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Boston, many of which she ate. If Maigo really can remember each individual death... No wonder she’s so quiet. Well, that and being squirted out of a Kaiju like a chick in an egg. That can’t be too good for the psyche either.
    “Look,” I say, “I know you remember doing everything that Nemesis did. They’re your memories. You feel like you made those choices. But it wasn’t just you in there. The space was shared.”
    “Still is,” she says, and it takes a colossal effort to hide how this makes me feel—heartbroken and terrified.
    “What do you mean?” I say, the words coming out slowly. “Some part of Nemesis’s consciousness is still—”
    She shakes her head. “Just memories.”
    “But Nemesis started... She was created...” There’s no easy way to say this. “You both began life together, right? You both have the same memor—” The answer pops into my mind. “Oh. Oooh. Really?”
    She nods and turns away, looking back into the dark morgue like she can see just fine. “Nemesis Prime. Her memories started as dreams, but are coming back faster. I can’t remember the end of her life, but I can remember the beginning.” She looks back at me. “So can you.”
    I would like to forget it, but she’s right. During one of our surreal connections inside the head of Nemesis, we relived the monster’s beginning. The ancient Nemesis Prime had endured tortures beyond description and had been infused with the ability to detect injustice and the desire to seek vengeance, no matter the cost.
    “She wasn’t born a monster,” she says. “They made her one.”
    Dammit , just once I would like the rabbit hole to not go down so deep. “They?”
    “I don’t know what they’re called. Or where they’re from...other than...”
    I raise my eyebrows. “Other than...”
    She looks up.
    Aliens .
    Double dammit .
    If I’ve got the story right, Nemesis Prime, captured by an alien race, was turned into an injustice-seeking vengeance-delivering machine, and sent to Earth to...what? Judge us? Keep us in line? Destroy us? Or maybe she was just entertaining these aliens, the destruction of ancient cities broadcast throughout the galaxy. But it’s not their motivation that really bothers me. It’s their existence. An alien race capable of containing something like Nemesis Prime would be a problem far greater than any one Kaiju. Or even a dozen. The FC-P would need some kind of miraculous extraordinary help to keep them from making short work of the human race.
    “If it makes you feel better,” she says, “it was like ten thousand years ago.”
    It doesn’t. “Ten thousand years? But that predates the Greeks by...a lot.”
    “She was around for a long time, sometimes hibernating long enough for people to think she had died, but when she wasn’t sleeping...”
    “I get it,” I say, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re bearing a weight I don’t think anyone else but you could handle. If you’ve still got a little bit of the Kaiju muscle in you, that’s probably a good thing.”
    Her eyes go wide. “You sure about that?”
    “As sure as I am that you’ve been hiding it from me.”
    Caught, she turns away again, this time entering the morgue. I recover the flashlight and follow. We stop in front of a pile of bones. Above her, scrawled in now dark blood by Maigo’s then clawed hands, is the single word:
     

     
    Greek for Nemesis.
    “When were you going to tell me?” I ask, before Maigo can distract me with ancient tales of woe.
    “I didn’t...” Her head sags.
    “You thought you would change again?”
    “I don’t want to be her again. I don’t want to kill any more people. I don’t want to eat anyone!”
    I rub my hand over Maigo’s back the way my mother used to do mine. “You’re not changing.”
    “I’m getting taller! And heavier!”
    “You’re sixteen...we think. You’re still growing. Give it another year and you’ll be done.” This seems to resonate. As she calms, I