by S. D. Grimm
Chapter Thirty
Ava
“Welcome home.” Jean’s smiling face met me as I walked into the kitchen. She was making dinner, and whatever it was smelled divine.
I looked up from my phone, waiting for Yuki’s next excited text to come through. She was the only person possibly more excited about this date with Wyatt than I was.
“How was ‘hanging out’ with Cade?” She actually made air quotes.
I had to laugh. “We’re just friends.” Well, not just, but that part was too confusing. My foster parents were happy that I’d made friends, at least. They didn’t realize those “friends” were training me to save the race of monster hunters keeping humankind safe, or they would have drawn the line somewhere before “proficiency in bladed weapons,” but, hey, everyone needs a hobby. “But it was great. I’ll be over there all week.”
“Home in time for dinner?”
I’d had some pizza at my brothers’—no mushrooms because I’d lost the bet. Cade was right, punching Nick with “Eye of the Tiger” playing in the background was super satisfying. But I was still starving. Who knew how much kickboxing could make me hungry. “Yeah.” I smiled.
She practically beamed.
“And…umm…you know Wyatt?”
“Yeees.” Jean drew out the word as if she expected what was coming.
“He asked me out Friday.” Oh my gosh, did my voice actually squeak?
Jean stopped stirring and tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pot. “And?” Her grin made my cheeks stretch even more. “Are you excited?”
“Yes! Can I go? Please?”
“Of course. Curfew on Fridays—”
I was already running up to my room to find an outfit, but I called back, “Eleven! I know. And thank you!”
I headed upstairs but couldn’t quite shake the concerned look on Cade’s face as he’d asked me if I knew what I was doing.
And Danny’s warning about Wyatt.
Some of my joy started to fade away, and I slumped on my bed. Ajax whined and placed his head on my lap. “I wish I knew what Wyatt was really like.”
As if my memories wanted to reply, they seeped into me. I was back at the marquis’s, standing outside. And the throb in my chest told me something was very wrong.
I clutched my arm across my stomach as they dragged poor Tommy out of the house and down to the tree in the middle of the field. My stomach roiled. They yanked his hair and pulled him faster than he could walk. He was only twelve and already had a limp. Couldn’t they at least be gentler? They knew Tommy.
“What’s going on?” Wyatt’s voice behind me caused me to turn. He stood with his jaw tight and fists clenched as Tommy’s cries of “I didn’t do it! I swear!” rang out in the thick, heavy autumn air.
I clutched my stomach tighter. “He stole the marquis’s silver. There were three pieces missing—”
“No, he didn’t.” Wyatt started marching after them. He broke through the wall of servants witnessing this horrific act. Some of them held a hand over their stomachs, some pressed hands against their mouths. I felt the same. Worse as I watched Wyatt head right after the men dragging Tommy to the tree.
“Wyatt.” I grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”
He faced me, his eyes harsh, pleading me to understand that this wasn’t right. “He didn’t do it.”
“Do you have proof? Without proof, they’ll flog you, too.”
He expelled a deep breath, turned on his heel and headed straight for Tommy, who was now strapped to the tree.
“He didn’t do it!” Wyatt’s voice cut through everything. The men turned. Only the side of Tommy’s tear-streaked face was visible, but it filled with hope.
“Who did?”
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t Tommy,” Wyatt said.
The man holding the whip took a step toward Wyatt and squared his shoulders. “He stole the silver. We caught him with it.”
“He was returning it.”
“Because he”—the man turned and aimed the whip at Tommy’s back—“stole it!”
Wyatt darted forward as the man swung, and he flew in between Tommy and the whip, shielding Tommy from the punishment.
The whip struck, and a huge, red gash ripped open on Wyatt’s back.
I screamed into my hands.
Wyatt didn’t move as the red stain spread on his tunic.
“Move or you’ll feel the rest of his ten lashes.”
“Ten?” Wyatt asked, still pressed against Tommy. He lowered his head and whispered something I didn’t hear. Then rested his forehead against the tree over Tommy’s head. “I’m not moving.”
“So be it. Remove your shirt.”
Wyatt threw his shirt to the ground and braced himself in front of Tommy.
Someone touched my shoulder and I nearly jumped. It was Cade and Nick was with him. “Why is he so certain it wasn’t Tommy?”
Tears streamed down my face as the red slashes kept ripping Wyatt’s skin. “I don’t know.”
As soon as it was over, Wyatt fell to the ground, bloody and limp.
I couldn’t look at Wyatt’s shredded back anymore. I closed my eyes and the memory faded. Ajax stared at me, a wrinkle of fur between his big, brown ears.
“It’s okay, boy,” I said as I pet him. Then I repeated it. Because my heart was certain that Wyatt was a good man.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ava
Nick clasped my hand and pulled me up. “Amazing job today, Ava.” The way his eyes lit, like he was so proud of me, warmed my soul in a way I wasn’t sure it had ever been warmed.
“You think?”
“Yeah.” Cade spoke around a mouthful of pizza. “You really picked up on that quickly.”
I unstrapped my fighting gloves. “It feels like I’ve done it before.”
“You have.” Nick’s proud smile deepened.
I just couldn’t remember. What had our lives been like in the past? Were we happy? Always running? Because right now, watching my brothers push each other’s shoulders and fight over that biggest slice of pizza made me feel like I’d missed something. Like there was a hole of buried memories I needed to uncover. I wrapped my arms around myself and watched them, smiling.
Our training had been going well, and I’d recalled a lot, but so had Cade, and he’d gotten worse memorywise. It was clear we didn’t have much time left.
Nick said Gwen’s return was close. The rueful look he gave me only made me train harder. I was just getting my family back. I wasn’t going to lose them.
I pulled off my fighting gloves and grabbed a drink. The sun was setting and it was time to hunt soon. “I’m ready, Nick. Tell me where Psycho Chick is, and I’ll kill her.”
“Hold on.” He chuckled. “You still haven’t unlocked two very important things.”
“Seriously.” I wiped my face with a towel. “We’ve been over these moves all week. It’s clear I’m remembering everything.”
“Really? Then punch me.”
“Again?”
He nodded, smug smile on his face.
Cade laughed. “This should be good.” He followed us back outside, but leaned in the doorway, still not parting with his food.
A breeze trickled through the yard, but I was still warm from sparring, so the late-October air didn’t bother me. Nick stood in front of me and squared his shoulders.
As soon as he nodded, I punched as hard as I could. And I wasn’t sure what happened, but suddenly I was watching the world spin, and I ended up on my back in the grass with Nick bending over me, ready to strike.
My hands flew in front of my face before I realized he wasn’t actually going to punch me. I peeked out from behind them. “How did you do that?”
He held out his hand to help me up.
“You have those reflexes, too, Ava.”
“Show me.”
Cade winked. “We have superpowers.” He wiped off his hands.
“Why do you look so smug?”
&nbs
p; “I already unlocked my super-speed.” He motioned over his shoulder. “You mind if I head upstairs and…” He didn’t even act like he pretended to finish that and Nick eyed him.
Yuki’s date. I put my hands on my hips. “If you break my friend’s heart, Cade… Please be careful with her.”
“Cade?” Nick frowned.
“Whoa.” He held out his hands. “No one’s falling in love.”
Nick leveled his stare. “Good, because you know it’s forbidden.”
Cade put up his finger as if to stop Nick right there. “First, you know that saying something is forbidden only makes it more tempting. Second”—he glanced my way and the look in his eyes softened—“I’m not planning to hurt her. Ever.”
He headed upstairs to the sound of Nick’s stern voice reminding him that falling in love was forbidden.
Nick turned back to me. “You need to unlock your speed and your fire.”
“Fire?”
“Again.”
I shot a kick toward his stomach, and he scooped up my leg. I twirled to get out of it and face him again, but he was ready with another kick to my leg this time. Footing off, I knew I couldn’t dodge, but I could step in with a cross, so I punched. Buried it. Nick backed up. “Better.”
“Better? That’s all you have for me?”
“Relax. Loosen up. Remember how fast you are. You’re faster than you think. You’re fiery, Ava. Put that into your fighting.”
He kept saying things like that. Faster than you think. Use your fire, Ava. Where’s that fire? Tap into your speed. I wanted to punch him in the face. I swung, he dodged. Swung again. He blocked it. He punched. I ducked under his arm and buried a right hook to his body as I came out of my crouch. I aimed another hook to his face, but he blocked before I could land it. “I’m not going to get any faster.”
“Then you won’t defeat Psycho.”
I fisted my hands and spun around, frustrated. They were all waiting on me, and here I was, world’s slowest Phoenix. I faced Nick, blood pumping hotter. How was I going to kill someone who always killed me first? “It’s impossible, Nick!”
“It’s not.” He stood there, so stupidly calm.
“Then show me how!”
He swung for my face.
Idiot brother. Not today. Everything inside me felt alive. On fire. I latched on to that feeling. And I burst into motion, ducking his punch. His hand sailed over me in what looked like slow motion.
Whoa. I had time to deliver three body punches and move out of hitting range. I stared at my hands. They buzzed almost. They seemed to glow. Vibrate. They felt so hot. Not uncomfortable hot. Just different hot. Like not normal. Something like heat fog seemed to emanate from them, blurring things behind them.
“Shoot it, Ava. Shoot the fire.” He pointed at the target.
I lifted my hands, pointed them at the target, and pushed the imaginary heat with all my might. A tiny flame, like a blow torch, spurted out of my hands and died. My heart jumped and I turned to Nick, beaming. “Did you see that!”
He smiled. “Your fire. You found it.”
“And you didn’t think I could.” I smirked.
“Again.” He kicked my leg and that brought me back to focus. I’d moved faster. Sharper. I breathed. Focused. He seemed to be moving slower. Sounds seemed less distracting. I moved in and punched. Jab, cross, hook. Faster than I thought possible. Then I dodged out of range. “Did you see that?”
Nick cupped the side of his face. “I felt it.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
He glanced at me askance, still holding his face. “That’s what I mean.”
“I’m fast?”
He nodded. “Yes. You’re fast and pretty unbreakable.”
“Unbreakable huh? Then why are you holding your face?”
He dropped his hand and the bruising started to dissolve into what looked like normal skin.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Ava.” He smiled. Real.
I stopped, staring at the joy on his face, so foreign and normal at the same time. Either I broke him, or I’d made him recall something. “What?” I asked.
He shook his head, still smiling. “So tenderhearted. Every time you find your strength and speed, you feel terrible after you hit me.”
That knocked the air out of my lungs. “Am I always me?”
He looked at me, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to answer the question best. “Yes. You’re always smart, a little rebellious, softhearted, fiery, and passionate. Not to mention competitive. I’m not always sure how you’ll react to certain things, but I have a good idea. You’re always you. I suppose that’s one advantage I have to remembering everything first. I know who you are, who you’ll be, how you’ve reacted in the past.” He glanced at my hands. “Can you do it again?”
“The fire?” I stared at my palms and willed them to ignite.
Nothing.
I concentrated.
Nothing.
I tried to push the thought so hard tears dripped out of my eyes. Still nothing.
Nick touched my shoulders. “We’ll keep working on it.”
I looked up at him and breathed deep, realizing how tight my lungs felt. “What if I can’t do it?”
He smiled. “You can. I saw it. You can do it.”
“In time?”
“Come on.” He motioned toward the back door, and I followed him inside. I’d shot fire from my hands and moved faster than I ever thought possible.
Nick handed me a bottle of water from the fridge and I downed half of it. He stopped for a beat, looking at me, then he sprouted a small smile. “It’s nice to have you back, Ava.” Then he headed to pick up the weapons, and I started to follow him.
The scar on his back caught my attention, and a memory flashed into me. He’d been stabbed through protecting me. He turned, and I saw the four different scars on his stomach. Stabbed. Shot. Pierced by a sword.
Another gunshot on his chest.
I fell to my knees as each memory flooded into me—emotions included.
Every time I’d lost him, a piece of myself ripped from my chest.
Nick had died in my arms at least twice.
He’d saved me so many times.
And I sat crying in the rain. Screaming while I sliced open an opponent’s throat. Always I cradled his head in my lap and whispered, “No. Not again. Not now. Don’t leave me yet.”
And sometimes he touched my face. “We’ll meet again, little sister.”
The sound of the back door slamming open broke me of the loop of memories, and I realized I was feeling every second of that raw grief. Of my brother’s deaths.
He was always so young.
“Ava?” He pulled my shoulders, but I couldn’t get my sobbing self off the floor.
He wrapped me in a hug and pulled me close. “Hey, it’s okay. What are you remembering?”
I looked up at him. Cleared the tears. “Nick?”
“What?” The worry in his eyes pulled at my heartstrings.
“Don’t leave me this time.”
He pulled my head close and kissed the top of it. “Ava, I will always protect you and Cade. I’m your big brother. That’s what big brothers do.”
“But don’t die this time.”
He smiled and it seemed to falter a bit. “You know what? We’ll defeat Psycho Chick, and then you and Cade will have nothing more to worry about.”
“And you?”
“I will have fulfilled my purpose to you.” He stood and offered a hand to help me up. I took it. He smiled. “I will keep you safe because you’re my little sister and I love you. But the burden of what sits on your shoulders—I will help you carry that as far as I can.”
He…he loved me. I didn’t know what to do with that. I couldn’t breathe. A thousand pictures flooded through my thoughts of Nick, of Cade, of a woman I couldn’t remember, a man I wasn’t sure I knew, who looked like Nick. I allowed the memories of all those people flood me and
slay my heart. I was loved. I’d always been loved. Nick told me they’d died, but I was starting to remember my parents.
An ember seemed to warm in my chest, and I wanted to laugh and cry. Nick would help me carry this burden. I swallowed my normal distance-increasing retort and let in one little piece of my true feelings. Just one. “I won’t let you down.”
The moment Nick’s gaze met mine, a memory slammed into me.
I felt cold. From the inside. And shattered. As if someone had a ripped a piece of my heart out. Tears streamed down my face, and I’d buried my head into the warm and comforting embrace of someone.
“I’m so sorry, Ava.”
That voice. I knew that voice. It was Nick’s. He held me close, his strong arms the only thing keeping me from falling apart right now. Over and over, I whispered, “What have I done? What have I done?” But that memory seemed to stop, not like the others that faded as they ended. This one seemed frayed at the edges. As if something had ripped away the rest of the memory. The part before it. The part after it.
I tried to recall what it belonged to, and the only thing I saw next was me standing in front of a grave. Nick on one side of me, Cade on the other. It looked to be a funeral, as many people had gathered. But it wasn’t current. This had happened a long time ago. I grabbed Cade’s hand and squeezed. He looked up at me, his sad eyes stabbing pain through my heart. His chin trembled and I hugged him close.
Nick’s hand on my shoulder caused me to face him. It was our turn to pay respects to…my heart dropped as the memory pushed the emotions my way…my mother.
Suddenly, a swirl of love whipped through me in a biting wind. Sorrow and sadness mingled with fond memories. I touched Nick’s hand, still on my shoulder. And I faced him. “I can’t do this.”
Tears streamed down my face.
“You’re not alone, Ava. I’m here.”
Cade touched my arm, too. “We’re both here.”
“I—I’m so sorry!” I held in a sob.
Nick looked so broken, but when he touched my arms—squeezed gently—a strength and courage filled his features. “Ava, this is not your fault.” He said each word with such conviction.
That thought gave my heart levity.