Of course, Nina knew it wasn’t just those enemies Caleb worried about, but much more sinister ones. More powerful and mysterious. Until at least recently, they had remained on the sidelines, only influencing one side or the other in this age-old conflict, one stretching back to the days of the Pharaohs and even before if some legends (and visions) were to be believed.
Nina didn’t care, didn’t want to deal with any of it, and was perfectly content to remain under this shield, blue or black or whatever it was with this thing. She was protecting Jacob, and that was all she could focus on, all she could do. Keep him safe, steer him back to the right path (if she even knew what that was), and help him get past what he had done.
Not just the tremendous act of killing his evil and morally-corrupt brother, but all those other acts — and his complicity — in so many more. The realization that despite his age, despite being raised by a man who had used their talents in the furthering of a monstrous agenda, it had finally reared up and nearly brought Jacob to self-destruction as well. The annihilation of the new Library of Alexandria, the ‘intelligence’ he and Isaac had given to Calderon over and over: special targets, location of items and people to be eliminated… Jacob’s participation in such crimes had flooded over his soul, darkening it so deeply, that no one — especially not his father — could help.
No one, except perhaps one who had done more than her share of evil herself. Cold, calculating, ruthless, Nina had been every bit Calderon’s equal, but she had not — would not — bend to be his puppet. She had pulled away, like her son at the last, and did the right thing; stepped forward at great cost and joined the right side.
And now they had to live with the past. Jacob, finally with her help and with his drawings and distractions, had mostly overcome his demons.
But she had not.
It killed her to leave him for so long, but this was the only way she could keep herself from unraveling. She needed to heal, and was grateful to Caleb for all the time he had spent with her, nurturing her back to health after her near-fatal wounds, and still the scar beneath her scarf itched with the memory. She hugged her shoulders tight as she watched the space of cold earth below, eyeing the woman who left the house and struggled against the wind now, making her way to the locked lighthouse door.
The woman, Caleb’s sister, who looked up now, squinting and holding a hand up. She mouthed something, shouting ineffectual words to the wind which acted as another form of shield, snatching away their power and scattering their meaning before Nina could catch one fleeting syllable.
“I won’t come down,” she said in response, barely hearing it herself over the wind and the humming of the great beacon. Glancing over her shoulder, she followed the beam spearing out over the angry cobalt waves.
In time, the knocking below would reach her ears, and in time she would respond, but not now.
She hugged her shoulders closer and fought the chill, and the scars that ran deep through her marrow.
Phoebe knocked and knocked, and tried the window and thought about going back for a pocket knife and seeing if she could lift the hinges.
“Come on, Nina! Let’s just talk!”
She looked at her watch, then back to the house, where two faces peered out the side living room windows at her. In this light, with the reflection of the lighthouse and the rocky horizon splitting the vision, she couldn’t tell which boy was which. Back farther, the jeep in the driveway caught her eye as the back door opened and Aria backed out, holding a baby wrapped up tight in a blanket.
A baby…
Phoebe glanced up, then back to the jeep.
She had an idea.
Three minutes later, Nina opened the door. She hadn’t been aware of walking down the stairs, and must have been in a fog of thought, of dreams of past loss, death and more death. With every step on the metal stairs, her boots clanging echoes of screams into her heart, she could see the faces of those she had killed. In the service of George Waxman first, eliminating (exterminating) old Keepers who clung to their precious secrets until their dying breaths, killing off threats and stealing the memories and visions of those she would ultimately care about…
Seventy-two steps.
Not enough at the end, but still, each wavering step inducing the next reluctant movement. She had stayed up there for days, begging for the intermittent light, feeling unworthy as it washed over her again and again. Never cleansing, never strong enough despite its blinding power.
There’s no atoning.
Just maybe, however, there could be something else, something even stronger than forgiveness.
She made it to the ground floor, still with many steps to go before reviewing all the faces of those she had brutally and coldly sent on, and she approached the door to where Phoebe waited with the one surprise she hadn’t counted on. She had, days ago, touched her son’s hand, closed her eyes and allowed her talent to rise. The talent which had seemed to grow stronger since her time in near-death, and she devoured his visions. All of them in an instant.
She had seen what he had seen but had not comprehended. Seen the lightning tendrils ripping apart the sky and rending the fabric of reality; witnessed the cause of so much devastation upon the world’s population. Seen the uprisings and the mass carnage; the wars and the utter chaos to come.
They couldn’t stop it. Caleb, poor Caleb and his little band of blind warriors weren’t up to the task and would soon be locked away just in case. And Nina, she couldn’t do anything but hide up in the tower, praying for the light to sweep over her and make her forget, blind her to the truth…
Blind her to responsibility.
She opened the door and looked not upon Phoebe or the young woman standing there, but upon the other two.
The two infants she had also seen in Jacob’s visions. He had seen them too, in the periphery. But he didn’t know what he was seeing, or what follow up questions to ask.
She hadn’t known at first, even then, but only knew it was important. What’s more, the sight of twins, tiny infants orphaned yet possessing of great power… Power coveted by other figures Jacob also missed, dark robed figures in the shadows.
Nina looked upon them now, the same from her vision.
She realized something else. Despite the vision, despite the implications that they were somehow key to all this, to preventing the danger about to collide with all of existence, she would have helped anyway, no matter what was asked.
They were twins, the same age as Jacob and Isaac would have been while Nina had been deep in her forced coma. She had missed their birth, their growth, missing every chance to mold them and bond with them — and ultimately finding them only to lose one in the process.
They tugged at her heart, with their tiny eyes silently locking on hers, seeking her out, smiling and writhing in their swaddled hoodies.
Phoebe was talking, pleading about something and talking about her brother and Stargate, but Nina barely registered a syllable.
She moved forward, with both hands outstretched.
Phoebe and Aria tried to pull away, but Nina was faster.
“I’ll help,” she said, “but first…”
She set on a finger on each baby’s forehead.
And saw what they could do.