“Who did you lose?”
That single question destroys him. He falls forward, resting his cheek on my thigh as he breaks into heaving sobs. My hands gently stroke his scalp, releasing more of his glorious Echinacea and Aloe scent. I’ve spent so much time feeding from his paternal nature that switching roles is awkward.
Finding a natural rhythm to my soothing touches stops his shaking so he can tell his story. “There were much fewer of us then. Having no means to actively travel the world, spotting someone with our particular talents was rare. I lived on the southeast point of Ireland, Wexford now, bordering the Celtic Sea. Everything was broken up into miniature kingdoms called Tuaths. Ours was a small one, like many. I don’t remember much of it. The location, the lifestyle, it’s all a blur. I only remember her.”
He trembles against my thigh. “She was my blessing and my curse. Without her, I wouldn’t have had the strength to remain human for so long, but with her, I was doomed to lose control.
“She believed strongly in magic, even before she decided something magnificent was happening to me. She knew things, though the details of her sight are lost to me now. Much of my pre-transition life is lost to me now. Memories fade.
“In the end, we were always fighting. Me fighting to keep her. Her fighting to get away. She said she needed to leave to save me, to save us. She must have known what I’d do. I should’ve listened to her, but I was terrified of suffering alone. I was selfish.
“I caught her one night sneaking off. I begged her to stay. I couldn’t see how being apart would solve anything. The only danger I could see was my misery without her. I should’ve let her go.
“She wouldn’t stay. Couldn’t. She left me. I cried then, emptying more of myself than I could ever replenish. My tears were endless. With the liquid river of my heartache, I left my body behind. I drowned in my sorrow.
“It wasn’t the end for me, though I wished it was. She came back to check on me. In my transitional state, I watched her with eyes outside my body. I was surrounding her while all she could see was my empty body lying on the floor. I couldn’t talk to her, couldn’t tell her to run. I had no way of knowing what my survival instincts would force me to do. To reattach to my body, to regain a solid form, I had to take from her.
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“She placed her lips to mine and gave. I was helpless to do anything except take until I was fully inside my skin again. My first memory from this life was of her lips on mine. Stopping was a struggle, but I broke our embrace, and she fell limply to the floor. I-I killed her.”
I chew at my bottom lip. Ryan’s transition was no less painful than Declan’s and even more heartbreaking. When they gave me all the reasons they couldn’t form a longstanding intimate connection, I was ready to die on the hill of denial. Part of me felt they simply couldn’t experience anything deeper than surface feeling, but this…what he’s shared is raw and unfiltered and terrifying. It hits home a bit too hard. Sledgehammer hard. I have to let Derry go. Nothing is worth the kind of suffering just expressed to me.
My instinct is to give him a platitude about it not being his fault, which would be a lie. He is to blame. Same as me. I’ve extended my motionless mother the same fate. I opt for rubbing slow circles on his back instead of putting my foot in it.
“I ran away. I kept running for several years, traveling so many places, searching for something I couldn’t find again. Peace. There was nothing to mark my time. The years all blurred together without her. They still do. To live as we do, you need an anchor point to maintain sanity.
“I finally made my way home, back to Ireland. I was hoping to put to rest my heart. I couldn’t even find her grave to say goodbye. No one bothered to mark it. It’s tough to let go of something you can’t lay to rest. I still feel her with me.
“So, I can understand the concerns you have. I’m aware of the dangers, but I’m hopeful. I had no idea what was happening to me. It’s different for you. You have us all to support you, guide you, push you when you need it, and, yes, even step back and let you sort through some on your own. You have opportunities we didn’t have.
“If you sincerely want to continue your human path, you can. You’re strong enough. I’ve met many warriors, scholars, and others like us. Never have I met anyone like you, Sheyla, with the will to fight so effectively against your nature, but you’re confused. You’re not seeing any side of this as good right now.”
“What if both sides are bad?” I whisper.
He offers me a sad smile. “What if neither side is?”
I groan. Maybe neither side is bad. So what if they started off as monsters. They clearly evolved into something more. Can I hope for the same evolution? Can I fight the transition?
“We all have the potential to defeat the dark side of ourselves. You don’t have to be strong enough to do it on your own. Stop closing yourself off. It only drains you more. You’re not alone. You never have to be alone again. Let us help you.”
“You’ve suffered enough.”
His compassion floods me. “We all know what a difficult road you’re traveling on. We don’t expect anything more than you’ll be able to give.”
“What if it’s not enough?”
“It will be,” he assures me. “It already is.”
I look over to my mother, who’s helpless and without the will to fight. Am I strong enough to fight for my humanity? Am I strong enough to fight for us both?