The Changeling's Ghost (Thirteen Gates #1)

Coming to Terms

I splashed my face with cold water until the majority of my sticky emotions flow down the drain with the rest of the liquid. It's quiet in here and the old electric lights give off a soft hum that ripples around the room and dispels any whispers or hushed thoughts. My hands still shake as I grip the counter and my pain medication is starting to wear off. I shouldn't be standing. My heart still hurts.

I can't believe we're fighting again. It's so exhausting. I don't want to spend his last few hours here with me like this. I don't... I don't want him to go. At the same time I never want to see his face again. The conflict grew inside me and ebbed out like lava, and I don't want to cool down. I just want... a hug.

I desperately do not want to be alone again.

Sheryl's gone when I limp downstairs and grab my coat. My parents however, are not, and I felt my Dad's big hand grip my shoulder as I go for the door. Mum was standing behind him, so I know something's wrong from the moment I meet their eyes.

"Asher." Mum's voice was dry. "Where are you going dear?"

"I'm going to find Conway and make sure he's safe."

"What makes you think you'll find him in one night?" Dad asked.

My leg twitched as it did every once in a while. "He'll find me."

"Can we talk to you?" Mum requested, grabbing onto one of my hands.

I don't pull away. "Okay..."

They lead me back to the kitchen and sit me down. Dad's face was harder than Mum's. He was staring at the pictures of our family on the wall. All of the ones with Conway had been removed and placed in a box and shoved into my parent's closet where they couldn't be seen.

"Sheryl told us what happened." Mum started.

My fingers went cold and curled into my palm. "Oh."

"Why did you tell us it was a dryad?" Dad demanded, I could tell he was angry by the way his mustache quivered.

I flinched. "I'm sorry... I wanted to protect you."

"You still want to go after him?" Mum wasn't angry, she was more purplexed.

"He's still my brother. He's always been." I insisted, curling my fingers in.

"How long have you known?" she pressed.

"I didn't. I found out... I f--" I swallowed. Their stares were draining the words from my brain. "The day of the incident. It's kind of obvious now right? He couldn't activate an integral, all those weird rashes... I can't believe we didn't find out sooner."

The two of them shared a look, Mum reached across the table and took one of my hands. "We knew, dear."

My mouth went dry. "Wh-what?"

"We've always known." Dad confirmed, he looked almost ashamed.

My eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them. Dad on the left, Mum on the right. They didn't feel like my parents for a moment, their forms were twisted and grew two long horns and a snide grin, like monsters..,

I couldn't even begin to form words for a few moments.

Mum brought her hand up and wiped the corners of her eyes. I've only ever seen her this vulnerable when she thought I was going to die; when she thought it was her fault. It hits me like a transport, she thought she might have raised her son's murderer.

"We were told if we kept him they would give our other son back one day. We should have known that was never going to happen."

She sighed shakily. "We were fools, blinded by our desperation to see our other child again."

"But C-Conway is your other kid..." I breathed.

"Not anymore. Not now that he's killed someone." Dad grimaced.

Mum held her face in her hands. "Oh... poor Greta. She didn't deserve this."