Page 171 of Sorrow & Strangers

“What is it?” Alice asks, and I meet her concerned gaze.

“Do you know Damien Tuatha De Daanan?”

Alice shakes her head.

“Well, apparently he’s missing.” I rack my brain. Why does that name sound so familiar to me? Then it dawns on me.

Torin strokes my hair, playing with it with his gloved hand as he looks over a list in front of him.

“You know, Summer. This list would be a lot shorter if you showed me what you could do. I help you, don’t I?” He yanks my hair and forces me to look at him. “Do you love me?” he asks, and I nod, but it hurts thanks to his grip on my hair. “And you trust me?” he asks, pulling my hair harder. I nod again, this one even shallower due to his grip. He looks over my face, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Pick one.”

I glance at the list, confused as he goes back to gently playing with my hair. “These people want to hurt you. They want you for themselves. Do you understand?” he asks, his voice silky with menace. “I’m not a patient male, Summer, and it’s time you showed your love for me.” His tone hardens. “Pick. One.”

Fear clutches my stomach, and I point to a random name on the list. Torin slowly pulls back, laughing maliciously when he looks at the name selected.

“Perfect.” He picks up his phone and taps on the name Damien. “She’s chosen. Find Cirrus.” He ends the call without confirmation and pulls me into his chest. “Time for your reckoning, Summer. Time to show me what you can do.”

“Summer? You just got really pale,” Alice says, pulling me from my ­memory.

I shake my head. “Sorry, I just . . . I think he knew Torin, and she said—” The bell rings, and I jump, still spooked from the memory. “Never mind, let’s go,” I say on a long exhale.

Alice nods, her brow furrowed. I can tell she wants to push, but she doesn’t. We go to our separate classes, though I’m barely able to concentrate through mine. Could she have been talking about Torin? I’ve not felt him in a while, not even felt anxiety about him. I thought it was because I’m in the safety of Avalon, but maybe it’s because I knew deep down that he had been taken care of. But who would have . . .

The stranger . . .

He mutilated someone for having a video of me. He murdered someone for drugging me. Of course my abuser would be in his sights. My stalker stalked my stalker.

As I head to lunch, I’m still thinking about it. I never met Damien either time, so there was no way I could have IDed him, but that memory of Torin calling him is etched into my brain. No doubt, Torin would have thought that having someone on the inside would be beneficial, but there is no proof of any of it, and until I have definitive confirmation that Torin and his goons are gone, I won’t be lowering my guard. I am a very different person than I was when I left him, and as I’ve been exploring my powers, it has become even more apparent that I absolutely cannot allow him access to them.

As I am walking toward our table, I’m stopped by a tall blond female stepping into my path. Ashley stands in front of me, looking thin and exhausted. Her skin is duller than I’ve ever seen it, but I can tell she is still putting some effort into her appearance.

“Ashley?” I ask. It’s been months since I spoke to her, months since I last saw her.

“Summer,” she says, her voice grief-stricken. “How are you?” she asks.

I shrug. “I have good days and bad days. And worse days,” I say honestly. There was a time I considered Ashley a friend, but I don’t know where we stand after everything with Connor. “How are you?”

“The same.” She laughs humorlessly. “A stupid thing to say. I’m not the one who lost my fiancé.”

“But you did lose someone,” I say, placing my hand on her arm.

Ashley’s lip wobbles, her eyes filling with tears. “How is he?” she asks, and I know exactly who she is speaking of. Her heartbreak is so clear. Even after all these months, she’s still stuck on him.

“He is . . .” I exhale, trying to formulate my words. “Struggling to adapt.”

“He just . . . left. I didn’t hear—” Her words are lost on a sob, and tears spill over her lashes. “Can you ask him to just text me and tell me he’s all right?” she asks, her hand tightening on an envelope I didn’t notice before. I glance at it, and she seems to remember its existence. “I wrote this for him, but . . .” Her tears fall onto the white envelope, leaving a rapidly spreading dark mark of her pain.

“I’ll ask him to text you.” Ashley nods, looking at me with eyes swimming with pain and loss. Emotions I am all too familiar with. “Do you want me to give him that?” I ask, nodding to the envelope.

Ashley looks down at it again, clearly struggling to decide, but then she presses the damp envelope to her chest. She sniffs and takes a deep breath, forcing composure into her expression. It’s an act, but I can see she’s settled into her decision.

“No,” she says, wiping her tears away. “Summer, after it happened, and he left, I distanced myself because I couldn’t . . .”

I reach out and gently squeeze her arm, feeling how thin she has gotten. She feels so fragile. “I understand,” I say, and she exhales, her shoulders sagging a little. “I know what it’s like to lose the Morningstars, but I want to reassure you that whatever becomes of you and Zach,” she winces at the sound of his name, “you and I will remain friends.”

Ashley starts to tear up again, but this time for another reason.

“Want to join us for lunch?” I ask, and I’m happy when she agrees. Alice immediately pulls her into a hug, making her feel at home at our old table, but without all the lights there used to be.