Chapter 13
Iris
“Hi, Mom! Wow, this didn’t sound so lame when I rehearsed it on the way here.
B-but what else can I say after not coming to see you for ei-eight years straight?
I just—” Fuck. A sharp hiccup slips out.
The sobs wracking my body are so violent I’m surprised my ribs don’t shatter to smithereens.
My knees buckle as I read for what feels like the umpteenth time since I arrived here: “Eliana Harper. Beloved mother and sister.”
Tipping my head back, I take a moment to suck in a lungful of air.
The dreary clouds rolling in on the gunmetal sky match the storm brewing inside me.
I don’t know what pushed me past the wrought-iron gate today.
Maybe it was the passing of time that washed some of that bone-crushing guilt.
Or maybe it was the urge to find out the truth after seeing that the Order classified my mother’s death.
But if I look deep down, I can acknowledge it’s more than that.
I think I’m finally coming to terms that it wasn’t my fault for not being able to remember her.
That my brain isn’t broken—that I’m not broken.
Took me long enough…trust me, I know. But when something is ingrained in the very essence of your soul, you can’t just move past it because the cuts and bruises are still there.
And when you least expect it, fresh blood seeps out.
For the first time in eight years, though, I’m allowing them to heal, and it feels as though I’m breaking the bars of the cell I’ve locked myself into when my mother’s casket touched the ground.
I wipe the tears with the back of my trembling hand before shrugging. It’s stupid, of course, because she can’t see me. She can’t even hear me. I’m aware.
Still, I continue, even if my words are not intelligible, “I’m so-sorry.
S-so sorry. I couldn’t, you know. I thought that I would be able to—to r-remember y-you.
And when I got my memories back, then I could come see you.
Th-then this guilt that slashes my insides to ribbons would eventually fade away.
I was such a fool because it’s only gotten worse over the years.
And I—I miss you so damn much. T-there were s-so many times I needed you to just hug me and be there.
Every s-single birthday. When I graduated from the Order, I wanted you to tell me how proud you were because, against all odds, I made it—I became a h-hellseeker just like you. When I went out on my first date…
“Not o-only that. I might n-not remember you aside from those two flashbacks or our relationship before you—before you…” I can’t finish it.
Instead, I say, “I wish we could have lunch and dinner or simply shoot the shit over coffee. But most of all, I needed you to tell me it’s going to be o-o-okay.
Especially now, Mom, because I fell in love.
Please don’t be mad. I know this sounds bad, but he’s an Elite demon.
Yeah…You’re probably not surprised he stomped all over my heart, huh?
I shouldn’t have been blindsided by it, either.
Trust me, the irony of a demon hunter falling for a demon is not l-lost on me. ”
I let out a mirthless chuckle. “A-and I thought I knew what heartbreak felt like before, you know…when Noah left and then ghosted me. But what I’m feeling right now surpasses every pain I have ever known.
I’m drowning in a sea of black. Every time I gasp for air, this sludge-like tar fills my lungs.
And I’m at the bottom of the ocean.” Taking a moment to fully absorb the words, I let them out on a trembling whisper, “I don’t kn-know if it’s worth swimming anymore, trying to break the surface. ”
Another hiccup slips out. “I’m so tired, Mom. Of being strong. Of pretending I’m not falling apart at the seams when my insides are so threadbare you can see right through me. I wish you could give me some advice…tell me what to do.”
My fingers white-knuckle my mother’s journal, now sitting in my lap.
“I mean, sure, I have Sam and Aunt Josephine, but it’s not the same.
There’s this gaping hole inside of me, and it’s in your shape.
If that wasn’t enough, everything I believed in, my world…
has been tilted on its axis. The Order is not what it seems. They’re lying.
Keeping secrets. I can’t help but wonder if this was also the reason you left, not only because you fell in love.
God, Mom, it would be so simple if this wasn’t a one-sided conversation.
Silly me to think that maybe I would come here and see your ghost, right?
I mean, it’s for the best. With how many years have passed since—since you’ve—since the accident, you wouldn’t be sane right now.
You would probably be a poltergeist. So, yeah, what I’m saying is that I’m glad you passed on to the light.
But I’m not gonna lie, there was this part of me that wished you were a ghost…
“Anyway, the reason why I’m really here is because I found your journal.
And I’ve been making myself sick, wondering if I should read it or not.
Most of it got ruined anyway because it fell into water.
This pipe burst…Ah, you don’t need all the details.
Sam used magic to restore it, but she couldn’t save more than half of the ruined pages.
Oh yeah, she’s a witch; I haven’t told you that yet, have I?
” I blow out a breath, then mumble, “There are so many things I haven’t told you. ”
I swallow past the heavy knot in my throat.
“I’m still torn because I want to respect your privacy.
But this feels like I have a tiny part of you in my hands.
And I’m so desperate to know you. More than that, I need to find out why you left Ashville, because I can’t shake the feeling that the Order is lying about your death.
They classified your file, which has never happened before with a hellseeker who left the Order. I know because I checked.”
Gnawing on my bottom lip, I ponder my decision while ignoring the new, messed-up sonar in my head that’s been counting the bodies buried beneath my feet since I entered the cemetery.
Don’t ask me how I can tell, but there are exactly two hundred seventy-five.
It’s creepy as fuck, but if I count all the memories of the last eight years I haven’t shared with my mother, or the questions I haven’t asked her, the number is so much more overwhelming, so I brush the weird sensation off my shoulders.
I cram it into a box, put the lid on it, and label it “later” before shoving it into a dusty corner of my mind.
The smell of rain hangs heavy in the air, so if I’m going to read from the journal, I better make it soon because the storm is approaching.
“Okay, Mom. Please don’t be mad, but I’m going to start reading a few pages. And if it feels wrong, then…I’ll stop.”
I untie the leather strings and thumb through the pages until I find the first entry where the ink isn’t terribly smudged.
Owen blindsided me today. He confessed his love to me, and I just stood there, not knowing what to say.
He tried to kiss me, and I froze. Luckily, I snapped out of it at the last second and turned my head to the side.
He only missed my lips by a few millimeters, his whiskey-laden breath brushing against my cheek.
The worst part is that tonight was their engagement party.
My parents wanted to celebrate big, so they rented Ciprianni’s for the night and invited the whole Order.
It struck me as weird that instead of looking like a man living his best life, Owen was pushing his food around the plate and drinking as though he were a soldier about to go off to war.
Each glass transformed the stolen glances toward me into outright staring.
He made me uncomfortable as fuck, so I excused myself to take some fresh air.
What I wasn’t expecting was for him to follow me to the outdoor terrace at the back of the restaurant.
He accused me of distancing myself since the moment he and Josephine got together.
He said he thought our friendship weighed more than that.
But I explained to him that my sister asked me to, and yeah, while it hurt because Owen has been my best friend my whole life, I didn’t want to make my already strenuous relationship with Josephine worse.
Then he blurted out the three dreaded words: “I love you.” I stood there like a deer in headlights.
Which, in turn, gave him the chance to ambush me with the kiss.
He told me he’d been in love with me since we were kids and I punched him for calling my sister ugly.
But I never responded to any of his advances over the years, so he thought if I saw them together, I would finally wake up and, out of jealousy, break them up.
His logic stumped me. I mean, I knew he had a crush on me—it was hard not to notice—but surely he had moved on since he’d been in a relationship with my sister for two years.
TWO YEARS. And while I do love him, it’s only as a friend.
Nothing more. How couldn’t he see how wrong it was to use her like that?
He didn’t wait for me to finish chastising him, though. He stormed off.
When I went back into the restaurant, he and Josephine were already gone.
I asked what happened, expecting them to tell me Owen had broken off the engagement because it was the right thing to do.
But my mother only muttered that he was feeling under the weather, and they left early.
My parents were upset Owen got smashed, but their joy that Josephine was going to get married to one of the best hellseekers in the Order overshadowed that.
And here lies my conundrum…I should tell my sister, but how can I when they’re getting married in only three months? And she has been radiating happiness ever since he proposed. At the same time, though, I think she already knows. Why else would she ask me to step away from my friendship with Owen?
Unrequited love is a burden no one wants to carry.
I wonder if that’s why Josephine has always been distant with me, or if at least this is one of the reasons.
Ever since we were kids, when she looked at me, I caught glimpses of searing anger, but they dimmed in the next second… as if I imagined them.
Oh, wow. I had no idea my mother and Owen were best friends. My aunt never mentioned anything on the subject. Well, to be honest, she had little to say about my mother either, and I didn’t want to push her. Even if I was starved for every little scrap she would throw my way.
Talk about a complicated love life. I wonder what Mom meant when she wrote that she and Aunt Josephine already had a strenuous relationship.
I don’t get to find out because the drizzle that started a few seconds ago is already taking the shape of big, fat drops, and I don’t want to risk the journal getting even more damaged.
“I’ll be back soon, Mom. I promise,” I murmur and push up, hurrying my steps through the tombstones toward the exit.