Those other scars held memories. They held parts of the Aileana I was and now all that’s left of her are flashes in my mind, pieces of a puzzle I can’t put back together.
Unable to stop myself, I tell Derrick again, “I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that,” he grits out. His wings buzz with agitation, as quick as a dragonfly’s. He runs his hands through his hair. “God, I can still feel you in my head.” When I don’t respond, he says, “You were empty inside. Like you’re just some thing, not her—”
“I don’t have my memory,” I snap. “You think my mind was empty? Try living it.”
We’re both breathing hard, staring at each other like two strangers. Derrick’s light has darkened to a shadowed halo around him. He looks stricken, as if he just realized what he called me.
You’re just some thing.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I tell him, my voice almost breaking. “I don’t know who I am or where I belong; I just know that when I woke up I had this power inside me that I couldn’t control. The only thing that felt right was killing them.” I gesture to the bodies at my feet. “When you called me by my name, a part of me didn’t want to remember anything else. It hurt too much.”
“Aileana.”
“Wait.” I hold back my tears. I don’t want him to see me cry. “I know I’m not the same. I injured you. I broke into your mind. You wished for someone else and got me and I’m all wrong. But the moment I saw you, I was home. I didn’t need to have memories of you to know that I trust you and I need your help.” When Derrick doesn’t respond, I whisper, “Please. Help me.”
He stares at me, unspeaking. I have the sudden urge to hold him close, to stroke my fingers down his wings as if that would help calm him. Because I can’t tell him over and over again, I am her. The only difference is that I came back broken.
You’re just some thing.
“I’m sorry,” I say. Again. A damn echo. Sorry sorry sorry. Sorry I’m a disappointment. Sorry I’m all wrong. Sorry I’m a remorseless killer. Sorry I’m a thing. Not human.
I look down at the bodies littered across the forest floor and feel a sudden sense of helplessness, a burden more overpowering than my name.
I hold my breath when I hear the flutter of Derrick’s wings. He lands on my shoulder, his touch gentle. “I didn’t think about what it was like for you.” At my surprised expression, he explains, “I wished for you, and you came back, and I’m the ungrateful bastard who couldn’t accept that you weren’t exactly the same. How could you be? Why should you be? Just because I wanted it?”
“That doesn’t justify what I did.”
“No,” Derrick agrees. “But after what you’ve been through . . .” He shakes his head.
I finally allow a tear to fall. “You’re lovely. I can see why I never murdered you.”
Derrick’s smile is small. “Oh, please. As if you ever could.” He notices my tears and sighs, murmuring, “You should know, I never can stay mad at you when you’re crying.” His wing brushes against my cheek, but he keeps his distance. He’s not angry with me, but whatever he saw in my mind scared him. When I try to catch his gaze, he turns away. “Help me bury them. If we hurry, we’ll reach Aithinne’s camp before nightfall.”
We begin to dig.
CHAPTER 6
ONCE WE leave the woods, Derrick leads me around a fissure that stretches for miles.
Waves crash against the rocks deep at the bottom, rolling against the escarpment. Each swell comes with a soft sigh of grinding stone—the steady breath of the ocean. I don’t dare stray too close to the unstable edge. Every few minutes, I see massive pieces of the rock break off and tumble into the chasm. The earth is falling apart, little by little.
The sight is unnerving; I’ve seen it somewhere before, in the missing pieces of my memories. But it wasn’t here. It was in that place I recalled by the loch, where there were forests full of demons and metal trees with branches as sharp as blades.
When I open my mouth to ask Derrick about it, he flies off and I hurry after him. I should keep my eyes ahead, but my attention is drawn back to the landscape. To the dull color of the sky and trees—even more apparent here than in the forest.
The sky is a single, unending slab of slate gray. There is no texture to the clouds, not a single ray of sunshine or a heaviness to indicate rain. In contrast, the trees are etched in deep black hues, as if they’ve been scorched by flames. Only the smallest traces of pigment show beneath the drab, ashen landscape. Even the hills, which should be at the very least a deep brown at this time of year, are the somber shade of dust.
Derrick darts around some boulders against a particularly rocky part of the ravine and I follow him, scrambling up the rough granite. “Where are we?” I finally ask, tired of the silence.
Derrick hasn’t spoken since the forest. When he thinks I’m not looking, I catch him staring, studying me. As if he’s thinking about what he saw when my mind invaded his. Maybe he’s wondering if I can ever be fixed.
I don’t miss the way he looks away sharply, guilt flashing in his features, as if he suddenly realizes how quiet he’s been. He might have forgiven me for what I did to him back in the woods, but I can sense how tense he is, like he’s waiting for me to lose control again.
“Skye,” he says mechanically. “We’re still on Skye. We never left.”
“Still?” I ask lightly, so as not to upset him.
In the hours we’ve been walking, I have taken care not to move like I did back in the forest. I keep my powers reined in so tightly that it’s painful. I don’t want Derrick to see that monster again. That thing.
I want him to see me like I’m a human—the way I used to be. His Aileana. His friend.
“You died on the island,” he says. “We could have gone somewhere else, but there’s not much point when it’s all falling apart.” He gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Any plans before that happens? You could always get blackout drunk with me. We could sing inappropriate songs, dress like pirates, and dance over the entrails of our enemies.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Is that something I enjoy?”
“Not yet. But only because you’ve never tried it. I assure you, it comes highly recommended.”
“By whom?”
“By me.” He huffs. “Honestly, Aileana, everyone ought to dress up like an inebriated pirate at least once. It’s much more fun killing things in costume.”
I can’t help but smile when he calls me by my name. It’s the first time he’s said it since the forest, and the sound of it wraps around me like a warm blanket. In the past few hours I’ve begun to remember feelings associated with that name. Stirrings of memories that include Derrick’s wee body curled against the crook of my neck, hands tangled in my hair because he’d fallen asleep plaiting it.
“Then I’ll try it,” I say, approaching the edge of the fissure. “We’ll dress like pirates, and we’ll dance, and you’ll sing me a song before the end. And maybe we’ll stab a few things with cutlasses.”