Chapter 139: Aidan San Francisco — 1987 The Reckoning

Aidan spends the day in the basement. With no new crystals to summon the dead or tempt the living, he feels empty. He does not, cannot, feel grief. It is nothing so human, but it is closer to grief than anything he has ever felt, akin to loss, cousin to sorrow, a thwarting of need and desire.

He stares at his orchids. The virginal Dendrobium Sinense is blossoming pure white. Only a smear of yellow and a dab of red, dark as blood, marks its open throat. Into the air, it wafts the scent of a dying honey bee calling for rescue.

Hornets, who prey upon honeybees, smell their cry for help. They pounce on the Dendrobium hoping for a feast. The orchid sticks its pollen to the wasp. The orchid is fulfilled, the hornet empty.

Humans, of course, cannot discern this perfume of death and deception in the air. But Aidan can. For the first time, he considers the fate of a honey bee that summons aid and receives death. He does not leave his apartment until nightfall.