Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Izzy
When Thea wakes up, I jump forward, then pause, not sure what to do to comfort or help her. She doesn’t exactly seem like a warm and fuzzy person, and I don’t want to look stupid to her, even though that seems like a ridiculous thing to worry about right now.
She lets out a moan though as she lifts her head weakly from her arms. She turns her face so she can see me, biting back another moan. One eye is swollen to a slit but she studies me with the other one. She looks so much like me, it’s strange to see.
She slowly looks around the room, then shakes her head before dropping it down on her arms. “Well, hello, Izzy. You let me in.”
“You’re hurt,” I say. “Viggo did this to you?”
Her lips twist. “I didn’t do it myself, Izzy.”
“I didn’t think you did.” I jam my hands into my pockets.
Oliver says they’ve been beaten like this dozens, even hundreds of times.
I want to tell her I’m going to kill him for that, but maybe she feels some kind of loyalty to him anyway.
I don’t want to push her away. But I can't imagine what to say now. I can’t ask her if she’s okay; she obviously isn't.
She pushes herself up into a sitting position. Even with her face bloodied and bruised, there’s a bright mischievousness in the way her lips purse, before she touches her fingertips to her split lip.
“So what’s your last memory of Mom?”
My lips part in surprise. “That’s quite the opening.”
“You’re holding it against me that I tried to kill you back at your academy,” she says.
“Well. Yes, I did. But I’ve also been curious about you all my life. The missing twin.”
Her lips twist. “Viggo says you’re the better twin.”
“We’ll see if he still says that when I gut him.”
Her eyes widen, and her smile is genuine when she says, “Well, maybe you are my sister.”
I feel like I have to offer her something, so I say, “My last memory of Mom is the fire. She was so strong, getting us out of there. But afterward, she seemed so exhausted. So reigned.”
I shouldn’t say all that, but I can’t stop thinking about how my mom’s face looked then.
She looked beaten, and now I know why: she had decided to surrender us rather than keep trying to protect us from Viggo herself. She thought that was our best chance of being hidden.
And she’d split us up to double her odds that one of us would survive.
I stare at her, wondering if things would have been different if we’d had each other.
Even if we’d ended up in Viggo’s clutches, would we have looked out for each other, loved each other?
Would Thea and I have kept each other from going as dark as she has?
“My last memory is when she left us,” she says bitterly. “She had a fake birth certificate for us both. New last names. We’d driven states away. You and she went out and left me in the motel room alone, and when she came back, she was alone. You don’t remember where she dropped you off?”
I shake my head, suddenly aching over yet another missing piece. I was so young then; my memory is spotty. And maybe some parts are best forgotten.
“That must have been traumatic,” I say, and Thea scoffs.
“That was my first flight,” she says, her eyes distant with the memory.
“I couldn’t stop crying about you. I didn’t realize then that was taking me to another part of the country to dump me too.
I was just so worried about you. She bought me a book and a lollipop and she read to me the whole flight, trying to distract me. But I couldn’t stop crying.”
It’s so hard for me to imagine Thea, with her tough demeanor and her clothes, crying, and she looks up at me and smirks. “Pretty sure that’s the last time I ever cried. It took Viggo a year to find me.”
“How do you feel about him?” I ask carefully.
“You mean, do I want to gut him too?” She raises her brows. She shifts on the bed and winces. “I hate him, but he’s also…the only one who wanted me. I love him in a way too. And he brought Barret and me together.”
“Barret?”
“He’s Aegir,” she says. “And I’m Ran.”
It takes me a second to fully understand that she’s talking about their gods.
She rolls her eyes. “You didn’t learn your mythology? Really? Ran and Aegir were husband and wife. From the moment the gods in us found each other, Barret and I were in love.”
“You and Barret? Or Ran and Aegir?”
“Does it matter?” she asks, touching her chest lightly with her fingertips. “She and I are one.”
“Oh.”
She tilts her head to one side. “Don’t you feel that way about yourself and Loki?”
“No,” I say. “Tell me more about Barret. Is he good to you?”
She laughs at that. “He’s Barret. It’s hard to explain. What about your men? Do you really have sex with all four of them?”
“We’ve all loved each other since we were kids,” I say.
“That’s sweet,” she says, but there’s a condescending edge in her voice.
“You don’t feel anything for the others?” I ask carefully. I don’t want to reveal I know anything about them, despite having Oliver spill his guts, telling us every detail we thought might be helpful.
She shakes her head. “Connor is cruel. Oliver’s a little weakling. He’s never really adapted.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” I suggest. I want to believe Oliver can be good too.
She leans forward suddenly, propping her elbows carefully on her knees. Then she grimaces, and I see a new trickle of blood slipping down her skin. I lean forward, about to try to help her, but she’s already speaking.
“Can I offer you a little sisterly advice?” she asks.
“Ah, yeah.”
“You’re a little too good for this world,” she says. “I tried to imprison you in the Taka cage. Why are you trusting me?”
“Who said I trust you?”
“Well, I'm in your house.” She glances around the room, then turns back to me with a tilted eyebrow.
“Do you plan to betray us, Thea?” I ask. “Was this all a trick?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you about it,” she says. “I’m here because I thought there might suddenly be a way out. I just don’t understand you.”
She sounds genuinely perplexed, even a little bit frustrated.
“You and I both went through horrible things,” I say. “But I had people who loved me.”
“Did you find a nice foster family?” Her lips part in sudden curiosity. “Did someone adopt you?”
“No,” I say. “But I had the guys.”
“I have Barret,” she says, sudden irritation flaring in her eyes.
“Yeah,” I say, but I have the feeling it’s not the same thing at all.
“Can I ask you something?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Can you really heal people?”
I hesitate. I know the guys don’t want me to reveal anything about our powers to her, but I don’t want to lie to her.
The truth is, Wilder is the one who has the amazing healing abilities.
We had a tense, whispered conversation when I wanted them to heal her, and they pointed out that then she’d know so much more about what we’re capable of.
“I don’t think I’m ready to tell you about my powers,” I confess.
Her lips quirk. “Taking my advice, hm?”
“Maybe I am.”
“You should. I am eighteen minutes older.”
I smile at that, and she smiles back.
I know I have to be careful, but everything about her makes my heart ache.
I want her to be my sister--really my sister. The one who cried for me on the plane.
No matter what she’s done since, isn’t that girl still buried inside her?