"Ken," the voice behind me registered just as I had resolved to make my way back to the table and something stronger than my ninth glass of champagne."Ken," the voice behind me registered just as I had resolved to make my way back to the table and something stronger than my ninth glass of champagne. I looked around; the party was winding down already. How much time had gone by? I'd lost track; there were only a few people here. "Hello, Freya," I said, making no effort to hide my anger or my sadness. "I must be going." "Please stay," she said. "There isn't much left to say between us, but I want to say it." "Freya, it was a mistake for me to come here. I'd like to leave." "And I'd like you to stay." I looked into her human face, the barely-apparent ruffs of orange fur along her jawbone and trailing down her throat. I bit my lip and said, "Okay, I'll stay. For now." "It's not going to be a long time anyway." "And I refuse to hate you for it; hating the dead does the living no good." "Come on," she said, holding out her hand. I took it; it was warm and comfortable, just the way it had always been. She led me through the doors back into a hallway, then into another room. "I reserved this room; I've already given my house away. Besides, Cutters will know what to do with me in the morning." "Freya..." "You can't talk me out of it." "Can you blame an old man for trying?" I asked, gently. "Especially a father?" "I thought you hated that word." I tried to force a smile. "Not when using it's to my advantage." She shook her head quietly, sitting down on the bed. I sat down next to her, feeling the tightness in my chest, the sadness. "Dammit, Freya, why are you killing yourself?" She shrugged. "Because I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing." "What about your children? What about... Oh, Hell, Freya, there's a million things you could be doing." "Instead of dying?" "Instead of dying. Why are you doing this?" "Because I want to," she said. "You... you look at life and say 'Well, I haven't done this, or I haven't done that,' and I can't say that. I look at all these things and I see 'Somebody else will do that eventually,' or 'I don't think I want to do that.' I don't feel attached to anything. Not to Pendor, not to you, not to my children. |