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On the plush carpet of the hotel suite, my head rests against Sawyer’s chest, his fingers threading through my hair as our breath grows shallow, as our eyes close.
I fall asleep, and the moment I do, I tumble into a dream that makes no sense. I try to open my eyes, but I can’t and I realize this isn’t a dream … it’s a vision of the past.
It’s me as a little girl.
And I swallow, watching myself, realizing I’m with my sister.
The floorboards in the hallway creak and the smell of cinnamon and sage is in the air. Mom’s smell.
“I want to play dress up,” the blonde girl says. “Let’s get Auntie and Mommy’s jewelry and try it on.”
“No, Tenny, we aren’t supposed to.”
“I want to, Lark,” she pouts. “Can’t we just have fun?”
“It’s not fun to get in trouble,” I say, tucking my black hair behind my ears. I’m so small compared to her, and my dark eyes watch her with worry.
“But I love trouble,” she says with a cheeky smile. “And Jonnie told me I should.”
“You shouldn’t listen to ghosts, Tenny.”
She frowns. “Why? They’re my best friends. You’re just jealous you can’t see them like I can.”
“I’m not jealous. I like my talent just fine.”
She smirks. “Seeing dead people is better than flying.”
“It’s not really flying,” I say. “And we aren’t supposed to talk about what we can do, our mothers made us swear.”
“Well, I’m tired of their rules.” Then she runs down the hallway toward my mother’s room. I follow her, wanting to keep up. And also scared of what she might get up to all alone.
I find her in front of Mom’s dresser, pulling open a jewelry box.
“We should go.” My voice sounds so small and full of worry. “We aren’t supposed to touch Mom’s things.”
But she looks at me, eyes sparking. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
And then she plucks a ring from the box–an antique looking gold band, carved from something ancient, with an embossed feather on the top. Her face gleams with excitement as she holds it in the palm of her hand.
I wake with a start, my body drenched in sweat, my heart racing.
My sister. Me.
The memory seemed so real I could feel it. I was there, with her.
We were together.
Beside me, North stirs and sits up. “You okay?” he whispers.
I shake my head, and look around. The other four men are still asleep. North reaches for my hand, and helps me stand.
“Let’s get you a cool bath, you look flushed.”
I nod, following him out of the living room and into the en suite bathroom. My hands still shake, and I sit on the closed lid of the toilet trying to gather my thoughts.
North must sense how upset I am, because he runs the bath, giving me a moment of silence.
“I think it’s ready,” he says. “I’ll get you a bottle of water.”
I nod, grateful he thought to take care of me like this. He slips out of the room and I undress, and then dip my toes into the cool water. The temperature is perfect and I sink into the tub.
“Is it okay to come in?” he asks softly.
“Sure,” I say. My entire body is submerged but the water is clear. Still, I don’t feel modest, I want to be seen, heart, body and soul.
He hands me the bottle and I thank him, taking a long sip. “Wanna talk about it?” he asks.
Instead of answering, I submerge my head under water, desperate to find some sense in the vision.
When I come back up, North is patiently waiting. I open my mouth, and tell him everything.
13
North
I listen, devastated by her story. Her mother just cracked her heart open, left the wound raw.
She needs time to heal.
“Isn’t it strange though,” she asks, stepping from the now cold shower and into the plush white hotel robe I am holding out for her. “That I would have the vision of my sister tonight, after a life- time of never seeing her?”
“There is only one reason I can think of.”
She cinches the belt on her waist. “What’s that?”
“You said your mom placed protective spells on you every night, right?”
“Yeah,” she says, running her fingers through her damp hair. “You didn’t go home tonight, Lark. You stayed here. With us.”
She pulls in her bottom lip, biting on it. “What memories would she want to protect me from?”
I pull her toward me, wrapping my arms around her tight. “Maybe it’s the memory of what happened to your sister?”
She looks up at me. “You mean when I killed her?” “Supposedly.”
“You think my mother might be lying?”
“I don’t know your mom at all, Lark. I only know what you’ve told me. Do you think she’s a liar?”
“She kept so much from me.”
“Sometimes people keep the truth back to protect people, though,” I say.
