Chapter 23

When I open my eyes, a pinprick of light ahead encourages a warm tingle of hope to spread through my chest. A small, fuzzy creature scuttles between my hands and pinballs off my knee before squeezing past me. After congratulating myself for not screaming, I crawl faster. A mouse or mole or whatever it was means the surface is near.

A warm breeze tickles over my cheek. I could legitimately burst with happiness.

Not far now.

The darkness lightens to shadows which give way to actual colors.

Is this what it feels like to be born?

After a gradual bend in the tunnel, sunlight streams into an opening less than thirty feet in front of me. A tiny squeal escapes from my mouth. Is there such a thing as a crawling race? Call the Guinness book people and set one up. I’m fairly certain I’d win it after this experience.

“Thank you,” I whisper and then make my way to the opening. The tunnel widens until I can almost stand. When I do, my back and neck erupt in a series of cracking noises, begging me to rethink my crawling world champion ambitions.

Using my hand, I shade my eyes against the light so they have a few moments to adjust. Light reflects on the placid waters of a lake directly below me. If I lose my balance while climbing down the sloped rocks, there’s a chance I could tumble in. Beyond my impending rocky exit, a curve of cliffs hugs the lake. To the left, on top of the cliffs, a field leads to sparse woods.

And movement.

I duck and fold myself into the shadows of the tunnel. I can see out, but a person gazing in would have a hard time spotting me, especially because I’m still wearing Carl’s muddy brown coat.

I train my gaze toward the location where seconds ago I spotted movement. Shades on patrol? I can’t risk it. I’ll have to bide my time here until—wait. I squint. Two men. Both wearing black t-shirts and jeans. The taller has blond hair, and the shorter’s is mocha—

I’m out of the tunnel and scrambling across the narrow cliff face as quickly as I can. Too quickly. Harsh wind lashes through the rock formations so hard I wobble a little. My shoe catches on a lip, sending a rain of small rocks crashing down into the lake below.

Michael spins in my direction, and despite the fact that I’m fifteen feet higher than he is and at least forty feet away, our eyes lock. I can’t hear his voice, but his lips form my name. My heartbeat crashes unsteadily in my chest at the same time my muscles flood with relief. I grab for a handhold on the rock face. Try to stay upright.

With Donovan close at his heels, Michael sprints through the field and positions himself at the bottom of the shelf of rocks. “Gabby. Thank God. Are you okay?”

I bite my lip and nod because I don’t trust my voice. Tears swim on the surface of my eyes. I want to climb down the mountain and lunge into his arms, but I don’t have the right anymore, do I?

Michael runs his fingers over the rock wall, searching for a hand hold. “I’m coming up to get you.” He finds a spot and starts to transfer his weight, but Donovan clamps down on his shoulder, stopping him.

“No. It won’t hold you both. She has to do this alone.”

Alone. Right. Like—no. This isn’t a party of one, and I have to stop thinking like that. Just as Carl suggested, I called out for help and help arrived. Nicholas—in some facet—must care. Maybe it has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with not allowing Erik to have a way to create Shades. Even still, I’ll accept the guidance and protection offered.

With the tip of my shoe, I search for a lower foothold. I really only have to make it down five or so feet, and then they’ll almost be able to reach me. At that point if I fall, one or both of them will catch me. At the very least, I’ll land on them.

“A little more to your left,” Donovan instructs me. “There. The next one is below your knee and over to the—there you go.”

Michael has his hand over his mouth, and his gaze locked on me as if he’s watching the last seconds of a tied college basketball game during March Madness.

As soon as I’m low enough, Donovan reaches out and puts his hands on my legs. “I have you. Go ahead and let go.”

Despite the fact that my arms clamor for me to obey, I cling tighter to the rocks for a moment. Michael and Donovan are being kind right now, but they should be furious with me. Lark died for the cause I easily walked away from. And I’ve thrown one too many verbal barbs Michael’s way in the past week to believe anything between him and me will ever go back to normal.

I deserve to be an outcast.

The second I release, Michael’s there too. They ease me to the ground as if I’m made of china, and then Michael crushes me to his chest. For a minute we stay like that. Breathe together. He’s mint and woods and the home that I lost.

Donovan steps to my side and puts a fatherly arm around us. “Mónatos is only above this cliff. We need to leave.”

There’s a flash of light, and we land together in the middle of a forest. The scent of wet dirt envelops us. Sunlight barely filters through the dense canopy, and the sound of a nearby stream wars with a horde of birds twittering about our sudden intrusion. It looks suspiciously like Eddie’s property, but I’m not going to question Donovan about his shifting choices. He took us away from Mónatos. I trust him wherever we are.

I shrug out of Michael’s hold. If he’s only comforting me because he feels like he should … I can’t bear that. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” My gaze bounces back and forth between them. “You have no idea how sorry. I shouldn’t have left. If I could take it back. If I could—”

“Gabby.” Donovan’s voice and eyes are gentle. “You’re safe. You are not a Shade. All is well.”

But I turn-coated. They should hate me. At the very least, be angry.

I pace away from them with my hands fisted in my hair. My shoes crunch over downed branches. “You don’t … you’re not … you aren’t?”

“Mad?” Donovan offers and then shakes his head. “I’m choosing to focus on the fact that you returned. That was your intention, was it not? To come back to Keleusma?”

“I didn’t believe you’d take me back.” My voice is so small. “I understand if there are consequences.” I lace my fingers together and stare at my hands. “I’ll do whatever I have to, to earn your forgiveness.” If that’s even possible.

Donovan kneels near a large tree. Early spring flora dots the landscape. He snaps a daffodil off by its stalk. “Isn’t it fascinating that even in the worst times this world has ever seen, flowers keep blooming?” He presses the yellow flower into my hand as he rises. “Forgiveness isn’t earned, child. It’s given. It’s yours.”

“But I … how can you want—”A sob catches in my throat, and a weird sound erupts from my lips. I slap my hand over my mouth, holding in the boiling emotions that want release.

“We’re honored to welcome you back.” Donovan’s smile takes on warmth I’ve never seen before.

I hold my breath while Michael searches my face. Then he closes his eyes for a moment and inhales. “What happened in there?”

“The Shades.” I swing back to face Donovan. “They killed Lark.”

His cheeks hollow.

Don’t drag this out. Give the information quickly. Let him see I’m to blame.

“It was my mother.” My throat burns with the admission.

Donovan pinches the bridge of his nose.

I tilt my head. He’s pained by the news but not surprised. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I knew it was the Shades.” He smoothes non-existent wrinkles from his shirt. His hands shake. “Not that it was Rosa. I am sorry about that.”

“You’re sorry? Sorry?” I fist my hands, crushing the daffodil. “I should be saying that to you. It’s my fault. They—”

“No. I sent my daughter on a recognizance mission. I knew the risks. Gabby?” Donovan exchanges a quick look with Michael, but I don’t comprehend its meaning. “What does Erik want with you? He pursued you, specifically, I mean. That’s confirmed?”

“It’s really bad.”

Michael steps closer. “Tell us. We can’t help you unless you tell us.”

Speaking about it makes me feel dirty—tarnished. It’s the kind of mental slime that isn’t easily washed away. I swallow hard and focus on Donovan. For now, it’s easier on my heart than it is to look at Michael. “Erik is obsessed with discovering a way to create Shades. He doesn’t want to depend on Shifters changing sides—he wants to find a way for Shades to be born.”

Michael’s brow furrows. “What does that have to do with you?”

“He wants … he wants …” My voices falters. Get it over with. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Straightforward. “His plan was to use me.”

“Use your blood?” Michael touches my arm as if inspecting for needle holes.

Now it’s my turn to exchange a look with Donovan. For once, I wish Michael had a more depraved mind. I’m going to have to spell it out.

“He wants to see … if he and I had a child … if it would come out as a Shade.”

Michael’s lips curl. “No.” He growls the word.

Donovan rubs at his mouth, his expression pained. “I will not lie to you. This is much worse than I imagined.”

I lick my lips. Keep going. “There’s more.”

“Speak quickly then, and without interruption.” Donovan raises his eyebrows to indicate Michael.

I take a deep breath. “He said if I left Mónatos. If I didn’t go along with his plan. That he’d come after the Shifters. He threatened both of you.” Pressing my fingertips into my forehead, I slouch my shoulders. “I shouldn’t have escaped. He’ll hurt everyone, and it’ll be my fault. He’ll hunt me until I die. I’ll never be free.”

Donovan pries my hands away from my face so he can meet my eyes. “You did the right thing by leaving.”

“I’m so scared,” I whisper.

“I have an idea.” Donovan folds his hands around one of mine. “A way that everything might be arranged to keep all safe and cause you to be useless for Erik’s purposes.”

“I’m listening.”

“Marriage.” He tosses the word out like it’s a lifejacket instead of the painful snapping rat trap I’ve seen it be for my father. “There is special power within a Shifter’s marriage. A protection of sorts. And directly after your wedding, you stay with your spouse for a while because you need each other the most.”

“Do you think it would actually work?” I slip my hand from his. Not in an angry way. Just space. I need space to turn the idea over in my head a couple times. Marriage is forever—not something I want to agree to lightly. Not unless Donovan can assure me his plan will work. “Erik doesn’t seem the type to honor any sort of vows.”

“The magic within a Shifter’s marriage has the ability to be stronger than Erik’s power. It may render you untouchable to him.”

“But you don’t know for certain?”

Donovan presses his hands together as if he’s praying. “Imagine you’ve been diagnosed with terminal cancer. The doctor tells you that you have a month left to live. Someone offers you a pill. They say the pill will either cure you or it will do nothing. Either way, it will not harm you. Who wouldn’t take a chance on a cure?”

The birds have all flown off or stopped tweeting, so the other sounds wrap around us—the small river, the wind slowly tickling its way through the canopy. Why can’t we stay here in this moment? Forget Erik exists. Pretend that I didn’t leave and that Michael never spied on me and that I didn’t tell him I never wanted to see him again.

Donovan expels a long gust of air. “It’s the only option I can think of.”

But it’s not an option for me. Porter is with Emma. Even if he was available, our kiss did nothing for me. Would protection be worth tying myself to someone I’d never completely be in love with?

“Even if I’m willing … my Pairing won’t exactly be on board with the plan. He’s in college. He’d welcome a steady girlfriend, but marriage is the last thing on his mind.” I lace my fingers together. “Unfortunately, you have to have a guy who wants to marry you in order to make the whole marriage thing work. Or so I’ve heard.”

Defeat lines Donovan’s features. “We cannot risk waiting. There must be another way. For now, we’ll return to—”

“I’ll do it.”

“Michael?” My eyes dart to his. He’s been so quiet throughout the whole exchange.

Michael’s gaze alternates between me and Donovan. “I’ll do it. Her Pairing doesn’t work, and mine doesn’t exist. It all makes sense.”

“No.” I lay a tentative hand on his arm. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I said I’ll do it.” As he turns to face me, he cups both my elbows. “I’ll marry you. Right here. Right now.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “If you’ll have me.”