Turning Water into Wine…and Glass?

This is bad.

Really bad.

Even though I knew in my gut that this would be the outcome, somewhere inside, I still wished I’d be wrong; that for once, a futile situation would somehow take a positive turn. But no such luck. I was right.

A-fucking-gain.

I’m so sorry, Mike.

I slowly levitate the motionless mermaid from underneath the mass of debris and other dead matter, being careful not to move her already fragile, decomposing body around too much.

This is going to kill Mikailiel.

Damn it.

I ponder what to do with her. It only seems right that Mike should be allowed the honor of reaping his long-time girlfriend’s soul, but therein lies the problem; how the fuck am I supposed to tell him she’s dead, much less have him take apart her essence?

He’d sooner end his own existence. That, I’m sure of. But not before trying to end mine as well.

That, I’m double sure of.

As I hold Soorah’s limp, cold, and bloody body in my arms, another abrupt, vivid image of Kitty-Cat flashes through my mind, shocking me with its clarity but also agitating me with the reminder of her innocence.

A surprising and unwelcome pang of guilt hits me hard, making my throat feel tight as I think of her and the fact that she’s—as far as I can tell—very much a mortal.

Like Soorah.