increasingly vicious battle for his political position—was still out there. Magdalene, Becks, and Alaric deserved their chance to say goodbye to the Masons.

Mahir’s flight from London landed at eleven the day of the funeral. I drove to the passenger collection zone at the edge of the airport’s quarantine border, hoping I’d be able to pick him out of the crowd. I didn’t really need to worry. His plane had been almost empty, and I would’ve known him any-where. He looked as lost as I did.

“Rick,” he said, and took my hand. “I’m so glad to finally meet you. I just wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

“So do I,” I said, and led him to the car.

“What news?” Mahir asked, as we pulled onto the freeway. “I’ve been incommunicado for hours. Blasted flight.”

“Senator Ryman’s plane touched down about the same time yours did. They’ll be meeting us at the funeral home. Emily couldn’t make it, but she sends her regrets.”

“And how are you?”

He meant “Are you sober?”, and since I was driving, I couldn’t fault him for asking the question. “I’m getting by,” I said.

“Fair enough,” he said, and we drove the rest of the way without saying anything else. There was nothing else to say.

The parking lot of the funeral home was choked with cars. Packing the staff of multiple blog sites and a Presidential campaign, as well as friends and family, into a single building will do that sort of thing. I pulled into the last parking slot reserved in the “family” section of the lot. Today, we were family. We were the only family they had left in the world—the only family that mattered.

“Here we are,” I said, unlocking the door. I paused, then, looking to Mahir, and asked the one question I needed answered more than anything else: “Was it worth it?”

“No,” said Mahir quietly. “And yet… what is?”

The Masons did what they knew and loved best, and they died for it. Not before Shaun saved her one last time; not before Georgia found her truth.

Maybe that was enough. Maybe this was all over.

And maybe it didn’t matter, because our story ended with a razorblade and a bathtub full of water, and a girl who never knew how to cry weeping in the only way she knew how. Even if this wasn’t over, someone else was going to have to save the world next time.

We were done.

Rise up while you can.

END.

THE NEWSFLESH TRILOGY AVAILABLE NOW

   © 2012, by Seanan McGuire
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