Made landfall yesterday. He’s safe. They’re all safe, if worse for wear.

What a dreadful wait it’s been! Days and days of waiting for Asgard to hold up their end of the deal and perfect the ship, and then the trouble with the sea god and the two implants Reynard rushed through before galloping away on Sleipnir, and then the drudges nearly attempting mutiny and all the while I had no idea what I’d return to. Just blind hope than when I sailed into the port, nobody would question the repainted name on the ship or the fake papers, that the new dock Hicks relayed would still be safe.

But I am here now and I once again get to see his shameless grin, even if the face wearing it has grown ashen. At first I thought he might still be recovering from blood loss but it’s something deeper than that, like his soul was crumpled up like a ball of paper and straightened back out. I worry that he’s approaching some kind of mythical end, something he can’t scheme or distort his way out of. Sometimes when he lies next time, he makes the same rattling breath that Lee did near the end. Of course he insists that he’ll be fine and that I don’t need to know what happened when he returned to the States, and I’m fussing like only a doctor can fuss, but I don’t leave him alone if I can avoid it. If I can’t save him, I can at least make sure his departure to his next life is pleasant. If only reincarnation existed for the rest of us.

The others are troubled in their own ways. Victor has secluded himself in his room since he got here, preparing the procedure that will restore Lilith to her body. I only know he’s eating because Geraldine brings him his meals and refuses to leave until she sees him eat. I don’t know if he sleeps; he consumes candles at night like he’s eating them. He only leaves to see Lilith and update her on his progress. The first woman herself, driven to impatience by the approaching return of her original form, has been pushing her current vessel to the limit since her son’s return: walking around, butting into conversations, and visiting Victor as much as he’ll allow. Our hosts (a quartet of former sailors who never married and pooled their assets to buy a chunk of wharf) complain in hushed voices about the stench of the tar and how much she tracks over the floors; she’s gotten stuck twice.

Geraldine has changed so much in a year. Her knowledge on mundane medicine is limited but she speaks of technical matters like she has a degree. She’s spent hours poking around the ship and investigating its unusual enhancements, and I think she may understand how it works now better than Reynard and I do. But there’s a manic edge to her curiosity, and she’s wound tight like the electrical coils she’s always tinkering with. Upon seeing me for the first time, within the span of ten minutes, she hugged me like an old uncle, cursed me out for not telling her about Lilith and her father’s involvement, and broke down in tears because she’ll never see anyone else from Henshaw again. As long as she’s busy, she won’t dwell on it, but I worry for when she runs out of new things to poke at.

Speaking of which, there’s Ms. Walstead, who looks as stunned and worn as I was when I realized the sort of being I was cavorting with. By her account, love dragged her into this situation just as it did me, even if she’s hesitant to admit it. We spent a good amount of time trading stories about finding out we were different, leaving home to escape, how everything felt different the first time someone died - though even she’s hesitant to explain exactly what happened between my old lover losing an arm and now. She’s the only one who’s asked about what happens after Lilith is restored and, with the sinless flesh, is once again fit to enter Eden. What good we can do with what we discover there, especially since these thirty-seven states will likely reject anything we can deliver. My answers to that are less sure than before some of us became enemies of the state. We would have some access to funds at least - Francois was able to wire money to pay the drudges so they wouldn’t toss me into the Atlantic and become fearsome magical pirates - but where to apply it? It will not be an easy discussion; Lilith’s goals involve more blood than I or Victor are comfortable with; Geraldine is loyal to Victor but has dreams of academia; Reynard’s loyalties are split; who knows how Ms. Walstead will lean?

It’s an odd homecoming. I left Pennsylvania in disgrace and now I return in, well, more disgrace. I was never charged with anything but God knows if I’ll ever be able to return. Victor won’t be ready for another day or so, and then the ship will have to be restocked before we set off again. Perhaps I can find my way up to Allentown once more. But should I risk bringing chaos to the doorsteps of my parents’ people? This is the life I’ve chosen for my last few years on this Earth. Might as well commit to it.