Chosen

Chapter Eleven

Hours later, I was still thinking about Gareth, and how quickly he'd gone from fine one moment and dead the next. The kernel of sadness and unease that was planted in my chest when I witnessed his death in the hallway swelled to fill my entire chest with a sense of longing that had no shape or form.

I could try to keep denying it, but the truth was that I was alone.

The clouds that had been gathering all day suddenly let loose. A torrent of rain came down, crashing onto the roof and beating against the windows. The roof began to leak. I put down pots to catch the drips and waited for a minute or two to be sure I'd caught them all.

Then I went to the drawer where I was keeping my list and sat at the table to add, "No one ever dies here." I chewed the end of my pencil as I thought about that concept. It was easy to rationalize. Everyone in New Conwy was young. Maybe they got sent back home whenever they'd outlived their use here, and they did there instead. Where would they send me when I was too old to be useful?

Home was a nice thought, but it had no meaning to me now that I couldn't remember a thing about it. Whatever family and friends I might have had there were only faceless shadows in my mind. They might as well not exist.

The new friendships I was forging were coming along well enough, but there was nothing like having history with someone. I didn't have the luxury of a past, but the new, rebuilt version of my life was as good as any that I could've made for myself.

But I'd have given anything to connect with someone. A real connection. One that I didn't constantly question.

I put the list back in the drawer and pulled out a calendar. I'd made it myself, since no one in town seemed to have one and there were none the crates in the storehouse. I drew a slash in the box for today. Tuesday.

It had been four weeks since I'd woken up in New Conwy. Four weeks of ambling around with no memory.

After an hour or so, the rain weakened, but it showed no sign of going away.

A knock came. Instantly, I wondered who'd want to go out in such bad weather. I took a quick glance at the clock. And why were they out so late?

When I opened the door, I had to look twice at my visitor before I believed my eyes. Gwenyth was standing on my step. She'd come herself, instead of sending Brigham with an invite or a note to announce her intentions.

"Um, hi," I told her.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, yeah." I stepped aside to let her walk through and caught sight of three dark cloaked, solemn looking figures standing under the porch of the house across the street. They watched us intently. Her guards, I assumed.

"Is this a bad time?" she asked once she was inside, removing the hood from her cloak."No, I'm just surprised. This isn't your style."