Keeper(95)
I stared at the flames of the campfire. They also perfectly mirrored the anger that flowed within me—the only thing that could reach me past the numbness. I was so angry I could hardly bear it—angry at Ty, at the Master, at Gareth, and worst of all, at myself.
There’s nothing more you could have done, the voice of reason whispered in my ear. You have to keep moving forward.
“No. I can’t . . . I won’t,” I hissed back, raking my hands over my face. I deserved every ounce of pain and suffering I got. Tears sprang up in my eyes, but I blinked them away. I’d spent too many days lost in sobs and heartbreak. It made me sick. Being numb was better.
“It’s not your fault.” Maggie’s voice broke through my thoughts. She was staring at me from her own cot a few feet away. Serena was on a similar cot, snoring peacefully. “I know what you’re thinking right now, but it’s not.”
“Stop saying that.” My voice was harsher than I meant it to be. “It is my fault. I never should have let him go.”
Maggie sat up, wincing as she put weight on her injured arm. “You have to stop beating yourself up. Gareth wouldn’t want you to blame yourself for what happened. You did everything you could’ve.”
I balled my hands into fists. “No, I could’ve done more. I could’ve tried harder. I could’ve done more.”
“Styles.” Maggie’s voice was soft. “There was nothing else to do. The Master had already . . . Gareth was already gone, Lainey. You have to know that.”
“And Ty? Is that not my fault either?” I clutched my chest as the hole spasmed painfully. Even his name on my lips was unbearable. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting against the agony.
Maggie let out a soft sigh. “At least we have the Grimoire.”
The emerald amulet had still been around my neck when we escaped from Savannah. Our plan to steal it back had worked after all . . . yet, considering the cost, it hardly felt like a victory.
“So easy for you to say,” I growled, rolling on my side away from Maggie. I didn’t want to talk anymore.
“We should get some sleep.” Maggie sighed again and settled back down on her cot. I waited for the sound of her even breathing before I rolled back over.
She was asleep, but restless. She shivered, though there was a sweaty sheen to her skin. The bite on her arm had been cleaned and bandaged, but the black veins that spidered from the wound were spreading up her arm. They nearly reached her shoulder; the poison from the bite was working its way through her system.
“Will she be okay?” I had asked Zia when we had stopped to camp on the first night.
“Shifter bites aren’t usually lethal.” The other woman shrugged. “But the change won’t be comfortable for her.”
“The change? Does that mean she . . .”
“Yes,” Zia said. “Your friend is transitioning. She’s becoming a Shifter.”
“Is there a way to stop it?”
“I’m afraid not.” Zia thought for a minute, and then added, “But if it helps, Shifters have unique magical abilities—the kind that are not only useful but admired by many of our kind. If she can learn to control it, that is.”
I’d broken the news to Maggie as gently as possible.
“So . . . what you’re saying,” Maggie had said after a long pause of silence, “is that once the transition or whatever is complete, then I’ll have the power to change into any kind of animal that I want?”
I gulped and nodded. “That’s the way I understand it.” I had reached for Maggie’s hand to comfort her, but she’d already jumped to her feet, her face bright with excitement. “This is amazing!”
I stared at her. Was it possible that shock was making her loopy? “It is?”
“Don’t you get it, Lainey? This is my radioactive spider, my super-soldier serum! My chance to be something more than just ordinary!”
I’d tried to reason with her, to explain the challenges of what she might face, but Maggie smiled and waved her hand. “Semantics. Don’t worry, Styles. They’re gonna write a book about us one day. Just wait and see.”
The pain from the transition had gotten worse with every passing hour, but Maggie had continued to bear it with a smile, her eternal optimism never faltering.
Guilt pulsed through me as I stared at her sleeping face. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, Mags. And I’m sorry that I’m not being a good friend right now.” Hot tears brimmed in my eyes. “But most of all, I’m sorry for not being brave like you.”
I rolled over again, the tears streaking noiselessly down my cheeks. I reached underneath my pillow and pulled out the Grimoire. It hummed in my hand, though the magic felt stale and disjointed in a way. I gripped the necklace, willing it to transform. Green lightning flashed between my fingertips, but the necklace remained a necklace.
I tried again, but it remained sealed shut. I had no idea how to transform the amulet into a book, much less how to use it or keep it safe.
With an angry curse, I shoved the necklace back underneath the pillow. My chest was throbbing, and my breath was coming in short bursts as my lungs fought back the hysterics that gripped me.
I wrapped my arms around myself again and squeezed my eyes shut. It didn’t help. I opened them again and stared up at the star-filled sky. I began to count—distraction was the only thing I could tolerate.