“Show of hands,” she said, raising her own. “Who heredoesn’tknow my life story?”
No one moved.
“So just me, then,” she said. “Great. Hey, my birthday’s in a couple months. Here’s a fun gift idea—maybe you could all put together a little scrapbook for me.”
She swiped at her eyes with her sleeves, then crouched down to pick up her book. I thought one of the others would go to her, touch her as they always did, try to take away her pain.
But they remained still.
“You are Shadowborn, Gray,” I said matter-of-factly.
“So you keep saying.”
“I am connected to all Shadowborn beings, across all realms and time periods. It’s not a choice, but itisa privilege. One I take quite seriously.”
She lowered her eyes, seemingly unconvinced.
“None of us knows your life story,” I assured her. “That is something only you can know.”
“But I don’t, Liam. That’s the problem. My memories are faulty—you just proved that with the story about the mice. I don’t even know how I got to the Bay or what led up to it—only that these guys found me and took me in. Which, by the way, I also don’t remember. So much of my life is just a big… blank.”
“Memories do not exist,” I assured her. “Not in the way you believe.”
“They don’t exist foryou, because you don’t live in one time and place like we do,” she said. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t important.”
“They are only important because you make them so. Memory is a time-bound construct that has no more bearing onthismoment than anxieties about a future you cannot possibly know.”
“That’s real Zen of you, Liam, but that’s not how humanity works. We are made by our memories. Shaped by them, every time we take them out and polish them up again for another look, hoping to see something we missed the first time around. We change them as much as they change us, and the cycle never ends.”
“And that, little witch, is your fatal flaw.” I offered a sad smile. This was not the first time I’d had this conversation with a human, and it would not be the last. I feared that when their world finally ceased to exist again, it would not have been war or famine this time that proved to be their fatal undoing, but their inability to live in the present, haunted endlessly by a past that no longer existed for them and a future that hadn’t yet dawned.
“Alas,” I said, certain I’d no more change her mind than I had anyone else’s, “life stories are just that. Stories, constantly created and revised, moment by moment. And no matter what anyone tells you, no one can write yours but you.”
She was quiet a long moment after that—all of them were. As fiercely protective of her as they’d been, they seemed to be waiting for her to make the next call on her own.
“Well, here’s the story we’re dealing with right now,” she finally said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “The witches are still alive—you’ll have to take my word on that. I’ve managed to bond with earth magic and reconnect with my book, which means I’m more powerful than I was even a week ago, though I still can’t control it, obviously. And the hunter has to know we’re looking for him. Best guess, he’s either licking his wounds after you guys decimated his vampire squad, or he’s focusing on the captive witches. Either way, I have no doubts he’ll come after me again soon.”
“Agreed,” Darius said, and the others nodded. “You’re safe at the house here, but staying at the house means you can’t help us search for the witches.”
“Not an option,” she confirmed.
“Well, the bastard doesn’t know you’ve leveled up,” Ronan said. “So we’ve got an advantage there.”
“He also doesn’t know I can scry,” she said.
Darius raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“More plot,” Asher said. “We’ll fill you in later.”
“I was able to see Reva in the flames tonight,” Gray continued, “and I believe she and the others are being held in a cavern, probably close to the ocean.”
“So now that we’re all here,” Asher said, “what’s the next play?”
Gray locked eyes with him, some new understanding passing between them.
I had no idea what, if anything, had happened since I’d last seen them, but it seemed they’d worked out their differences.
“The play is… I need training,” she finally said. “Serious, hardcore, dedicated training.”
