Lightbringer

But I know what really did it.” She pressed her lips tightly together. “It was the Lost.”

“The Lost?” Piotr didn’t quite understand how contact with the Lost would affect Wendy’s mother that way, but after meeting Wendy, he was unwilling to dismiss the possibility so easily, unlikely as it seemed. “I do not understand.”

“That night, the night of the accident, my mother was swarmed by Lost, Piotr. They…drained her somehow. Pulled her soul free. They had to have, because when I got there her soul was gone. Completely gone. And some of the Lost were apologizing to me. They were so upset…” Wendy crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself.

“I have never heard of such a thing,” Piotr murmured. “It cannot be. It is impossible.”

“Is it?” Wendy studied Piotr. “You told me time and time again how unique the Lost are, how much raw power they’ve got. And Seers are different, right? You just said so.”

“But to harm a living soul—”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Wendy replied firmly. “That was clear. I think it was some crazy sort of accident. I think that she went to…talk to them, to make sure they were finding the Light okay, and they were in a panic. They pulled her apart.” Wendy chuckled wetly and Piotr realized that she’d been holding back the bulk of her tears only by sheer force of will. That will was starting to crack. “I always wondered why she wouldn’t let me…interact…with the Lost before. Mom was trained by her grandmother who said that there were generations of us, Seers, stretching who knows how far back. They must have known something like this could happen.”

The heat coming off her was starting to grow immense. Piotr shifted, uncomfortable but unwilling to let Wendy go when she was hurting. “Put like that, I suppose it is possible that the Lost may have hurt your mother. But Wendy, what makes you think she hasn’t simply passed on?”

“It’s like that cap of Dunn’s, or Tommy’s cloak. If her body hasn’t given up, that means her spirit’s still out there, right?”

“In theory? It is possible.” Piotr didn’t want to offer her hope, but he’d seen his fair share of spirits that still had healthy silver cords attached. If her mother’s spirit had been knocked free somehow and was wandering, there was a chance they could return her soul…but not if there was no body to return to. So long as the cord remained tethered, even if it were thin as silken thread, Wendy’s mother might yet be roused.

Then a terrible thought occurred to him. He didn’t want to bring it up, but Piotr knew he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t at least broach the topic. “Wendy? There is…one other possible reason why you may not be able to find your mother.”

“Oh yeah?”

Taking a deep breath, Piotr rolled his hands into fists, nails digging deep into his palms. He could feel himself shaking. “It is possible that she…has become a Walker.”

Wishing Jabber were there to draw her attention away from this horrible conversation, Wendy rolled her tongue around her barbell and ran the ball against the ridge of her mouth.

“Nope.”

“Wendy—”

“No, Piotr.” She slashed her hand through the air, cutting him off. “If you knew anything about my mom you’d know that she’d rather vanish into nothing, okay? She’s not…she’d never…look, it would go against who she is, Piotr. She’s a good person. She’s not a Walker, okay? She’d never hurt a kid. I don’t believe it. So it’s something else. Got me?”

“If you say this is the way it is, so it is. My apologies.”

“Forgiven. Besides,” Wendy winced, “if anyone were going to go against who they are during a tough time, it’d be me. Not her.” She hung her head.

“I do not understand.”

“After everything that happened—losing Mom—I quit. I started avoiding the dead, only interacting with them when I had to, because I was scared that what happened to Mom might happen to me. Or something. Maybe I just blamed myself for not getting there in time. If I’d come when she first called, when she actually asked for my help…maybe she wouldn’t have gotten overwhelmed.”

“This story is amazing.” Piotr gently rubbed her shoulders and, astoundingly, Wendy felt the siren song of sleep start to wrap itself around her. She sagged against him, weary to the bone, wishing that she was stretched out on the bed rather than sitting on the floor.

“Wendy, surely you must realize that this is not your fault,” Piotr added as Wendy struggled to keep her eyes open. “Had you gotten there in time, there was no guarantee that a dozen panicked Lost wouldn’t have hurt you too. You are very, very lucky that they had time to calm down. Fear makes them more powerful. Trust me, I know.”

“I know that now,” Wendy murmured, yawning so that the tendons in her jaw creaked. “But it was hard to understand then. I’m doing the best I can on my own now, but Mom had lots of training. I don’t. We were always so busy that I barely had any teaching at all. I’m not half the Ligh…the Seer she was. And I’ve got tons yet left to learn.”

“Hmm. It’s strange. You’d think if members of your family were there, trying to guide souls to the Light, that more ghosts would remember seeing them. Not every soul is ready for that journey so close to death, after all.”

Here was the moment, Wendy realized. Sleep-ready or not, here was the moment when she would have to decide; she could make something up, could lie to him and keep him…or she could be honest and hope he would understand. It was all so new, so fresh and strange, and she desperately didn’t want to lose the chill but comforting arm around her shoulder, the soothing cadence of his lyrical voice. She could keep quiet, or lie, or even simply mislead and let him draw his own conclusion. Or she could tell the truth. She could be true to what her mother sacrificed, what her mother was in the hospital for, and pray that Piotr wouldn’t run away.

Lying, Wendy knew, wasn’t right, not anymore. She took a breath.

“Well,” she drawled, “there’s sort of a reason for that.”

Piotr’s hands stilled and Wendy drew away from his comforting embrace. The moment she did, her head felt clearer, calmer; her heart rate sped up, preparing for the coming confrontation. “There’s, um, well, there’s something I haven’t been one hundred percent, you know, open about. About me, I mean.”

Slowly Piotr stood, and Wendy, feeling vulnerable on the floor, rose to stand beside him.

“Go on,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, expression guarded.

“I’m—I’m the Lightbringer, Piotr,” Wendy said. “About a month ago? When you were with Lily, fighting those Walkers? It was me. I’m the monster you saw in the dark.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Felix-the-Cat clock above Wendy’s desk counted the passing seconds: tick-tock- tick. Piotr stared hard at Wendy, chest rising and falling, beads of sweat standing out against his skin. Wendy was tempted to run her thumb into the hollow of his temples, to see if those glistening droplets felt wet or if they would be made of the same stuff he was—chill, electric nothing.

“That’s impossible,” Piotr said with flat finality, taking a step back into her bed. From the thighs up he stood, fists resting on his hips and face set in angry lines, but from the thighs down he was gone, buried in the springs and coils and stuffing of her mattress.

Hating herself for doing this, Wendy shook her head. “No, it’s not.”

“Stop joking, Wendy! This is not funny! It is no joke!” Piotr was mad now and the cold came off him in powerful waves. The rapid exhalation of Wendy’s breath misted in the air, turned to puffs of white. She shivered, wrapping her arms around her waist, and wished that she had pulled out her coat. There was a stained hoodie on the top of the mending pile. Wendy crossed the room and donned it, smelling the pungent aroma of tar and grass, the faintest whiff of her own blood. How long ago had she ripped this hoodie? She’d faced so many fights these past few weeks, jumped so many fences, Wendy couldn’t even recall how she’d torn it.

“I’m not joking.” Wendy held out her arms. “I can show you.”

“This is sick!” Piotr turned his back on her. “I am leaving.”