I am the mother and the daughter.
“This is weird,” Cal rumbles behind me. “Do you get it?”
I shake my head, silent, reading on.
I am the one who has been hated everywhere
and who has been loved everywhere.
I am the one whom they call Life,
and you have called Death.
I am the one whom they call Law,
and you have called Lawlessness.
I am the one whom you have pursued,
and I am the one whom you have seized.
“No,” I say at last. “It’s all just…opposites.” I feel my shoulders sag. “Is that supposed to mean something? Because it’s literally contradictory.”
I look back at Cal, but his face is blank. Like he was hopingI’dhave some revelation.
“Shit,” I whisper. And sink back into my seat.
Callahan brushes his hand over my shoulder, like he’s not sure whether to give me a pat or a squeeze, and I reach for his hand and hold it there. Then I let go, and he goes back to his seat.
“If all this gets figured out, he’ll get better too, right?” Cal says softly. “Lanz?”
I stare at the book. At the poem.
For I am knowledge and ignorance.
I am shame and boldness.
I am shameless; I am ashamed.
I am strength and I am fear.
I am war and peace.
Give heed to me.
“I’m doing everything I can,” I say thickly. “I promise you, Cal.”
Suddenly, I remember it—the potion, of sorts, that I brewed for Lanz. The honey.
I never did tell Morgan about that.
Maybe there’s still something she can do.
“Yeah.” Cal nods a few times. “Me too.” He folds the little scrap of paper, unfolds it. “Me too.”
TWENTY-FOUR
KAI
