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“He isn’t just a golem, not anymore,” I said, speaking in a near whisper. “He may have started out that way, but he’s a man, a real human being now, and there is nothing anyone could say to convince me otherwise.”
“I feel no compulsion to debate his humanity or lack thereof. We were concerned about him at first, but he has been deemed harmless.”
“Why in heaven’s name would you worry about Emmet?”
“Because of the prophecy made about the ‘Babalon Working’ and the fall of the line. We have reason to believe that before her death, Emily had attempted the great work. Perhaps her efforts were what led to her death.”
“Babylon, like Mesopotamia Babylon?”
“No, Babalon with an ‘a,’ not a ‘y.’ It is an example of the blackest of magics, aimed at creating the ‘Abomination,’ a non-human spirit born into a human body.”
“You all thought Emmet might be the result of this spell? But you allowed his creation.”
“With all the changes happening, we had every right to feel concern. Even the best and most loyal of witches might be working with a covert agenda.”
“Oh please,” I said with a nod in Emmet’s direction. “Look at him.”
Emmet busied himself making faces at the little girl in an attempt to get her to smile for the photos. He snapped a few pictures on the woman’s phone, then handed it back to the boy for his approval.
“What do we say?” the mother addressed her son.
“Thank you,” the boy said, and it very nearly sounded sincere, but he was already off, running one last lap around the standing stones before his mother delivered the inevitable command to return to the car.
Fridtjof leaned in to my ear. “In the end we determined it was the line itself that bestowed your golem with his humanity, so his existence has been approved.”
I wanted to ask Fridtjof just who the hell he was to approve or disapprove, but the mother returned, bouncing her daughter on her hip. The little one squealed in delight as Emmet waved a finger at her. “Thank you. No really.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “If I had to drive all the way home without him seeing these things . . .” She paused. “What are they about anyway?”
I shrugged and lied. “We’re just paid to maintain the place. Your guess is as good as mine.”
She looked back over her shoulder at them. “I don’t know. I’m glad we got to see them, but honestly, there’s just something creepy about them, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I do think.”
She smiled at me, then at Em
met, only I noticed she blushed a little when looking his way. “Come on, Mitch,” she called to her son, who had taken advantage of her lack of attention to begin a second circuit. He cut through the monument, and jogged along toward us. She reached out and patted him on the back. “Let’s get going, big guy.”
As they trotted off together to their car, I surmised Mitchell was satisfied with his visit. He jabbered on about a movie he was wanting to see, and his mother kept repeating the words “We’ll see. We’ll see.” My heart ached to have this same exasperated conversation with my Colin.
The boy and mother both waved good-bye as they backed out onto the main road. Emmet and I waved back. Fridtjof behaved as if he had already forgotten they existed. “The Babalon Working . . .”
“Listen,” I said. “You can tell the other anchors they have . . . the line has my support, but I’m ready to get home. I’ve enjoyed this little field trip immensely but my feet are swelling. I want to sit down, maybe have some tea—”
A table covered by a white tablecloth along with three comfortable chairs appeared before us. A large pot of tea and a three-tiered pastry stand sat on the table alongside cups, plates, and silver. Fridtjof stood there contemplating his work. A crystal vase filled with daffodils shimmered into existence. “There, that’s a nice touch, no?” He pulled out a chair for me. “About the Babalon Working,” he continued. I looked at Emmet, who shrugged. “I brought you here to discuss just that.”
“Here I believed,” Emmet began, “I was no longer thought to be the world-eating spawn of the Great Whore.”
“This has nothing to do with you, golem”—Fridtjof faced me—“and everything to do with your mother.”
TWENTY-NINE
“I thought you didn’t know what Gudrun’s spell was attempting.”
“I’m not speaking of Gudrun’s spell.” Fridtjof took a step back. “Whatever she was attempting, it has no relation to the Babalon Working.”
“Okay, but seriously, I think you are confused. Emily attempted something she called the Babel spell. She tried to suck Emmet and me into it, but we handled her, right?” I looked to Emmet for validation.
“Yes,” Emmet said, pouring tea into one of the delicate china cups and setting it on a saucer before me. “Or at least Jilo did.”
