra waiting for him.

"I thought you might still be here, Cassandra. Is anything troubling you?" he spoke in an ancient Sumerian tongue they were both familiar with, and that he found comfort in.

"No. That went very well. Pietro will visit Alaric. I am sure of it. He will be unable to resist the temptation, especially knowing he may soon be freed, and with the tantalizing knowledge of Alaric's memories being restored. Pietro was always somewhat obsessed with his own lack of memory. He once spent a human lifetime traveling around the world looking for traces of it, and his own early history. He found clues, but nothing definitive. It has haunted him."

"We are coming to an end, at last." Didaskalos said with relief. "Alaric is evidence of this. His knowledge, it all fits. It fits our great mystery. I have spent my lifetime seeking it from a dark, dusty library and museum of trinkets. All have been lies and half-truths. This place knows nothing, and offers nothing. You and I, we have merely been pawns all of our lives; small pieces in a large game. But now, with Alaric restored, I will finally have what I always wanted."

"Answers? Knowledge?"

"No! ...Death! I need to be free of this accursed form and this dungeon once and for all. I will do what I must to have it. It has been PROMISED to me. He promised..." he said with tears beginning to form in his eyes.

Cassandra reflected on this promise a moment. "We still don't know if it is possible. But we will soon. We will VERY soon. Now, perhaps? And we will see if Alaric's suspicions are confirmed. But come, old man, you must rest."

He stretched out his frail arm, and leaned on hers for support. They walked deeper into the halls together, slowly.

Outside, Peter, Christine, Sid, Madeline, and Shan piled into a black Cadillac Escalade and were returning to the airport, where a private plane would return them to Sesamus.

"So you're going?" Christine asked Peter. "To Alaric. It could all be a lie. This doesn't sound possible from everything you've told me."

"Who knows, my dear. I told you we know so little. Is one man's restored memory so incredible? Alaric will remain confined until Cassandra calls a vote. She would not have freed him on her own or she would risk imprisonment herself. No. He and I will be able to have a nice private chat. I will know if he's lying. Are you...?"

Peter was about to ask Christine if she was okay after all she had been through, but at that moment, two events occurred in sequence. First, a spider-web appeared on the glass window to the side of Shan's head, who sat next to Christine, with a small hole at its center. A spray of blood erupted and appeared on Christine's shirt from the right. He looked into her eyes and all he saw was shock as she turned her head toward the blood to look at it spreading. Peter knew immediately what had happened. A sniper's shot, to eliminate Christine and end the threat she posed...As Peter threw his body on top of her, the glass finally shattered as several more shots entered the vehicle. The second event was an IED exploding on the road, to the left of the Escalade, immediately after the shots were fired. The front tire blew, with the concussive force of the blast shattering the windows and twisting the metal on the left of the large automobile. It swerved out of control, and off the road, flipping over twice and settling onto its right in the dust. Other cars on the highway scattered, some running off the road, and others slamming into each other attempting to avoid the area of the blast up ahead.

All was silent inside the vehicle, a mixture of smoke, dust and blood. There was blood everywhere. Everything and everyone was still and motionless. In minutes an ambulance appeared, and Peter was regaining consciousness as he was loaded on a stretcher. He didn't want to go to the hospital, but was already strapped down. He tried to look around with his head in a fixed position and could only see the wreckage of the Cadillac, and his friends being pulled out. He saw Sid and Madeline trying to sit up weakly, before being placed on the stretchers, protesting unsuccessfully. And out of the corner of his eye he saw a body covered up by a dirty sheet someone had produced. There was already blood seeping through it where he imagined the head was located.

"NOOOOOOO!" he shouted, looking up at the paramedic, and then back to the sheet with his eyes wide. "IS SHE...? IS SHE...?!"

The paramedic looked down at him with pity. He hated this part of his job. He didn't speak any English, and would have a hard time communicating. But he did know this phrase. In Arabic, he said with as much compassion as he could muster. "I'm sorry, sir. She's gone. She's gone."

Peter dropped his head back down onto the board under him, closed his eyes, and began to cry for his young wife.