Irina Taylor, a girl who lives in the 1940s with the gift to see any human's soul, goes from a social outcast to a prophecy come true. But there is a realm that coexists with ours, invisible to the majority of mankind; only a select few can see thro...
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𝓘ʙʟᴇᴡᴏᴜᴛ a distressed breath. "A Shadow truly did kill my father," I said, leaning back on the sofa.
"And it tried to kill you, too," Genny pointed out. "Why?"
I remembered Madam Lindholm's ominous words. Everything she said turned out to be true. "I think I know someone who can answer that," I said. I was not fond of the idea. She hoodwinked people for a living. I wasn't sure if I should trust her just because she knew a few things about the Dark Shadows. It was awfully convenient for her to show up in this town a few days after a Shadow attacked me. For all I knew, she could be an unstable person who wanted to hurt me rather than help, but she may be my only option.
Ma walked out of the kitchen, preparing to go to her room again. "Ma," I called, catching her before she could go back. I suppose now was as good of time as any to ask about him. "My father. . . You said he was like me?"
She glanced from me to Charlie, wondering why I was talking about my abilities in front of a newcomer. My mother caught on and surmised that Charlie knew about my abilities. She gave me a disapproving frown but said, "Yes. He shared your oddities, being able to sense people's emotions, but I could tell long ago that yours are much stronger than his ever were." She smiled to herself. "Though he could always tell when I was sad or angry. He knew when and how to make me happy." She grinned briefly, her voice wistful. "He would've wanted you to be free from this life and the solitude of being different. I'm sorry to say he didn't get his wish."
I bit my lip. "You hardly ever talk about him." My voice grew quieter. Suddenly, it felt like it was just me and her in an empty room. This was the conversation I longed to have with her my entire life, but my mother had always refused to have it. "I thought you didn't care for him much."
"Oh, goodness no." She sat on the adjacent armchair and fiddled with her skirt's hem. "I loved your father with all my heart. He was the air I needed to breathe. His death was just too sudden. Too painful to bring up. I also thought that perhaps leaving his past forgotten might somehow protect you from his misfortune. I was wrong." Ma coughed harshly into her handkerchief. "I am sorry I never told you." She started into another coughing fit. Ma stood up shakily in the direction of her bedroom but slumped back onto the armchair. Her fatigue was growing worse with every passing day. She had also lost weight to where I could see her ribs through the double-lined dress fabric.
"Ma?" I asked worriedly. I got up to help her, but Charlie stood first and hauled her up. It didn't faze him, almost as if he had had done this a million times before.
"It's alright. I've got her. Where to?" he asked.
I pointed to her bedroom. He walked with her, supporting her with one strong arm as he led her away. I could hear the bed creak as she made it safely to the mattress.
