Page 77 of Facade

“Evanee!” Ryker cradled me in his arms, concern etched in his features. “What happened?”

“I—I had a memory. I think.”

“What do you mean you think?”

“Because there’s no way it could be a memory.”

“Why? And speak quickly, we’re running out of time.” Urgency filled his voice.

“I’ll sound insane!” He glared at me. “Fine. I’m pretty sure I saw Gargoyles, and—and claws—on me. I mean—that’s impossible, right?” My head throbbed as I worked through my thoughts. I expected him to laugh like Dimitri had when I asked if I was a Werewolf. Instead, he only studied me, jaw tight, brows creased.

“Do you think it was a real memory?” I prodded when he didn’t respond. Everything hinged on his answer.

“Yes. It’s working.” He helped me stand, then turned, rummaging in his saddlebag.

“Ryker, am I one of them?” He froze, shoulders growing rigid.

“They’re coming back. You need to hurry and get into the spring just through there.” He pointed behind me, but my gaze stayed anchored on him, my teeth grinding. “Throw the tunic and jacket through and make sure you rub this,” he held out a bundle of rosemary and mint he'd pulled from the saddlebag, “all over to hide our scents.”

“Ryker, answer my question. Am I one of them?” I growled as I snatched the bundled herbs.

“Yes.” His fists balled at his sides, a darkness flashing across his face. But I didn’t care—those three little letters just blew up my whole world. My jaw worked, unable to form words. Every time the moon was full, the pain and twinges, the feeling that something clawed at me from within… Part of me thought I was going crazy. That I'd made some of the sensations up in my mind.

“I can’t say any more. Aniah said the mind is delicate. We have to let your memories come back on their own—unprovoked. Or else you might lose your mind completely.”

A sarcastic huff left me. Too late for that.

“Am I the last one?” My voice was uneven. Excitement clashed with sorrow. “Or are you one too?”

“It’s rude to ask beings what they are.” He smirked as he dug in the saddlebag.

I growled, the sound coming from deep within my chest.

“I’m getting tired of hearing that.”

“Then you should have listened the first time,” he countered. “We’ll see you soon.”

I frowned, turning toward the vines, as if someone else steered me, making my feet and body move while my mind stayed stuck behind.

I’m a Gargoyle.

It sounded ludicrous, even in my head.

“Evanee.” I turned back to where he stood—his gaze slid past me, briefly, then back. “Memories can twist things.” His jaw tightened. “But your instincts won’t.”

My face fell further as I stomped through the vines without a backward glance. I ripped off his jacket and tunic and forcefully threw them back through where he waited. I guess I'd hoped he’d changed his mind and would take me with him. Or at the very least, had revealed he was one too.

Something urged me to go back to him. Refuse to return to Aiden. Snatching my tunic and covering myself enough, I lurched for the vines, snapping them aside—my heart dropped.

He was gone.

Disappointment burned hot, and my head hung as I went back to the spring, carelessly dropping my garment to the ground. As I quickly lowered myself into the steaming water and made quick use of the herbs, covering every inch of my hair and skin, I couldn’t help feeling so alone.

Having a memory was good, but it gave me conflicting feelings. I replayed it over and over. Could I actually be a Gargoyle? Even thinking it felt ridiculous for so many reasons. For one, they’re gone—wiped from existence. Yet, deep down, I could feel it. I’d always known I was different. As if something was constantly writhing beneath my skin every full moon—the pain, the itching, the sense that something was desperate to be freed. Was that what landed me here, with this fate? Is it why the Fae King summoned me, even after three years? Am I the only one?

Vines tore apart with a sharp crack.

“Evanee!” Aiden burst through, sword drawn, making me yelp as I quickly covered my breasts, awkwardly shoving my wrists in my armpits to hide the patchy marks. The bundle of herbs spread across the water’s surface.