Your new past is here.

I swallow hard as I read the text from Daisy. Helle's here? So soon? Alpha Vampire told me she'd be here with the implants the first week of November, but still; November only started ten hours ago.

Can this wait til after school?

Chemistry is next and they might blow stuff up today.

Do you really want to keep Helle waiting?

Ugh.

On my way.

Snakes slither around in my stomach as I approach the flower shop. I like Helle, really, but she's so… intimidating. She can read every thought you've ever had just by being near you, and when you pair that with perfect memory, you've got a girl with everyone's history locked away in her noggin. She reminds me of the Files-and-Records chick from that one Angel episode. And then there's this "memory implant" thing she developed about two thousand years ago; it's a delayed racial power, like how Shrouds are able to Shield after they turn five-hundred and fifty.

Plenty of people envy her for her omniscient ability, but I think the coolest thing is that it means she can speak Baby. I wish I could speak Baby.

"She's waiting upstairs." Daisy says as I enter the shop. She's finishing up a white bouquet for an older man in an Air Force uniform. We share a polite smile as I pass him on my way up.

As I descend the stairs, I attempt to squash my trepidation. Everyone feels uneasy around her, and I bet it hurts her feelings. It's bad enough that she's the only one of her kind; she doesn't need us fearing her as well.

When I open the door to the apartment, I see her sitting on the floral-cushioned wicker couch that faces the opposite wall. Her caramel-blonde hair is pinned up in an artfully messy bun. She turns to look at me, flashing a knowing smile.

"I admire the effort, but I can still hear your heart pounding in your chest."

Blushing, I enter the room. "Hello, Helle."

"Callooh, Kalais." She covers her mouth to muffle a giggle. "I'm sorry, but you've stumbled upon a joke I share with Alpha Shapeshifter."

I feel my tension easing as I walk over to Madam Alpha and take a seat next to her. She's wearing a cream shift dress with a purple patent-leather belt and matching four-inch almond-toe pumps. I think the blue tights are a bit much, but she makes it work.

"Do you think so? I almost didn't wear the tights." She smirks in a your-secret's-safe-with-me kind of way. "You rarely pay attention to that type of thing, but when you do, you're scary accurate. Strange for a boy who dresses so plainly to know so much about fashion. Or décor, for that matter. I bet you know the brands, too."

Chanel dress and Manolo heels. "Not a clue."

"You're adorable. We should go shopping together."

Embarrassed, I clear my throat. "So about my memory implants…"

She raises an eyebrow. "Alright, I'll stop emasculating you."

"Thank you. Would you mind tell me how this works? Actually, I'm more curious as to why I need them, since it's usually considered a measure only for Immortals living mortal lives in the public eye. Is it 'cause I'm a Watcher that I get the Mortal Deluxe Package? Do the fake memories eventually fade? Does it hur—"

Without warning, Helle touches her fingertips to my temples.

After I'm done screaming into a throw pillow in blinding pain, Helle smooths my hair comfortingly.

"It's better if you don't brace yourself."

"I'll take your word for it." I sit up, still hugging the pillow. After a moment I blink, wondering why I don't feel different.

"The fake memories are buried; you have to activate them."

How?

Uncharacteristically shy, Helle hangs her head and fiddles with the large opal ring on her right middle finger. "You must first exhume the real memories they're based on."

I lick my lips. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"Not most of it, no."

Dimitri, dear," Oh, no. Please, not that. "Tell me about your mortal life and your Turning."

Suddenly I'm sweating and my heart does a swan dive into my stomach. "I thought it's rude to ask someone about their Turning."

"This is an exception."

"I don't want to."

She takes my hand reassuringly, and I remember how very empathetic her power makes her. "Trust me."

I frown fearfully at her; revisiting intense memories can lead to strong flashbacks.

"Once you're done telling me, you'll be able to remember the fake one. Then you'll tell me the implanted memory."

I take a deep breath and tighten my grip on her hand.

"I was born in a village in the shadow of Mount Narodnaya in 1472. My father was Mstislav and my mother was Anya. I had ten siblings and was the youngest of five brothers. I married at sixteen, became a father at seventeen."

"What happened three months after your son was born?"

My throat's dry now. "Two of my brothers and I were on our way back from trading in another village. Soon we saw smoke rising, and as we drew nearer we saw everything was on fire. Burnt, mutilated bodies were strewn everywhere. A Giant emerged from the smolder when we arrived." I can smell the smoke and burning flesh, hear its shrill roar as he thunders towards us. "It's twice the size of our houses, all deformed and gnarled, with patches of oozing flesh and scaly skin. It has an upturned nose like a swine's and teeth like a wolverine's. On its hunched back is a row of knobby protrusions the color of rotting meat. It seizes my older brother and bites him in half. Then it chases after Pavel and me. The Giant swats him away like a fly and… its claws are digging into my side. I can't scream; its grip is too tight. It's lifting me to his open mouth. Its teeth are as big as my hand. Everything's dark, everything hurts—"

Helle has her arms around me, my head on her chest. I didn't realize that I had closed my eyes— or that I've been speaking in Medieval Russian for the last few sentences. I was there again, and if Helle hadn't calmed me down to bring me back, I don't know what would've happened.

"The Giant ate you, and you Turned posthumously in his stomach." Oh, bless her. She's going to finish for me. "Then you burst from his abdomen and slayed him by drinking his blood. You searched your village, but there were no survivors. Desolate, you buried yourself in the ashes, waiting to die. Your Elder, Indira, found you two days later."

Glad that the worst is over, I gently remove her arms from around my shoulders and sit upright. How long have I been crying? My cheeks are wet, and so is a spot on the front of her dress. I hope I haven't ruined it.

"I'm sure it'll be fine, sweetheart. Now tell me the implant."

It slowly floats to the surface, becoming clearer. "I was born in Pskov, Russia, in 1993. My father was Mstislav, my mother was Anya. Ten siblings. When I was seven, my mother was working the night shift at the hospital and I was at a sleepover. There was a fire at my house; my father and siblings couldn't get out. Arson suspected, ruled as faulty wiring."

Immediately the old, true memories are greatly suppressed; I can barely feel them as these more vivid yet obviously fabricated ones take their place.

"Better, huh? I know they're still pretty bad, but compared to the real ones—"

"They're far more bearable. Thanks, Helle."

She smiles. "Tell me where you lived for most of the Nineteenth Century."

Oh, a benign one. "England, but mainly London. That's where I helped my Ward hunt down Jack the Ripper."

"Now the implant."

"After the fire, my mother and I went to live with her younger sister in London." Pleh. Why do I have to suppress my super badass memory with this boring one?

Helle rolls her eyes. "Look harder. Where did you go on your ninth birthday?"

"I—" Oh, gods, I… my eyes must be popping out of my head right now. "My mother and Aunt Ivanna took me to a Quidditch match. Puddlemere United versus Falmouth Falcons. The Snitch hit the Puddlemere Keeper in the eye before getting caught, and one Falcon Beater played half the game with a broken hand. Helle, you are so cool."

She shakes her head in modesty. "It was nothing, really. You probably shouldn't tell mortals about it, though."

"I can remember eating chocolate frogs and watching one fall to its death from the nosebleed section. I can remember seeing the Snitch flit by and the Puddlemere Seeker speeding after it. I don't care that I can't tell anyone; I saw a damn Quidditch match."

"Well, I'm glad you enjoy it." Helle replies with a giggle. "But we're going to have to discuss Dorothy now."

As in…?

"Your adopted daughter, yes."

"She was born on a sinking ship on April 14th, 1912."

Helle smiles, a hint of sadness in her expression. "As fascinating a tale that is, I'm afraid we'll have to skip forward a few years."

I know what she's probably referring to, but I'll play dumb a little longer. "I raised her with a Gorgon named Renette, who became my best friend. We didn't hide our powers from Dorothy, but we did lie and tell her we were from Never Neverland. She believed that until she was fourteen."

"Dimitri—"

"Renette had to leave when Dorothy was eleven because her Ward Turned."

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"Dorothy dated a gangster in 1928 just to piss me off—"

"Dimitri, tell me about 1953." I think Helle might be annoyed at my childishness, but she's being understanding.

"I'm not annoyed, dear; I just want to help you."

I hang my head, trying to brace myself. "We were living in D.C., only a few blocks from here. She was old enough to pass as my mother by that time, so I thought I might try being a teenager for a while. She had no problem with it; Dorothy had always wanted to be a mother, but for some reason she had never settled down. So we switched roles. Things were going well until Renette came back."

"With her Vampire Ward."

I nod. "Kendra. I knew she was a risk, but like Renette I hoped she only needed time to adjust. She was quite an attention whore."

Helle plays with her gold bangles. "I thought the same thing when I examined her."

"Kendra never liked competition, either; which is what Dorothy apparently was. Renette was always doting on the daughter she had to abandon, and I… well, Kendra blamed Dorothy for my disinterest in her. Kendra refused to believe in the concept of Belonging. I told her I just didn't think of her that way, and she said it was because I was too wrapped up in looking after my daughter."

"And so she got her revenge." Helle murmurs as she fixes her gray-green eyes on mine.

A chill runs up my spine. "Eventually, so did I. Renette and I came home to the smell of fresh human blood. When I entered Dorothy's room, I saw her lying on the bed, her wrists cut deep. She looks like she could be sleeping, except for all the blood. I rush to her side thinking maybe I can still save her; she's still warm. But she's not breathing. Her heart's not beating. There's a note on the bedside table that begins with 'To Whom It May Concern'. I failed her. I'm responsible for her and I failed her. I didn't make her happy. Renette finally comes in; I hadn't yelled for her because I was in shock. She's shattering in front of me. My poor, delicate Renette, who grew up in a convent. I've failed her, too. I hold Dorothy's hands in mine; her fingers are getting cold. Where's her ring? She loves her ring. Pierre Cartier gave it to her. He said that diamonds like her very much. Kendra loves that ring, too… Oh, no. This will destroy Renette; I know it will. Her first Ward rebelled. I should've known. I did know. I could've stopped this. This is worse. This is worse. It's all my fault. My baby girl is dead and it's all my fault. I didn't protect her. I'm weak. I'm weak. My father was right—"

Helle's hand on mine snaps me back to reality. "And then you went after Kendra, dismembered her, and she was taken to be buried in the Valley of the Fallen. After the funeral, Renette decided to go to the Cave." she says softly.

Aw, dammit; I've been crying again. I wipe away the stupid tears with the back of my hand. I'm looking forward to the fake memory. "When I was twelve and a half, I came back from grocery shopping with my aunt. I saw my mother sitting in her rocking chair by the window. At first I thought she was asleep but then I saw the bl—Wait a second! That's not the significant improvement I was hoping for!"

She scoffs at my indignant glare. "Hey! I gave you Quidditch!"

Oh… yeah. I guess that does balance things out a bit.

"Sorry," I say, fighting the urge to negotiate an adventure in the TARDIS.

Amused by my cuteness, she chuckles. "Tell me about New Orleans."

Uh oh. "Seriously?"

She gives me her trademark Mona-Lisa smile. "You know this is a fun one."

"I, um… After Dorothy's funeral, I didn't know what to do with myself. So I hung around her tombstone for a month. Then Titus the Minotaur heard what happened and came to try and help me. He said we should go down to New Orleans, where I could get some absinthe. It's not strong enough to get an Immortal really drunk, he said, but it'll help make things fuzzy; I could save the pain for later, when the memories weren't as fresh. He promised to make sure I didn't do anything stupid or endanger anyone. It worked, I guess. Then he convinced me to go to a burlesque hall. That's where all the interesting stuff started. I can't remember the details clearly, but… I went home with one of the dancers. She was nice and kind of wild. Apparently she told the other girls about how… talented… I was, because soon I was seeing all fifteen of them. They worked out a schedule and everything." I scratch the back of my head. "I seriously have no idea how the hell that happened."

Helle chuckles and covers her eyes. "You honestly don't."

I smile subtly. "I kicked the drinking habit pretty quickly, since the girls were way more affective. I stayed until 1958."

"You were dark then."

Feigning innocence, I narrow my eyes in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"What happened with Dorothy still took its toll. You weren't close to rebelling, but… You weren't exactly a goody-two-shoes anymore. Torturing Marked Ones became a pastime. And those girls… My, you sure knew how to please them. Sometimes concurrently."

"I wouldn't say concurrently—"

"More than one at a time, anyway. Who would've guessed that adorable little Dimitri would ever get dirty with a bunch of dancers? You naughty, naughty boy."

Slightly annoyed, I raise an eyebrow at her. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

She shrugs. "Everyone enjoys that story. They don't call you 'Burly-Q' at the Golden Underground for nothing."

I will be forever mocked for my manwhore phase.

"Why does the implant feel blurry?"

"Because there's more to review. You've spent a lot of time in Las Vegas, yes?"

Grinning, I lean back and rest my head on the top on the couch. "Some of the best hunting grounds in North America. You've got all the Marked Ones in the city and the various Infernals in the surrounding desert—"

"What's the name of the Immortal-owned Neo-Burlesque Hall in Las Vegas?"

I stifle a laugh. "The Golden Apple."

"Care to expound?" she asks teasingly, twisting a loose lock around her finger.

"It's huge. Run by Lori Lux the Shapeshifter. Like most Immortal-owned businesses, the manager lives above the establishment; in the case of The Golden Apple, that includes the ten Immortal dancers. After my post-abeyance education, they invited me to live with them for four-and-a-half years, much to everyone's amusement." Oh, dear. I see where this is going.

A Cheshire-Cat grin spreads across Helle's face. "Implant time."

Apprehensive, I do as she says. "After my mother committed suicide, my aunt decided she couldn't take care of me. So, because apparently she's an idiot, I was sent to live with her old friend Lori Lux, who was made my guardian. It was a strange place to go through puberty. And worse, I was forced to be homeschooled. Those dancers ended up being my only friends as well as my new family. Honestly, Helle, do we really have to take this road? You know that place is a glorified strip club."

She pouts, mocking me. "But you love it there."

"How could I not? I was around a bunch of Immortal girls all the time."

"Oh, just finish already. We're almost done."

Rolling my eyes, I continue. "I was about fifteen when they started seeing me differently. Scarlett was first, and the rest followed happily after. I had no problem with it; I was a pubescent boy surrounded by hot girls who adored me. And, you know, it was fun. A lot of fun. Lori Lux still treated me the same; I was like her son in a way. But she didn't have a problem with me being her dancers' little 'rooster'. We were all happy, so it didn't matter. Then MC Romeo Poison found out, and he threatened to call the police. So, Lori Lux sent me to live with her obscure relative, Daisy, in late September of this year."

"And now you have a somewhat normal life."

"I'm still homeschooled, though. Oh, and by the way… My family died in a fire, by mother committed suicide, my aunt abandoned me, and I was molested. What the hell?! How can Maggie be expected to like me with a past like mine?"

"It kind of sounds like you think you're not good enough for her."

"Oh, really? Why on earth would I think that? She'll only run away screaming if she ever found out any of this stuff—and this is the watered-down mortal version. I am such a colossal freak."

"You'll have to lie to her enough as it is. And the best lies are—"

"The ones closest to the truth, I know." I run my fingers through my hair. "Can't you still give me something normal?"

Pursing her lips, Helle picks at an imaginary fuzz ball on a throw pillow. "Implants work best when they're based on powerful memories. I only had what you gave me to work with. If I gave you something that didn't have a firm foundation in your memories, it would blur and you'd become confused."

Oh, that's great. I'm given a new past that's gentler than the old one, and it still sucks balls.

"It's not so bad," she cajoles, playfully slapping my arm. "You really enjoyed that bit in Vegas."

"I now have hot, sexy memories of my friends. That's creepy."

"When I told The Golden Apple Girls about your fabricated memories of them, they thought it was hilarious."

AH! "Why did you tell them?!"

"Don't worry, I didn't tell them about Watcher business; just that you need memory implants for an assignment. I told them because I thought they'd get a kick out of it."

"You're a mean lady."

Not the least bit offended, she leans forward and plants a kiss on my forehead. "That concludes our memory session. It's been lovely seeing you, darling." She stands and grabs her little purple patent-leather purse. "There's a bag on your bed for you."

After slipping on her Jackie-O glasses, Helle click-clicks her way to the door. It's then that I remember what I'd been meaning to ask her.

"I know you've seen more red flags concerning Maggie and Henry, so don't bother asking if all of this really is necessary." she says, turning to look at me. "Trust me, sweetheart, we've done our research on Maggie," The corner of her lip curves upward. "I may have even met her when you and Carl weren't around last night." What?! "My baby brother insisted on going to the Bartlett House. What a cute Eeyore he was!"

I feel my eyebrows go way up. "So… you read her?"

She nods. "Best to be really sure before proceeding with our plan. Not that it's any guarantee, of course. But what I found was quite reassuring."

"…What did you find?"

Once again she flashes me her Mona-Lisa smile, and leaves without another word.

$#* &%!

"I heard that!" she shouts from the other side of the door as she descends the stairs.

Laughing, I go to my room to see what's in the big brown paper shopping bag.

It's my life, kinda: family photos, knick-knacks, stuff like that.

The first thing I see is a simple black wallet. All that's inside is a new driver's license with my picture on it. Thankfully, I look pretty good. I guess it was decided that I should keep my name… right down to my Immortal-given surname. How did they even fit the whole thing on the card?

Most of the pictures are burnt around the edges, like they were salvaged. And… wow. It's them. The Alphas had Shapeshifters pose as my actual family for these pictures. It's so strange to see them modernized and… well, it's strange to see them. There's even a younger me in here, and in one of them I'm standing next to a gorgeous little girl who I now remember as being my neighbor. Oh, gods; it's Yeva. It's the toddler version on my wife. The picture stirs up fake memories of teasing her and real memories of her admitting that she didn't mind marrying me.

Crap. I'm getting choked up again. After stowing the photos in their beat-up cigar box, I move on to the other stuff.

Next stop: London. There's a framed picture of my mother, my Aunt Ivanna (who looks like Renette), and me at the Tower of London. I must be about twelve years old. My mother's smile doesn't reach her eyes, and now I'm remembering being thirteen and looking at this, wondering why I hadn't noticed sooner.

Hmm, Britishy things. A little Big Ben, a wind-up Buckingham Palace guard, a wee bitty British flag… oh, yes. This is all undeniable proof that I've lived in London. I used to be British! Look! Look at my little flag! God save the queen! Whoa, I just fake remembered what I sounded like speaking British English with a Russian accent. Weird. By the time I had my British accent down, I was sent to America.

Oh, boy! On to Vegas! There's a gold leather photo album, and as I open it I feel happy and warm; it's my family, the one that's still living. There're no bad memories: no dying, no wrist cutting, no abandonment. I know that they love me and miss me.

As I flip through, I can recall taking most of these with the camera Auntie Lori Lux gave me when I first arrived. Some are of the Strip lit up at night, others are of random strangers that I thought looked photogenic, a few are of the desert, but most are of the girls. Candid, posing, goofing off… every picture reminds me of how protective and caring they were. And that I thought they were angels. A few of these were taken by one of them, because there's one where I'm helping Tisiphone lace up her corset backstage, and another where Jezebel J'Adore is teaching me how to braid her hair. It's weird because I actually did do stuff like this with them.

I saved the framed poster underneath the bag for last. It's for The Golden Apple, and it's very vintage and vaudevillian with its elaborate lettering and muted colors. All of them are featured: pin-up pretty Scarlett the Harlot; Kitty Divine in her cat ears and whiskers; baby-faced Sukie Sweetheart in corn-silk-blonde pigtails; the femme fatale Jezebel J'Adore; cocoa-colored Glamazon Angelique Mystique; The Scrumptious Twins, Caramel Rita and Tiramisu; Cherry Pop with her bright red hair; Roxy Cottontail in her bunny ears and fluffy tail; and leather-clad, whip-wielding Tisiphone, the biggest bad-ass I've ever met.

Damn, I really miss that crazy bunch of bitches.

Even though I'm eager to get back to school, I take a few minutes to put everything on shelves or in drawers. There's a nail at the bottom of the bag, and I push it in to the wall with my thumb so I can hang the poster.

My own room, all this stuff, a mostly new identity… and it's all because of one mortal girl with a crush. There must be some kind of storm brewing, some kind of dangerous possibility that no one's telling me about. Then again, maybe the Alphas are just being careful; every Immortal knows that if you have to lie, you shouldn't be half-assed about it.

There are two old biddies shuffling around the shop when I get downstairs. Just when I think I'll get to leave without talking to Daisy, she comes in from the Junglehouse.

She gives me a secretive smile. "Oh, I'm glad I caught you." I'm not. "Come in the greenhouse so we can talk."

Pouting, I follow her sunset-orange heels into her leafy lair. "Hit That" by The Offspring is playing from barely visible speakers all over the room.

"I play music for the plants every weekday morning," she answers after seeing my confused expression. "Chrysanthemums always pick every first Monday of the month."

"Okay," Nymphs are so weird.

"So," she begins, idly stroking an oversized lily petal. "Helle wanted me to tell you congratulations on getting a new Ward."

I feel all the color drain from my face. "Um…"

"Apparently you've known for a while and decided not to tell anyone. Did you think we wouldn't care?"

"I… I just don't want to talk about him. Please, Daisy."

Rolling her cinereous eyes, she starts to play with the pendent on her necklace. "He can't be that bad, can he? Nobody's perfect—"

"Hunter's a bully." Wow, that shut her up. "And he's really stupid, too."

Daisy gulps and tries to regain her composure. "That doesn't necessarily mean he'll… uh…"

"Rebel?"

"Right. I'm sure there's hope for him. He may be different by the time he actually Turns."

I utter a short, humorless laugh. "Whatever,"

Briefly lost in thought, Daisy bites her lip. Then she gazes at me like she knows what I'm thinking. "Try to have a little faith in him. You're his Elder; you owe him that."

"Yeah?" I feel my jaw tightening. "Well I owe it to everyone else to learn from my mistakes."

Resigned, and, I suppose, understanding, Daisy nods in agreement. "Alright."

As I turn to leave, she stops me. "Helle also said you have to start talking to Maggie this week."

"Okay," I reply, opening the door to the shop.

"If you need any girl advice—"

"Bye, Daisy!" And I'm out on the street before she can say any more.