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At a tug of my arm, I looked down to see Jericho’s hand gripping my wrist–urging me to cut the conversation short. “We’ll catch up a bit later, Anya. I havesomuch to tell you.”
“Yes, we must. Go. Get washed up and change into something cozy, and I’ll see to it you’re well-fed.”
“Thank you.” Jericho led me up the staircase to the second floor, but instead of dumping me in my old bedroom along the way, he dragged me farther, around the corner, toward his room.
“So, you think Anya was entirely obtuse to this absurd dress illusion just now?” I asked, hustling to keep up with his brisk pace when my legs still felt like frozen boulders.
“Humans in this realm aren’t entirely privy to our kind. They see things as natural phenomena. Ones they can explain.”
“She’s seen the Alatum before. The glowing eyes.”
“In her mind, it’s nothing but an animal.”
“Then, why do I see them?”
“We’ve already established that you are the exception, as one of the living. But you see by choice.” We arrived at his bedroom door, which he clicked open before releasing my arm. As he strode toward the adjacent bathroom, I closed the door behind me.
“By choice? What do you mean? I can see what they can’t because I want to?”
“Yes. That’s exactly right,” he said over his shoulder, just before he slipped inside the bathroom and tossed me his robe.
Slipping it over myself, I trailed after him, stopping in the doorway and watching him rummage through a cupboard. “All they have to do is want to see, and they can?”
“Yes. But doing so would force them to accept that the world isn’t what they thought it was, and that they’re no longer living, of course. While that fact may come easy for some, for others, it’s not possible.” He set bandages and a white linen cloth onto the bathroom counter and tilted his head in the mirror, examining the gashes on his throat.
Arms crossed, I leaned against the doorframe. “When I first arrived in Nightshade, I watched Anya handle a man in a way that made me question whether, or not, she was human, at all.”
“They might unknowingly manipulate our laws of physics, but it doesn’t mean that they have the desire to understand why, or how.”
I pushed off the doorframe and swiped the cloth from the counter, urging him to sit on the edge of the tub. “That seems awfullyunaware.”
Balancing himself on the edge of the black stone tub, he quirked a brow. “As are most humans in the earthly realm. Some are aware of our presence. Others chalk it up to coincidences, or the supernatural.”
It was true. Even with a father as crazy as mine, I’d chosen not to believe him for a number of years.
“The asylum you spoke about. You said they end up there because they do see what others refuse.”
“Yes. Their minds are a bit more open to things most find inexplicable. This also makes them slightly easier prey for the demons who wish to consume them.”
I’d already been plagued a number of times by things others refused to see. Things my father had been labeled crazy for seeing.
“What is it?” Jericho asked, as if he’d sensed my worry.
“Xhiphias told me that was the first step in my change.” Setting the cloth to his wound, I gently daubed at blood, noting the way he didn’t so much as flinch. “That I would see things. Hear things. He said it would only last days, but … what if it doesn’t? What if it persists?” My father had succumbed to visions and voices, which Aunt Nelle had chalked up to declining mental health. It made sense, but remained a fear of mine. As his daughter, would I one day suffer as he did?
“What are you afraid of, Farryn? Truly afraid of? Turning cambion, or becoming like your father?” With a gentle grip, he took the soaked cloth from my hand and set it aside.
I rested my hand against my stomach, imagining myself as my father. Dragging me out into the cold to chase symbols on bubblegum. Obsessing over his work. Even knowing now that every bit of his studies was valid and real, it didn’t take away the lifetime of humiliation, loneliness and isolation. “I’m afraid of not knowing the difference between what’s real and what isn’t. What if none of this is real right now, and I’m sat in the corner of a room somewhere dreaming it up.”
He raised his hand in the air and, taking hold of my wrist, pressed our palms together. “Do you feel that? The warmth? The hum of life inside of me?” The tiniest vibration tickled my palm, and with a slight smile, I nodded.“Stre vera’tu,”he said in an accent that sent a flutter to my stomach.Something about those words felt oddly familiar to me.
“What does it mean?”
“It’s a Pri’Scuscian incantation which roughly translates toas real as the stars.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“There is a belief that reality is what we choose to see, even if it doesn’t seem real to the rest of the world. Even if all of this is a lie, it doesn’t matter. If ever your eyes should deceive you, though, and you’re scared of not knowing what is real and what isn’t, speak the words and I will bring you back.”
