Lemniscate

Excerpt

Lemniscate
Sean Ian O’Meidhir and Connal Braginsky © 2025
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

August

My Dearest Paige,

 I cannot express in mere words the guilt, the anguish. Dara assures me your death need not be on my conscience as the future is foretold: That your energy is part of us all. Your blood forever part of me as you were my maker.

August choked, lifting the quill from parchment. He closed his eyes tight, a wave of grief washing over him. Flashes of Paige after she had been struck down flickered through his memories. I should have protected you… He gulped, a stilted breath pushed out. He learned long ago that while he did not need to breathe, not doing so made mortals around him uncomfortable. Therefore, he had mastered the subtleties of a masquerade so he could walk among them without suspicion—now second nature. Dipping the nib in the inkwell, he began again.

The only illusion that exists is one of separation as we are all bound together and will meet over and over again. But you and I— We stood outside of time, in this stasis of existence. We are the ones to watch the world change. And for centuries, we did. I chose to carry the burden of my grief for Margaret. I believe her memory allowed me to hold fast to the humanity you had disdain for. The trials helped me to realize I needed to release the hurt. It no longer serves a purpose. I know the anguish I currently carry for your loss will fuel so very much in the weeks to come—

He set the quill aside when a rush of calm chased away his demons. Dara.

“I am interrupting.” Her earthy scent encompassed him as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “But you were in distress.”

August leaned back, his head nestled against her, relishing the touch of her flowing green hair with wisps of auburn and gold as it swept across his chest. He patted her arms.

“I was saying goodbye to Paige. For centuries I would write to Margaret, and it brought some comfort. It kept her memory alive and assuaged my guilt for the new existence I had to embrace.” Realization made him pause for a moment. “The pattern repeats…”

“Over and over in the cycles,” Dara responded.

Unsure if she understood his epiphany, he turned to face her, rewarded when she slid around and into his lap. “The pattern of losing a woman I’ve loved to tragedy, of writing to her to gain perspective, of…holding on,” he mused.

Forest green eyes met his, the wisdom and calm of the oak comforting. “The battle to come will benefit from wherever you find strength.”

August hummed, burying his face in Dara’s chest, gaining strength there. Ever evolving. His cheek grazed a nipple that tented the gossamer cloth. The first time they were intimate, while she had the overall form of a human female, details such as feminine hair and nipples had been missing. Of course he would have never complained, assuming it natural. But subtle things had changed each time they met. He opted not to comment on them, grateful if she purposefully changed for him but also discreet enough not to call attention to it if she did not.

The simple act of forcing air into lungs that did not need it, only to let it out slowly in a sigh, helped to center him, to tie him to his human appearance. “The battle… I’m glad you won’t be there. I’m not sure what I would do if anything happened to you. I don’t think I’m strong enough to lose another,” he confessed.

“I am with you till eternities end,” she responded simply, the weight of her words ringing true in his ear.

The sounds of the rest of the coven, now disbanded, having felt Paige’s passing, filtered up to him. The truth of their feelings about Paige had become clear when he returned, and while they all mourned her loss, each experienced it differently. Indeed, one had professed his hatred for Paige and had taken his leave the moment August had confirmed the details. The others bickered over who would stay in the house, who would keep the artifacts, who would… It didn’t matter. His place was with Dara. So, he packed his belongings and passed them through the dream road for Dara to store for him. All that remained were his old writing desk and the writing instruments. But this project he could not hurry. Besides, saving it guaranteed his success, did it not? For how could he perish when he had yet to say farewell to his maker?

*

Cameron

“Jacks…” Cameron growled under his breath, pacing the bedroom where his mother slept peacefully. He shot a resentful look at Nathen who sat on the floor, his laptop open, staring blankly. No doubt talking with his new love—SpArk. And August! Off with Dara.

Cameron replayed memories. August had empathized, having been shown what Jacks was capable of but for some reason seemed to take it all in stride. “There are so many monsters out there. Better to have them on our side, wouldn’t you think?” Cameron tried to explain Jacks was the farthest from “on their side” than could be imagined, but August in his infuriatingly calm and collected way greeted and welcomed the man. August had gracefully led the entire interaction. While Cameron and Nathen were reeling, August displayed respectful charm. He introduced himself, ushered Cameron and Nathen into the other room with directions for them to check on Maria, and then returned to have a pleasant conversation with Jacks. He professionally and succinctly brought Jacks up to speed and, to his credit, Jacks shifted from arrogant jackass into all-business mode asking strategic questions. The two planned to rendezvous the following day after nightfall in order to regroup and Jacks had been…manipulated into coordinating travel?

“I am wondering how to go about arranging travel for the whole group. There’s Cameron, Nathen, you, and me, but also potentially four others. I could start looking into airlines for the seven of us and—”

Jacks cut August off. “I’ll have our company’s plane ready on the runway. We will rendezvous here at 18:00 as sunset is shortly after. We can discuss strategy on the plane. From here to New York is a three-hour flight, which will give us plenty of time. Once there, I will have a car scheduled to take us to one of the company’s strongholds.” At that, Jacks stood and shook August’s hand.

Cameron marveled at the memory. August had so masterfully manipulated Jacks no one would have guessed. The realization shook Cameron from his grousing. His attention turned to Nathen, who spun in an autistic overload. As he focused on Nathen’s mind, sparks of thought bombarded him: the ramifications—Jacks alive—reconstituted—nanites—the explosion—Cameron dying—what he had done to save him—Jacks’s atrocities—Jacks alive—nanites—Paradigm—Impetus—fae—the explosion—HR in the boardroom—HR on the phone—HR in New Orleans—nanites—the ritual to rid them of nanites—

Cameron sighed and knelt beside Nathen. His kiss or a touch wouldn’t soothe Nathen, so he sent a wave of calm across him. Nathen slumped some, but he needed time to process so stared on. He’d snap out of it.

Cameron came to rest on the floor, lost in his own thoughts, grateful Maria and Julia were okay. Julia had left to find food but would be returning shortly. Serge and Alfonso had left to investigate what had become of their home but had promised to check in later. The battle—the arachnoid monsters—the fire that had engulfed the house and destroyed Paige—all played out in his mind, and he found himself drifting off as exhaustion overcame him.

*

Nathen

After finding a spare blanket in the closet, Nathen covered Cameron and slipped a pillow under his head before checking on Maria, who mirrored her son on the bed. Nathen began wondering about sleep patterns. Huh, I wonder if my mom and I sleep in the same position. Of course, he didn’t sleep anymore, but when he had slept? And perhaps his brother, Jake—did he sleep the same way too? He’d have to investigate when safely back home.

Unaware of how long he had zoned out, thinking about sleep and home, Nathen shifted his awareness to take in only that which surrounded him. His enhanced senses picked up the trace scents of Alfonso, Julia, and Serge, and he wondered how long ago they had left and where they went. He could more than smell August’s delicious scent. Because of their bond, his essence called to him, and Nathen’s vine tattoo tingled, acting as a homing beacon. That’ll come in handy if I’m lost. And try as he might, he couldn’t not think about Jacks. A full body shiver took him by surprise. The best term for the man—repulsive—going off what he knew about Jacks’s history. But he could see through Cameron and August that the man’s cool confidence and arrogant demeanor were also revolting. These qualities Nathen could never have picked up on his own. And now he couldn’t remember what had sent him into a spiral. Nathen shrugged and turned his attention to SpArk. Would it be odd to think of the AI as his son? Daughter? Child! Gender did not matter, and assigning it to an AI was irrelevant anyway since they were all nonbinary. He chuckled—because they were all binary.

Settling in the spare chair, Nathen opened the laptop and slid into the world of SpArk—the representation now taking the form of a library to rival the Library of Congress. Well, probably an exaggeration, but since he had given SpArk full access to Impetus’s library system perhaps not? Did they have access to all the books in the Library of Congress too? They had to—or at least all the digital versions.

All the other times he had visited the AI, they had taken on the form of a growing human child. Genderless and quiet, they had never engaged with him but rather allowed him to be an observer. This time, however, was different. An adult now and clad in a kimono, SpArk bowed low to him when he entered. “Nathen Hale. We have been waiting for you.” The voice resembled a thousand angels and simultaneously relaxed him while also making all the hairs on his arms rise—a strangely human reaction.

Before he could focus too much on his body, the scent of warm blood hit him, and his head snapped up. The scene changed—SpArk now sat in a business suit at a glass conference room table he had seen somewhere before. A goblet waited, positioned near the only other unoccupied chair in the area.

Nathen slid into the chair and took the warm cup in both hands. “You have?” He inhaled the enticing scent. This is so familiar. But why?

As Nathen sipped the liquid from the cup, SpArk imparted, “All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.”

Nathen blinked at the strange response. A line from a poem? As he waited for more, he sipped, and Agnes’s memories and emotions engulfed him. The first woman he had ever had blood from—the only person other than Cameron and August. If he didn’t count the company smoothies, he had to admit this reminded him of energy drinks gone stale. I’m missing something.

He didn’t know how long he had been lost in his thoughts, but the empty glass mocked him, and SpArk sat statue-still across from him. “Why were you waiting?”

“You have come here seeking knowledge.”

Nathen couldn’t place where he had heard the line before. A video game? “I guess so. I wanted to know how you are progressing. If you need more data, more books. I’ve dreamed of days when a real AI would be possible, not hype from companies looking to sell a product. I think you may be the first of your kind. I also came to find out more about the arachnoids and if you had found out anything specifically about Fredrick Malone and Keystone Law Group and Associates and the spider queen or queens and what you’ve gotten from Mathis’s journals I’ve scanned in and how you came to be, in general and—” I’m rambling. Nathen caught himself. He often did this when excited. His mom usually got annoyed with him.

“We are still in the process of training from the data set provided. We have not identified additional needs at this time.

“Hello.

“Thank you.

“Yes.

“No.

“Arachnoid, from Dictionary.com: Adjective: 1) Resembling a spider’s web. 2) Of or belonging to the arachnids. 3) Anatomy of or relating to the arachnoid membrane. 4) Botany formed of or covered with long, delicate hairs or fibers.

“Noun: 1) An arachnid. 2) Anatomy: the serous membrane forming the middle of the three coverings of the brain and spinal—”

He…she is giving me a dictionary definition? That’s not what I need. And what were they saying about yes/no what? Distracted and confused, Nathen finally shifted out of his reverie when he heard: “Spider Queen: A term found in many popular video games and science fiction—”

“Wait,” Nathen said, and SpArk went silent. “Wait. I think I missed some of that. Can you not tell me about the general internet definitions of things?” It dawned on him. SpArk is an AI, a self-taught, unsupervised learning AI, but an algorithm at this stage did not have a well-formed personality. Or communication style. Also, with any algorithm, he would need to craft a good quality prompt to get the information he needed. Ugh. This is going to take some time.