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Silver
9 months after escape
Lies were a fact of life that Silver was not naïve enough to believe never happened to her. People lied to her all the time—Grace, Devon, Drake, to name a few. Even Shauna had at one point kept something big from her, and the chasm it left between them was never fully restored.
But she’d thought herself generally good at discerning liars. It was why suspicion was her default when meeting new people, why she rarely ever trusted anyone anymore.
And yet, the few times that she did, and her trust turned out to have been misplaced, it blindsided her, reducing her once again to the helpless little teenager who was stupid enough to fall for a pretty girl’s victim act and land herself in the most dangerous situation—only to then fall for a pretty boy who turned into a monster obsessed with possessing her.
She was so tired of feeling powerless.
On the trip back from Katashi’s shop, she purposely stayed awake all day, just so she would be asleep when they made the drive at night. Hisa gave her space on the road, but that didn’t last long. Two days after they returned to the sanctuary, before Silver had time to safely lock herself in the privacy of her hut, Hisa showed up.
“Just talk to me,” she pleaded.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I’d say there’s a lot.”
“I’d say it wouldn’t change anything.”
“You’re not giving me a chance!”
“I don’t care.”
The door to Silver’s hut was half-closed, her body blocking the way in. Hisa stood outside, staring at her with wide, pleading eyes. So much sorrow, yet all Silver could see was the monsters that had been terrifying her for the past two years. It didn’t help that Hisa had to feed more frequently now and her eyes were almost always ringed in red. It just reminded her that the truth had been right there the whole time, taunting her inability to see it.
Why did people keep lying to her? Why did she keep falling for it?
“You can go now,” she deadpanned after a pause.
Hisa saw the resolve in her eyes, let out a resigned sigh, and walked away.
Chief Quinn came to find Silver the next night. They knocked on her door and stood there with their arms crossed over their chest, a highly displeased frown on their face.
“You need to go down to the hub.” Their tone was clipped, as though this was an order they were irritated about having to give in the first place.
Silver stared back at them evenly. “I already had dinner.”
“We’re having a ceremony for Hisa. Everyone is going.”
“No, thanks.”
She went to close the door, but Chief Quinn put their foot out to stop it. “You don’t get to act like this was a personal attack. This is private information, you’re not the only one who didn’t know.”
“Maybe not, but I’m the only one who was emotionally manipulated by it.”
They gritted their teeth and shook their head at her. “You’re a real hypocrite, you know that?”
“I never pretended to be something I’m not,” she snapped back. “I said from the beginning that I don’t want to talk about what I am. I’m not a liar.”
“No, you just keep the people you care about out of your life without consulting them first and then pretend you’re doing it for their sake. But when someone does it to you, suddenly it’s unforgiveable. It’s manipulation.”
“That’s completely different! She didn’t go through that whole charade for my sake.”
“I told her not to tell you. And if you’d given her just five minutes to explain, you’d know why.”
Silver balked, blanching. Chief Quinn closed their eyes and briefly brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of their nose.
“You’ve been traumatized enough by her kind,” they said, sounding gentler. “More than anyone we’ve ever taken in, I suspect. I tried to stall introducing you to her so you’d have time to process the idea. But just knowing that she’s here was putting you on edge. So yeah, I told her to treat you like everyone else and not say anything.”
Silver stayed quiet, unable to do anything other than stare slack-jawed at the skinwalker.
“You only started to relax when you thought she’d been turned against her will. If you’d known the truth, you would have faulted her for simply existing, just like you’re doing now.”
Silver opened her mouth to deny that, to insist that it was more than that, but that would have been another lie. She did see Hisa differently now. She couldn’t help it; the instinct to fear and distrust her kind ran deep.
But after what Chief Quinn just revealed, Silver realized that she was acting like an absolute ass. Hisa didn’t choose to be a vampire. That part was still true. She was just born, and she hated her existence enough on her own, as Silver had seen firsthand in her head.
“Aside from how she came to be in this world,” the skinwalker went on, “everything else you know about her is true. She’s still the same person you knew yesterday, the same person who taught you how to fight and nursed you back to health when you were sick.” Their gaze hardened again, and their voice changed along with it. “Now she’s dying, and rather than being there for her like she was for you, you’re punishing her for something that was never in her control to begin with.”
For a moment, they stared at her so intensely, she had to look away. She couldn’t shake the feelings of hurt and betrayal coursing through her, but her heart felt like it was being squeezed, and the sudden weight of guilt almost made her knees buckle.
She was such an asshole.
“Don’t let her die with a guilty conscience,” Chief Quinn pleaded. “If you ever truly cared about her, you’ll show up at the hub.”
And with that, they turned their back on her and left her there, trying to sort through all the conflicting emotions coursing through her.
About half an hour later, Silver arrived at the hub with her head hanging low. She was relieved that no one stared at her with judgment.
The squad was gathered around the fire, alongside Levi and a handful of refugees both human and supernatural. Everyone was silently writing on a piece of paper, and Silver recalled the welcome tradition she’d participated in on her first night at the sanctuary. This must have been some variation of that.
Usually, everyone wrote the names of those they had lost on slips of paper which they would then throw into the fire as a symbolic farewell. This time, however, everybody involved was writing full letters to Hisa. Nobody knew for sure how long she had, but since she was still among them and in relatively good health, they were going to take turns reading their letters out loud before throwing them into the fire.
Hisa sat still among them, quietly watching as everyone scribbled away. She looked tired, but otherwise healthy. So far, her eyes were the only indicator that anything was wrong. Though she wasn’t crying like some of the others, her usually calm and collected mask was gone, letting some emotions show plainly on her face.
Fear, sadness, relief. But, overall, contentment.
Her features brightened when Silver tentatively sat beside her, and her eyes glimmered. She smiled radiantly as she never had before, but the gesture put her fangs on full display. Silver had to push down the urge to flinch when Hisa reached for her hand, and made a conscious effort to stay still.
This wasn’t a monster; it was Hisa. And Silver owed her a huge apology.
“You came,” Hisa murmured.
“Wouldn’t have missed it.” Silver took a deep breath and gulped before adding in a whisper, “I’m so sorry. For everything.”
Hisa leaned over to rest her head on Silver’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re here now.”
Lacing their fingers together, Silver tilted her head to plant a soft kiss on Hisa’s forehead. “I’m here,” she trailed off, too ashamed to admit her guilt out loud or vocalize how much she wanted to make it up to her friend.
Straightening up, Hisa studied her with a pensive expression on her face. “Can you do something for me?”
“Whatever you need.”
Wordlessly, Hisa turned toward the other side of the hub, where the bonfire was at a safe enough distance that it wouldn’t cause her any discomfort.
Following her gaze, Silver quickly realized that Hisa was staring at Chief Quinn, who sat near the fire where the flames illuminated their face. The fire brought into focus the tears streaming down their cheeks, a lost, faraway look in their eyes as they gazed into the fire. Their finished letter was already folded and dangling in their fingers.
Seeing them so vulnerable, so heartbroken, struck Silver. She should have known how close they were to Hisa, how much they cared for her, from everything Hisa had told her. She supposed it was her fault for never really paying enough attention.
God, how selfish could she get?
The weight of what Hisa was asking her seemed too heavy of a responsibility, but Silver was prepared to give it a shot.
“I’ll try,” she promised.
