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“No,” I say, but doubt is there.
The screens flash one terrible thing after another and all of them I remember too well. Each one hurts in a way I never felt when I was living there. In this moment they seem and feel more real than ever before.
On one of the screens three white police beat on a man on the ground. In another it shows a lynching, old footage, but is it any different? Has the world gotten better or is it worse than ever?
Life in the Highlands has its problems, but we love each other. The Clan supports one another.
“Do they?” the Darkness asks, clearly reading my thoughts.
The screens shift to the massacring of the MacGregors. The impossible images are more graphic than any of the modern-day ones. Men, women, and children being run down by armed men on horses. Slashed, bashed, and trampled all because of their name.
“Does it matter if they kill because of skin or because of a name?” he asks.
My stomach turns over, pushing bile up my throat.
“It’s not the same,” I say. “This isn’t all there is.”
“It is, Quinn,” he says. “See, this is your chance. Reset it. Start over. This iteration of humanity has reached its final failure. You and I, we’ve done this dance so many times, but this time I’m fully free. I’m here to show you, at long last, how bad it really is. Quinn, there is no hope.”
I take a step back. His words strike like a punch to my guts. I’m cold and shaken. No hope. Look at what man is doing to man. Agnes spewing her hate, trying to get me cast out of the clan. The English trying to take over the Scots’ land for their own enrichment. The Bruces’, Colquhouns’, and the Campbells’ manipulating politics to outlaw the MacGregor name.
History is a mess. And it repeats. Over and over, not getting better, but getting worse. Worse with every passing generation until we numb ourselves with screens and drugs. Because the world becomes too awful to look at.
“No.” I shake my head.
Heart beating faster as my hand, which was resting on the book in its satchel, grows warmer until it forces me to remove it, sure that it’s burning me. When I look, though, there are no marks.
“Yes, Quinn,” the Darkness says. “You see it now, don’t you?”
Something flutters in my chest, the precursor of uncertainty and fear. Is he right? Is the world too far gone? Have we gone past our last and final hope?
Then my lips grow warm and the memory of a pressure around the small of my back comes, so real, so present I feel it on my body. Duncan’s arms, wrapping tight as he pulls me into his embrace. An island in his arms. A refuge of safety, a retreat from the world and in which I find not only solace, but more. The images on the screens flicker.
“No,” I repeat, but now my voice doesn’t quaver.
“No?”
“No.”
I can taste Duncan’s lips on mine and his heady scent fills my head. A lightness fills my chest and the darkness of the world retreats before it. I look at the scenes playing out and see them for what they are.
Moments. Only moments. Events that happen, yes. I know these things taking place are real and they are the failings of humans. There is no arguing with that, but these failings do not define humanity. The warmth I feel when I’m in Duncan’s arms, the taste of his lips, his arms around me; those sensations and feelings aren’t only physical. They’re a recharge. Our love isn’t only physical, it’s spiritual. It’s us.
And I’m not alone.
One of the scenes flickers and goes dark, then another. The Darkness’s eyes narrow and his jaw tenses.
“Quinn, how can you not see this? Look what they are doing! You and I together, we can stop this.”
I need the sword.
The book on my side is now so hot it’s warming my leg through the leather pouch. The spells in it throb in my head, ready to be used, but not yet. I don’t have the sword, and without it I’m not sure I can cast one.
“This,” I gesture at the scenes, “is not all humans are.”
“You’re right.” He smiles. “They’re worse. Look, Quinn. Stop this madness. Let us create something new, together.”
The scenes playing out on the still lit screens shift to even more traumatic horrors. Genocides, mass murders, and destruction so horrible that I avert my eyes. I don’t want to see this. As I retreat, the images seem to pound into my head. Burning into my retinas.
