“We can’t change how ghouls react to what they see as theirs,” says Walker. “But we can control how the truth comes out.”
Hold the phone. ‘We’ can control? As in Mom and Walker? I knew Mom was always holding out on me, but Walker knows? My jaw falls open, my fists plant onto my hips. Okay, he hinted around that he had some intel during my last match, but the bloodless bastard knows exactly who I am and he’s never given me a clue.
Mom sucks in a gasp of air. I listen so intently, my head hurts. “What do you mean? Do you think Verus will tell Myla on her own?”
“Yes, I do.”
So, Verus knows too? Is there anyone in Purgatory who doesn’t know who I really am? I am so cornering her at my next match, right after I tackle Walker. I want me some answers.
Mom gasps. “I’ll reach out to Verus right away. In the meantime, please keep Myla close to her own people: quasis and ghouls.”
I slump so low against the house, my bum almost hits the mud. Ghouls are my people? Blech.
“Verus is at the Ryder party right now. Perhaps we can seek her out together?”
“Yes, Walker. I’d like that very much only–”
“Myla can take care of herself for a bit. It won’t take long.”
Mom sighs. “Alright then.” I hear the hiss of a portal being opened, followed by silence.
Leaping to my feet, I pace the muddy backyard for a while, grumbling every expletive I can think of. It’s a good twenty minutes of letting off swear words and steam. Freaking Mom! Lying bastard Walker! Not to mention that sneaky Verus and my mystery deadbeat-ghoul-Dad. My hands curl into fists at my side. Wearing my Fozzie Bear dress, yelling at that pompous thrax, finding out my father’s a lousy ghoul and discovering how everyone around me are a bunch of lying liars…I so need to kill something right now.
That’s when I hear the voice. Her voice.
“Hello, Myla.”
Verus is standing behind me right now. Hells freaking bells. Bit by bit, I swing about to see her hovering above our muddy lawn, a soft glow surrounding her long linen robes and white wings.
I say the first thing that comes into my head. “Hey. I’m Myla.”
Her almond-shaped eyes flare blue. “I know who you are. I’ve wanted to talk to you for some time. Your mother and I just agreed that I would.”
She’s standing right there. Verus. Holding all the answers I seek. Every nerve ending in my body goes on alert. This is it. “You have to tell me.” My mouth opens, searching for the words.
She raises her arm. “No, you have to sleep.” She gently taps the center of my forehead with her pointer finger. Instantly, the word turns to darkness.
***
After that, I dream of white fire.
In my vision, I stand in the Gray Sea of Purgatory, a stretch of charcoal-colored desert that ends in a wall of black stone. Silvery sand dunes ripple and swell around me. Overhead, the sky rolls with storm clouds; silent cracks of yellow lightning strike the horizon. A bitter wind whips through my long brown hair, stinging my cheeks. The scent of sulphur sears my lungs.
Without knowing why, I fall onto my knees and set my palms against the gray sand. A line of white fire erupts on the grains between my hands and then spreads into a giant circle. I stand again, watching the flames crackle by my toes. There is warmth from the fire, but no pain.
Inside the circle of fire, one spot in the sand starts to bubble and churn. A figure rises from that point: a tall woman with great white wings arched behind her shoulders. Her eyes are an exotic almond shape; her hair falls straight and black past her shoulders. All the breath leaves my body.
It’s Verus.
She rises until she hovers above the sands. The wind whips her long white robes and straight black hair. Her blue eyes glow softly, two pale points of turquoise in a gray desert landscape. Her eyes glow brighter, turning into two sharp points of searing blue light. I wince, but can’t turn away. I want to run, but my body won’t budge.
Verus slowly raises her arms, her wings expanding with the movement. The sound of her voice sets the Gray Sea rumbling.
“It is time you knew the identity of your father. I will send you visions of the past.”
I want to say ‘yes’ or ‘thank you,’ but the words won’t come. I guess my agreement to this plan isn’t necessary.
Suddenly, the circle of flame swells, transforming into a wall of white fire that towers over my head. Waves of heat sear my cheeks; my body drips with sweat. I want to run, move, duck, but all I can do is stand perfectly still. The fire crackles brighter; the flames grow larger.