There was no if to that statement. He had to come back. He was my Guardian. He couldn’t escape me, even if he wanted to. Which he probably did.
I’d tried calling Gideon, but I wasn’t certain he even had his phone on him. I’d texted him, as well—but after a moment the absurdity of texting a Harrower had struck me, and I’d started laughing in a raspy, croaky sort of way that reminded me of Iris, and that only made me laugh harder. Eventually, that had stopped, too, and I sat in silence, staring at my wall. Gram and I had painted my room the spring before she died, covering up the pastel pink with a blue so pale it was almost white. I wished she were there now, telling me stories and secrets, telling me it would be all right. Even if I wouldn’t have believed her.
I turned to the sound of footsteps. Mom paused in my doorway, looking at me.
Fresh tears welled up in my eyes. I felt my lip wobble. “Are you here to yell at me, too?”
She sighed, stepping into the room. She had her Morning Star hoodie on, but it was unzipped, showing the bright yellow of her shirt beneath, and her hair was still down. She crossed the room and sat at the edge of my bed, scrutinizing me.
“You can’t blame Leon,” she said.
“I don’t.”
She reached a hand toward me, grasping the end of my hair. She let the curls slide through her fingers. “You’ve got your father’s hair, you know. I used to tease him about it. I always said it would look better on a girl.”
Through my tears, I gave a snort of laughter. “That’s…mean.”
“Yeah, I don’t know why he ever put up with me.” She gave me a sad little half-smile. “Adrian’s hair. But your crappy decision-making, that’s all me.”
I hunched my shoulders. “Thanks.”
“I’m not going to lecture you. I have no moral high ground to stand on. Seventeen years ago, I’d have risked the safety of the entire Kin rather than go along with Adrian’s sealing. If it had been a choice between him and the world, I’d have chosen him. Every time.” The corner of her mouth quirked higher. She caught my hand. “Love changes the rules. Maybe it shouldn’t, but it does. I know how much Gideon means to you. You were looking out for your friend. I can’t say you were wrong. I don’t know if you were. We make our decisions and we live with them. That’s all we can do.”
“You’re not mad at me?”
“I can’t say I’m happy to face Verrick again.”
I swallowed, remembering the last time she’d faced him, that long ago night when they had fallen from Harlow Tower wrapped in the Astral Circle’s light. I had seen it with her memory, felt the rush of the wind about her, the lurch of her heart. That was the night my father’s powers had been sealed. The night she had gone to Lake of the Isles to meet him and found herself waiting there alone. “If he’s unsealed,” I said quietly, “that means my father should be, too.”
She hesitated a moment before answering. “He is.”
My breath stilled. My lips parted, but I didn’t speak.
“That’s what I came here to tell you,” Mom said. “He called Esther, to warn her what had happened. And it seems that whatever the Beneath did to unseal Verrick, it severed the link with Adrian. Resealing isn’t an option.”
“Is he”—it took me a moment to get the sentence out—“is he coming back here?”
Mom shook her head. “Not in the near term. Esther decided it wasn’t safe, and for once I agree with her. His brother, Elliott, is flying to New York to stay with him. He’s going to have a bit of an adjustment period, I’m afraid.”
Like waking from a seventeen-year coma. Everything he’d known about the world had altered. Nearly half his life had passed without him even feeling it, days and hours just evaporating into the wide, open air.
But he was unsealed. His heart would no longer sleep. My father had returned.
Leon’s parents never would.
I shoved the thought away, looking at Mom. “What are you going to do about Gideon?” I asked.
She sighed again, rubbing her forehead with one hand. “Honey…”
I crossed my arms. “Esther said to kill him, didn’t she?”
“Believe it or not, Esther didn’t venture an opinion.”
“She probably just took it for granted that you would kill him.”
“I may not have a choice.”
“But he’s not just Verrick anymore,” I insisted. “I know he isn’t. I felt it. He’s been so afraid, Mom. He doesn’t want to be Verrick at all. There has to be some other way.”
I leaned back against my wall and turned toward the window, where outside the sky had gone milky and gray in the dusk. Gideon was out there, somewhere. I knew he was. And there would be some way to bring him back. I just had to find it.
When Gideon and I were eleven years old, we’d gotten into our first (and only) major fight.
Thinking back, I couldn’t quite remember the cause of it, but the fight had been my doing; I knew that much. Gideon never could hold a grudge. There had been an argument, and then some name calling, and then finally I’d punched him in the stomach—and watched in horror as his legs buckled and he toppled to the ground. It had startled me almost as much as it startled him. I wasn’t certain what I’d intended, but seeing him there in the grass, gaping at me as he wheezed in air, had felt like a kick to my own stomach. I’d felt my cheeks burning. Instead of apologizing, I’d fled. Even now, years later, I could see that bewildered look in his eyes, like he couldn’t quite understand what had occurred.
Mom and Gram had told me to just apologize. They’d made chiding remarks about how my temper was its own punishment, and that I was only making myself miserable—but I couldn’t bring myself to speak to Gideon. For an entire week, I’d pretended he didn’t exist.
Then, one afternoon, Gideon had simply shown up at my house like nothing was wrong. He hadn’t even realized we were still in a fight—or that we were as far as I was concerned. He was over it and assumed I was as well. He’d invited me to some family outing and then asked if we had any ice cream. And that had been that.
Part of me kept hoping that was what would happen now. I’d step outside my house and find him there, waiting out in the yard, grinning his usual grin and wondering why it was that I looked so upset. It would all have been a misunderstanding, an argument easily forgotten.
It didn’t happen, of course.
Instead, the following afternoon, Gideon’s mother called to ask if I’d had any contact from him. They’d arrived home yesterday to find Gideon gone, she said. He hadn’t answered his phone, and he hadn’t returned. One of the neighbors thought they might have seen my car there yesterday morning. I told her I’d stopped by to see him, but the house had been empty. I asked her to tell me if she heard from him.
The Guardians were concerned that she would hear from him, I learned. Mom told me the Guardians had set up surveillance on Gideon’s house. As a precaution. And for the family’s protection.
“He wouldn’t hurt his family,” I insisted.
“Gideon wouldn’t,” Mom said. “Verrick might. I know you want to believe that Gideon still exists, but even if he does, at this point, which side of him is stronger is a complete unknown.”
I hadn’t heard from Leon. When I tried calling, it went straight to voice mail. He didn’t answer my texts. I considered just showing up at his apartment, but I didn’t want to make matters worse—and anyway, he could disappear whenever he wanted to. The ability to teleport gave him the perfect means of avoiding me.