Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 8)

by Shannon Messenger

  And as they leaped home—with thirty seconds to spare—she couldn’t believe how easy it had been.

  Maybe Dex was onto something with the whole “spontaneity” thing.

  But she should’ve known that the universe would never let her day end with something so easy.

  Mr. Forkle was waiting for her in the Havenfield pastures—along with Grady and Edaline—and the dented line in the grass made it clear that all three of them had been pacing.

  “What’s wrong?” Sophie asked, dropping her bag of biscuits.

  “Nothing,” Mr. Forkle told her, shuffling forward and retrieving her snacks with his ruckleberry-swollen hands.

  “Then why are you here?” she countered, glancing over his shoulder at Grady and Edaline, who looked… tired.

  Or maybe “wary” was a better word.

  Mr. Forkle handed Dex her bag and turned to pace again, his bloated legs moving slower than usual.

  Sophie assumed he was about to demand a lot of information about why they’d been in London. Instead, he told her, “I’m here because I never anticipated the Council’s decision to appoint you as a Regent. And as far as I know, my brother didn’t either. It makes me wish he were here, so we could talk through the implications together. But that… is not possible.” He cleared his throat. “So it seems the best option is to allow you to make your own decision, even though it will be no simple choice.”

  “What decision?” Sophie asked, jumping when Dex hooked his arm around hers.

  She hadn’t noticed how unsteady her legs felt until she had someone to keep her better balanced.

  “It’s multifaceted,” Mr. Forkle told her, “so I think it might be best to take you somewhere that will help the advantages and consequences feel far more real than they ever will standing here, surrounded by sunshine and grazing animals.”

  “Sunset,” Grady corrected.

  “Grady’s right,” Edaline said. “If this is going to be a long, drawn-out process, don’t you think it would be best to wait until the morning?”

  “I wondered the same thing before I made my way over,” Mr. Forkle admitted. “But… I fear I may have already waited too long.”

  He turned to Sophie, offering her his right hand as his left hand held a crystal up to the light.

  A blue crystal.

  The kind that only led to the Forbidden Cities.

  “Come with me, Miss Foster, if you think you might be ready,” he said quietly.

  “Ready for what?” Sophie asked as Sandor jumped in front of her and Dex tightened his hold on her arm.

  “You may come with us,” Mr. Forkle told Sandor, shuffling around him with an unexpected amount of agility. “You may not, Mr. Dizznee. This is a moment best kept between Miss Foster and me.”

  Dex raised his eyebrows at Sophie, clearly not sure if she wanted him to let go.

  Sophie felt just as uncertain, since that meant it probably had nothing to do with where they’d just been.

  “Ready for what?” she repeated.

  Mr. Forkle stepped closer, offering his hand again. His eyes had never looked more ancient—or more desperate for her to listen to him—as he said, “Ready to face the truth behind one of your powers.”

  FIFTEEN

  SOPHIE RECOGNIZED THE ELEGANT TUDOR manor with cut-glass windows and its vibrant green lawn even before the world had fully glittered back into focus. And the realization of where she was made her smile and feel like she’d had her legs kicked out from underneath her at the same time.

  “This is my human family’s house,” she whispered, needing to say it out loud to make her brain accept it.

  As that reality sank in, so did the icy panic. “Are they in danger?”

  “They’re perfectly safe,” Mr. Forkle assured her, tightening his grip on her hand to stop her from sprinting up the driveway and tearing open the front door.

  Sandor drew his sword anyway, sniffing the air as he scanned every tree, shrub, and shadow.

  “You can relax,” Mr. Forkle told him. “I’ve taken numerous precautions to ensure that our visit today poses no risk to Miss Foster’s family—or to ourselves. Including bringing one of these.” He removed an obscurer from his pocket. “What would the neighbors think if they saw a goblin warrior waving around a sword?” His smile faded as his eyes shifted back to Sophie. “After what happened with Vespera at Nightfall, I’ve made it a habit to check on your family every single day. Most of the time I simply observe them through a Spyball. But occasionally I’ll hail your sister to ask a few questions or—”

  “You do?” Sophie had to interrupt.

  She couldn’t decide if she was touched, nervous, or really, really jealous when he nodded.

  “It’s the best way to assess their situation,” Mr. Forkle explained. “Though sometimes I’ll also leap here to walk the grounds and search for signs of trouble—which I’ve never found any trace of, by the way. And none of that has anything to do with why I’ve brought you here. I simply wanted you to know that your human family is being thoroughly monitored and protected.” His forehead creased with a much deeper kind of wrinkle than the lines caused by the ruckleberries. “I’m the one who dragged them into all of this without their knowledge or permission, so you have my word that I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that nothing bad will ever happen to them again.”

  “Then why are we here?” Sophie asked.

  Mr. Forkle turned his face toward the sun, which Sophie realized was still several hours away from setting.

  Her brain had started to calculate what that meant as far as the relative time zones between where she lived at Havenfield and where they were—until he told her, “I brought you here to give you your missing memory back.”

  Sophie froze as something dark and buried—but never gone—stirred deep inside of her, and a pair of terrified green eyes flashed through her mind, along with a piercing scream.

  Sophie, please—stop!

  She stumbled back, crashing into a wall that was both lumpy and solid and somehow moving, not realizing it was Sandor until he spun her around, taking her shoulders and shaking her gently.

  “Do you need us to get you back to Flori?” he asked, his voice even squeakier from the worry. “You’ve gone pale, like you do whenever the echoes are stirring.”

  “No,” Sophie said, refusing to give the darkness that kind of control again.

  She closed her eyes, imagining her mental strength as a glowing sphere, letting it grow bigger and bigger and bigger until she could shape it into something more useful. She chose a giant cartoon-size mallet, then pictured it pounding at the threads of black that were curling into a much-too-familiar clawed shape—Bang! Bang! Bang!—until the darkness was nothing more than a smear of shadow.

  She washed away the last of the black by replaying her happiest memories.

  Silveny nuzzling her tiny babies after they’d safely emerged from the makeshift hive.

  Fitz twirling her around in his arms.

  Dex hugging her without any awkwardness.

  Keefe clinging to her hand, like she was the only thing holding him together.

  Grady and Edaline telling her they loved her.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “It’s under control now.”

  “I still think we should take you home and have you rest,” Sandor said, turning to Mr. Forkle. “Surely you agree.”

  Mr. Forkle dragged his hands down his face. “I… should’ve thought to bring Flori. It slipped my mind, like so many things, now that there’s only half of me. Though, honestly, this entire process seems determined to be fraught with challenges. I’ll never understand why one failure seems so ready to chain itself to another and another. But that has been the case from the minute this memory became a part of our story. And each new trouble seems to outdo the others—though I suppose nothing has been worse than the moment at the hospital.”

  “You mean when my allergy nearly killed me?” Sophie clarified, pulling free of Sandor to prove she cou
ld stand on her own.

  “Definitely not a moment I want to live again,” Mr. Forkle whispered. “And yet, it may be unavoidable.…”

  “Um, what does that mean?” Sophie asked, backing a step away, as if Mr. Forkle was about to lunge for her with a giant syringe full of limbium.

  He cleared his throat several times, then straightened and smoothed his hair. “All will be fine, Miss Foster. One problem at a time.”

  “Okay, now I want to know what that means too,” Sophie noted.

  “As do I,” Sandor agreed, positioning himself between Sophie and Mr. Forkle.

  Mr. Forkle’s laugh was mostly a wheeze. “I suppose I can’t blame you for those reactions. But I assure you, this visit is entirely about returning Miss Foster’s memory.”

  Sophie’s head rang with another ghostly scream.

  “There, see?” Sandor said as Sophie imagined another giant glowing mallet smashing the newest shadows to smithereens. “You’re not up for this. We need to take you—”

  “No,” Sophie interrupted, stumbling away from everyone to get some fresh air.

  She’d spent years trying to beg, bribe, trick, or steal back her missing memory—and then weeks running from it after she’d recovered that terrible piece.

  But… not knowing didn’t change anything.

  Whatever had happened, happened, whether she remembered it or not.

  Sophie, please—stop!

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, taking slow, steady breaths as she closed her eyes and replayed more happy memories.

  “I don’t think you will be,” Sandor said quietly. “At least wait until we’re somewhere that Flori can help—”

  “You are,” a muffled voice told them as the ground parted by the nearest tree and Flori emerged from among the tangled roots. She shook the dirt and pebbles out of her plaited hair and sang a few soft lyrics to make the tunnel close behind her, each blade of grass falling perfectly back into place as if the hole had never been there.

  “How did you—” Sophie started.

  Flori flashed a green-toothed smile. “Nubiti and I have recently discovered that the language of the earth is connected to the language of everything that grows within it. I can’t understand every word she says, but I can catch the basics, and it makes her able to reach me immediately—and the same is true when I need to reach her.”

  Mr. Forkle frowned.

  Sophie could tell his mind was flooding with just as many questions as hers was. But he simply stomped twice and called, “Thank you,” toward the ground, before he repeated the sentiment to Flori.

  Flori nodded, already humming her healing song as she made her way to Sophie’s side and took her hands, swaying back and forth. Sophie closed her eyes, unable to deny how much it helped to feel the soft sounds sinking under her skin like one of Elwin’s balms. And when Flori was finished, she had to hug the tiny gnome.

  “You did not need me this time,” Flori whispered, trailing her fingers across Sophie’s shoulders. “You’re growing stronger and stronger with each brighter day. But I’m still happy to make your struggle easier, so you can save your energy for the larger battles.”

  Sophie squeezed her tighter, breathing in Flori’s earthy scent, which reminded her so much of Calla that it made her heart both lighter and heavier. And when she’d soaked up every possible drop of strength, she let go and stood to face Mr. Forkle. “Okay. If you want to give me back my memory, I’m ready. But… I don’t understand why you brought me here to do it.”

  He turned to the stately manor, his gaze centering on one of the upstairs windows. “You’re not the only one who needs to have a memory returned.”

  “What?” Sophie raced in front of him, shaking her head so hard, it made her neck hurt. “No. We’re not doing that. Amy doesn’t…”

  Her voice trailed off as her sister’s screams flooded her mind.

  Sophie, please—stop!

  “No,” she repeated as Flori started humming again.

  Mr. Forkle wrung the edge of his cape. “How much have you remembered?”

  “Not much,” Sophie admitted. “Just that… I hurt Amy somehow. She was begging me to stop.” Her voice cracked, and she turned away, wiping her eyes. “What did I do to her?”

  “That is a question better shown, not told,” Mr. Forkle said as he slowly stepped around her.

  Sophie scrambled in front of him again. “Maybe it is—but you’re only showing it to me. She doesn’t need to know that.”

  He slipped by her again, his steps more determined. “She disagrees.”

  The words took a couple of seconds to sink in. “Wait. Amy knows about this?”

  “Of course. We talked at length this morning. Mind you, I didn’t give her any more specifics than I’ve given you. But I made it clear that it was a difficult moment for both of you, and that I thought it would be best if you faced those complicated truths together. And she agreed. She’s far stronger than you’re giving her credit for. She’s…” His steps faltered for a beat, and his voice had thickened when he added, “She’s something I never expected. I knew I’d be aiding your parents in the birth of one child, and that it was possible they might have children on their own afterward. But I’ll admit, when your mother told me she’d gotten pregnant again, I was mostly concerned about how that would complicate things for you. Your differences from humans would be more noticeable with another child providing a constant direct comparison—and your sister had no problem teasing you as she got older, which sometimes posed a challenge, like it did in your lost memory. But… there was something so special about the bond you two formed. And that connection shouldn’t be ignored, especially when you’re facing a decision like this.”

  “And what decision is that?” Sophie demanded.

  “One thing at a time,” he told her. “First, we must give you all the facts.”

  “But—”

  Loud barking cut her off.

  They’d gotten close enough to the house for her family’s beagle—Watson—to realize they were there and switch into guard-dog mode.

  “It’s fine,” Mr. Forkle promised when Sophie, Sandor, and Flori all froze. “As I said, Amy knows we’re coming. And in case you’re wondering, I asked her to clear your parents from the property. She said she’d invent an urgent errand to send them away on.”

  That was probably better—the idea of facing her parents now that she’d been erased so thoroughly from their memories would be a special kind of misery.

  And yet, the part of Sophie’s heart that would never forget how it felt to have them tuck her in at night and kiss her cheeks and call her “Soybean” felt like it had been jabbed with a sharp pin at the missed opportunity. So she had to ask, “Why couldn’t they be here? I thought seeing me can’t trigger anything anymore, now that I’m… you know… gone.”

  “That’s correct,” Mr. Forkle told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “But it would be very hard to explain why a strange adult male is at their house asking for alone time with their daughter and another young girl, don’t you think?”

  Sophie grimaced. “Yeah… They’d definitely call the police.”

  “As well they should,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “And that’s why we should stop stalling. I doubt your sister was able to buy us more than a couple of hours—and while returning the memory itself won’t take long, you two will need time to process and discuss. So once again, I have to ask: Are you ready?”

  He offered her his hand again, and Sophie reluctantly took it, letting him guide her the rest of the way up the path, to a short flight of stone steps that led to the front door.

  Watson’s barking grew more desperate, his paws scratching at the other side of the door, but Sophie was too busy taking in all the tiny unfamiliar details to care. The house had a new welcome mat since the last time she’d been there, the kind that said WIPE YOUR PAWS in big, bold letters, surrounded by doggy paw prints. And three pairs of beat-up sneakers were lined against the wall, along with a few pot
s of prickly succulents. But what really caught Sophie’s eye were the wind chimes.

  Dangling from the highest eave, the chimes were gleaming silver interspersed with strands of dangling crystals, and they were so sparkly and fancy, they looked like they belonged in the Lost Cities.

  In fact…

  “Are those leaping crystals?” Sophie had to ask.

  “No, but they look like it, don’t they?” Amy’s familiar voice said behind her, and Sophie’s heart wedged so hard in her throat, it nearly choked her as she turned toward the now open door and faced her younger sister.

  Amy’s smile was shy, her green eyes watery and darting between her feet and Watson, who she held tightly by his collar—though the beagle had gone very still now that he was facing a goblin warrior. “That’s why I had Mom and Dad buy them,” Amy added, swallowing hard as she shifted her gaze up to the chimes. “It seemed like there should be something around here to represent… everything. You know?”

  Sophie nodded, her voice not working as she studied her sister more closely.

  Amy’s hair was longer and straighter, with a few soft layers framing her face. And her skin had picked up a whole bunch of freckles. Somehow the combination made her look so much older than Sophie wanted her to be and much too young for what they were there for, all at the same time.

  She still couldn’t find any words, so she threw her arms around Amy and pulled her into the tightest hug she could manage.

  “I take it that means you’ve missed me?” Amy grunted out as Watson broke free from her hold and started thwapping Sophie with his wagging tail.

  Sophie cleared her throat, realizing she needed to get herself together.

  She was supposed to be the strong one—and she knew she should say something fun and teasing—keep the mood light given the heaviness they both had coming. But she blurted out, “I have to tell myself not to hail you every single day.”

  A shiver rocked Amy’s shoulders, and her voice sounded choked as she whispered, “Me too.”

  They’d been ordered not to communicate unless it was an absolute emergency—part of the deal they’d struck with the Council in order for Amy to keep her memories of the Lost Cities.