“I’m sorry, Rowan. Your mother made me promise not to tell you. If I had, she would’ve sent me away, and I couldn’t let that happen.”
My vision swims, and I reach for the wall. “Nope, nope, nope.” Then I look at the talking, probably-not-a-ferret, like maybe I can blink this entire acid trip away.
Nothing goes away, and I practically screech. “You’ve had vocal cords this whole time?”
“Can we table the rodent revelations for a moment?” Iris cuts in, sweeping in front of me. “As I’ve been trying to tell you, you’re not who you think you are, and neither was your mother. But even if you continue to refuse this as the truth, you need to accept that you’re in danger now. And it’s my job to keep you safe.”
Archie growls and his tail lashes with full, offended ferret drama. “I was already doing that,Iris. Jocelyn told you to stay out of it. Why couldn’t you just let things be?”
“Because she’smyfamily, too,” Iris snaps, her voice sharp enough to slice through drywall. But then it wobbles. “She’s the only one I have left.”
Damn it. Is that…sympathy bubbling up in my chest? Am I actually feelingbadfor the woman who just threatened to, and probably did, shoot another person with a crossbow?
Absolutely not.
“Yet, you were too damn selfish to put her first, and look where that’s gotten all of us?” Archie counters, the venom in his husky tone ever present.
“I think I’m going to go,” I announce, raising myhand like I’m excusing myself from a dinner party, not a supernatural intervention. I take one careful step forward. “I’ll drive until I wake up from whatever nightmare my twisted brain has conjured. This is probably just some sort of lucid dream state. I’m in a coma from the previous explosion. Yep. That’s it. You’re all just weird, symbolic figments of my subconscious. Iris represents my unresolved trauma. Liz is my repressed need for a reliable support system. And you…” I jab a finger toward Archie. “Are my lingering resentment about my non-existent dating life.”
No one laughs.
Maybe I’ll drive myself into a tree and see if that wakes me up.
“This isn’t a dream,” Liz says, still firmly blocking the door with a stance that says she’s tackled worse than me before breakfast. “This is your life. Or what it should have been if you’d been raised here. Just let us explain. I know those two are doing a shit job at it, but you really need to hear them out.”
Iris bristles. “Really?”
“Well, you are,” Liz bites back, crossing her arms like she’s ready to air all the dirty laundry. “I’ve sat back and watched this unfold for years. What did you expect, Iris? You could’ve gone to Rowan months ago and told her the truth, away from here. But instead, you brought her into the wolf’s den—almost quite literally—and look what’s happened. I understand your reasoning, but you should’ve listened to the people around you. And I won’t let her get further hurt because you can’t stop playing secrets-and-shadows with people’s lives.”
Okay, maybe this one isn’t so bad. Still weird. Still blocking the door. But not bad.
“Then let me leave,” I plead, trying not to sound like I’m about to either cry or scream. Possibly both.
She softens, but shakes her head. “We can’t do that yet. Not without explaining what risks you’ll be taking by leaving NightShade. I know it may not seem like it, but with what you are now, this is the safest place in the world for you.”
I want to argue or punch something, possibly the nearest wall. Instead, I just stare, defeat starting to beat me down.
Exploding doors. Men crashing through third-story windows like discount superheroes. Crossbow-wielding grandmas. Ginormous talking ferrets with bad attitudes and guilt complexes. Words likeprophecyandmateare being thrown around all casual-like.
This is insanity.
I suck in a breath, but it feels shallow. My ribs barely expand. The air is thick, not with smoke or fog or even fear, but with the pressure of knowing I probably need to accept life is never going to go back to what it was before I showed up here.
My skin’s clammy. My hands won’t stop trembling. My heart is playing hopscotch in my chest with a rusty sledgehammer.
I need out. I need air. I need coffee and a priest and possibly a full-scale spiritual exorcism.
Archie starts to shrink. His large form recedes back into the compact, slinky version of himself I know, andapparently don’t know at all. I blink rapidly, trying to convince my brain this is fine. That I’m fine.
Spoiler alert: I’m not.
“I’m sorry, Rowan,” he says gently. “I should’ve come clean after your mother died. And again, when you decided to make this trip. But all Jocelyn ever wanted for you was a normal life.”
He climbs up my leg like this is some sort of routine morning yoga stretch, then settles on my shoulder again like we’re on a walk through the park. I flinch, but not hard enough to knock him off.
“She made me promise to do whatever it took to keep you away from this world once she couldn’t anymore. If I’d known how fast things would spiral here, I’d have tried harder to stop you from coming to NightShade.”
“You really were sabotaging our trip,” I whisper, eyes wide. “I told myself it couldn’t be. But after you hid my keys, my phone, and even tried to trap yourself in a vending machine, I thought I was just seeing what I wanted to see. Making excuses.”
