Vanish (Firelight #2)(50)

In my hesitation, others start to demand the same thing.

Where’s Miram? Where’s Miram?

“I—” I lick at my dry lips.

“Where’s my daughter?” Severin’s voice cracks on the air.

I say it then. Spit out the words like a terrible poison I need to purge. “Hunters took her.”

But the poison doesn’t leave me. It’s still there, pumping through my blood. The guilt. The awful knowledge that I caused this.

Cassian’s thumbs still, stop their roving, but I don’t look up. Can’t meet his gaze.

I nod, the motion painful. “It’s true.”

His hands loosen on mine, barely touching.

“But you managed to escape?” Severin sneers. “Miraculous.”

My eyes burn with pricks of heat.

Cassian’s hands fall away altogether now.

My hands lower, fingers twitch, empty at my sides. And I don’t know where the sudden pain comes from exactly. That Miram is lost . . . maybe forever? That I’m responsible for it?

Or from feeling Cassian slip away from me.

Somehow he’s become important to me. Maybe he always has been. Even if I don’t know what we are to each other. I know that I care about him. That I can’t stand losing him and Will.

No longer touching, I look at his face, searching for a sign that he doesn’t blame me . . . hate me.

Severin moves between us and snatches hold of my arm. His fingers are long and thick, covering almost all of my bicep, and I’m reminded that he’s the alpha of our pride for a reason. The largest and strongest draki among us. Someday the alpha will be Cassian, but until then it’s Severin. And I’m at his mercy.

He pulls me along and I stifle a wince at his ungentle grasp. I’ve experienced worse pain over the last few days. Maybe I even deserve this. I just told him his daughter was taken by hunters, after all. I might as well have announced her death.

My feet trip to keep up with him. The others fall behind. I fight the urge to look and see if Cassian follows, too.

“Where are we going?” I dare the question and then regret it when Severin slides me a look of pure loathing. I’ve never seen such emotion from him. It was never personal before. I was simply a means to an end. A tool for him to use and manipulate.

The town is silent as we cut a line through the mist and head down Main. Hardly any people outdoors. Strange for midday, this lack of activity. It reminds me of the tomblike stillness after my father’s disappearance. The pride was in lockdown for more than a month then, no one emerging from their houses. Only the most basic needs were met—the most critical jobs performed for the day-to-day functioning of the pride. I remember some of the other kids complaining that it was the most boring time. I only thought it was the most miserable.

All that floods back now, rushes over me in a bitter tide of memory. I’m there again. Only then I believed in the promise for a better future. That Dad might actually return. Because that’s what Mom whispered in our ears, what she would repeat over and over as she put Tamra and me to sleep at night. Now I know the truth. She was either lying to us or to herself because she didn’t know any such thing.

Suddenly she’s the one I want to see. Like then, I want Mom to comfort me. Hold me and tell me everything is going to be all right. Even if I know better. Even if I can’t believe that anymore.

Mom’s eyes are dead pools, hardly flickering to life when I enter the house with Severin at my side. The others remain on the porch. Except Cassian. He’s gone.

Mom stares at me like she doesn’t know me, doesn’t see me.

“Mom.” I crouch down beside the bed.

Her glassy-eyed stare flits over my face. She lifts a hand and brushes the tangle of my hair.

“Mom, it’s me,” I say. “I’m back. I’m okay.”

At last her lips move. She murmurs my name. The odor hits me. I glance to the nightstand, spot the bottle of verda wine.

Severin snorts. “Doubt she even realized you were missing.”

I glance up at his hard face, then look back at Mom. Have I done this? Made things so hard she’s drowned herself in a bottle?

Pounding feet rush from outside. Voices carry.

Tamra bursts into the room, Az close on her heels. I rise, my breath a shudder, uncertain what to expect from her, from either of them.

“You’re alive,” Tamra chokes.

Her hair isn’t its usual tamed perfection. The silvery white mane is as frizzy and wild as my hair. In fact, she looks a complete mess from head to toe. More like me in a pair of shredded jeans and T-shirt.

I nod. “I’m alive.”

Moments pass and she doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak as we stare at each other. And then we’re in each other’s arms. Sobbing.

At first I think the tears are hers, the ugly raw sounds all her. But then I feel the wetness on my cheeks, the vibrations in my throat and chest. I’m crying with her.

Az is there, too, her slim hands stroking my sore back.

“I’m so sorry, Tam,” I say.

“No, I’m sorry! I always blame you for everything and you just put up with it! I’m so glad you’re not dead . . . so glad you’re back.”

I close my eyes in relief. This. This is why I had to come back. Because a part of me will always be linked to Tamra. I couldn’t have left her to wonder, to suffer the mystery of my disappearance. . . .