Falling Light (Game of Shadows #2)(13)

It would be a lie to say she didn’t feel a twinge of loss, because she did, but she realized that the loss of her home would have hit her former self, the shadow Mary, much harder. She had lost a home but had regained her health and sense of identity, along with a strange heritage that might be terrible, but it was also powerful and real, and it was hers.

They could never go home again. (And she realized, even as she thought it, after all this time she still called the other alien place “home.”) So gradually through the millennia they became more humanlike.

The times they forgot who they once were, they dreamed of human things, desires and ambitions, of satisfying work, a loving marriage, raising children and living peaceful lives. But even while they dreamed, they were troubled because they knew somewhere in their hearts that those dreams weren’t real. Then they woke again and realized who they were. But they still remembered they had dreamed.

Then she thought, No.

In that line of thinking, she was inventing a community that did not exist. Perhaps it had at one point in the distant past. But of the original seven who had pursued the Deceiver to Earth, four of them were gone forever. Astra never forgot who she was, and the Deceiver stole human lives in order to remember his past.

And Michael had just admitted that nothing had seemed real before he met Astra. His sense of unreality had to stem in part from her long disappearance, but she couldn’t have been the only reason. He must feel that way in part because he didn’t feel human.

So she was talking only about herself.

She was the one who dreamed those human dreams. She kept going back in memory to her life nine hundred years ago, because she remembered living for too brief a time in a way that allowed her to celebrate and explore the two aspects of her identity, both the alien and the human, with people who loved and accepted her. Their lives had been gracious gifts imbued with hearth and magic and mystery. They had understood that about themselves, about each other and their world.

She realized how much she missed those people. They had been her family, and they had died so long ago she didn’t even know where their graves were.

An ache settled deep under her ribs. She rubbed her face. Then she set the thought of them aside as gently as if she had been handling an old, fragile photo album and concentrated on moving toward her future.

Chapter Five

THE HIGHWAY UNFURLED in a long, winding ribbon that lay across a rolling wooded landscape, like an endless snake that encircled the world. The wooded landscape was interspersed with patches of sunlit farmland filled with fruit orchards and fields of golden grain dotted with giant bales of hay.

It wasn’t long before Mary held on to the steering wheel and her concentration as she fought a combination of hunger and exhaustion. Every dip and curve in the road felt exaggerated. Dizziness was never far away. She kept her silence and kept driving.

Every mile she drove gave Michael a chance for more rest. She wanted to give him all the recovery time she could. She had no illusions about herself. She had gotten very lucky in her morning confrontation with the Deceiver. Michael was far more valuable in a fight.

Finally she came upon a stretch of landscape she recognized. The highway was dotted with intermittent clusters of neighborhoods, restaurants, various strip malls and antique stores. She guessed they were a half hour away from downtown Petoskey. She placed a reluctant hand on Michael’s knee.

He straightened instantly. His large, warm hand, having never left the back of her neck, pressed against her skin. She sensed him scanning her, body and spirit, in a skillful, comprehensive sweep even as his light, sharp gaze took in the passing scenery.

“You know, you could just ask me how I’m doing,” she said. She was glad she could talk to him again, glad to be doing anything different from driving in silence and getting sleepier.

He gave her a skeptical look. “How are you doing?”

She said strongly, “I’m fine.”

His eyes narrowed. “Sure you are. You’re also exhausted and faint from hunger. I think my scan gave me more accurate details, don’t you?”

She scowled. “Like you couldn’t deduce any of that anyway.”

She felt his fingers curl around her short, thick braid. He gave it a gentle tug, then turned his attention to the road. “I like to see things for myself. I also want you to turn off the highway as soon as you can.”

“All right.” She eased off the gas pedal and started watching for intersections. “What road do you want me to take?”

“The next one.” He pointed. “Turn right, into that neighborhood.”

As she complied, she noted the painted wood sign at the corner of the road that read Lakeshore Estates. The road they turned onto was named Seahorse Drive.

It was cute. She wasn’t in the mood for cute.

“Drive slow,” he told her.

“Okay.” She slowed the car to a crawl.

They passed by large homes with well-kept yards. Late afternoon was turning into early evening. Children played and rode their bikes, sprinkler systems flung water in wide sparkling arcs and people mowed their lawns. She rolled down her window. The smell of fresh-cut grass filled the car. Someone was barbecuing. The smell of roasting meat wafted into the car. Her empty stomach rumbled in miserable response.

She started talking to take her mind off her fatigue and hunger. “What are we doing here? If we had been getting close to Astra, you would have said something, wouldn’t you? What am I saying, you don’t speak unless you absolutely have to. Astra doesn’t live in the suburbs, does she? Or maybe a middle-class lifestyle would be the perfect place for her to camouflage herself and hang out, but for some reason I expected something different. You know, this car doesn’t look like much, but it handles like a dream. I thought you said we needed to change vehicles.”