Tell me, please. Tell me what Halla said. My stomach twisted. I had never imagined a younger Kane, because his entire presence told me who he was and that the past was something buried for him. Many of the vampires were like that. There was too much pain underneath the sands of time.
"Slight fluctuations coming from the left, and we just spotted an immortal bird in the treetops. Looks like a fairly small creature, so nothing major," Holt interjected on the comm.
My reply was numb and hurried. "Got it." It was hard to focus on the present when Kane was so consumed by the past.
"She said things bluntly. She loved me…" Kane muttered, resigned. "But I'd never say that to a child… You can't tell a kid that they'll be adequate as long as they keep up such grueling training. She looked me right in the eye and said my extra work was the only thing that gave me a seat at the table with the other vampires." He lapsed into a thoughtful silence, and sadness for him flooded through me. I shut my eyes, just for a moment, to suck in a breath. Nothing had changed when I opened them. I was still bait on the road.
“I guess in the end, as much as I wanted to be tough, Halla was always tougher,” Kane mused. You can't fake that kind of survival instinct. She never told me her own problems. She always thought she was doing her best to make me stronger."
My heart was breaking for him. I wanted to know as much about Kane as I could, but I also couldn't believe that this was happening. Someone's private inner life was sacred. I would hate for him to hear the self-loathing thoughts I sometimes had, or the stubborn, angry reactions that flared up in my mind before my logic could fight against my brain. I had many dark moments, and now I knew Kane did too. Still, at least I had information I could pass to Lyra once she got back from her mission. I knew more about his circumstances, now.
He was unhappy. He was lost and hungry, reverting back to a state where he felt more in common with the child-self he’d left behind. How hard Kane had worked to move beyond his situation and his limitations. I wanted to ask him why it had been harder. I had never considered him any different from the others. He’d always presented himself as powerful and in control. Oh, I guess that hits close to home for me, too. That was part of what made me mad about Lyra half the time. She had a control that seemed to be innate, which frustrated me. She’d been born into the ideal Bureau family, whereas I’d had to fight for my place… just like Kane had. It was hard to see people around him moving forward in life at a faster pace.
Most of all, I wished I could ask him why he’d never told me about any of this.
Kane, were you scared to tell me? I would never judge you for that.
Silence was my only answer. All my hidden fears made me antsy. I couldn't seem to sit still as I rocked back and forth on my boots, which suddenly felt too tightly laced. Everything was too tight on me at the moment. I’d eventually have to fess up to him that I was hearing all this, right? Or worse, this all might be simply a manifestation of my own psychological issues and worries. Bryce always talked about trauma as being a huge deal for soldiers, but none of us had had any time to stop and heal when the world was splitting apart at the seams.
A rush of frustration hit me next. I had zero control over this. Kane's voice was like a radio station that I couldn't turn off. He needed to know I was here, but I had already tried "thinking" my way to him.
Perhaps I could shout?
"Another small uptick in fluctuations," Holt reported. Right, shouting out loud was a no-go.
Jessie came on the line. "Another bird. They look like crows or something."
"It's more like a raven," Jordan corrected. I mumbled something to them about hearing their message and let the twins argue off the comm. They didn’t usually butt heads so much, but they had always been naturally competitive with each other.
I tried to shout silently. Kane! It was so harsh and loud in my own brain that I immediately felt ridiculous. It didn't work.
Growing up, my mom always had a love for psychic TV shows. I tried to center myself with deep breathing, calling out in a more ghostly tone in my brain, the way a movie heroine might do it. Nothing.
"Another day ahead of us," Kane mumbled.
Listen to me, idiot! I wrapped one hand into a fist and tried a new method. Forget the calming nature of breathing; I would try to
