He quickened his pace. I heard the front door slam and then his car roll down the driveway.
Mom stopped in the living room doorway, her hands on her hips. “Perfect,” she sighed. After a second, she turned to face Leon and me. “I need to see what I can do to handle this mess. I’m going to speak with Esther. Don’t go anywhere, either of you, until we figure out what’s going on.”
“Wait,” I said, as she headed for the door. “Just…so you’re aware. Iris is no longer Beneath. I don’t know where she went, but I think she stayed up here.”
Mom sighed again. “Any other complications you want to throw my way?”
“Esther said we’re being Harrowed.”
“Well, that isn’t a surprise at least,” she said. “If the Beneath is suddenly sentient and hijacking bodies, I doubt it’s doing it to make friends.”
I gripped my arms. “You think this is the start of a Harrowing?”
“We’re going to end it before it gets that far.”
“Are you still going to kill Shane?”
She didn’t answer. I would have said more, but I suspected I’d already used up my It’s Not His Fault argument on Gideon, and any other words of that nature would not be well-received. I watched her leave.
And then turned to face my reckoning.
We watched each other in silence, the length of the living room between us. I lingered near the edge of the couch, my fingers grazing the soft fabric of the upholstery. I wanted to go to Leon, but I sensed he would retreat if I did. There was a wary look in his eyes, and his entire body was tensed, like a deer ready to bolt. It reminded me of the night he’d first arrived in the Cities, nearly four years ago now. In the late-summer twilight, the moon above us had been hazy and glazed with heat, the stars hidden by the glow of the city. I remembered how Leon had parked his motorcycle at the end of the driveway and stepped slowly forward through the grass, a backpack slung over his shoulder. His helmet had matted his hair to his head, and in the thin half-light, the blue of his eyes had been darkened to black. There had been a hint of bewilderment within his serious expression—a sense of puzzlement, like he wasn’t certain where he was, or if he should be there. But then he’d looked at me, and we’d smiled at each other, and the lost look in his eyes had dissolved.
I studied him, noting the differences four years had brought. He was just as skinny as he’d been that night, but he was taller now, and his shoulders had broadened. His hair was shorter, though the ends still curled slightly. There was a spot of blood on his shirt, a faint streak turning brown. My blood, I realized, from when he’d found me at Gideon’s. And I knew a smile wouldn’t solve this problem.
I felt hollow. There was a sudden emptiness within me that seemed to keep growing. It had edges, sharp enough to cut. But I couldn’t explain that. I couldn’t tell him how it had felt, that morning when I had done my final reading for Gideon. To look into the blank card and see Verrick’s face. How hard I’d been trying to forget.
Eventually, I just repeated: “I couldn’t say anything.”
His jaw tightened. “No. You chose not to say anything.”
“I told you why.”
“Because the elders would have killed him. Which is exactly what needed to happen.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Leon continued before I had the chance.
“The last time he was loose, he started a Harrowing,” he said. “He threw the Kin into chaos. He slaughtered his way through the Cities. You knew who he was. You knew he was a threat. And you chose to protect him.”
My temper flared. “Of course I chose to protect him! I couldn’t even kill a Harrower. You think I’d let the Kin kill my best friend?”
“What about all the people he’s going to kill?”
His words knifed into me. I froze. My stomach plummeted. I looked away from him, keeping my focus on anything but his face: the afternoon light that lingered on the walls, Gram’s garage-sale coffee table, the worn carpet that needed replacing, the space between us. “You don’t know that will happen,” I whispered.
“What else do you think is going to happen? He was unsealed for maybe an hour before he went straight for a Guardian. Camille survived—but what about the next person he attacks? And the next? He’s not going to stop until we stop him. Every person he hurts—that’s your choice.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“That doesn’t make it any less true.”
I felt heat on my face. Anger bubbled up once more, but anger was better than guilt. I didn’t even try to contain it. “I thought it would be okay!” I railed. “I thought he would be okay. I just wanted things to be normal. He’s not just Verrick anymore. I thought if no one found out, he’d just be able to live his life. As a human. That’s what he wanted. He didn’t want to be a Harrower. He wanted to be Kin. That’s why he was trying to do all along—to become Kin.”
“You think his intentions matter? That it somehow absolves him?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
Leon’s voice was hard. “You’re saying he should get what he wants.”
“Gideon should. Gideon is innocent.”
“You can’t just erase who he is. What he did. Do you even know?” he demanded. I wouldn’t have needed a Knowing to read the fury that blazed all around him. His face was taut. I could see his fingers digging into his palms. “Twelve,” he said. “That’s the number of Guardians he killed. Eighteen. The number of Kin. Should I name them for you? I can give you two off the top of my head. Do you think they wanted to die?” He turned and stalked out of the room.
“Leon,” I said. I chased after him, catching his arm. “Wait.”
He jerked out of my grip. “Don’t.”
“Just listen to me, please,” I said. “You don’t understand.”
“You don’t understand. He killed my parents, Audrey. Do you get that? He killed my parents.” He backed away from me, into the arch of the doorway, and this time I didn’t follow.
“I know. But—”
“No. You don’t get to talk right now. He killed my parents, and you knew it, and you still chose to protect him.”
“And you want revenge, is that it? Why do you even care? You told me you hated your parents!”
I knew as soon as I spoke that it was the worst thing I could have possibly said. Leon had made that admission to me when I was upset about my own father, when he was trying to comfort me—and now I’d thrown it back in his face. I clapped a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry.”
His voice was quiet, almost inaudible. “I don’t want revenge. I wanted to be able to trust you.”
“You can trust me.”
He looked at me. It wasn’t his Hungry Puppy look, the sad eyes I always accused him of using to get his way. It was the other one, the kicked-puppy look, all lost and wounded and alone. And the most horrible part was that I was the one who had kicked him.
I was crying now, but what was worse was that he was crying. He lifted his arm to cover his face and turned away.
“Leon, I’m sorry,” I said again.
His voice was thick. “I can’t—I can’t be around you right now.”
The distance between us had turned solid. I couldn’t have crossed it if I tried. “Please don’t leave,” I sobbed.
“I…” But he didn’t say whatever he’d intended to.
He disappeared while I stood there, hugging my arms, still pleading with him to remain.
Mom found me in my bedroom.
I was sitting in bed, the covers pulled up over my legs, even though my window was still open and the warming evening air was thick around me. I was waiting for time to pass, for the tightness in my chest to ease. I kept checking my phone, to see if Leon had texted me. I wondered where he’d gone, when he’d come back.