Chapter 32
Rain drummed against the kitchen window in a steady rhythm, streaking down the glass in rivulets that caught the dim overhead light.
I sat at the table picking at the last meal Isa had made before Dominic drove her home.
Some kind of chicken casserole that probably tasted amazing when it was hot.
Now it was lukewarm and congealing on my plate, but I forced myself to take another bite of it anyway.
I didn’t want to risk anything happening to her, so I made Dominic erase us from her mind.
But not before compelling her to shelter in place until further notice, of course.
He’d told her there was a dangerous situation developing and she needed to stay inside, lock her doors, and not answer for anyone.
She’d agreed easily enough under his influence, her eyes going glassy before she nodded and promised to be safe.
As much as I hated the idea of compulsion being used against unsuspecting humans, in this case it was for her own good. For her safety and survival, and that trumped everything else.
From the living room, I could hear Trace and Ben’s voices rising. Ben had stopped by after the sisters left so that Trace could fill him in on the evacuation plan. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy about it, his voice carrying that edge of stubborn loyalty that was all his.
“I’m not abandoning you, man. That’s not happening.”
“It’s not abandoning us, it’s staying alive—”
“Same fucking difference!”
I tuned them out, pushing the casserole around my plate without really seeing it.
Ben had always been a good friend to Trace.
To me too, even when I probably didn’t deserve it.
All I’d ever brought his best friend was strife, yet he never looked at me that way.
He’d always welcomed me with open arms, which only made this harder.
I’d spoken to Tessa earlier, her voice crackling through a spotty cell connection as they drove further from Hollow Hills.
They were still on the road, heading toward whatever secret meeting point Dominic’s contact had arranged.
Gabriel was taking every precaution. Switching vehicles, sticking to back roads, and making sure they weren’t being followed.
Ares was doing well. Sleeping mostly, which Tessa said was a blessing since a crying baby would make stealth a lot harder.
The thought of him so far away, so vulnerable, made my chest ache.
“You’re not eating.”
I looked up to find Jaqueline watching me from across the table. She’d been quiet since I caught her up on the plan, still processing everything that had been discussed. Or maybe just giving me space.
“I’m not really hungry,” I admitted, setting my fork down.
She gave a slow nod, her gray eyes studying me with that look that made me feel like she could see right through whatever mask I was wearing. “You’re worried about tomorrow.”
It wasn’t really a question, so I didn’t bother answering her. A silence stretched between us, broken only by the rain and the muffled argument from the living room.
“Your sister sounded good,” she said eventually, trying to change the subject. “It seems like she’s handling everything well.”
“She is,” I said, though the words felt hollow. “Tessa’s always been good at handling things. Even when she shouldn’t have to.”
Jaqueline’s expression changed, regret flickering across her features before she smoothed it away. “She gets that from your father.”
I pushed my plate aside, no longer pretending to eat. “And what do we get from you?”
The question came out harsher than I’d intended, but I didn’t take it back. We’d danced around this since the moment she came back into my life and every day since. The sudden reappearance, the decades she’d been gone, the fact that she was a Revenant who’d chosen to leave rather than stay.
Jaqueline didn’t answer right away, her fingers folding together on the table in front of her. “My stubbornness, apparently. And my tendency to make the hardest choices at the worst possible times.”
“Is that what leaving was? A hard choice?”
“The hardest I’ve ever made.” Her eyes met mine, and for the first time since she’d come back, I saw something unvarnished there.
Stripped of the careful distance she usually wore like armor.
“You were so small, Jemma. Both of you were. And I knew. I knew that staying would only put you in more danger. I couldn’t risk them finding out what you were.
I wanted you to have a chance at a real life and this was the only way I knew how to give it to you. ”
“You didn’t have to disappear from our lives completely.”
“Maybe not.” Her jaw worked, tension radiating through her shoulders. “But I thought I had to. I couldn’t protect you as a Revenant. Not the way you needed. I knew Thomas could give you the life I couldn’t. A chance at something normal, even if it had to be built on lies and distance.”
The old anger tried to surface, but it felt tired now. Worn thin by everything else. “How’d that work out?”
The bitter edge in my voice made her flinch, but she didn’t look away.
“Not the way I hoped,” she admitted somberly.
“But I meant what I said before, Jemma. Everything I did—leaving when you were little, staying away even after the Order set me free—it was all to protect you. To find the answers you needed and to keep you safe from all the things I feared could destroy you.”
Rain continued to streak down the window behind her, catching the light before disappearing into darkness.
“I’m not a perfect mother,” she said hoarsely, her voice rougher than usual.
“And maybe I don’t deserve that title. Maybe I forfeited it the day I walked away.
But I have never stopped loving you and Tessa in the only ways I knew how.
Not for a second. Not when I walked away.
Not when I convinced myself you’d be better off without me.
I loved you enough to leave, even when it felt like it was tearing me in half. ”
My throat ached around the swallow it took to keep myself together. “You don’t get to rewrite it like that,” I said, though there wasn’t much heat behind it. Just hurt.
“No,” she agreed. “I guess I don’t.” Her gaze stayed on the rain-streaked window for a beat. “I’m not asking for absolution. I only want the chance to be there for you now.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my daughter. Because I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, even if I didn’t have the courage to help raise her.
You have more strength in your little finger than I ever did in my entire life.
You fight when you’re afraid. You love when it would be easier to harden yourself, and you choose people, even when it costs you dearly. ”
“That’s not strength,” I muttered. “That’s just…doing the right thing and trying to stay alive while doing it.”
“It’s courage and heart and the kind of humanity I never managed to keep hold of even before I made the decision to Turn.”
I swallowed hard, staring down at my fingernails. “Funny because I don’t feel any of those things right now. I feel like I’m drowning, and everyone I care about is going down with me.”
“That’s because you’re trying to carry all of it alone.” Her voice gentled. “The town’s safety. Your sister. That baby. The men who hold your heart and would follow you anywhere. You’ve put yourself at the center of a war and convinced yourself you’re the only one who can stand there.”
“Someone has to,” I whispered.
“Yes,” she said. “But not by yourself.”
The rain picked up briefly, tapping harder against the glass.
“I made my choices out of fear,” she continued.
“Fear of what I was. Fear of what I might become. Fear that if I stayed, I would destroy the very things I was trying to protect. But you?” Her hand reached across the table, coming to rest over mine.
“You make your choices out of love. Even when you’re angry.
Even when you’re hurt. That is not weakness, Jemma. That is power.”
I huffed out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Well, it really doesn’t feel that way.”
Her grip firmed against mine. “Tomorrow, when you walk into that Temple, you’re going to be everything I tried to be and failed.
You’re going to change things, Jemma. Not just for yourself or for Ares, but for every person who’s been crushed under the Order’s heel.
You have the power to tear down something rotten and build something better in its place. ”
“And if I can’t?” The question escaped before I could stop it. “What if I’m not strong enough?”
“You are,” she said with absolute certainty. “You’ve already proven that. Every choice you’ve made, every person you’ve saved, every time you’ve chosen to fight instead of run. That’s strength. That’s the kind of power that changes the world.”
Tears burned behind my eyes, and I didn’t bother trying to blink them away.
“I believe in you, Jemma. Sincerely. Maybe I should have said that years ago. Maybe I should have been there to tell you every day. But I’m saying it now. I know you can do this. I know you’re going to be everything I never had the courage to become and so much more.”
I let out a shaky breath, my vision blurring despite my efforts. “That makes one of us.”
“That’s okay. Then let me be the one to believe enough for the both of us,” she said with the smallest of smiles. “Until you can do it yourself.”
“Jems, will you please tell him to get off my dick about leaving town?” Ben’s voice cut through the moment as he appeared in the kitchen doorway, Trace walking in right behind him. “It’s not going to happen.”
Trace rolled his eyes, dragging a hand through his hair in exasperation as he dropped into the chair next to me. His arm draped loosely across the back of my chair, comforting me without even touching me. “I give up. He won’t listen to reason.”
“Reason?” Ben’s voice rose. “I’ve been with you guys since the beginning. Faced the worst of it with you. We faced Lucifer, for fuck’s sake. I’m not running now.”
I chose not to remind him that he’d been partially responsible for getting Taylor killed. That he’d pretty much fallen apart after that. No need to dig up the past when we had enough problems in the present.
“This is different, Ben. You know it is,” I said, my voice calmer than I felt. “Our plan depends on us staying small. Getting in and out without drawing attention. The more people we bring, the harder that becomes. You’d only be an extra liability or distraction we can’t afford.”
He looked genuinely offended. “I can fight. You know I can—”
“It’s not about fighting,” Trace cut in, his voice firm. “It’s about staying under the radar until we’re already inside. Every extra body increases the risk of getting caught before we even get through the door.”
“He’s right,” added Jaqueline. “The fewer people we have to worry about, the better chance of success.”
I turned to look at her. “I’m glad you agree because that includes you too.”
Jaqueline met my gaze without flinching. “No, it most certainly does not.”
“Jackie—”
“I’m a Revenant, Jemma. That means I’m faster, stronger, and considerably harder to kill,” she said, glancing at Ben before returning to me.
“More importantly, I’m your mother. Protecting you is the only purpose I have left.
The only thing that matters. I have no obligations beyond you and your sister.
And if you don’t make it out of that Temple, I’ll have even less.
So no, I’m not leaving. There are no circumstances under which that becomes an option. ”
The certainty in her voice left no room for argument.
I studied her face, searching for any crack in her resolve, but there was nothing.
Just unwavering determination and a logic I couldn’t really dispute.
She was right. As much as I hated it, she was right.
She was a Revenant. She was my mother. And she literally had nothing to lose except me.
I couldn’t ask her to sit on the sidelines knowing that.
I exhaled slowly, resignation pressing down over me as I made peace with it. “Fine,” I said to her before turning back to Ben. “But you’re staying here.”
“What kind of sexist shit is this?” he asked aghast, his brown eyes bouncing between my mother and me, as though we were co-conspirators in this.
“Don’t even try that,” I warned, rolling my eyes at him. “Morgan and Carly don’t get to stay either,” I reminded him.
“Oh, you mean powerless Morgan and dying-to-be-human Carly? Yeah, I wonder why they’re not staying to help.”
“Then you see my point? Because unless you suddenly became a Revenant or developed Nephilim abilities overnight, you’re pretty much in the same boat as them.”
“That’s bullshit, Jem, and you know it.”
I shrugged. “Take it up with evolution.”
Ben held my gaze, his jaw working like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the ammunition. Finally, he just shook his head and pointed his finger at me. “Let it be known to all that I’m against this. And really fucking offended too.”
“Consider it noted and filed,” I said, giving him a tight smile. “Feel free to complain about it when we get back.”
With that, the fight drained out of the room, leaving only the constant drum of rain against the window and the gravity of what tomorrow would bring.
I’d managed to convince Ben to evacuate with the rest of our friends.
To keep him safe from what was coming. But sitting there in this kitchen, surrounded by the people willing to walk into hell with me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that for the people who loved me, safety was just another word for survivor’s guilt.
And come tomorrow night, one of us was going to learn exactly what that felt like.