Chương 14: Absolution

"Shrike, please eat something." Martin begs, sitting by the fire with her. She stares down at the sandwich Martin made for her this morning. It's nearly night again already, isn't it? She looks out the window, confirming her expectation. When she turns back, he's gone. She can barely keep her eyes open, as the shadows in front of her continue to move. She forces herself to stay awake. She can't abandon it all again.

"Not again." She mumbles.

"Not again." She stands up with newfound resolution, slightly dizzy from hunger and thirst. She takes each of her mementos with care, and rests them on the mantle of the fireplace in careful order. She takes her now cold breakfast to the kitchen, setting it down on the table, and looking through the window into the night. She eats fiercely, violently. Martin comes down the stairs as he hears her moving around, looking relieved at her eating.

"Thank God. Let me get you water. Or tea. Or anything?"

"Martin." She states plainly.

"Yeah..?"

"I have arrived at a decision. For better or worse, this is going to be my last cycle. I do not know what will happen if I never hibernate again, but I intend to discover that fate. I will not allow my memories to fade again." She swallows in her dry throat. Martin, solemnly, gets her a glass of hot water.

"Then I'll be there, until one of us kicks it first." He forces a smile. Shrike releases a breath she's held in for centuries, a fractured smile forcing itself through.

"I hope it is you who dies first. You likely would not last in the field without me." Martin grimly chuckles, Shrike joining in, until they are both laughing and crying together in the middle of the night. Shrike wakes up from her dreamless sleep. Martin is cooking something in the kitchen. Typical. She rolls out of her nest, determined, and storms over to find him making eggs for them both behind his back as he adjusts a meal on the table.

"You." She points at Martin, frenzied. He looks up from the tray of food he was going to bring her.

"Uhh... me?"

"Yes, you. You are ridiculous. A hopeless fool." One of Martin's eyebrows drops.

"... okay?"

"Do not think to avoid my accurate assessment. You are naive, to think you can tame a powerful creature like myself." His expression morphs between every emotion he knows, and a few he doesn't.

"Yes, I see clearly now! I am through with my self-pity and regret. I am unbound, free, my wings spread wide and gathering the rising thermal currents of providence!" She flaps her arms up and down accompanied by making bird calls until she tightly closes her mouth, trying desperately to hold it in.

"... what the hell, Shrike." The two of them break out laughing together, until Martin realizes he's burning his own eggs, making Shrike laugh even harder, until she's leaned against the wall clutching her stomach.

"By the gods, your face, I mourn my lack of camera!" He turns off the stove, flooded with relief.

"You scared the hell out of me! I thought you were having a psychotic break or something!"

"As if I would be so lucky. In truth, I have decided to no longer live as though I am a passing vagrant, as if this wonderful existence will soon be little more than a partial memory. No, this is my finale. I shall live as all that I am." She slides onto the table.

"Melancholy is not how I wish to perish." Martin grabs her knee.

"Just don't be in a rush, okay?"

"As though I would squander this newfound euphoria. That idea shall perish as well."

"I'm glad, Shrike. I'm happy for you."

"I too am glad. Today marks my birth date, so I have declared. I demand cake later tonight, complete with roughly 13, 000 candles."

"How about just one? That's more symbolic, and less of a fire hazard." He says, cracking open new eggs after scraping the blackened mess into the trash.

"Very well. One candle shall suffice." She moves from the top of the table to the chair, and starts eating.

"Thank you, my partner and friend, for the food. For all you provide." She looks at him for a bit too long, before turning away. She imagines looking at him is how staring at the sun must be, for a human: burning, difficult, and glorious.

"You're definitely a bit manic right now. How about we celebrate your birthday with a nice long sauna trip to take you down a few notches?"

"Yes! A fine celebration."

"How're you doing, Shrike? Feeling a bit more relaxed?" She nods hazily.

"This.. has leveled me out. Beveled me out. Bedeviled me out." She giggles to herself.

"Happy birthday. A shame I didn't have time to get you a present, but you kind of surprised me with this." He sets out the store-bought cake, heated up in the oven for a bit.

"Very understandable. I apologize for this morning. I believe I have... stabilized again."

"Maybe easing up on all the 'last cycle' talk, I hope."

"I am still firm about this being my last cycle. I have made the decision to live the rest of my life as a mortal creature. To no longer straddle the line between person and entity. I am myself, until the end." Martin grunts in acknowledgement.

"Just know I won't hold it against you if you change your mind. And don't forget, you still need to protect me, so you won't be hibernating for a while anyway."

"You have no reason to worry or fear. You have an exceedingly long life ahead of you. With good fortune, I will too." She winks, blowing out the candle on the cake.

"Yeah. You deserve a bit of good fortune." He chokes back something else he wants to say. She has enough going on right now.

"Get up." Martin nudges Shrike with his foot like she's a dog hit by a car.

"We have somewhere to be." Shrike looks up at him with baleful eyes.

"I have told you numerous times to not wake me in that manner, h-human. It is degrading." She stumbles on the word 'human' for a reason she can't specify. It is a simple descriptor, but feels inordinate. Like stripping away who he is. Another bizarre change in her default thought pattern.

"Get over it. We're going somewhere you'll like, today. Something that only happens three times a year."

"... heavy rain?" Shrike looks around the huge warehouse. It's quite bright, but nothing too uncomfortable. So many vendors, so many hunters, so many things around here. It's astounding. To think she missed this before.

"Is that a pair of birds I see?" Fennel calls, waving them over. Martin waves back, and approaches the booth with Shrike.

"Fennel! A shame we only meet every six months." He says.

"Uh-huh. Okay, I gotta know, why is the kynde whose name I forgot looking at me?" The kynde speaks for herself this time.

"I am Shrike. I am looking at you because I am now able to observe you clearly, and it is impolite not to share eye contact." This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"... well damn. What happened?"

"I underwent an adaptation."

"Holy hell, congrats! That doesn't happen often. I bet 90% of hunters here don't even know what that is, since most of the things we hunt can't or won't do it."

"Thank you. The benefits significantly outweigh the negatives." Shrike says.

"No kidding. So what can I do for you two fine folks?" Martin taps his foot in thought.

"I'm not actually sure at the moment. We'll be back later though, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." Fennel waves them along.

"I know someone trying to let me down easy when I see it." Shrike and Martin make their way to the next booth. The words 'let me down easy' stay in Martin's head, for a reason he can't quite place. Maybe a movie he saw? He shakes it from his mind as Shrike sees another acquaintance for the first time.

"Good gods, you've worn the hell out of that thing. Do you even own other clothes?" Gary asks, cringing at the torn threads and scuffed shoulders"None remotely compare, including two separate models purchased online that were wholly inadequate." Gary looks different than Shrike pictured, but just as friendly.

"Uh-huh... Damn, I wish I had another one to offer, but that was all I had. Tell you what. There's a guy here who does custom jobs. It'll be expensive, no doubt, but considering how much you've worn that one thing..." He trails off, letting the two hunters talk it out for themselves.

"I am intrigued. Martin."

"Just don't threaten to burn the house down again." Martin shares a smile with Gary, as the vendor instructs them where to go. The booth is situated in the far corner of the warehouse, and is set up more like an art gallery than a traditional table. Example pieces are set up inside glass displays, long explanations of each listed below. Photos of others line the walls, showcasing moments his custom designs were used.

Apparently, the 9th and 9th Whale was captured and imprisoned in stone by six people, five of which were wearing custom outfits by the man himself. He sits on a stool, wearing a t-shirt and khaki shorts. Slightly crooked glasses rest on a more crooked nose, his eyes focusing on minute details of the people around him. He takes physical notes on everything he sees, impossible to read in his sketchy penmanship. Shrike walks up to the man, and before she can say hello, he has a gun to her head.

"Name." He spits, eyes lingering on seemingly nothing.

"Sh... Shrike?" She asks, confused by the situation.

"Wrong answer." He pulls back the hammer.

"You can't fool me, beast." Shrike looks at Martin, who was distracted by a very nice looking kukri. He immediately runs over at seeing the situation, holding out his hands in a panic.

"Hey, easy! She's with me!" The man pulls the trigger, clicking as it cycles an empty chamber. He doesn't laugh.

"Mhmm. Yeah. You need me."

"I... Martin, is this a human custom I am not aware of?" Her eyebrows can't seem to decide where to rest.

"No, no it is not. He's just weird. You're a seamster, right?"

"No. I am The Seamster. It'll be $9, 500 each for my work for you."

"Christ..."

"No? Then move along. I have no time for people who make bad decisions." He dismissively waves his hand. Shrike's eyes widen, intrigued.

"Is that inclusive of an entire outfit, or by piece?" He looks slightly disgusted by the question.

"You don't wear my work by piece. You don't pay for it by piece. What a bad question. What's wrong with you?"

"I... am not human? I admit I am far out of my depth..." He leans in closely, studying her.

"Mhmm... Three works. I can't do less for you. It has to be three." Shrike looks from side to side, trying to gain a foothold somewhere in the conversation.

"I... I cannot-""Obviously. You don't get paid. Light powers, yet still so dim. Put that on a shirt."

"How did you know..?"

"The little lights all around you, obviously. God, you are stupid. Give me your address." He holds out his hand. She looks to Martin for help, but he's as confused as she is. Martin writes down the address, and tries to hand it to him.

"Not you. I need her to write it. Can't make these without it." Martin hands the pen to Shrike, who takes it and writes down the same address, politely offering it to The Seamster.

"Good girl. Nine days total, four for the first, two for the second, three for the third."

"My partner-""Screw him. No, you're the canvas. No money? Not important. In payment, you will wear my work and my work alone. Toss that other thing out. Or sleep in it. Not wear it outside. Got it?"

"Yes..? I believe?"

"Then leave. I have work to do." He starts packing up the booth, leaving both Martin and Shrike in complete confusion as they leave the way they came. They pass by Gary again on their path back to Fennel. He chuckles at seeing their expressions.

"You met him, then. Lemme guess, out of your budget?" Shrike shakes her head hesitantly.

"I believe he is making three outfits for me, free of charge." Gary laughs again, more in surprise than amusement.

"Lucky you! Man only finds a muse once in a blue moon. Usually it's like twenty grand for a pair of pants."

"I feel as though I have been hit in the brain with a rubber mallet." Shrike admits.

"Yeah, he'll do that."

"Well now, look who it is!" Peccary's sleazy smile catches Shrike's attention. She walks over to him, as he has something she'd like to know. The Disgust talisman was made to work on her, but... is she still herself?

"Do you still have the talisman? Can you attempt to use it on me?"

"You know what? I'll humor you. Think cuz you can see it won't work?" He digs around in a box, pulling out the talisman, and speaking the command word. Shrike stands with an unsettling smile.

"I have ascended beyond your human magic, I suppose."

"What the hell..." He looks at the talisman, and tries again, until his confusion shifts into intrigue.

"Okay, I know we have our differences, but I have to ask some questions. Back pay for my generosity." He tosses the talisman into the trash, suddenly studious and alert.

"Very well. You may ask a single question." Shrike says. Peccary already answered hers.

"That's all I need. When you adapted, did any forgotten memories surface?"

"I hope you enjoyed asking. I never promised an answer." Shrike returns to Martin's side.

"... you bitch."

"Come back to chat some more?" Fennel asks with a smile.

"Or maybe buy something?"

"Yeah, actually. Okay, we need whatever's the most reliable way to start fires. Something I don't have to fiddle with."

"Wow, Shrike really did change. Big loss, hopefully for a big gain." She sets down a few different styles of lighter, and a firestriker.

"My personal style of firestriker is the best bet. Lightly enchanted for better spark volume and longevity, easy to use, impossible to break. Just remember to keep it on hand." Martin turns it over in his hands a few times.

"How much?"

"Two hundred and five. For you, though, a measly two hundred." She and Martin exchange a grin as he hands her the money.

"See you next time, Fennel. Oh, if you find anything you think Shrike or I could use, let me know."

"Will do. See you around, friends." As the pair return to the Jeep, Martin watches Shrike slip into the back seat, wrapping herself in blankets. God damn it, Martin thinks, the nagging feeling is getting worse every time she does that. She's not human. He knows that. She's not human. Soon, the Jeep pulls into the much more conventional shopping center of the Newgate.

"Christmas shopping time, Shrike."

"Have you become religious?"

"Nope. It's more of a tradition than a holiday for me. Besides, everyone likes presents." Shrike nods, mostly excited to see the inside of a mall.

"Oh my God, Shrike, look at this!" He holds up an ugly Christmas sweater with a ferret on it that lights up in green light.

"I am unaware of most human clothing conventions, but I can tell that is something few people would enjoy wearing."

"Yeah, but like... nah, you wouldn't get it." He dejectedly puts it back on the rack. Christmas Day arrives. After a short lie to his mom about spending it hunting a Krampus, he and Shrike pull into Ferret's parents' driveway. Ferret and Moth are standing outside, casually talking about something he can't hear. Moth notices them first, waving at them. Shrike and Martin walk up to meet them, carrying a wide assortment of wrapped boxes.

"You two came prepared, huh? By the way, Shrike, we already explained the whole light thing to Ferret's folks. They were more than happy to turn everything off after they finished cooking. Shrike, in response, shines her phone's flashlight into her own eyes. Ferret groans.

"Damn it. I bet this is related somehow to you blowing up the MBR research lab. It took me like ten minutes to explain it to my parents. Might as well come inside..." He holds open the door as they enter, before leaving to talk to his mother about the lights again. It's a nice home. Fairly large, too, with a spacious dining room complete with a large painting of Jesus watching over them.

"We're so happy to have you all!" Ferret's mom Anise welcomes them to the table. Ferret's father Jason is busy carving the ham in the kitchen, but pokes his head in to say hello before going back to it.

"Thank you for having us, and sorry about the miscommunication with the lights. It was nice of you, though." Martin says.

"In my defense, it's a pretty new thing for Shrike." Anise looks at Martin and Shrike with a warm smile.

"I've heard so much about you both, it's nice to see you. Moth is here all the time, but its always good to meet new people. Shrike, please please please correct me if I say something rude by accident. I haven't met a kynde before, but I want you to feel welcome." Tension visibly falls from Shrike's shoulders as she hears Anise talking. Ferret was right about his parents, it seems.

"I appreciate your effort, Anise. It is unlikely I will be insulted accidentally, and have no issue answering most questions others would find invasive."

"That's such a relief for Jason and I. He was up until midnight last night looking on the internet for ways to talk to kyndes, but never found anything."

"You are succeeding thus far." Shrike replies.

"I have not bitten Martin's parents, so you can safely assume I don't bite whatsoever." Shrike's soft smile as she jokes makes Martin's heart tighten. Damn it Shrike, he thinks. I need to get out more. Meet more human women. Dinner goes as smoothly as the chatting beforehand. After a quick prayer by Jason, they start eating, the discussion staying light and friendly. Ferret watches his parents talking with his friends, and feels a bittersweet pang when seeing the other hunters having a good time.

He's glad his parents can provide what their own can't. The present exchange goes as expected as well. Silly gifts, thoughtful gifts, and a pair of cloth reindeer antlers for everyone courtesy of Moth. Shrike in particular is given an almost awkward number of gifts. Chocolates, books, and two of the exact same shrike-themed bookmark from Moth and Jason. She doesn't quite know how to feel. It's a pleasant discomfort. As though she is being treated better than she should be, by someone other than Martin.

The drive back was all Christmas songs on the radio, as they pull into the driveway. Shrike goes to lie down by the fire, but stops after seeing a final gift from Martin. A pelican plush, resting atop her nest of blankets. He apologizes for it being a little juvenile, but he hopes she likes it anyway. Shrike turns to him, blinking repeatedly, maintaining a serious expression and tone as she says how she will treasure it. She approaches it slowly, like she would scare it off if she went too quickly.

She scoops it in both of her hands, studying it for a moment, and curls up by the fire, holding it as she falls asleep. Screw it, Martin thinks. He has to ask. Knowing her, she'll probably just shrug it off and carry on like always anyway. That's better than letting his thoughts constantly get in the way.