Page 142 of The World Undone

He dropped his wrist and pressed the handle of my blade into my palm, our fingers brushing as I closed mine around the familiar hilt.

A shot of warmth sparked down my spine, easing any of the remaining tension still cradled in my body. There was a kinship I felt suddenly, thrumming through my veins.

His stare burned into my skin, like he was studying me with just as much curiosity, just as much disbelief.

“As in my uncle?” I whispered, afraid to speak it too loudly, like putting voice to the hope would give the universe a chance to seize it away from me, to blot it out before I could be sure.

His jaw worked subtly at the word, the only indication he’d heard me.

For a moment that felt far longer than it probably was, he said nothing, just held my gaze in his, considering. Then, with a heavy exhale, he took a step back.

“Forgive me.” He shook his head, eyes now taking in our surroundings, landing everywhere but back on me, like he’d already used up all of his capacity to take me in. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her. And you share so?—”

He took a few steps back, then sat down next to his pack, shoulders slumping slightly like the heaviness of whatever he’d been through had finally come to collect.

“I thought you were dead.” Hadn’t that been what Charlie had said? That she’d inherited her restaurant at The Lodge from an uncle she’d never known? From Saif?

“Good as.” He nodded, then began digging roughly through his pack until he pulled out a pouch of water and then immediately drained it into his mouth. “That was intended.”

My legs, of their own volition, buckled, until the rest of my body followed suit and I found myself suddenly sitting on the cold, wet forest floor a few feet away from my resurrected uncle.

Ralph pranced back over to us, oblivious to my shock. He dropped the ball in my lap before he circled a few times and curled into my side, his warmth a welcome presence as I leaned into him.

A ridiculous smile carved across my face. This was our first win in so long. And we so desperately needed one. “My fa—Cyrus. He adopted me. He tried finding you. But Charlie said you’d died. You left The Lodge to her and the others—to The Defiance.”

“The Defiance, eh?” His nose curled slightly. “That’s what they went with? Has a bit of unnecessary drama to it, doesn’t it?” He tilted his head, considering. “Cyrus. She mentioned him before. A good man, she said. He raised you, yes?” I nodded. “Then I’ll be happy to meet him.”

The joy ripped from my stomach like a knife. “He—” I took a deep breath, trying to dislodge the sudden weight in my chest. “He’s gone.”

Saif’s expression softened slightly. “I see. I’m sorry. That appears to be the case for far too many who deserved a longer chance at happiness.” As if sensing my discomfort, he rifled through his bag once more and pulled out an orange, peeling as he tackled the rest of my unanswered questions. “I needed people to think I was dead, and so I made it so. But, as you can see,” he tossed the cured peel back in his pack as he broke the fruit into two, tossing me half. “I am not. Not yet, anyway.”

“Where have you been?” An edge of accusation slipped into my tone before I could correct it. If her twin survived, why did Sayty give me to Cyrus? Not that I would give up a single moment I’d had with him, with Ro—but could I have had this uncle in my life too? Another tether to family?

“Hunting.”

“For what?”

“At first, for my troublemaker of a sister. She had a knack for hiding that not even I could ever quite crack. Then, after I realized how futile that was, for Michael.”

“Sayty? My mom, you mean? Or a different sister?”

“Your mother.” His stare snagged on my face again, as if he was parsing her out in me the way I had been moments before in him. “But I didn’t find her.”

I choked on the small chunk of orange. Did he not know?

I suddenly hated myself, that I’d have to be the one to shatter that hope.

“She’s gone too.”

He considered me for a moment, popped a slice of orange into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed it, before responding. “Maybe. I didn’t believe that for many years. You see, for protectors, twins are rare.” He offered a slice of orange to Ralph, grinning when the hellhound inspected it for a moment before swallowing it whole. “And your mother and I—we are the anchors. At least we were. I’m not entirely sure if your birth negated that.”

“Anchors?” It was the same word that Lucifer had used about me. An anchor which the shadow magic could sift through. A catalyst.

“Do you know the history of the realms?”

“Some of it.” I tossed the rest of my orange to Ralph. The adrenaline coursing through my body made it impossible to stomach anything right now. “Cyrus told me that Sayty’s line—your line too, I suppose—had a hand in creating hell. That your ancestors split ties with The Guild after, attempting to restore the balance of power The Guild had misaligned.”

He nodded. “That’s part of it. Our ancestors were tricked into using magic they didn’t understand—manipulated and used by those who went on to formulate the so-called Guild.” He took a deep breath, letting it out in a heavy sigh. “But creating an entire realm is no simple thing and they had no idea what they were really getting into. They imagined it to be a truce, one that would bring peace to different factions of demons, while creating a shield to protect humans from our world. And to keep our world protected from humans. That kind of ritual, that kind of binding, required very key, very rare ingredients. Anchors. Not a place, but a person. Two people, mirrored selves. Doppelgangers. Twins.” His brow arched as he glanced at me, meeting my eyes only briefly, “I don’t know if you are aware of this, but our family is prone to twins. They skip generations, always at least one, but more often two or three in one of our descendant lines.”

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