Page 66 of Inkpot Gods

“Quiet!” snaps Erin.

The rest of the room falls silent, Roger blinking owlishly at her while the others just subside. No one moves.

“Yes, we’re going back into the lab,” says Erin. “No, I don’t know exactly how you fight an etiäinen, but I know you can fight them, and Artemis and I did a pretty good job of knocking down the first one we saw.”

“It didn’t like having an arrow in its throat,” says Artemis. “Maybe we can try a little more of that. I don’t think we can talk them to death.”

“Yeah, but etiäinen are notorious for getting back up again after they’ve taken a hit,” says Erin. “We don’t know if the one you shot actually stayed dead, or even stayed down. We have to assume we’re fighting enemies that can just come for a second round.”

“Gee, that’s pleasant,” says Roger dryly.

“Oh, it gets worse,” says Erin. “There may be other protections, or areas we can’t enter without triggering something way nastier than a couple of face-stealing security dogs. Which takes me to the point that Artemis is really not going to like, but it’s non-negotiable.”

“And what’s that?” asks Artemis, in a dangerous tone. The air around her is beginning to sparkle with captive silver moonlight. She’s always awake, thanks to the effective death of her mortal half, but she isn’t always stepped all the way up into her divinity. That requires effort, and right now, effort is what she’s putting forth.

“Kelpie has to come with us.”

“Over someone else’s dead body,” says Artemis.

“They made her in that lab. No one understands it like she does. If we’re trying to avoid the traps, we need her.”

“No,” says Artemis.

“Arty, she’s not wrong,” says Kelpie. “I grew up there. Nobody else who’s left knows it as well as I do. If I go, maybe no one has to get hurt.”

“If you go, you could get hurt,” counters Artemis. “I can’t allow that.”

Kelpie takes a sharp breath, pulling slightly away. “I am my own person and I make my own decisions, even if I’m considered a minor Lunar incarnation. You don’t get to tell me what you can and can’t allow.”

Artemis looks stricken. “But you could get hurt,” she repeats, like that’s the only argument that matters.

“Anyone can get hurt, anywhere,” says Kelpie. “I hit my elbow on the kitchen counter this morning. You can’t keep me out of the kitchen, and you can’t stop me from going to this lab. I’m needed.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” says Artemis, voice going small.

“And I wish you’d trust me to take care of myself,” says Kelpie. “I know this is hard, but it’s what we have to do.” She looks back to Erin. “I’ll come. I don’t know the whole lab—I was always kept on a pretty tight leash—but I may be able to help you navigate the place without setting anything off.”

“I’m coming too,” says Judy. “I’m the senior Lunar for this area, and I can’t let my people go into potential danger without me. That would make me as bad as Diana.”

They don’t mention the former area senior very often, but everyone who knew her understands how hands-off she was, how willing to let her people risk themselves while she stayed safe in her office, well away from whatever happened to be going on. Roger looks over at her, then puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. Judy smiles at him.

“I think we’re all going, except for maybe David,” says Dodger. “It’s going to be a good old-fashioned field trip into absolute mortal peril. Roger, I am giving you verbal permission, in the sight of most of the people we know, to give me instructions while we’re down there, if that’s going to make the difference between success and failure. I won’t get mad at you for telling me what to do, even if it does feel like spiders running around the inside of my skull.”

Roger blinks. “You’re really worried about this.”

“I am,” says Dodger. “We closed up that lab and just forgot about it. We never asked ourselves what was going to happen next, or whether it could still be dangerous even if it wasn’t actively being used. Whatever comes out of that place is at least partially on us. I don’t know how much more collateral damage I can handle.”

“I know, Dodge,” he says softly.

“And it’s not like we can just go back and try again at this point,” she says, frustration evident. “There are too many variables now, too many things we wouldn’t be able to recreate in order to get ourselves back to right here. I like it here. I like it here better than I like farmer’s markets and being left alone. I like all of the people we’ve collected. I don’t want to lose any of them because we tried for a reset and didn’t remember what day we were supposed to go to Costco after you got off work.”

“I know,” says Roger again.

She sighs, slumping against the counter. “I just want this all to be over.”

(Later, she’ll look back on that statement and think it was careless for the living incarnation of half the natural forces controlling the universe to say such a thing, that she should have known there would be consequences. But here and now, in the moment, she’s not thinking about consequences, and she’s never been the one whose words impact reality in such a direct and immediate way. That’s Roger’s burden to bear. She can speak freely: it’s listening that gets her into trouble, that destroys everything she’s built in another turbulent collapse of broken time and unwanted undoing. But some things, once spoken, become inevitable, like the frost melting in the fields. Some things, upon being invoked, can’t be put down again.)

“What about Kim and Tim?” asks Roger abruptly.