––––––––
“Damn it, Demitri!” I slapped him across the face as we stumbled into the next world. He flinched but didn’t recoil. “Take me back there.” I curled my fingers into the soft black leather of his vest. “Take me back!” We couldn’t leave Liam there. We couldn’t just abandon him. How could he do this? Why had Liam allowed it? We needed to fight, we needed to kill Gavyn, we needed to—
Demitri’s dark eyes hardened. “No.”
“We have to go back for him—for Liam. Take me back. Please...” I pounded on his chest. “Take me—” I broke off as my eyes landed on a picture behind Demitri’s head. I rounded Demitri and flew across the room. I snatched the photo off the wall, ignoring the plaster that sprinkled to the floor.
Mom. She had her arm around me and we were both grinning like fools. Behind us the Florida coast stretched on and on. And there was my stupid stump. The frame was missing the glass. I whirled, the cheap frame clutched to my chest. There was my cupcake comforter, my annoying alarm clock, my blue curtains.
My eyes couldn’t get enough of it. These were my things. Before Demitri could stop me I was through my bedroom door. “Mom!” I screamed. I tromped down the hall and threw open her door. The room was neat, the bed made, all the clothes put away.
Then I remembered.
Cathy, dead, blood pouring from a wound in her chest. Mom, dead by default. “No...” I moaned. “No.” This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.
“Gavyn,” Demitri said quietly from behind me. He stood in the doorway blocking out the hall light, hands hooked into loops on his pants. He looked so out of place with all of his gear on, standing in Mom’s safe bedroom. He was a reminder, and it hurt deep inside of me. “She’s not here.”
My breath caught on a sob. “I know,” I wailed. “She’s—she’s dead!” I sat on the bed and pulled her cream pillows into my lap. I inhaled, hoping to find some trace of her remaining, some wafting memory that I could cling to. “Why would you bring me here? Why would you bring me back if she’s gone? How could you? How could you?”
“Gavyn, listen—” he started, cringing when I cut him off. His expression warred between contempt and guilt.
“No! You listen, Demitri. Go home. I don’t want you here. I don’t want to ever see you again. Get out, get out, get out! I don’t want to see any of you ever again. I hate all of you!” I screamed, throwing the words at him like knives. “Why would he send me back? Why...” Did he want to torture me? Did he hate me? Did they all hate me?
“Gavyn...please. Stop screaming.”
“Screw you, Demitri!” I screamed. Why wouldn’t he just leave me with my misery? What was the point? There was no one left. Nothing. Tears soaked through the sheets as I sobbed. Mom...Mommy...
Demitri hadn’t moved from the doorway. “She’s not dead, Gavyn. Or at least she shouldn’t be.” Demitri’s expression was uncertain. “Liam said she wouldn’t be,” he amended.
“Get—wait, what?” I sat up, hugging a pillow against me. “What did you just say?” Hope fluttered in my chest. He wouldn’t lie to me, would he?
“Come on, there’s somewhere we need to go.” He held out his hand and smiled. I stared at him, incredulous.
“Did you or did you not just say my mom isn’t dead?”
“I did.”
I climbed off the bed, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “I swear to God, if you are lying to me, I will kill you.”
Demitri chuckled, a thin, humorless sound; it was a heartbreaking kind of laugh. “I know.”
I stopped. “Oh, Demitri—” Lena. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”
He held up a hand. “Let’s not talk about it.” He strode from the room. “Come on.”
I followed him, hating myself for being such an insensitive moron. I used to be such a nice girl, always conscious of others’ emotions. Now I was nothing more than a murdering, thieving, hateful Ginger. I’d done a complete one-eighty. But now I was home...
What if everything had changed? What if my worst fears were true?
What if I was alone?
I shook my head at Demitri’s back. If my mother wasn’t alive I didn’t know what I’d do. At this point I didn’t think there was anything I wasn’t capable of.
Demitri led me to my car, my faded blue Grand Am with the Metallica sticker on the bumper—from the previous owner, of course. It was parked in the garage, just like it was when Liam came bursting through my door followed by Nevin so many weeks ago.
Everything was much the same, but my entire reality had changed. I almost resented the consistency of this world. Didn’t the universe understand that nothing would be the same ever again? Now that I knew there was a whole other life out there...
“You drive,” Demitri said, already sliding into the passenger seat.
I climbed in the driver side, relishing the familiarity almost as much as I detested it. Everything felt wrong. “How do you know about cars?” I asked Demitri distractedly. I remembered hovercrafts in his world. Hovercrafts and plasma guns.
“I learned about them in history class.” He even cracked a smile when he said it, but it didn’t break the shell of worry that surrounded him.
“Oh.” I pressed the automatic door opener on the visor and the garage door rumbled to life.
Funny. Outside looked exactly as I remembered too.
Snowy.
I shivered, wishing I’d thought to bring a jacket. I was still wearing the ugly sack-like clothes from the evil Gavyn’s dimension. They were thin and meant to keep you cool.
Whatever.
“Where are we going?” I backed into the drive, automatically punching the button to shut the door again. I frowned at the reflex, unsettled.
Demitri rattled off an address from memory. I didn’t recognize it, but I did have some idea where it was. It was a dead-end street that was only about five hundred feet long. The house wouldn’t be hard to find. I backed out of the driveway and punched it into gear, fueled by only one thought: my mother would be at the end of this trip.
Thirty minutes later we pulled into the drive of a decent-sized house. It was white with blue shutters and an imposing wrap-around porch. Huge maple trees stood in the front lawn, their branches clacking in the wind. A sense of foreboding washed over me. I wondered who lived here and my insides jumbled into tight little knots.
Is Mom here?
That thought alone had me jumping out of the car and throwing caution to the wind. I’d survived shifting, wolf-beasts, Nevin, Gavyn, and everyone else who wanted me dead. I was no longer a scared one-armed Ginger. This knowledge empowered me.
Demitri crunched along the gravel behind me. As we neared the door he grabbed my arm. “Gavyn—” He spun me around to face him.
“What?” I tapped my foot impatiently and debated how rude it would be to pull out of his grasp and burst through the front door. My fingers itched at the thought. I shivered as a freezing cold wind caused the branches to shudder.
“Liam said,” he flicked his eyes away from mine, “he said that—”
“Oh, just spit it out.” I’d lost any patience I had weeks ago.
Demitri’s eyes darkened. “You’ve changed.” His words were like a slap to the face and I physically moved away from him. He shook his head. “Never mind that. Liam said she should be here. That’s all.”
He let go of my arm and I barreled toward the house without a second glance in his direction. Of course I’d changed. I didn’t fully understand everything that had occurred in the past few weeks, but how could I not have changed? One thing was certain, I’d killed Lena, and if Demitri couldn’t forgive me for that, I understood. I didn’t deserve his forgiveness, even if I couldn’t comprehend why I’d killed Lena. She was dead, regardless.
I took a deep breath at the door and checked my pocket for Liam’s switchblade. My switchblade now. I’d probably never see Liam again. Something inside of me tore open at this thought but I pushed it down, ignoring it.
I whirled at the sound of falling glass, but Demitri had already disappeared. I blinked at the empty lawn, surprised. I hadn’t anticipated him leaving. But what did I expect? He didn’t owe me anything.
I closed my eyes and took one more calming breath to settle my nerves. I pulled the switchblade from my pocket and clicked it open. This is what I’d turned into. I was suspicious of everything and everyone.
I debated knocking but instead tried the knob. “No lock,” I whispered as the door flung open. There was a quick intake of breath and I was glad I had the switchblade ready.
My mom was here. Alive! My brain shouted. She was dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt. The bags under her eyes told me she hadn’t slept in weeks. Regardless, she was alive! My elation was quickly followed by fear. Gary sat next to her on the couch. He had his arm around her shaking shoulders. Huge, fat tears fell to her cheeks as they both gaped at me, mouths open. I returned their stares for a moment before I remembered the switchblade in my hand.
I lifted it, watching their eyes follow the blade.
“Gavyn?” Mom whispered, raw hope evident in her voice. My eyes wanted to drink her in, to have her arms around me. This was Mom. My mom. I knew the weight of her hair; I knew the smell of her perfume. I knew she cried at stupid sappy movies and always forgot to change the toilet paper roll when it was empty. I needed her like I’d never needed her before.
Somehow all of this took a backseat to my more present emotion: hatred.
“I killed you,” I whispered as I turned my glare on Mr. Pershing, wishing my voice didn’t shake and that I sounded stronger. But I wasn’t weak. I’d kill Gary again. He wouldn’t hurt Mom, not like he’d hurt Cathy. He wouldn’t turn her into a mindless zombie.
Mom jumped to her feet. “Gavyn—oh baby.” She rushed across the room and pulled me into her arms. She was Christmas morning and chocolate chip cookies, she was a cool hand on fevered skin. Even wrapped in her embrace, my gaze narrowed on the dirtbag. He hadn’t moved from the couch. His expression was a mixture of shock, pain, and something else. Hope? Guilt? Regret?
“Mom, get behind me.” I disengaged her and pushed her easily toward the door. She went, bewildered.
“Gavyn, what are you doing? We’ve been so worried, but—”
Gary stood up and I took a step forward. “Don’t move, scumbag!” A weighted silence passed between the three of us. Mom and Gary were shocked at my outburst and the threat that went with it.
“Gavyn!” Mom admonished.
“Shh, Cathy,” Gary said. “She doesn’t know me.”
“Don’t you speak to her.” I took another step forward. Gary had some sense because he took a small step back. “I killed you once and I’ll do it again. What are you doing here, Gary? I watched you die. How are you here?” His eyes were wide. “Tell me!” I yelled when he didn’t answer. Mom’s hand dropped on my arm but I shook her off.
“He’s your father, Gavyn,” she whispered.
“He is not my father. He’s a murdering psychopath.”
“Gavy, baby. Come sit down and let’s talk this out. Gary is your father.” Her voice was calm and reasonable. I didn’t want to be reasoned with. I wanted answers.
“Tell me how you’re still alive.”
Gary nodded, unsurprised. “Gavyn, the Gary you met—” He tried to take a step toward me.
“Don’t even try it.” Ice seeped through every word.
“Gavyn—” Mom tried to take the knife from me but I ducked under her arm.
“You can’t trust him, Mom. You can’t!” I didn’t let my gaze wander from his. He needed to know I wasn’t joking. Mom pressed her fingers to her lips.
“What’s happened to you, baby?” She reached out a trembling hand. “What did they do to you?” Her voice broke and her breath hitched. Any other time that would’ve been my undoing. I hated seeing my mom cry. She was a messy crier, just like me, her heart and soul poured into each tear.
My gaze went back to Gary. Was it my imagination or had he moved closer? I waved the knife, a reminder.
“Liam said you’d be different—but I thought,” her bloodless lips quivered, “I thought—oh baby, please. Put the knife away.”
I gaped at her. Of all the things she could’ve said, this was the one that shocked me the most. The knife, forgotten, slipped through my fingers. Gary, seeing his opportunity, caught me easily in his grasp, restraining my arm. My gaze locked on my mom’s and I didn’t put up a fight like Gary expected. His grip loosened. Now he held me upright instead of holding me back.
With a voice hoarse from screaming, I asked, “Did you just say Liam?”