Who else knows the truth? Does Mrs. Crenshaw know she isn’t Jenny’s daughter? Does the town council have a hand in hiding her real parentage?
It doesn’t matter.
Liam Cleary, the father she’d lost so many years ago, the man she’d worshipped even in death, had been the biggest liar of all. Yes, Rachel can blame Jenny for systematically withdrawing affection toward her, for shunning her responsibilities as a parent, even for her callous departure. But Jenny Cleary, the woman who’d essentially raised her, is as much a victim of her father’s deception as Rachel. She had tried telling Rachel the truth while under Golvath’s influence, but it’d fallen on deaf ears.
“There’s a monster in that house. I’m not your mother.”
Yes, Rachel must be a monster if she’s in any way related to Liam Cleary. There’s no question about it anymore. As for Misty, she can’t forget the allegations that’ve been made against her, can’t shake the image of what horrible things she purportedly did to Orion’s father.
Misty Robins had killed two guards at the Royal Vaults and emptied out the treasury of anything she could use against the Nebulius royals. She’d handed out some of those artefacts to the prisoners she’d helped escape from Leif Penitentiary. The Night Weaver got the Akrah cloak—a sentient cloak that fed on darkness. Another artefact, the Travolis Ring, had been used to kill King Auberon. No, not just kill. Disembowel.
That’s Rachel’s legacy now.
Come to think of it, Rachel’s already living up to Misty’s reputation—three-hundred-and-twelve Halflings’ died because of her rushing through the Fae Realm without a plan in place. Like mother like daughter, right?
“How could he do this to us?” Rachel asks. “I thought he loved my—I thought he loved her.” She looks up at the clear blue sky through blurry eyes and a curtain of tangled hair, searching for an answer.
It’s completely possible he didn’t even remember the truth. Who knows? But whether Liam remembered or not, it still takes two to tango, and he’d betrayed his wife. He would forever be responsible for his own actions, just as Rachel will forever have to live with the consequences.
My father is a liar and a cheater. My birth mother is a traitor and a murderer. What does that make me?
Rachel pushes herself to her feet, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. She turns in place and marches up to the house, her mind spinning with questions she can’t begin to answer. Will Jenny ever be able to forgive her? How is she going to tell Orion that she is actually the biological daughter of the woman who killed—or rather disemboweled—his father? Should she try and find Misty?
Who am I?
A more terrifying thought takes shape in her mind, one she never thought she’d have to ask herself.
What am I?
Twenty-Six
We Are What We Are
There’s a peculiar somberness in Shadow Grove in the days that follow. When Rachel passes people in the street, she senses shame, self-pity, and guilt. They try their best to act normal in public—this is Shadow Grove, after all—but there’s been a shift in the tightknit community. People had gotten badly hurt, some had even died. None of this has gone unnoticed. So, the town council can spew their propaganda as much as they like, put the blame on a supposed town-wide gas leak if they want, but Golvath’s memory lived on in everyone.
Two bodies had been found in the school—Mr. Gambini, the janitor, and Ms. Jones, one of the new lunch ladies. The media didn’t report on their bodies being boneless, simply said they had succumbed during the major, town-wide gas leak. Nobody’s recovered their bones yet, and there is no telling if they ever will. What Golvath planned to do with all those bones, Rachel couldn’t say. The third body belongs to Golvath, or rather Cameron Mayer as people knew him, who’d supposedly fallen to his death from the bell tower. There’s no mention of how he was almost cut in half, no talk of the fact that he had no parents to call and no residence in Pine Hill, or anything about his unusual ears. Nope. He’s just another casualty, which works for the cover-story the town council chose to go with.
Things return to normal as usual, though, or as normal as possible. The school opens its doors once more, the shops fix the damage and clean the sidewalks, services resume as if nothing’s happened.
People move on. Life goes on.
The day after the vigil, just as Rachel readied to leave to get Mrs. Crenshaw’s house ready for her return, there’s a knock on the door. She walks into the foyer, opens the door, and finds Greg standing on her doorstep, looking more disheveled than she’s ever seen him. Though he wore his usual ensemble—white shirt, jeans, blazer rolled up to his elbows—there are dark rings under his eyes, and his shoulders slump.
“Are you okay?” Rachel asks in way of greeting.
He exhales a humorless laugh. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
Rachel stares at him, unsure how to answer.
“Rach, I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I need to explain—” He holds up a hand to silence her before she can interrupt. “Let me finish, please.”
Rachel shuts her mouth and nods.
“I literally wasn’t myself, but I remember what I’d said and I can’t forget what I did to you.” Greg squeezes his eyes shut. He reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment, before sighing loudly as his arm drops back to his side. “And you can deny it all you want, but I saw how scared you were of me ...”
“I know it wasn’t you, Greg,” Rachel says.
When he meets her gaze, Rachel sees the unshed tears gleaming in his eyes.
“What I did to you is inexcusable. What that other ...” He swallows hard, and then shakes his head. “I had to battle against something in my head to keep myself from hurting you.”
She takes a step toward him, places
