by Gina Shafer
“I don’t know.” I can’t even begin to imagine what he’s going through.
“And listen to me, complaining about something that happened long ago when your father just shot you damn near in the back.”
I wince at his words. Not because of the fact that I was shot, no, but because he referred to Beckett as my father.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” he whispers, and I cuddle up next to him on the bed, careful to avoid bending my shoulder. “I’m tied up in knots. I don’t know how to deal with all this. The thought of losing you, watching you get hurt, seeing my son parade around the same way I used to when I was young, and this thing between us I don’t understand.” He sighs, wrapping his arm around my waist.
What, this thing? I think, and he chuckles along with me.
“Listen, you don’t have to have it together. You don’t even have to try. I sure as hell am not walking around with a solid head on my shoulders these days. None of us are. We don’t know what the hell is going on, and we’re no closer to saving the lives of the unburnt in the world than we were twenty years ago.”
“I know all that. It’s just, when I saw Beckett lift that gun, it was like everything was moving in slow motion, and I couldn’t stop it. I wanted to jump in front of that bullet. I acted on impulse. I killed him without a second thought, and I’m sorry,” he sighs as he kisses my neck. It’s not sexual, it’s more of a comfort thing, only I can’t tell if it’s him or me who’s more comforted by the feel of his lips on my skin.
“I don’t blame you. There are a lot of things I’ve done in the time I’ve spent trying to get you back,” I say. “And as far as Beckett goes… he was a drunk, and he was pathetic, and scared, but he was not my father… or at least I didn’t accept him as one. He was a liar and a traitor,” I tell Elijah.
“But he wasn’t even a drunk,” Elijah whispers and I laugh, wishing I could conjure up all of the times that Beckett came stumbling in the room after a little too much time with the bottle.
“Karina,” Elijah says seriously, and I stiffen. He sits up, leaning on his elbow and looking down at me as I lie against the pillow. “Beckett wasn’t a damn deadbeat dad and a drunk. He was a rogue demon hunter turned spy for Vara. He wasn’t able to communicate too much with Vara, but I did hear some of what he said. I think he was really a spy for McCade, though I always thought it was odd he never mentioned Soren… I-I thought you knew this, though now, by the look on your face, I’m not sure why,” he admits, and my body still hasn’t regained feeling.
I’m numb except for my head, which pounds like it’s fighting letting this new information sink in. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Why didn’t they love me?” My face twists and contorts in a way I’m not familiar with or haven’t been in a long time. I convulse as tears fall like a river from my eyes.
“Karina, no. It’s them who were broken. Not you. Never you.” Elijah holds me together as I fall apart in his arms.
The bed quakes as I shake, crying harder than I have for years. “But they’re my parents. And your parents are supposed to love you. I-I just don’t understand,” I tell him, my throat tight and my nose running. It’s not fair, and it never will be. And I have no idea how to deal with it.
“Yes they were your parents, but they weren’t the family that was supposed to love you. We are, all of us. And I guarantee that you’re more loved now than you ever would have been. Your parents did you a favor, Karina. They showed you the difference between real love and whatever the hell they had for you.” Elijah speaks softly into my ear as he showers kisses on the side of my face.
“I know,” I say. “I don’t mean to fall apart. I guess it’s just been hard, and with all of this on top of it, I just… I finally broke,” I tell him as my voice hitches. My face is itchy, my salty tears pulling the moisture from my skin as they dry.
“It’s okay to break, baby. I’m here to catch any of the pieces of you that fall,” Elijah tells me, gripping my hair and pulling me into a kiss.
“Dad!”
Elijah jumps up from the bed at the sound of Soren’s yell. The door busts open seconds later and Soren fills the frame, his eyes wild and urgent.
“It’s the warehouse. Marcel just called. He’s gotten intel they’re about to be attacked, and it’s supposed to be huge. They need everyone.”
I remember the Sicarri left us to our own devices when we were searching for Elijah, and I’m still bitter about that. Elijah realizes that neither Soren nor I have moved.
He gives us a questioning look. “What am I missing?” he asks, and I take a deep breath, ready to explain.
“Ya’ll take some of these biscuits with ya. Oh, and I’ll grab ya a jar of that jam I made outta them peaches I got a few months back. Best thing you’ll put in ya mouth all year,” Rosie says as she darts back inside, only to quickly return with a jar of the most golden peach jam I think I’ve ever seen. I thank her, holding it in my hands as she produces another bottle of salve for me to take on our journey.
“This one is my most powerful mix yet.” She smiles and I take it, thanking her in the process.
“Rosie, how come you never have any trouble from any shadow-walkers or demons? How is it they’ve never found this place?” I ask her.
She gives me a knowing look and a sly smile before pointing to the four corners of her property. “Spelled, all of ‘em. Ain’t nobody gettin’ in here I don’t want to be seein’.” She laughs, carrying the sounds with her all the way back to the front door of her home, giving a quick wave before disappearing inside.
I clutch the jam tighter in my grasp and get in the front seat of the SUV. Soren and Elijah decided that even though the Sicarri left us when we were at our most desperate, they were forced to, given the circumstances, and we shouldn’t hold that against them. Plus, it’s extremely hard for Sicarri to turn their backs on one another. Elijah put up a bit of a fight when he realized I’d planned on going with them to the warehouse, but I didn’t back down, injured or not, I wouldn’t let them go down without a fight.
There was really no point in arguing, I think, giving him a look as he slides into the driver’s seat.
After we all pile in, I crack open the jam jar, taking a huge whiff. The sweet, fruity flavor almost clouds my senses, and I open the little paper bag full of biscuits Rosie shoved my way. I use the lid to scoop the jam onto each biscuit half and pass them around. They’re gone before we’re even fifteen minutes into the drive. I let Willow lick the last little bit of jam from the jar.
“This scout who saw the shadow-walkers… what’s his name?” I ask, referring to the Sicarri member that alerted Marcel to the attack. Apparently the Sicarri have been assigning more and more guard shifts, and on top of that, they’ve been sending out scouts for intel on the movements of large parties of demons and shadow-walkers.
“Trent,” Soren answers.
I nod, remembering the guy. He’s been up and coming in the Sicarri for years but hasn’t had the initiative to take over a team. I get the odd feeling that, now that we aren’t there, the Sicarri have had to let underdogs take our places, which would be fine if not for the nagging sense of guilt that settles deep in my belly. I reach over and squeeze Elijah’s hand, both for comfort and because it reminds me that I can now, that he’s with us.
“All of this would be a hell of a lot easier if we knew Vara’s plan,” Lincoln mutters from the backseat.
I can tell by the tense muscles in his jaw that he’s more bothered by this than he lets on. And honestly, I am too. Lincoln is usually our go-to, the one who comes up with answers to all of our questions. When he can’t figure out something, it’s cause for worry.
“I remember some of the things she said while she had me, though contact was limited until she decided it was a good day for torture. And by the end of that, well, I wasn’t exactly present enough to hear any of her conversations,” Elijah says, his eyes sliding to mine and then back to the road. Anger rages inside of me, and for a secon
d I imagine doing to Vara all of the things that were done to Elijah. “She would constantly mutter about a child and regretting not going through with it the first time around. But she would never give everything, I mean why the hell would she?” Elijah finishes, and then sighs, sloping down farther into his seat and adjusting his grip on the wheel.
“I have an idea,” Lincoln says.
Elijah tenses, and until now I hadn’t realized he and Lincoln still haven’t had a conversation about Cormac never existing.
I reach across the center console and give Elijah’s neck a rub before turning to Lincoln. “What kind of idea?”
“Elijah says Vara spoke about her plan sometimes but never revealed anything while he was conscious. What if we could hear what she said while he wasn’t?” Lincoln’s eyes twinkle, almost with mischief.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Soren questions, sitting a little straighter in the backseat. Willow mirrors him, rising into a sitting position and thumping her tail against the cream leather.
“I’m saying, what if we could dive in and see what Elijah didn’t?” he asks again.
My eyes shoot to Elijah’s. “You mean peek into his subconscious. Is that even possible?”
“Well, it could be,” he says, softer this time. His eyes are downcast, and I don’t like the feeling it gives me in the pit of my stomach.
“How?” I ask, my voice hard.
“Well—”
“No, Lincoln. No sliding around it. Give it to me straight. Is this dangerous?”
“Extremely,” he admits, though his eyes finally meet mine and don’t waver.
“What does it entail?” Soren asks.
“Karina will have to perform a spell. It’s old, and well…let’s say rough around the edges. It will require something of great value,” Lincoln tells us, and for a moment the car is quiet.
We’re all chomping at the bit to know what this something of great value is, but it’s almost like no one has the guts to ask what.
Suddenly, the car slows, and before I know it, we’re on the side of the road as the tires screech along the gravel. I swing my gaze to Elijah, and I realize this is deliberate. He’s stopping the car, and as soon as he throws it in park, he jerks the door open, jumps out, and slams it shut almost in one fluid movement.
“Come on,” I say to Soren, Lincoln, and Willow too.
We exit the car. Elijah kicks up dust and gravel, leaving a puff of dirt in the air that’s almost beautiful as it is violent.
“Elijah…” I mutter, grabbing his attention.
“I wont do it.” He turns to me quickly, hands on his hips. “I won’t put you in harm’s way—any of you. Damn it, Karina, we’re all one step from death, and we’re always fucking running toward the edge. I want you all safe, and if that means I have to kill every demon, every shadow-walker, and Vara too, I will do it,” he declares, pacing in front of the vehicle.
I have no words, and not because what Elijah says is impossible. There’s no way he alone can take on Vara’s army, but because he’s saying everything that I would say…that I want to say.
“Dad,” Soren mutters, and Elijah’s gaze shoots from me to his son’s. I turn too, looking at the men behind me. But it’s not either of them that have my attention anymore. It’s Willow. She pushes past Lincoln, and then Soren, and then me, passing us until she’s finally directly in front of Elijah. When she looks up at him, I see softness in his eyes that hasn’t been there in a long time. Almost like she’s offering to carry his weight for a while.
She whines once, and in the same moment, he kneels down and pets her head. Though that doesn’t last long, because before I know it, she’s pushing through his arms and rests her head on his shoulder, her tail wagging as she leans her body against him. Elijah looks stunned for a split second, and then in what seems like slow motion, he lifts his arms and wraps the dog into a hug. It takes a moment before I realize that he’s crying. No, sobbing.
Elijah is breaking, and Willow is the only one who saw it coming. I rush forward, wrapping my arms around the man I love and the dog I couldn’t be more grateful for. Seconds later, Soren’s arms go around mine, followed by Lincoln’s on the other side. For a few minutes, we break together, using each other to fall back into place.
When we finally stand and dust ourselves off, Elijah is the first one to speak. “Something of great value?”
Lincoln nods. “Karina, what is your strongest memory with someone you love?”
I look to Elijah. “I—” I begin, though nothing else follows. “I’ve loved very few,” I admit.
“Let’s assume you aren’t talking about Elijah. Who would be the next person that comes to mind?”
“My grandma,” I answer without hesitation.
“So, your strongest memory with your grandma is?” Lincoln probes.
I think for a moment. “She knew I wasn’t feeling well one day. I wasn’t sick or anything, but my mother hadn’t been home for a few days, and that always got me down. It was raining, hard, and Grandma never let me go out in the cold. She was scared I’d get sick.
“But that day was different. She helped me dress in rain gear, and we both went outside and jumped in puddles. When it was finally time to come inside, we had tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, and sat by the fire. It was the best day because we didn’t think about anything else—no plans, no chores, and no worry about the mud that freckled my face. No talk about the demons that were raiding houses in the next town. We just did what made us happy. It was the last time I remember feeling peace.” I swallow hard and look down at my feet, unable to meet their eyes. My emotion is too raw to share.
“Great,” Lincoln says. “Now forget that.”
“What?” I ask, horrified.
“That’s the price you’ll have to pay. A memory for a memory. And it has to be a great one, for what you’re asking in return is a great one, in a different sense of the word,” Lincoln admits, an apology in his eyes.
“No,” Elijah says, “Absolutely not. Not a chance in hell you giving up that memory when we have no clue there’s anything of value we’re gaining here.”
“But what if there is? We could finally get a leg up on her . We could crush her,” Lincoln reasons.
I bite my lip, considering both viewpoints. Soren has been silent through all this. I ask his opinion.
“How important is that memory to you?” he asks. “That’s all you have to ask yourself. And remember, no matter what, you won’t forget your grandma. But this could potentially help us save lives, and isn’t that what she would have wanted?”
I turn to Elijah.
“I don’t want you to sacrifice anymore than you already have,” Elijah tells me. “But if you decide to do it, you know I’ll be right there next to you.”
“Do we have time to do this?” I ask Lincoln.
“I need one hour,” Lincoln tells him.
“We should be good. But make it as quick as you can.”
“We need to find somewhere safer than being out here in the open, practicing magic. Every shadow-walker within five miles will be on our asses in minutes if they sense it,” Elijah says.
“We can’t do it at the warehouse. The Sicarri would never understand. They don’t even like the small amounts of magic they’re forced to perform for protection,” Soren says.
“We’ll have to do it on the road,” Lincoln says.
“What the hell, are you crazy? We’ll have shadow-walkers surrounding us, I just told you that,” Elijah says.
“Not if I can help it. I’ll add a layer of protection to the vehicle. It’ll make our magic insensible. But it won’t be easy. It’ll leave me open, unable to pull Karina out of the spell if she needs my help,” Lincoln admits.
Elijah sighs deeply. Considering our options, and that I’ve been in harm’s way my entire life, I’m anxious to proceed. I give Lincoln a nod.
He walks back to the car places his palm on the hood, and closes his eyes. His lips move,
quickly but softly, and if I weren’t close enough to realize he’s speaking, I wouldn’t have thought they were moving at all. All of a sudden, his shoulders slump as though someone is pushing on them from above with all their strength. He turns on his heel to face us, and the same weight I saw on his shoulders is on his face.
“Let’s go,” he says, and we get back in the car.
Lincoln instructs Soren to drive and not stop for anything. Elijah and I take the backseat, and Willow hops into the space behind that. Lincoln grabs the passenger seat and spins halfway around to look at me.
Lincoln explains what I need to do. “First think of that memory, your best one with your grandma. Immerse yourself in it. You’re not here. You’re there,” he says, Elijah grabs my hand. I give it a tight squeeze and close my eyes.
I hear the rain sprinkling down on Granny’s tin roof. My toes are squishy in the rain boots. They’ve gotten wet and muddy on the inside, and I like the feeling. My granny stands in front of me, smiling. Her wet hair clings to the sides of her face, and there’s a twinkle in her eyes I never realized was there. I hear Lincoln’s voice in the background, almost like a whisper in my ear.
“Elijah, return to the cell with Vara. Remember what it was like, feel the exhaustion and stress when she left you down there.”
I clench my jaw and bunch my fists. Only, in my memory, I can still feel the warmth and strength of Elijah’s hand wrapped around mine.
After a few moments pass, Lincoln says, “Karina, join him,” he tells me softly.
At first I’m confused. I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do.
“Memoria homicidii.” Lincoln’s voice fills my ears. “Say it.”
“Memoria homicidii,” I whisper and then everything changes.
I feel like I’m on fire. A prickling sensation eats at my skin, like I’ve been thrown into a thorn bush. My granny’s face fades, then morphs into something else. Something dark. I try to recall where I was and can’t. I scream, but nothing comes out. I flex my legs and kick, and I remember I was holding onto something, but I can’t remember what that was. My hands are empty. Everything stops.
