The Veil

“If he was careful,” I said quietly, “how did you know?”


Liam looked at me. “I saw him one night. I was watching the store. The power was out, but I saw a flash of light.”

“Candles or something,” I suggested.

Liam shook his head. “There was a glow in the air, like a sphere of light. And when he moved, when he walked, it followed him. It only lasted for a few seconds. He was probably looking for something in the store, didn’t think about what he was doing.”

Something in my heart softened, warmed. “My father could make light?”

Liam nodded. “I get that wraiths are dangerous and any Sensitive can become one. And I saw the result of that. Gracie saw the result of that. But I don’t understand why Containment won’t help Sensitives. Why they won’t acknowledge it can be done. Ignoring it just feeds the problem, puts more monsters on the street.”

I flinched at the word.

Liam made a frustrated sound, ran his hands through his hair. “Damn, Claire. I’m sorry Broussard’s dragged you into this. I guess he does believe in the sins of the father.”

I nodded, walked back to the table on wobbling knees, sat down. I needed to pause, to think. I pressed my fingers against my eyes, like I could block out the world. Like I could change history altogether. But that was an impossible dream. A child’s dream. And I hadn’t been a child for a really long time.

I heard him move back toward me, felt the air change as he took his seat again. “Why did Broussard come to me now?” I asked, opening my eyes.

Liam shook his head. “I don’t know. Containment has seen us together twice, three times if anyone saw us at the Landreaus’ house. What did he ask you about?”

“He asked how well I knew you. He said you were obsessed with wraiths because of Gracie.”

“He’s not wrong.”

No, he wasn’t, I thought. “Broussard will be back. If he thinks he can use me to get to you, or vice versa, he won’t stop.”

“You’re probably right.”

Silence descended.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I should have been honest with you. I just—I didn’t want to hurt you. And if he hadn’t told you, I wasn’t sure I should be the one.”

I nodded, looked up at him. “Thank you for not turning him in. I wish you’d told me—but I’m more pissed he didn’t tell me himself. That—that hurts,” I admitted. “A lot.”

And all my father’s talk about keeping my head down. Was that what he’d been doing? Hiding who he was? He couldn’t have been hiding completely. Not if he’d known someone well enough to get the building insulated, presumably so he could practice his magic. And knowing that he’d shared himself with someone else didn’t help.

Liam made a sound of agreement. “I’m not thrilled with your father, either. Even if he hadn’t known you’d become a Sensitive, he could have let you see that side of him. That might have made your last eight months easier.”

“I’m sure he thought he was protecting me,” I said, but I couldn’t muster much enthusiasm. “Just like you did.”

Liam nodded. “And we can see how well that turned out. From now on,” he said, gaze on me, “no more omissions. We both deserve better.”

“Yeah. We do.”

I was suddenly exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and stay there for a week. But we still had work to do.

I stood up. “We were going hunting.”

Liam’s gaze snapped up. “You still want to go?”

“The wraiths who hurt Emme are still out there. And there’s no chance Containment is going to change its position about Sensitives if wraith attacks are getting worse. Figuring out what’s happening is the only way to ensure that it doesn’t happen to me.”

Liam stood up. “You’re pretty remarkable, Claire Connolly.”

“Thanks,” I said. But still, potentially, a wraith.

? ? ?

On the way toward the door, I grabbed another bottle of water and a granola bar, then stopped at the counter. While Liam glanced back, I opened the safe, pulled out the black handgun my father had given me, confirmed the safety was on, careful to keep my finger away from the trigger.

Liam walked back. “That’s the gun?” He didn’t need to say it—it was the one I’d killed Paras with.

I nodded, pulled back the slide, checked the chamber. It was empty. I popped out the magazine, checked it. It was full, so I snapped it home again.

“How’s your aim?”

“I can hit the side of a barn.” I was better with tiny gears than faraway targets. But I was good enough to be safe.

“Can you shoot a wraith?”

I looked down at the gun. “There’s no way to bring a wraith back. To make them whole again. So yeah, if lives are in danger, I can.” I didn’t want to consider whether it would be better to kill it or leave it alive for a never-ending term in Devil’s Isle.

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