Chapter 16

I don’t know how many hours have passed, but Michael finally stopped knocking. I think he’s gone now.

Did he actually believe I’d open the door and want to rekindle our friendship after what happened? Our kiss might have meant nothing to him, but it did to me. I can’t go back to how things were. I’ll never be able to. I’ve ruined any chance of friendship going forward. Misjudged and been so wrong about everything—not just Michael.

Still slumped against the door, I bury my face in my hands again. My heart feels like it weighs as much as a bowling ball and is currently residing in the back of my throat, pressing down, making it difficult to take anything beyond a half breath. This probably explains why my head aches so much.

I love Michael Pace.

I didn’t set out for this to happen. Never planned it or tried to cultivate these feelings. But they’re there—exposed—like blood pooling in a bruise, just hurting and raw. I spent eight months thinking about him, and maybe that’s the issue. This friendship—this something more—it’s all in my head. Made up. A figment of too many months spent exaggerating the significance of the time we passed together when I first learned I was a Shifter.

No matter how many times I shove the recent memory away, the kiss keeps replaying in my mind. What came over me? I basically mauled the man, giving him little choice at the beginning. Then again, he could have ended it all so much sooner. Spared me a lot of embarrassment. I rest my forehead on my palm and suck in a trembling breath. What possessed me to reach up his shirt? To touch his skin? Just like Porter. And Michael was probably weirded out by me like I was when Porter tried to get handsy. Michael even attempted to get away, but I begged him to stay. What must he think of me?

A sob rips its way from deep within my chest.

“I’m so sorry.” Am I speaking to Porter, Michael, or myself? I don’t even know anymore. Or care.

If my touch gives Michael the creeps—pressing the back of my hand against my mouth, I shake my head—I can’t handle that. I can’t see him. I don’t want to. I won’t be able to look him in the eye ever again. He doesn’t want me. Why would he? My own Pairing doesn’t want me, so why should Michael?

Realizing I love him only makes it worse.

So much worse.

Lark was joking when she accused me of not being observant, but she was correct. Michael doesn’t care about me … not in any special way. He doesn’t love me. I read every look, every conversation, every offer of a hand—wrong. He is simply a Trainer, acting like a Trainer. Nothing more.

And I’m an idiot.

My bones ache. Is that possible? Because they do. I crawl over to the couch and press my fingers into the worn fabric. It’s closer than the bed, and it has no memories of Michael to mock me with. No scent of him like my pillow does. Pulling into the fetal position, I close my eyes, knowing full well that sleep isn’t going to happen yet.

A time often comes when a person finally acknowledges that no matter how hard they want to, they don’t fit somewhere, and they never will. This is my time. I am not a Shifter, not really. I don’t belong in Keleusma. I never have. I only stayed because of Michael. Now that I don’t have him, there’s nothing holding me back from Erik’s offer.

After sleeping, I’ll leave. Leave and never look back. I don’t belong here. My only other option is Mónatos. My mother. I should have joined Erik days ago. I will now.

In the morning, knocking wakes me. Go away. Guess I finally fell asleep at some point. I turn toward the back of the couch and yank a throw pillow over my head in an attempt to block out the noise. Block out him.

But it continues.

Why can’t he respect the fact that I don’t want to see him? Ever.

Fists clenched, I sit up. The throw pillow tumbles to the ground. “Go away, Michael.”

“It’s Donovan.”

Oh, right. There is so much more to the world than what I’m going through at any given moment. I haven’t considered Donovan since I left his office last night. A father began the process of coming to terms with losing his daughter. And I’m worked up about a guy rejecting me. About Lark too, of course. It’s all meshing together.

I cross to the door and hit the pad for it to open.

Donovan’s eyes are puffy. No judgment. I’m certain my face mirrors his in blotchiness. He tries to offer me a weak smile, but it looks more like a pained grimace than anything. It’s strange to see him dressed in the standard jeans and t-shirt. Usually in Keleusma he wears slacks and suit coats. Fancy stuff that’s different than the rest of us. The black t-shirt shows off strong biceps that I hadn’t realized he possessed. For the first time I see him as a Shifter. Just like me—no—just like Michael, someone who will risk everything for the good of the world. I imagine the young man he once was, going on missions and bent on saving others.

All of it … and for what?

So much pain.

I’ve been wrong about Donovan too, haven’t I? Wrong to judge him. Wrong to make him the enemy. Donovan’s choices and methods might be misguided, but his motives never have been.

“Ready?” He holds out his hand.

To tell Eddie. No. To attend Lark’s funeral. I’ll never be ready.

“Now?” I hedge, stalling for time. I take a step back.

“I can’t go to Eddie without you.” He tilts his head.

“But I—”

“You still have my shifting bracelet.”

I stare down at the intricate gold weaving of the wider bracelet. “I’d forgotten. Good thing I didn’t shift—get pulled away from here while I was wearing it.”

He shakes his head. “You can’t. Not with an Elder’s band on. It overrides your shifting bracelet.

“Good to know.” I slip the bracelet off and hand it to him.

He puts it on and flexes his hand as if he’s fighting arthritis before reaching out, palm up, toward me. “It’s time.”

I bite my lip and nod. But before taking his hand, I turn around and look at my bedroom one last time. I’m never coming back. That was decided last night. This is my final moment in Keleusma. While this bedroom has not been a real home to me, it’s all I have to say goodbye to.

There’s no way to avoid shifting unless I join Erik. I wracked my brain last night, and it isn’t possible to ever break this cycle of shifting on my own. It’s him or this. And I can’t be a Shifter anymore. Did my mother feel the same unease that courses through my body right now? Was she stuck in a situation that left no other option? I’m no different than her, not really.

However, first I’ll make good on my promise to go with Donovan to tell Eddie and attend Lark’s funeral. I owe Lark that much.

After that though, I’m gone. Done with Keleusma. There’s nothing to stay for.

If I could figure out a way to say goodbye to Darnell and Eugene without raising suspicion, I would. But I can’t. My stomach knots. I hope they’ll understand. And Michael … no, not seeing him again is for the best. I don’t think I could make it through a goodbye with him. Besides, he’s bound to see right through me. Just because I tanked at understanding him doesn’t negate the fact that he reads me perfectly.

Blinking rapidly, I swing back toward Donovan and take his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

An instant later, we’re standing at the end of a cobbled sidewalk. Twilight reveals a yellow Victorian mansion that boasts a well-manicured lawn. Every light on the lower-level blazes, battling the coming evening. The large home is built on the edge of a cliff. Wind whips over us, biting at our skin, as ocean waves thunder against the rocks below. On the other side of the house, there are stone walls and walking paths leading to extensive gardens. No doubt Lark and Eddie spent their days hand-in-hand exploring those paths together. Would this have been her home someday?

My throat feels like I swallowed fire ants.

Donovan presses his lips together for a moment. “This is Eddie’s home.”

“I figured.”

“He will remember you. I chose to come back after the war.”

“But he told me they’d get married that summer?” What possesses me to say things like that? Donovan looks like I just slapped him.

“The war continued for longer than anticipated. At this time, Eddie’s no doubt waiting … watching for—” He presses his fingers into his eyes. “Believing that they will wed when she returns.”

Change subject. Now. “Where is this place?”

“Near Newport.”

So Rhode Island, right? Next time I’m home I’ll study geography. Scratch that. I have no need to study Shifter things any longer.

Tightness drags like sharp fingernails across my chest.

Donovan moves my hand to wrap around his inner elbow, like they do in old-time books and movies. He bows his head. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. Children are not meant to leave the world before their parents.”

I kick at the ground. “If I’ve learned one thing from shifting—from life—it’s that there’s no such thing as supposed to. Supposed to is a fantasy that doesn’t exist.”

He pivots toward me, making eye contact for a long time before he speaks. “You’re so much wiser than I allowed myself to believe. Forgive me. All along, I haven’t treated you as I should have.”

Now’s not the time to argue with him, but I’m not wise. I make things up as I go. He was right to call me brash and dangerous all those months ago, because I was—I am.

Instead, I softly say, “Why did you hate me at the beginning?”

“I have never hated you. Not at all.”

“But when I first shifted—”

“Fear makes us selfish. There’s no other way to explain it.” Ending the conversation, he tugs me a step closer to the house, and I relent, following him down the path and up the wooden steps that lead to a wide porch.

Donovan freezes before knocking on the door. There’s a lonely and hopeless look in his eyes. I squeeze his arm for the briefest moment. The man’s lost his wife and now his only child. He is no longer Donovan the Terrible. He’s all pain and grief—no different to me than my own father.

I need to be more careful because Dad would be a bigger wreck than Donovan is if I never return. Would he take his own life? Maybe not on purpose, but it’s possible. A drunken crash. A tumble into the river. I can’t let that happen. Because my dad is not like Donovan—my mother is still alive. I can get her back. I can rewrite our future.

And I will.

Erik said Shades determine their own movement in time, which means I can return to my father once I cross over. I hope the Elixir doesn’t hurt too much.

A moment after Donovan finally knocks, Eddie opens the door wearing a button-down shirt under a sweater that’s tucked into dress pants. Even lounging at home, he’s movie hero handsome. We’re about to break him, irrecoverably. My heart twists, and my feet scream to turn and high tail it away from the house, from Donovan’s pleading eyes, and from Eddie’s ignorance.

Eddie grins at both of us. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

A muscle in Donovan’s arm pops under my fingers. “Invite us in. We must talk.”

Eddie’s smile drops, and his eyes go back and forth between the two of us. “Where’s Lark?” He grabs the doorframe. “Where is she? Why are you both here and not her?”

I study the floor because I’ll fall apart if I watch Eddie receive the news. I wasn’t meant to save him. If not for me, he wouldn’t have had to face this. But then, is death better than enduring pain? I wish I knew.

Donovan doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. He grips Eddie’s shoulder, as if anticipating the light-headedness Lark’s Pairing is about to experience and the support he’ll need to keep him upright. “Lark is dead.”

Eddie reels back, shaking his head. “I don’t … that can’t … no.”

Donovan covers his mouth as tears appear. “She’s gone.”

“I’m so sorry.” I reach to offer some sort of comfort, but Eddie jerks away from me.

Shoving his way out between us, he takes off out of the house and storms down the front steps. The heavy front door slaps against the house with enough force to rattle the nearby windows.

I stare after him.

“Leave him be.” Donovan pulls open the front door. “Come. It’s cold out. Let’s wait inside.”

I follow him into the house. Glass beads on the massive chandelier catch light as we enter. Rugs pad our footfalls and form a patchwork over gorgeous wood floors. I sit in a low chair a few feet away from Donovan and allow my eyes to gloss over as I watch the flames in the massive fireplace crack and jump between the logs. Waves of heat blast the exposed skin of my hands, arms, and face, but I’ll take that over watching Donovan fight tears.

He rubs his hands back and forth in an effort to warm them. “The funeral will be tomorrow. Here. There is a family graveyard that connects Eddie’s property to his parents’ land. Everyone will meet there in the morning for a short service and burial.” He rocks forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Looking defeated. “I don’t care for the vehicles in this age, so if you’re willing, I’d like you to walk there with me. The rest of them will meet us there. Beatrix has taken care of everything. She will bring—” His voice catches. He clears his throat. “Everything we need.”

As if I’m a small child who believes something isn’t true if I don’t hear it, my fingers itch to cover my ears. To rock back and forth, humming with my eyes closed.

Beatrix will bring Lark’s body.

Not trusting my voice, I simply nod.

Get through tonight and tomorrow. That’s it. Then I can be numb to all the hurt. Not forget it—or my friend. I definitely don’t want that. But I can’t handle the expanding black hole of misery in my chest. If I let it, the grief will consume me … and I’ve seen what that does to a person. No, I have to believe Erik can take that away from me.

We don’t see Eddie again for the rest of the evening.

In the morning, I join Donovan as he walks through the woods to the far edge of Eddie’s property. Dew dampened leaves and decaying twigs pad our footsteps. The smell of wet dirt and earthworms surrounds us. I trail my finger down the rough bark of a tree that’s half fallen down, anything to help ground myself in this moment when I’ll have to say goodbye to Lark forever. Heavy fog cloaks the entire cliff, but Donovan seems to possess an internal compass here.

He finally breaks the silence. “Thank you for accompanying me. Eddie wanted me to travel in the truck with him and the casket and I … I could not do that.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself.”

He swings his arm as he walks, and it makes the sleeve of his coat pull up, showing the Elder bracelet for a second.

“Can I ask a question about that Elder band?”

“You may.”

The woods open up more so we are able to walk side by side instead of single file.

“It allows you to shift to wherever you want?”

“Not exactly.” He pauses for a moment and then points to the right, directing our steps. “I must be precise when I ask to use it or it has to be somewhere I’ve been before.”

“How precise?”

“I can’t ask it to bring me to the Civil War. That’s too general. I must specify. I would have to know a date, or name a place, or battle.”

“But if you knew, you could return?” I glance at him quickly and then look away. “You could use your bracelet to undo—”

“I cannot bring Lark back. If that’s what you’re hinting at.” His steps quicken. “It cannot be done.”

“It seems like you could.”

He stops and faces me. “The bracelets have a way of knowing the user’s intentions. Your motives. They will not work if you’re shifting for personal gain or selfish reasons.”

“But saving her wouldn’t be selfish.”

“Believe me, child, I tried. I begged all night.” His voice drops low. I can barely hear him. “It won’t take me to her. Not in any time.”

Without warning, he freezes and tosses up a protective arm to stop me, the way drivers do to their passengers when the car comes to an abrupt halt. A group of Shades step out of the mist to our right. The muscles in Donovan’s arm flex. Never taking his eyes off the Shades, he gropes through the air for my hand, and then he angles his body in front of mine.

Shoulders lifted and chest out, Donovan says, “You are not welcome here.”

“Really?” A petite, red headed Shade saunters forward. She leans in, only stopping inches from Donovan’s face. “Unfortunately, the despair rolling off you tells a different story.”

“Leave.” Donovan’s hold on my hand tightens. He’s cutting off the blood flow. I have to bite back a shriek.

The redhead crosses her arms. “We will not.” Her eyebrow arches. “What do you think of that?”

“Then let us pass, and do not speak to us.” His gaze flickers toward me. “Any of us.”

“Oh, go cry. We’ll stick to the mist.” She studies her nailbeds. “It’s better for us if you go all out mourning.” She blows out a puff of air that ruffles her bangs. “And I have no reason to talk to her.” She pins me with her stare. “She’s already ours.”

At a fast clip, Donovan tugs me past them. My toes catch on fallen branches and tree roots, but he keeps pulling me onward. “They speak lies, Gabby. All they know are lies.”

I can’t help looking back over my shoulder. Will I be just like them when I change? Wishing bad on good people? Hopefully not.

Beyond where the Shades are waiting, we reach the small graveyard. It’s hedged in by a knee-high fence. Someone has already dug the plot where we’ll place Lark. Eddie is waiting near the pastor, just feet from the casket.

Swaths of gray clouds hang pregnant with rain, a heavy fog continues to slowly creep over the cliff face, and thunder grumbles, menacing and loud, as if the earth can't help but mourn Lark too.

A small group of people have gathered. The amount of people angers me. There should be hundreds to stand beside her grave. She risked her life every day and sacrificed her chance at happiness for the good of humanity. And who is here to remember her? Eddie’s parents and relatives, a few neighbors, some people Donovan knows from when he lived in this time, and a small handful of Shifters.

That’s it.

The Shifters came with the Elders. There are a few I’ve never met, along with the three other Elders, and Michael. He has a right to say goodbye to Lark, I understand that, but that fact doesn’t make it easier to see him. So I keep my distance by staying at the front and hanging on to Donovan’s arm throughout the service. He needs the support, and maybe I do too.

Michael stands on the opposite side of the grave, directly across from me. Even with his head bowed, his eyes keep skirting to me throughout the minister’s talk. But I ignore him. I’m not here to address the issues brewing between him and me. I’m here because I cared about Lark. Period.

Eddie’s arm brushes against mine, making me look his way. He didn’t sleep last night, did he? His red, unblinking eyes answer my question. There’s a chance he spent the whole night digging her grave. It’s not like they have backhoes in this time period. I slip my free hand around the crook in his elbow.

For the first time, he takes his eyes off Lark’s casket. “You were with her to the last?” He ducks his head, whispering.

“I was.” Don’t ask me about it. I won’t be able to lie about all the blood.

“I’m glad she had you.”

“I wish she hadn’t needed me. I wish—” A tear slips down my cheek.

“As do I.”

“What will you do? The Pairing—”

“I’ll live.” He closes his eyes for a moment and flares his nostrils. “I’ll live because that’s what she would want.”

Together, the three of us stay rooted in our spot like sentinels against the coming storm. We’re there even after the casket is lowered and the final shovelful of dirt seals her away forever.