Page 36 of Revenge of the Forgotten

“Did you hear me?” Arlet’s voice broke through her fog.

“Hmm?” Vega hummed, yanking herself out of her head.

Arlet let out a puff of air, rummaging through her small bag. “Make sure whatever you want to bring from this life is something that can be connected directly to the body. The bag’s gotta stay. The portal isn’t great with excess belongings.” Vega didn’t want to ask how Arlet knew that.

Her nerves were already shot, and arguing about bringing a beat-up bag wasn’t worth the energy she was trying to conserve.

The zipper on the bag needed a little coaxing to open fully. Vega made a mental list of the items she wanted to bring.

Passport: in case I wind up dismembered, someone can identify my body.

Pocketknife: in case I need to dismember someone. Can you do that with a pocketknife?

Vega shook her head, simultaneously shaking away the worry in the pit of her stomach.

She sifted through the bag and came across one more item she wasn’t ready to part with. A picture. She held it by the corners. Dark eyes, full cheeks, and her mother caught mid-laugh with her hand on her chest stared back at her.

Vega looked nothing like her, their features almost complete opposites, with her long blonde hair, her slim and tall figure, and eyes as deep as dark chocolate. A tear slid down her cheek, but Vega wiped it away before it could drip or before Arlet could see.

Do not break down now.

She gulped down a steadying breath and slipped the picture into her pocket. Even if Gianna wasn’t her real mother and Arlet proved to be right, Vega would love her forever, and the brief time she’d had with her in this life would always be her favorite memory.

“You ready?” Arlet asked. Vega nodded, slamming the car door. “This way.” Arlet motioned in the direction of a far-off river flowing through the middle of the forest.

As they began their ascent into the depths of the redwoods, Vega pulled her arms into her thick black-and-white flannel to help with the chill from the setting sun. “I have another question.”

Arlet peeked over her shoulder at her. “Yeah?”

Vega’s nerves continued to spike, making her chattier than normal. “So, uh, if I’ve been here for fifteen years and I’m almost thirty, is that why my memories seem to start when I was fourteen? Sometimes it literally feels like I was just born as a teenager and can’t remember anything before then. I did some therapy for a while, and they said it was trauma blocking.”

Vega had no pictures of herself from childhood, nothing to prove her theory was wrong.

Arlet didn’t turn around, keeping them at a steady pace. “Yeah, you’re not going to remember what you never lived. Every life you have missing pieces. I’m surprised this life started you so young—you’re usually at least college age. We age a lot slower and live a lot longer than mortals, so it’s not as if you’ve changed too much over the last fifty-five years. You can thank the gods’ blood for that.”

“Was my mom even real?” Vega asked.

“Of course she was, but if you don’t want to know why she died, then don’t ask the next question.”

Vega couldn’t help it. “Did she die because of me?”

“Yes,” Arlet answered as gently as she could. “The curse caused her cancer. That’s what it does. It sucks the life out of the people you love or forces them to push you away. Sometimes the relationship you were in was abusive. Once you were homeless. Your life is never happy here.”

Vega never once felt guilty for what happened to her mom. Cancer took who it wanted, but knowing she was the cause of the kindest woman’s death, that it was because of her curse Gianna died—Vega felt her regret crash on her shoulders like the weight of a thousand suns. Tears welled in her eyes, guilt shattering what was left of her heart.

Vega didn’t hold back the sob. She could hide the hurt when it came to Chase’s wrongdoings, the shame that came along with her sad life, but not the burden of knowing she was to blame for the death of someone so pure.

Arlet spun around so quickly, Vega didn’t know what was happening until she grabbed Vega’s shoulders and met her gaze with that same stare she felt the day in her apartment—like she saw deep inside her. “Vega, her death isn’t your fault.”

“Why wouldn’t she remember not having a child? Like, one day she just woke up and had a teenager? It doesn’t make any sense.” Through the pain, Vega continued to ask questions—trying to distract herself from the throb in her chest.

Arlet scanned Vega, like she was looking for a reason not to answer her question. “The curse alters them too. No, it doesn’t make sense, but no curse ever really does unless you’re the one who made it. The curse didn’t create your mother, but it chose someone who wouldn’t miss a life outside of the one it made them believe.” Arlet wiped a tear from Vega’s cheek and rubbed her hands up and down her bicep for comfort. “It’s okay to be sad, but do not let yourself believe this is your fault. You are a mere butterfly caught in the web of a deadly spider.”

They traveled in silence for over an hour while Vega absorbed the new information she’d finally dared to ask for. The tears stopped on their own, but Vega knew her pain would outlast every tear she cried. “I don’t want to sound like a child, but are we there yet? If you’re gonna kill me, you’ve missed a lot of good places to hide my body.” Vega groaned, her feet hurting worse than during a double at Bobby’s.

“Five minutes.” Arlet continued to trod through the thickening underbrush, giving her a breathy laugh.

“If there’s really a portal out here, why aren’t people going through it all the time?” Vega began to ask whatever the hell came to her mind.

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