and Paris Hilton. It was me, but so very, very not me. “I” was dressed in all designer gear, sitting in a limo and playing with a little dog that was dripping in as much bling as “I” was.
It was my turn to laugh. Seriously? I thought.
“If I wanted stuff, I would have just stayed with Ryu,” I told the tentacle.
[Ah,] it said. [Ryu. What if you could have a Ryu who wanted what you did? Rockabill, and a family, and domestic bliss?]
And with that the image shifted from Paris-Jane to an equally ridiculous image: Ryu, wearing carpenter-fit jeans and a flannel shirt, holding not one but two babies.
I laughed even harder. That’s not how things work, I thought, not bothering to try to control my laughter enough to speak. You can’t just change people into what you want them to be.
I didn’t comment on the fact that that’s exactly what Ryu had wanted to do with me.
[Very wise, young one,] said the creature. [But there are things I can change.]
And with that, the mirror showed Anyan as a dog. He was sitting, glaring at his own tail as if it might spring to sentient life and take off with his butt, when he suddenly sat up with what appeared to be an embarrassed look on his face. Then he was engulfed in a circle of green light, and then he was standing, a man again. And naked as a jaybird.
I admit it: I ogled. I ogled hard.
[I could give you your lover back,] the creature whispered, letting its magic surge to let me know just how powerful he was.
It was tempting to say yes, I admit. The thought of Anyan safe and sound was a powerful draw.
But he’d only be human and whole long enough to die with the rest of us.
“As much as I want Anyan back the way he was, I can’t take your offer,” I said, knowing I was doing the right thing but still wanting to kick myself all the same.
[How good you are,] the creature said, its voice arch. I snorted.
“Not good, just realistic. We’ll get Anyan back the way he was, when all of this is settled.”
[What about death?] was the creature’s next, unexpected answer.
“Sorry?” I asked, not understanding the question.
[What about death?] it repeated. [What if I could bring, say, your mother back from the dead?] And with that, the mirror showed me Mari, my mom, laughing. She was wearing her red wrap-dress, the hand-me-down that I still wore. She had my eyes, my figure. I noticed, however, that my nose was my father’s, for he had joined her in the mirror. Obviously, he was older than her now, but—because of the goblin healer’s intervention—still healthy. He embraced my mom, his arms tight around her, as she hugged him back. They stayed like that, frozen in the tableau that had been my greatest childhood fantasy.
“You can’t do that,” I whispered.
[Can’t I?] the creature asked. And this time, the wave of power it unleashed actually did bring me to my knees. I went ahead and stayed kneeling.
I had to admit, it was tempting. The sight of my father’s face was what did it: He looked so happy, and I knew he would be that happy.
But for how long? asked my rude, ever-practical brain. Even if this thing can bring you back your real mother, the point is it’ll be your mother. And she will leave, again. She can’t stay with you on land. She couldn’t the first time, and she wouldn’t the second.
What if she’s brought back different, so she won’t leave? whispered an ugly, selfish part of my brain.
Then she won’t really be your mom, the rest of me replied, knowing it was true even as I thought it. And you don’t get to bring back somebody already dead, mourned, and survived, at the expense of so many living.
My dad had survived the knowledge of my mom’s death, but he wouldn’t survive knowing bringing her back had killed so many others. He was a good man.
I also knew the creature had been party to my little mental conversation, so I didn’t bother replying when I looked back up to the mirror to watch my happy fake-parents swirl away like ghosts. Sitting back on my heels, I hung my head.
[So strong you are,] the voice whispered. I couldn’t tell if it was mocking me or not.
“No,” I replied. “Just practical.”
[Is that it?] the creature asked. [Even practicality breaks…]