“Go.” Birdie motioned for me to leave. “I think it’s best right now.”
Nodding, I yanked open the door, peering over my shoulder at him.
The boy I loved most of my life, my best friend in the whole world, stared at me as if I were nothing more than a stranger.
Worse, a fae sympathizer.
I was dead to him.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Sitting back on a cot, already filled with emotion, I pulled the journal from the bag, my hands quaking. After Hanna and Caden, I had to retreat to a quiet room by myself. I hoped someday they would see and understand. But what if they didn’t? What would happen to them?
I couldn’t think of that possibility. One thing at a time.
Leaning against the wall, I pulled my legs up, placing the book on my thighs. Nerves attacked my lungs as I slowly opened it, something slipping out and landing on my stomach. The picture I saw in the book, the one of my mom pregnant with me. A sob hitched my throat, my hand covering my mouth, tears pushing through and spilling over.
Until this moment, I had never really seen a close up shot of my mother. In my actual hands. She was laughing, her hand rubbing her belly. So happy, beautiful and young. In my head, she was always my mother, forgetting she was not much older than I was now. She was a three-dimensional person with hopes and dreams, opinions and beliefs.
I traced over her face, taking in every detail I could. She had long, dark hair and pale skin like mine, but she was much softer and sweeter looking, with bright green eyes, round cheeks, and a heart-shaped face. I took more after my father’s Russian heritage.
My finger trailed down to her stomach. I was in there, and with me, her life would end. Why did I have to come that night? If she weren’t giving birth to me, would she have lived? Tears burned my eyes. I placed the image to the side, no longer able to look at her. So much was there, so much grief and guilt.
Peeling open the first page, my heart thumped again at seeing my father’s familiar handwriting. The first dozen pages were nothing but simple updates about me or his job.
Brexley took her first step today. I wish Eabha was here to see how smart and strong she is.
Istvan has us building up our troops. Tensions are rising; another war is brewing with the fae.
About a third of the way in, things started to shift, and he was no longer using my name.
Something odd happened today. Age 4.
She fell over two stories onto a marble floor... very lucky. She should be dead. Age 5.
I’m noticing more and more as she grows. A sick feeling in my gut. Age 5 ½.
Fear. I feel it more each day. To even utter the word, even think what I am thinking, would be blasphemy. Age 6.
We are leaving today for the East. I can no longer ignore my gut. Andris agrees with me after what we’ve seen. How can this be possible? I must find out why. I tried to find Eabha’s family—it has only led to dead ends. Age 8
I knew very little about my mother’s side. Other than they were refugees from Ireland, her family coming over here when the old Seelie Queen Aneira was still in power.
It was also understood Mom was human . . .
But what if she wasn’t?
Istvan is sending us east again in search of a substance, a nectar. Following the ideals of a quack scientist, it is said this substance gives humans fae qualities. Strength, infinite life. His need for power has become a sickness, eating away the man I used to know.
I feel dread today as I leave her again. I fear he will discover her. I fear he senses something. I’m afraid when he does realize, he will take her from me or kill her if I don’t follow exactly what he wants. I have no choice. She is my soul. My world. We must be careful, spies are everywhere, but I use these trips to find more about her. So far, her abilities connect with nothing human or fae. Age 10
My mouth pinched together. Neither human nor fae. Not fitting anywhere.
Gray.
I have found leads. But eyes are watching me. Always watching.
