Chapter 4: Guardian Angels
Earlier that morning
The night before had been a long one for Mytyl. As a stage manager at the local concert hall, she had been up almost all night making preparations for the Day of the Dead festival concert. Several high profile artists were going to be performing there, and everything had to be just right. Of course, people were hard to rely on for that kind of thing, which led to plenty of frustrations for Mytyl. It seemed she had just managed to shake her agitation off when the blare of her alarm clock chased her from her dreams. She groaned into the pillow and just succeeded at switching off the alarm without throwing her phone on the floor. Nothing else would have gotten her out of bed so early that morning, nothing but a memory.
Through a herculean effort, she managed to sit up and get her legs over the side of the bed. Her silken nightgown slid against her skin as she rubbed her eyes. She got up and started the process of getting herself ready. As she went through the motions of her morning routine, she sensed that she had been dreaming something last night. She couldn't remember the first detail of it; she simply couldn't shake the feeling of losing something important. As she looked at her drowsy reflection in the mirror, she wondered about what had been.
"I keep having these weird thoughts," she had said to Nori not too long ago. "Like I'm hearing something from far away. Maybe even from a life that's gone."
She had thought before that she may have dreamed about something from the past, from the days she had forgotten, but how could she tell what was real when it was always so strange and disjointed? Sometimes, little images stayed with her: butterfly wings, lightning strikes, white walls, blue lights, red eyes. Sometimes, only the feeling was left: feelings of freedom or confinement, comfort or confusion, being alone or holding someone's hand. It was always wrapped in delirium.
However, there was one dream that she felt she had always had, one that never left her mind. She was in someone's arms. They were carrying her, flying. There were feathers, wings: the white wings of an angel. It was the one thing she felt sure about. It was her brother, the man who had given his everything for her: Copen.
Mytyl finished getting dressed and put on her final touch. She tied the ribbon, the one with the bell on it, into her white hair. The silver bell did not ring. To her knowledge, it never had, but it was something she never went without. Mytyl knew it had been tied into her hair when she woke up in the hospital that day. It was her one assurance that she really had been someone before that day, that she was the girl in the stories she heard. Silent as it was, it was her one link to the past, and that day was a day for honoring the voices gone silent.
Nori, in her usual maid outfit, was ready and waiting to open the door for Mytyl.
"Good morning, Lady Mytyl," she said and stepped aside.
"Morning to you, Nori," Mytyl said and stepped inside.
Mytyl yawned and set down the pot of marigolds she was carrying. The warm scent of baked bread reached her from further within.
"Did you sleep well?" Nori asked.
"Not exactly," Mytyl said, "but I wasn't missing this for anything."
Mytyl went to Nori and gave her a hug. Nori's posture remained straight as always, but her embrace was no less welcoming for it.
"It's good to see you," Mytyl said.
"You as well," Nori said softly.
There was only one place Mytyl wanted to make the altar. It was the place where she and her brother had spent most of their time together: her old room in the medical ward of their estate. Early sunlight streamed through the blinds and fell softly on the neatly made bed, the headboard of which rested against the wall. So often had an IV stood by the bed, a shadow could be felt in its absence. Above the headboard was a tack board covered with old photos and drawings.
"Who drew these?" Mytyl had asked when she saw them for the first time.
"You did."
Something about Nori's simple answer that day had caused Mytyl's eyes to swell with a torrent of tears which she was powerless to hold back. She supposed it was then she had first said goodbye. Perhaps, it was that very memory which presently compelled her toward the making of a physical memorial.
The pictures themselves were obviously drawn by a child's hand, but the child had not been unfamiliar with the art of depicting perspective. There were several drawings of Nori and Mytyl together. Always, they were side by side, Mytyl so small and gleeful, Nori so tall and serious. Mytyl had come to understand there were different kinds of love: the kind that pursued and the kind that stayed.
A single drawing stood alone in a frame on the window sill. It was her drawing of Copen. Mytyl had seen several photographs of him, but none of them had earned a frame in her room. They had all seemed so concerned with accuracy and objectivity; they were images through the eyes of no one in particular. That one drawing, however, told her everything she needed to know. Mytyl had drawn his face with the same expression she always gave Nori. The line of his mouth was akin to a cat's mouth, a scowl by default. If she had felt love through that expression in her drawings of Nori, it was the same with him. She had always heard he had something of an intense personality, a man of focus and commitment, incapable of doing anything halfheartedly. If he had loved her as she heard, he must have done it with everything he was. If these details had left any doubt, there was one more to fall upon; Mytyl had drawn herself differently. Her eyes were wider than in any of the others, and they shone so brightly, she could only imagine that it was the happiest moment of her forgotten life.
Nori watched as Mytyl picked up the drawing and put it on the table. She took a little breath and turned to Nori with a faint smile.
"I'm ready," she said.
Nori brought the bread, and Mytyl arranged the marigolds. They placed the sugar skulls, and Nori handed Mytyl a salt shaker while she set to work on the paper decorations. Mytyl sprinkled the salt into a cross pattern in the table's center. It was probably the only part of the tradition Copen would genuinely value, so she made sure it was in good form. Though the holiday and its traditions had come from the other side of the world, the past few decades had seen just enough adept fueled crises, social upheavals, and wars with terrorists to lay the foundations for a holiday rooted in death. Remembrance of the forgotten was a major sentiment that had spread throughout the country; Mytyl held that exact desire closer than most.
When they had finished setting the decorations, they stepped back and sat on the bed to appraise their work. It was all set with care, the way that indicates it was made with heart. Mytyl's drawing stood in the back center behind the salt cross. Copen hadn't been wearing normal clothes in that drawing but rather, some kind of armor, white as the salt on the table. Mytyl usually thought of him as something superhuman, a symbol, perhaps, of the love that kept her alive.
"He was my guardian angel, wasn't he?" she said.
"Every moment," Nori replied. "Who's to say he isn't still?"
Mytyl looked again at the drawings above the bed.
"You know," she said, "you've kind of been my guardian angel, too."
When Mytyl turned her warm smile to face Nori, she was met with an uncharacteristic widening of Nori's eyes.
"You've always been here for me," she added.
Mytyl lay her head against Nori's arm; she always felt so warm to Mytyl. Nori closed her eyes and turned her face away. Mytyl felt a quick jerk in Nori's body, the kind that might have come from an individual sob.
"Thank you, Lady Mytyl," she said. "You're very kind."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"You think he'd like it?" Mytyl asked.
"It has you written all over it;" Nori answered, "nothing would make him more proud."
"You really think he'd be proud of me?" Mytyl said. "Do you think I've done enough?"
"What do you mean?" Nori asked.
"I mean," Mytyl said, "I'm not a scientist or an engineer like him or Dad, and it's not like I'm famous or anything."
"Why would you need to be?" Nori asked.
"Somebody died for me," Mytyl said. "How am I ever gonna live up to that? What could make me worth that?"
"Mytyl," Nori said, "he loved you. He didn't need you to be anything other than what you already are."
Mytyl was quiet. She had needed to hear those words. Even so, it was hard to believe them. She was such a mystery to herself, sometimes it felt like she was missing the point of her own life.
"Oh!" Mytyl, suddenly remembering something, said. "Did you ever find the–"
Right on cue, Nori handed her a tablet.
"It was right where you left it," she said.
Mytyl took the tablet. The old model was outdated by decades. At that point, it could hardly function with the internet, but she only needed it for one thing. She drew the stylus and opened a writing app. In her previous absence of voice, the written word was the language she had spoken with her brother. If she had anything to say to him….
Finishing her message, Mytyl locked the screen and put the tablet on the table. Nori watched as Mytyl let her hand linger on the altar. There was a smile on Mytyl's face. Even in perfect health, Mytyl's smile still carried an essence of fragility, like the fleeting beauty of a butterfly's wingbeat. As if to confirm this sentiment, Mytyl looked at the time on her phone and let out a sigh.
"It's time I got going," she said.
"Are you sure you can't stay for a meal?" Nori protested.
"Sorry, I already had one," Mytyl said.
Nori held her piercing gaze on her.
"I mean," Mytyl said, "I did eat something."
"Lady Mytyl," Nori said, "you know a healthy breakfast is–"
"Yeah, I know," Mytyl said. "It's essential for maintaining a proper metabolism throughout the day. It's common knowledge by now, Nori."
Nori smirked as she stood up.
"Spoken like a Kamizono," she said.
Mytyl gave her another hug.
"Thanks for making this day special for me," Mytyl said.
"It was only proper," Nori replied.
"Well," Mytyl, letting go, said, "I'm about to try and make it special for all the music fans out there today."
"I'll see you on your way," Nori said.
As they passed through the doorway into the hall, Nori lingered for a moment by the large photograph, tall as a grand painting, which hung on the wall. It was the only group picture of the entire family. Mytyl was still an infant, and Copen was so young, he hadn't stopped smiling yet. Dr. Kamizono loomed large over them, and even the children's mother, gone too soon, was resting her hand on Copen's shoulder.
"Master Kamizono," Nori thought, "I haven't forgotten our promise."
1 hour later
Nori was well along in her daily cleaning run of the house. Once it had been a weekly endeavor, but with her masters so often away, she had increased the rigor of her sanitation efforts. Even in such stately surroundings, a keen eye could spot filth anywhere. Dust to dust was indeed the fate of man. With a basket of spray bottles, rags, and dusters in hand, Nori stood before her greatest obsession in the house: a grandfather clock, venerable as its title would suggest, ever presiding over the lower living room. She scraped any spot of dust from it, polished the wood to perfection, and cleansed the glass from any hint of opacity. Finishing the job, she stepped back and looked at it.
Tick…tock. Tick…tock. Tick….
All the house was silent save for that one sound, that endless sequence. Nori watched the pendulum swing back and forth, back and forth. She watched it like a cat, only, her head did not move, neither did her eyes. Her gaze stayed transfixed on the middle point of the swing; the pendulum passed through that point again and again.
What was done was done. One action, one choice, one push set everything turning. No right, no mountain of deeds could ever bury a single wrong. She had learned it when she was young. For one born into evil, the path was set. No matter how many times the pendulum swung back, it would always swing forward again.
Nori saw her reflection in the glass over the clock face. As the second hand ticked around and around, she saw the grey of her hair. She saw the lines under her eyes. She saw that she was tired. And yet, still she remembered his reflection, the man she called "Master," on that clock face, watching the seconds pass away. She still wondered if he could have truly meant what he said then. Still, the echo was in her ears.
"You're the only one I can trust."
An alarm wailed from Nori's phone, shattering the echo of memory. She had heard it before, the shelter or evacuation warning that usually accompanied a primal dragon appearance, but when she checked the emergency message, Nori found it was of a different nature. Primal dragons usually invoked a code blue or red warning with orders for orderly evacuations or emergency shelter. At worst, they triggered code purple, a more grave shelter warning, in a small area. However, the code Nori read at the top of that emergency warning was code black, the equivalent threat level of an active warzone.
Nori snatched up the remote and flicked on the TV. If the warning was correct, it would be on every channel. The broadcaster's voice was clear and urgent with only the slightest tremble betraying the panic she undoubtedly shared with her listeners.
"I repeat, we are in a code black danger level. Everyone is ordered to evacuate to your nearest designated safe zone. Emergency services are receiving mass reports of attacks from all over the city. If you are not accompanied by emergency response forces, you are not safe."
Immediately, Nori snatched off her bonnet and ran to the basement. Below was one of Copen's old research stations, his first, in fact. With Copen refusing to go near the estate anymore, Nori had taken to storing some equipment of her own in those facilities. When she hit the switch at the bottom of the stairwell, light, bouncing from every luminous surface, flooded the room. One of the computers remained linked to Copen's surveillance network; Nori still used it to aid him on occasion. She started its boot sequence and hit another switch to open a wall panel where Copen had previously stored his armor. Instead, it housed Nori's operations suit and tactical rig. Though years had passed since she last wore it, the tight suit still fit her perfectly. She practically jumped into it and strapped on her boots, vest, and equipment. In her blacked-out gear, Nori stood the lone point of darkness in a room of solid white.
She accessed the surveillance network and began to look through the camera feeds. There was panic everywhere: crowds stampeding, cars crashed, military forces scrambling to respond. Nori changed camera angles until she found the source of the panic. Though she could hardly believe it, Nori recognized the twisted, humanoid monsters immediately: zombies, the work of a freaking necromancer. The sole surviving duplicate of Copen's handgun remained in the armory, and a pocket pistol was already strapped to Nori's boot, but seeing what she was up against, Nori knew she needed something more. Taking the revolver with her, she ran to another room in the house.
As she rapidly paced down the hall, Nori pulled up Mytyl's location on her phone. It still showed her at the concert hall. Nori tried to call her, but there was no answer: a bad sign. Connected to a bedroom no one had slept in for ages was a walk-in closet. In the back of that closet was a hidden door opening to a tall, fireproof safe. Nori rapidly entered the code and pulled open the thick, metal door. An old dress hung in the safe, but underneath it lay a firearm case and a plethora of nine millimeter ammunition. Nori popped it open to reveal a compact submachine gun and several magazines, one of which was a drum mag. With frantic fingers, she slid the rounds into the magazines, fit the magazines into her rig, and loaded the drum mag into the submachine gun. She slung the gunstrap over her shoulder and pulled back the receiver. However, before she released it, Nori took another look at the dress in the safe. It was a black dress, gothic in its stylings with highlights of deep blue. After staring at it for a moment, Nori let out a heavy sigh. Time was, indeed, a strange thing. She chambered the round and hesitated no longer.