Had Nicolas ever told me that before? I didn’t think so. So how could I have known that?
Unless the past life memories were real. Unless what I had experienced in the tunnel was real. But that had to be impossible. Didn’t it?
But I already knew, deep down, that it was all real. This was really happening.
After all, how had I known how to follow him so discreetly? It was as if I had done it before. How had I spoken perfect French when I first came to, after Nicolas saved my life? And why did the memories of Nicolas back then seem every bit as real as any of my other memories? It was impossible, but it was true.
I had lived other lives before this one.
My voice quaked when I asked, “You were sure it was right to kill people?”
“No,” he said, a wall slamming down over his expression.
Which meant he had noticed the quaver in my voice and thought it was fear. And it was—but not ofhim. He didn’t understand yet that my entire worldview was rewriting itself to include things that ought to have been impossible.
He looked away, scowling at the side of the hole we had dug together. “I never questioned it at all, Eli. That’s my point. Rightor wrong never factored in. Killing was what the predator in me—my deepest urges—commanded me to do. I wanted to, and that was enough.”
“And you chose serial killers as your victims because…”
“What better predator is there than a human killer? Someone who preys on other humans? That is what I wanted. I wanted to bebetterthan them.”
“Are all vampires killers?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice neutral. “Is that—is that normal for you guys?”
“No. Some vampires never kill at all.”
“What about your brother?”
Nicolas froze. Then he turned to look back at me, his eyes widening in alarm.
“I never told you I had a brother.”
I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, my gaze locked on his. “Your brother’s name was Thierry, wasn’t it?”
Disbelief roared across his face, and he gripped the shovel handle hard enough that I heard wood splinter. He stared at me. “How do you know that?”
My stomach knotted at the shock on his face. Somehow, seeing it made everything seem far more real. This was proof, wasn’t it? More proof that I had lived other lives before this one—as if I needed any additional confirmation.
“I’ve been… remembering things. Other lives I’ve lived.”
His eyes widened. “You’re an old soul,” he breathed. “Of course. That makes sense.”
“There’s no need to get weird and new-agey.”
“No, this is definitelynota new concept,” Nicolas said, letting out a soft laugh. “In my world, it’s commonly understood that there are some humans who are born repeatedly into this world with full recollection of every life they’ve ever lived. There’s no interruption in continuity. They’re called ‘old souls.’” He paused. “I shouldn’t say it’s my world, actually, because I suppose itbelongs to you, too. If you’re an old soul, you’re considered a supernatural creature by all the other races.”
“Oh,” I said weakly, trying to take it all in. The pieces slotted together—even if I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted them to. Then I paused, frowning. “There are other types of supernatural creatures?”
“Oh yes. Witches, werewolves, shapeshifters, demons, ghosts—”
“You’re joking.”
“—And, of course, you already know all about vampires. There are others, too.”
“You’re telling memagicis real?” I asked weakly. “Next you’ll be saying psychic powers and crystals are a thing.”
“It’s a stranger world than you can comprehend, Eli.” But then he laughed, almost sounding startled by his own words. “Actually, you probably could. You might even be older than I am.”
“I wasn’t born with any past life memories,” I told him. “So, from what you’ve told me, this doesn’t make sense.”
