The town is springing up around us at a near alarming rate. Everyone has a job and there is little bickering or complaint among them. Even my myriad of children seem to be getting used to a more simple and relaxed way of doing things. The way things ever should have been.
I regret that they do not remember Abel, because I remember. I often remember and feel a well of pain buried beneath months now of peace and utter contentment. This is the life I yearned for, this is everything I always held in my heart, what I carried all those years in my search to redeem my Finn.
Finn and I have worked masterfully, he’s calm to my tension, order to my chaos, and sometimes chaos to my order. The perfect foil. Our pups grow daily, sometimes it even feels as though it’s hourly. They are lovely and wonderful and everything they should be. Though it’s fair to think that perhaps I look on this with rose tinged glasses.
The strange collection of supernatural creatures we’ve gathered never ceases to amaze. A gargoyle, a mummy, vampires, werewolves, mage, marauder, fae. We have nearly everything there is to have and yet, there is peace. It is proof that what we were attempting on Santa Catalina could have worked.
In spite of all the glorious progress we make, I still feel as though a cloud hangs over this place. As if immanent doom is waiting beyond every corner. Perhaps it is just the restlessness that has come from control. We have been prepared for everything that has come our way and the lack of fear on every dawn is… different.
Admittedly there are times that I’ll round a corner and see a shock of blond hair and broad shoulders and feel myself begin to shake with the idea that it could be him. I’ve never been entirely convinced that I myself went unscathed through all those many encounters when I was stupid enough to leave my guard down. The times when Abel and I went days without speaking. What if I simply don’t recall… what if the star didn’t work… what if he will find a way to me regardless.
Finn knows of my nightmares and does his best to sooth them, and I see the hardness in his eyes when I have spoken of the horrors that befell me, and my daughter. In that I feel that Aisling and I will have a bond that no other would understand. It pains me to consider the bond we share in this. I know that we would be defended in the future, should anything like this occur here, and now. That knowledge is only a paltry comfort to a lifetime of pain and strife, a lifetime of fear that I will have to learn to live without.
Perhaps in time I will stop seeing his face. Perhaps I will stop believing in monsters under the bed. Perhaps in time I will forget that living nightmare and what a real monster is capable of.