Humans Don't Make Good Familiars

Book 3- Part 6

Jake's POV

I was sitting on my bed, the room illuminated by the new glowing strings that had been added recently. In their dull white light, I held the two broken halves of Twilight, my hammer, which I had accidentally snapped during a rune experiment a few days ago. Earlier, I'd been told that my team was going to kill someone... a person, not a Neame. For three hours, I've gone back and forth in my head. Wondering if it was a mistake, thinking that they'd been wrong. Maybe it wasn't a human?

(I'm in the army, I knew I was going to have to kill someone eventually.) I thought. (Two years here, and I still can't bring myself to get over this already... Why not?) Sending away Twilight, I laid on my bed, and checked the time on my phone: 8:43 pm. A new letter from my mum was sitting on my desk, but it was still unopened. (How am I... could I, explain this to her? What would Dad say?) My father was in the army, he fought in Iraq during the Gulf War for a year when he was my age, almost thirty years ago. (How did he deal with this? Why is it bothering me so much? It didn't used to...) Years ago, when I first met Suma, I'd come to terms with the idea that I might have to defend myself, and took classes for it specifically. Dad even took me to a shooting range for the first time and taught me how to use a gun, once I was old enough. But I couldn't ask my dad anymore, and I didn't want to worry Mum, so instead I decided to search Zachariah's memories for an answer, or some way to cope with everything.

His memories had been useful. My magic control is better, I'm starting to figure out how he was able to invert his own spells, and I already learned how he created the runes. Closing my eyes, I opened the memories, and wondered how I was supposed to find a memory on being okay with killing something. (Death.) I thought, and several memories appeared in my mind. Starting with the strongest one, I braced myself.

I was crouched in a bush, looking at a white fox through the branches. The fox was barely visible, hidden by its fur in the glistening snow. Its head poked out slightly from a burrow, before it jumped out and started walking away. Though I couldn't see them, I knew there was someone behind me. "Do you see it?" The man behind me asked. His voice was rough but quiet. Even though he wasn't speaking English, I knew what he was saying anyway.

"Yes, Faðir." Zachariah answered, whispering.

"Good, then take aim, and kill it." The man said, and handed Zachariah an arrow over his shoulder. Moments later, the arrow was piercing the side of the fox, and Zachariah left to bush to pick it up. "You did good, my son." The man said, and placed a hand on Zachariah's shoulder. "Tell me, do you know why you killed this fox?"

"To eat?"

"Yes. We eat the fox, because we are stronger. The fox eats the shrew, because the fox is stronger. We kill because that is our way. The strong kill, the weak kill, because we all must survive."

With that, the memory ended, and I was back in the void, searching through the memories again. "Well... that was helpful." I said sarcastically to myself. "I need something that doesn't feel like it could fit into a Disney movie."

Changing my desires from just the memories about 'death' to 'dealing with death', a new group of memories appeared. Opening the next memory, I was transported to a small, cabin style, room. In front of me, laid a woman on a bed. "Móðir..." Zachariah said. It sounded like he was crying, and waves of sadness washed over me; not my own, but his in that moment. Another woman walked up behind Zachariah, followed by his father. She examined the woman on the bed, and told them that she had died. Still holding her hand, Zachariah cried.

"Jörm, Zachariah, I am sorry for your loss." The woman said, placing a cloth over the woman's eyes.

Jörm, wiping his eyes, thanked the woman for trying, and asked that the chieftain be called to perform her ceremony tomorrow.