“Why did you show me this? Do you expect me to be impressed? You want me to congratulate you on creating the evil army you’ve always wanted? Well congrats, man. You’re on your way to world domination. Best of luck with this shit show.
“You know how pathetic you are, right? You do realize you’ll lose control of this? Even if you do get out of here with your Harrows, you’re never going to be satisfied. You’re always just going to be a miserable demon, trying to find meaning in all the wrong ways. You wouldn’t know happiness if it stared you in the face, Samrael.”
He almost looks confused, or like what I just said actually cut deep. Then he shakes his head like he’s coming out of a mental fog.
“I don’t care what you think of me,” he says defensively. “Now move, rider. I have to get back. I’m meeting Daryn for dinner.”
As we retrace our steps through the corridors, I barely notice the aches in my leg. Something keeps nagging at me. By the time I’m back in my cell, I can’t stop thinking about it.
“Daryn has seen her mother twice in hauntings,” I say as he turns the key, locking me back in. “But I’ve never met her mother. I have no idea what she looks like, or how she speaks—none of that.” I think of the couch and the canoe—other things that we came across that I’ve never seen before. “There’s no way you got that information from me.”
Samrael smiles. “Ah, good. You’re paying attention. Keep going. You’re almost there. If I wasn’t the one, then who…?”
“Daryn.” The blood in my veins freezes over. “She can do what you can. Conjure things.”
“Correct. She’s been doing so inadvertently. She did it only yesterday. She gave me back my wings for a moment, and didn’t even realize she’d done it. And you’ll recall the yellow house? Where your father died? I had something special planned for you. Everyone who matters to you was going to be on that roof. Your father, your mother. Your twin sister. Daryn and your friends. Imagine how you’d have felt, seeing the end of all of them, one by one. Stepping off that roof. Powerful, isn’t it? We both know your father’s death has haunted you so. But before I could complete my vision, she interfered. She saw your worst fear and, I can only suppose, imagined her own. Imposed it. That haunting wasn’t only my doing, Gideon. It was ours. Me and Daryn.”
“Daryn would never have wanted to see what we saw.”
“Of course not. But that’s a conscious decision. The subconscious mind is a deep-running current. People are rarely fully aware of their thoughts. But she’ll discover the truth eventually. Soon, she’ll know about herself. Then she’ll put the rest together and know about me. I can’t allow that to happen. I need her trust to get out of here. And I need it because…” He pauses. “It’s become important to me.”
“You want her trust, so you’re going to keep lying to her? Good approach.”
“It’s flawed. Believe me, I know it is. If there were an alternative, I’d take it.”
“I’ve got an alternative. Open this gate and I’ll show it to you. I can do better than just conjure your death. I can make it real.”
He smiles. “Well. I imagine you’ll only be more motivated when you see your horse—or I should say, don’t see him? He was making too much noise, Gideon. I made plans earlier to have him taken elsewhere. I couldn’t risk Daryn hearing him upstairs.”
I look to Riot’s cell. It’s empty.
Samrael walks away as I lose my mind.
CHAPTER 39
DARYN
90. Arriving at a very difficult conclusion, after much thought and consideration.
I close my journal and set it on the nightstand. Then I sit back against the pillows and watch the last glowing embers in the fireplace.
I believe Rael.
At dinner tonight, we had great conversations again.
He talked openly about his regrets. How he’s used people. Manipulated them. Hurt them.
Whenever he tried to stop, Ra’om was there to torture him physically or mentally to keep him in line. But still, it doesn’t change the fact that he did awful things as a member of the Kindred—and hates himself for every one of them.
My regrets feel so minor by comparison, but I still feel like I have a lot in common with him. How long did I wait to come here for Bas? How much have I regretted that day I lost him? And how could I have left home like I did without telling my family?
We’re both trying to find our way back after straying from our paths.
We’re both trying to move on from big mistakes.
My mistakes deserve to be forgiven—I have to believe that.
And if I deserve forgiveness, then why shouldn’t Samrael?
There isn’t a sliding scale for that kind of thing, is there?
I close my eyes, realizing what this means. Maybe I will let him leave the Rift.
I’ll retrieve the orb, and maybe I’ll let Rael out, but I’ll stay here until I find Gideon. I’ve been going out with the search parties daily. It’s only a matter of time before we find him.
I toss and turn in bed, too anxious and worried to sleep. Doubt won’t leave my body, and I’ve grown used to Rael’s company. It’ll be strange to be here without him. I think I’ll miss him.
Finally, after an unsuccessful hour of trying to get myself to settle down, I climb out of bed, deciding to try Mom’s trick for sleepless nights. A glass of milk might help me.
I dress, loosely tying the laces of my boots, and slip downstairs.
As I reach the foyer, voices in the kitchen stop me short. Their hushed tones send me instinctively into a corner. I listen, staring at the column of warm light pouring through the kitchen door.
“I’m telling you. He won’t eat bread,” Torin says.
“How’d he survive before he got here? Size he is, he looks well fed,” says Rayna.
“He eats things that aren’t bread. Give him more of the roasted chicken.”
“Fine. So picky. Am I to slice this for him, too?”
“We ain’t givin’ a prisoner a knife, Rayna. Besides, even if he had a knife, how’s he to cut with that metal hand?”
I slam my hand over my mouth to keep it in. The relief. The shock. The euphoria. Then the sickening, sickening betrayal that crawls through my stomach.
They keep talking, but a shrill sound has risen in my ears.
Gideon is here?
A prisoner here?
A door whines, and a cool draft sweeps out to me, carrying the scent of herbs and spices. I instantly recognize that smell. I know where they’re going.
Their conversation fades to silence. I don’t move. I keep myself pressed against the wall, but a wild strength kicks to life inside me, filling my muscles and mind and heart with singular purpose.
Ten minutes later—every second interminable—Torin and Rayna return to the kitchen. They snuff out the candles, the room falling into darkness in gradations. As they exit for their home through the garden door, they take the last candle with them, leaving the kitchen moonlit and blue.