An hour later, we're back in Stormhaven. Beatrice is curled up in a guest room with Dr. Kundu hovering in attendance at her bedside.

"My mother was bluffing about hurting Bee, wasn't she?" I inquire quietly of E.J, who stands beside me near the door. "There was no one here to carry out her order if she'd sent it."

There's a grim quality to the moment of silence before she answers me. "If your mother had sent that signal, a mechanism would have cut off the oxygen in her room. She'd have suffocated to death."

"Oh," I squeak.

“We’re lucky she kept her alive at all. Once she was done interrogating me back at the compound, I was afraid she didn’t have any more need for her—but then, Richelle’s always found her uses for people,” she scowls.

"Beatrice needs rest, and so do the both of you," Kundu says, shooing us out and closing the door in our faces.

"E.J," I begin as we make our slow way down the hall. "Does anyone have any idea what happens to people who don't come through the other side of the gate?"

She slows, eyes skirting sideways to glance at me.

"No, no one knows for sure. There are only theories."

"Oh," I say, tears already streaking down my cheeks as a stumble to a stop.

"I just...I don't know how to mourn, or not to. My mother—we didn't have the best relationship to begin with. And then, she wasn't even who I thought she was. That's hard enough as it is. But now, now I don't even know if she's dead, or—or something else. Somewhere else. And I...I...I just killed those people, or some of them at least. All those people—"

"You did what you had to to survive, Ashwyn. You defended yourself." She turns, wrapping her arms around me as my legs give way and the world goes dark.

When awareness returns I'm aloft in her arms once more. Wrapped in her warmth and the rich scent of her blood. My mouth waters as I nestle closer to her, but all too soon we reach the guest room I'd stayed in when I first arrived. The door opens at her command, and she carries me through the threshold. Her muscles tremble and her hands shake as she lays me gently down on my bed. I reach for her, but she backs away quickly, wiping her sleeve across her mouth.

"E.J., what—"

"You're stormstruck now, and an Umbran. And I've been beaten and starved. I'm tired. It's taking everything I have right now not to rip into your—not to feed."

It's hard to admit it to myself, but I'm beginning to have a similar problem. Though I'd been too distracted and distraught to notice it before, a thirst is slowly building within me, and I'm finding myself strangely focused on her jugular and the way it pulses as blood flows just beneath the surface of her skin.

I swallow back a sudden swell of saliva. "So we can't—we'll never get to..."

"I didn't say that," she growls, "I'm stronger than that. I just need to rest and...and eat. And you'll adjust to your cravings in time, too. I supposed you've already figured it out by now, you're a Reaper, and Reapers require human or Umbran blood to survive." At the look on my face, she rushes on. "Please try not to worry about that right now. You'll only need it once a week, and I'll make sure you never run out. All ethically sourced, of course." She pauses, taking a deep breath—eyes searching my face with sudden intensity.

“It’s not normal, you know. For a Reaper to be able to fully resurrect someone who’s died. It shouldn’t have been possible. They animate the dead, they don’t bring them back to life. They don’t heal. It must’ve been your being Stormstruck that made it possible. If your eyes weren’t fully golden, I’d think you were a hybrid.”

I swallow, hard, as the implications sink in.

“We’re going to have to be careful. If the world at large finds out what you can do, you’re going to be a wanted commodity, a target, for the rest of your life.”

Nodding, hiccuping my way through sudden tears.

After a moment, I remember a question I'd been too preoccupied to answer.

"E.J...what is with that archipelago? The ruins, the gate? Why did she need you to open it?"

For a few moments, she's quiet as we continue to walk.

"That place is sacred to my kind, to Shifters." She says at last. "There was a time...hundreds and hundreds of years ago...when we weren't considered fit to rejoin society. So anyone who came through one of the Gates a shifter was exiled and sent to live there. Eventually they found a way to make their own Gate, so that their children had a chance at becoming Umbran. But with the powers of all kinds of Umbrans available to them, they advanced too quickly. Eventually, the Oros Empire began to consider them a threat, and they took action. Decimated everything, killed almost everyone." She slows as we near my room, taking a long, deep breath.

"A few managed to escape to the mainland to live there in hiding," she goes on. "The Empire erased the existence of the island from their histories, discrediting all other mentions of it until its name was largely relegated to myth and conspiracy." Her lip curls and nostrils flare, and she shakes her head. I lean against the wall, peering up at her—rapt with shock. "But the people who escaped had children, and their children had children...and they never forgot. They never let it go. I was raised on the truth, just like my parents were. And though we didn't know exactly where it was, we knew enough for me to eventually find it. We've been guarding it, researching it, restoring it ever since...my most trusted people and I."

She glances down, meeting my eyes for the first time in a while.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"One day, I'll find a way to fix the Gate's technology. Make it so that everyone who passes through it comes out an Umbran. And then, once all the infrastructure's in place and I can do it legally, I'll open a school. Anyone of any sign will be allowed to apply, and all those excepted will attend entirely free of charge. Everything paid for. By then, I'll be able to fund that easily."

"That's...that's incredible. I can't believe I've never heard of that place. I can't believe you found it."

She raises her eyebrows at me, cocking her head a bit to the side, and then—somehow—I burst into laughter. Weak, pained, genuine laughter.

"You're right, I can believe it. But it's still...it's a lot. A school, a new Umbra Gate. I can't even...and you think you can make it work for everyone?"

"I know I'm not ready to give up trying," she says, setting her jaw as her eyes become distant again. A moment later, they snap back to the present, back to me.

"Ah, that reminds me. There's a bit of a problem we're going to need to discuss at length later."

"Oh?" Now it's my turn to raise my eyebrows. "Just one bit of a problem?"

Snorting, E.J. wipes her sleeve across her mouth again. "You're not supposed to exist. All new Umbrans have to go through the system first, that's the only way to get through a Gate. No one but my own people and your mother know I found this place and got its Gate working.."

"Oh," I breathe. "So then...what do I do?"

Another deep sigh. "We're not ready for the world at large to know about this place. Not yet. I'm sorry Ashwyn, but I'm going to have to beg you to hide this side of yourself, for now. Fortunately, since you're also Stormstruck, all you'll have to do is wear contacts to hide your true eye color. Otherwise, people will attribute your Umbral power to your having been struck. And as to that—"

She pauses, opening the door of my room for me. I slip past her, kicking off my shoes and curling into an upright fetal position on my bed. She closes the door and sits on one of the room's plush chairs after pulling it up to face me.

"I'll have to go to strikehouse, won't I? Until they decide I can control myself enough to be safe around others." My stomach bubbles with anxiety at the thought.

"There is one other option. And in fact, given your needs as a Reaper, it might be the only viable one. I think it'd be rather difficult to sneak blood rations to you in a strikehouse."

I look up at her. "I hadn't thought of that. What's the other option?"

"To remain at an isolated location, under supervision of an appropriately certified physician until they deem you ready and safe to re-enter the world at large. This could be that isolated place. Dr. Kundu is qualified to supervise. Then, once the school is ready, you can attend and later re-enter the world as a recognized Umbran, with nothing to hide."

I breath deep, in and out. "Alright."

She nods, standing up. "That's settled then," she says. "I'll leave you to get some rest."

"Wait," I say. "I need to know...why did you hide what you are? Why didn't you just tell me?"

Her eyes widen a moment, then go hard as she looks away from me.

"Isn't it obvious? As long as no one's sure which kind of Umbran I am, they can imagine I'm one of the more palatable types, and I can live free of their assumptions" she scoffs. "That, and the rarity of hybrids would make me a target of jealousy and fear. I don't need any more of that in my life than I already have."

"You didn't trust me to keep it a secret?"

Her eyes flash back to mine, their sudden intensity holding my gaze captive.

"I especially didn't want you to know. Didn't want you to be afraid or disgusted by me."

Now it's my turn to scoff. "How in the seven curses could I ever be disgusted by you? You're the most magnificent woman I've ever—"my voice breaks. I lean forward from the bed, reaching out—and E.J. steps into my embrace, wrapping her arms about me as I slip off the bed to plant my feet between hers and bury my face against her chest. Her arms tighten around me as she croons words of comfort, stroking my hair with one hand. As she pulls away, she looks down at me—conflict in her eyes.

Then she drops to her knees as she brings her lips to mine. Her hand drops to cradle the back of my head and her other arm curls about my waist, until I'm practically lifted off my feet. Swept away mentally and physically as our lips work against one another, as I catch her lower one with my teeth, as her tongue touches mine—

Suddenly she withdraws, canines extending as saliva drips from between her teeth. The next instant her mouth is hidden once more behind the handkerchief, and she's turning away from me, already heading for the door.

"I'm sorry. I can't—I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

Then she's off, through the door and gone—her absence like a sudden gust of icy wind. I drop back into bed and cocoon myself in the blankets.

~*~

It's a gray Larunasday morning, and the air is heavy with the scent of imminent rain.

I haven't seen much of E.J. lately. She's too busy cleaning up the mess my mother made of her life and compensating for her absence from the company. As a result, most of her time is spent back in the city.

It's for the best, though. I've got my hands full myself—not only in adjusting to life as a stormstricken Umbran with a craving for blood, but also with completing my commissioned work. But we message each other constantly, E.J. and I, and I feel closer to her every day.

I'm out on the covered balcony of my guest room, working on the fifth painting in my collection for Ms. Thornstrap. I've got two drinks I'm nursing on the little table to my side—one an iced coconut coffee, the other a mug of warm type AB. when my new servitor chirps from it's spot over my shoulder.

"Message from E.J. Shall I read it?"

"Yes, please."

"Morning, Wyn. Heard from Dr. Kundu that you're making great progress and should be ready to re-enter society in time for the Black Moon Festival. The Club always throws a special party the Sulasday before. If you're up to it, would you be interested in going with me?" Boon pauses, its tone shifting back to normal. "Would you like to respond?"

"Yes. Tell her of course I want to go," I hesitate. I'd meant to add "if you really think I'm ready," but decide against it. I know I'm ready, and that's enough. I'm not going to let myself miss out on this.

~*~

The weeks pass quickly, and before I know it the night of the Black Moon party is here.

Freshly showered and smelling of strawberries, sweet cream and bonfire leaves thanks to E.J.'s Black Moon gift—a fragrance designed specifically for me—I step into my closet.

The mirror-screen at the far end responds to my presence, the slow, somber colors brightening and flowing into Somi's abstract winged form.

"Good evening, Ashwyn," she says. "Ready for me to get started?"

"Yes please. Thanks, Somi."

"My pleasure."

We've been working on the outfit together for weeks—printing it out, trying it on, tweaking the design, recycling it and repeating the process more than a few times. At the last try on, it was a hairsbreadth away from perfect. I can barely contain my excitement as I wait for it to process. Going out onto to balcony to use my vapestem while I wait, I whirl around in slow circles—humming to myself between puffs.

Then, just as I'm spinning away from it, something lands on the balcony railing. I hold my breath as I turn to face it.

When I meet the pigeon-rat's beady little black eyes, I can't help but break out into a grin.

"Hey there, little friend," I say. "Here, let me go find you a treat."

~*~

The wind blows cold over the roof of E.J.'s city tower as I step off the port sigil about an hour later. I pull my iridescent leather jacket tighter about myself, teeth already chattering.

At first, all I see is the glittering sprawl of the city stretching in all directions, its lights glowing like many-colored jewels against the darkness of the night. What small sliver of waning moon remains overhead is covered in clouds.

Then I turn, and there she is.