I didn’t bother to wonder what she’d meant, because I really didn’t care. I waited for a couple moments after she left, and then I left, as well.
I had a basement to search. I wondered if Noah knew how lucky he was that I couldn’t interact with matches.
LARK
I tried not to worry about Wren after she left. After she was taken.
Nan and I went up to the attic to look for anything that might be useful. I found some old books on the occult and paranormal phenomena, and some old photos, but nothing that screamed at me as a beacon of ass-saving.
I’d been hoping that the answer would just be handed to me. I’d—we’d—been lucky with that in the past. I knew what we were now, but I still didn’t know much about it, and the internet wasn’t always the most trustworthy of sources.
I was going to have to keep that appointment tomorrow in the Shadow Lands, even though I had no idea how to get there. Wren said I’d figure it out. I hoped she was right, because ever since we’d gotten our first whiff of trouble I’d been running into wall after wall. We had a laundry list of things going on, but no idea how it all tied together.
And no idea how to stop any of it, short of burning Noah’s bones, which we couldn’t find. Maybe Wren would have some luck there.
Without my sister I was lost. Incomplete. I was missing an important piece of myself and only functioning at half power.
So it was time to stop dwelling on all the things I couldn’t do and turn to what I could do instead.
I texted my friends and asked them all to come over after school. And I asked Nan if we could order pizza.
“Of course,” she replied. “But only if I can help you.”
Did Wren and I win the grandmother lottery or what?
I started getting replies a few minutes later. Within half an hour—during which I was at the kitchen table, drinking tea, eating waaay too many cookies as I went through the books and photos Nan and I had found.
One of the books was a family Bible. In itself it wasn’t going to give me any information on how to fight Noah, but the family tree at the beginning of it did. It had belonged to my great-grandmother, and it went back several generations—even before Emily and Alys.
I started way back with the first of the family listed, and came forward. Twins popped up a fair bit, but in the line that led directly to me, there was a set of twins every other generation in which one was stillborn.
Including my grandmother’s sister.
“Nan,” I began. “You had a twin.”
She was at the counter, making herself a cup of tea. She went very still for a moment. “Yes.”
“But you’re not... There’s a set every other generation, and in the photos I found they had white hair.” Not that there were that many photos of earlier generations, because photography had only started in the Victorian era. But there were descriptions, and tiny paintings that Nan called miniatures.
My grandmother brought her tea to the table and sat down across the butcher-block top from me. “When I was born, my mother said my hair was unnaturally red, and my sister’s was white. She was stillborn, but I lived. And as I got older, my hair became lighter, until it was a more natural red.”
I stared at her. “So you—”
“The wrong one lived.” She took a sip of tea as I sat there, staring at her. “I didn’t really figure it out until you girls came to live with me, and I accepted what you are. I believe I was supposed to be the one that died. I don’t know why I didn’t, and she did. I don’t know where it went wrong.” Her eyes looked wet. “I should have died, and she should have lived. We should have been here to help you and Wren, but it went wrong, and Emily and Alys weren’t able to pass on their knowledge.”
“They should have anyway,” I retorted a little angrily. “It wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”
“Oh, I know that, dear.” She dabbed at her eyes with her fingers, wiping away all traces of tears. “Thank you for saying it. I know it was all out of my control, but I wish I had known her. I’ve always felt like I was missing an important part of myself.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about her before?”
Nan shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important, and when I realized what it meant, and what I’d lost...well, I suppose it felt just a little too personal.”
I sat there for a moment, feeling like an ass for bringing it up. “I’m sorry.”
She smiled, but there was a sadness to it. “Well, it’s hard to miss what you never had. Did you find anything of use?”
“No.” I closed the Bible and reached for another cookie. “I’m hoping I’ll have better luck tomorrow in the Shadow Lands.”
Nan dunked her cookie in her tea and shook her head. “There are times when I wish you weren’t so honest with me as you are.”
“Would you rather I just tell you I’m going to the library?”
“No. I want to know. Otherwise I can’t figure out how to fix it.”
Well, at least I knew where I got it. “I’ll continue on with being my usual honest and open self.”