Kat wedged between Reeve and me. “That’s such a good point it’s almost as if I thought of it myself. And not to switch topics, but...I’m going to switch topics. To me! I’ve decided to stop waiting to die, stop letting worry ruin the days I do have and start planning an actual future.”
I rested my head on her shoulder. “As long as you keep doing your dialysis, I’m happy for you.”
“Dude. No worries on that score.”
“Then tell me everything. Even the smallest details.”
“Well,” she said, getting more comfortable, “here’s what I’ve got so far. I’m going to college and getting a Ph.D. in being awesome. That’s a thing, right? Everyone will call me Dr. Kitten and pay me megabucks to diagnose all their problems. Because, of course, I will have all the answers.”
The trials of the day caught up to me. My eyelids grew heavy. I struggled to keep them open, her voice the sweetest lullaby.
“I’m going to live with Frosty, and he’s going to cater to my every whim. When I’ve decided he’s earned the right to be Mr. Kat Parker, I will marry him. You two will be maids of honor, of course. I’m going to force you to wear the most hideous gowns ever created. Can’t have anyone thinking you’re prettier than the bride.”
It was, in a word, perfect.
I wondered about my own future plans. Or tried to. I couldn’t see past this war with Anima. I was...
Mmm, so warm...
As Kat talked about her honeymoon, I drifted away....
It was the saddest day of my life.
The whispering voice penetrated my awareness. It didn’t belong to me. Didn’t belong to Kat or Reeve, either....
The next thing I knew, I was outside. Helen and Sami stood hand in hand on a dirt road, a dark sedan parked behind them. Looked to be empty. Another sedan pulled up and stopped alongside it. Hinges on the door squeaked as—shock hit me—my dad emerged.
He was so young. There were no lines around his eyes. His skin wasn’t sallow from years of hard drinking, and his eyes weren’t bloodshot. He was handsome, radiating health—and anger.
He stomped to Helen, his gaze continuously flicking to the little girl. “How could you keep her from me?”
Helen raised her chin. “Would you have done anything differently if you’d known? No. You would have married Miranda, and we both know it.”
He flinched, and the little girl darted behind Helen’s leg.
My dad softened. He crouched in an effort to meet the girl eye to eye. “Hello,” he said. “I’m Ph—your dad.”
Sami stayed right where she was.
“She’s not to know who I am,” Helen said. “You’re never to speak of me. As far as the world is concerned, Miranda gave birth to her, and there will be paperwork to prove it. Do you understand?”
“No. I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. She needs us both. She—”
“If you can’t agree to my terms, you can’t have her.” Helen grabbed Sami’s hand to tug her away.
“I’ll do it,” he promised, and Helen stilled. “What do I tell her when she asks about you?”
“She won’t. She won’t remember me.”
He frowned, but didn’t question her further.
“She’s in danger. People want her. Bad people. If they get her, they will hurt her.” Tears splashed down Helen’s cheeks. “Only one person knows you’re her father, and I’m going to— Well, it doesn’t matter. She won’t matter. You’ll have to change Sami’s name. Something significant to your family. Give her a new past, and then live as if every word of that past is true. You speak as if it’s true.”
My dad straightened, nodded. “I’ll do everything you’ve asked. So will Miranda. I won’t let anything happen to her.”
Helen stood there for several seconds, a war obviously waging in her mind. Finally she said, “Go back to your car. I’ll bring her to you in a minute.”
She waited until he’d done as commanded before turning and kneeling in front of Sami, taking her by the shoulders. “I love you. So much. That’s never going to change.”
“Don’t go,” Sami whispered, agonized. “Please.”
“It has to be this way. You’ll never know how sorry I am.” Helen’s chin lifted again. She moved her hands to the little girl’s temples. It didn’t look as if she was doing anything. Just holding her daughter. But in seconds, the terror and desperation faded from Sami’s eyes. Her features smoothed out.
“Do you know who you are?” Helen asked, arms falling to her sides. “Do you know who I am?”
Sami thought for a moment, paled. “I... No.” The terror and desperation returned in a blink. She spun, searching for something, anything familiar. “Where am I? Who are you?”
Tears once again streaming, Helen took her hand. “Come on. Your father is waiting for you. And so is...your mother.”
*
The next day, I tried to compartmentalize the dream—memory—with zero success. Maybe because I couldn’t get past a single thought: I was Sami. Me. There was no denying the truth in the bright light of the morning.
Helen the Slayer Killer was my mother. And I liked her.