The street was cold.
The fish hedge had been clipped recently. New growth showed pale green at the cuts. Elara walked on Caleb's left and kept her hands in her coat pockets.
They turned at the corner.
"It was nineteen seventy-nine," she said. "Your great-grandfather's name was Henry. He had taken Marcus's father into the lab on a Sunday. They argued for an hour. My mother was in the next room. She was twenty-three. She had been hired as a research assistant the previous month."
"What did they argue about."
"What you would guess. Henry wanted the pieces kept separate. Forever. He thought your grandfather was too young to understand what the Twelfth would do if it came back together. Your grandfather thought the separation was the failure. He wanted to seal it whole, which is what Marcus wants now. Three generations have had the same argument."
"Who shot him."
"His son."
A car passed them. Elara waited for it.
