Maybe this would help her remember something. If it didn’t, I still had a few more ideas. I knew they might not work either but that was okay. I wasn’t blind to the fact she still felt the connection we had.
At the end of the day, whether I was breathing or rotting away, she was mine. The blood we spilled formed that promise and the pendant in my pocket sealed the deal. This city would be rubble beneath our feet before I let anything change that.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
If there was anything at all that I could take away from this experience, it was the understanding that mental strength outweighed the physical. It was realizing that I needed to embrace who I was instead of being ashamed of it.
If I were of a weaker mind, I would’ve succumbed long ago. I would have been crushed beneath layers of deception and sordid secrets. If I didn’t have an immoral streak woven into my soul, I could have never done the things I had.
Irony at its finest, right?
The part of me I tried to suppress was the one thing ensuring I remained alive. And that was a bitter, twisted truth to try and come to terms with.
I killed to keep breathing—to keep my friends safe. I would keep killing if that’s what was necessary to continue doing so and making sure we didn’t die in this hellish prison of insanity. The combination of these two things had to be what was keeping my body moving because all my limbs felt like they were about to fall off. I was also ninety percent sure we were being followed.
Grace was the one who first pointed that out. Now every few minutes I was evaluating our surroundings and checking for any sign of masked figures. Mel and Dion too since we had no way of knowing where the two of them were. I wouldn’t let myself believe they’d been caught or killed.
“I don’t like this silence. Keep talking to me,” Gracelyn demanded, her quiet voice cutting through the silence.
“You want me to tell you a story?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.
She smiled and shook her head. “I want you to tell me what’s going on between you and Ciaran.”
I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. “There is no me and Ciaran.”
“What are you talking about? You two have been a thing forever.”
Huh? My brows furrowed in confusion. My immediate response was to ask what the hell she was talking about, but something about this rang true in a deeper part of my mind. I looked down at the ground trying to figure out why I could possibly have such an asinine notion in the recess of my brain.
Not for the first time, I came upon what I could only describe as a block—a solid door without a handle or any windows.
If I could break it down, I knew I would find things my brain had sealed away. But why and what those things were? I wasn’t sure if I was ready to remember.
For a while now there were a few things I hadn’t been able to conjure up when I tried. Moments I felt like were forgotten but couldn’t explain why. This had all started before Goetia but now I was wondering if it all tied together somehow. Where did that place Ciaran, though? When in the past would I have encountered the Belair’s beloved prodigy?
“Why did you say that?” I asked Grace.
“Say what?”
“That he and I have been a thing forever.”
“Because…” Her face rearranged, taking on the same confused look I’m sure mine just had.
“I don’t know. I guess I just feel like we’ve known them for longer than we have.”
Them?
So, it wasn’t just Ciaran then. Chewing the inside of my lower lip, I checked behind us, sensing whoever was following had gotten closer. Grace looked too, hazel eyes sweeping across buildings and darkened crevices.
“Why haven’t they come out yet when we know they’re there?”
“Trying to keep up some suspense for the cameras?” I guessed.
“That’s stupid.”
“Yeah, it is,” I laughed.
She sighed and placed her hands on her hips. I studied her for a few seconds, beginning to sense something was off. I didn’t see anything; I just had a feeling.
I opened my mouth to ask, pausing when I heard a familiar set of voices coming from ahead. I slightly turned and strained to listen. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah,” Grace murmured.
I crept forward, hoping I wasn’t becoming delusional on top of everything else.
“I’m telling you that’s what it meant,” Mel’s irritated voice snaked around the corner we were approaching seconds before she did. Dion and the brown-haired man from Vesania were right at her back.
“That’s what, what meant?” I asked, not missing a beat.
She faltered for a split second, obviously not expecting to see us.