We drank until two in the morning.
At some point Soomin woke up and demanded food, so Emi made scrambled eggs while my mother sat at the kitchen table telling Luka everything. The research. The jars. The four thousand people frozen in amber light. The door that wasn't a door and the key that wasn't a key and the son who wasn't quite a son anymore.
Luka listened.
He asked questions. Sharp ones. The kind of questions a B-Rank Hunter asks when he's trying to figure out how to kill something.
My mother answered.
By the time the eggs were gone and the whiskey bottle was empty, we had the beginnings of a plan. Not a good plan. Not even a survivable plan. But a plan.
Step one: Destroy the basement.
Step two: Travel to the Northern Wastes.
Step three: Find my father.
Step four: Ask him one question.
Step five: Deal with whatever answer he gave.
Simple. Clean. Absolutely suicidal.
"I'm coming with you," Luka said.
"No."
"That wasn't a request."
"Neither was my answer."
