Page 107 of The Wolfing Hour
“I failed you both,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Meow.” Fennel composted another pile.
Cecil gave the broom and dustpan by my workstation a pointed look and continued with his work.
Their way of saying, “We’ll deal with us later. There’s work to do now.”
We worked for an hour, clearing away the worst of the damage. Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, the demon-grown belladonna was the only plant that had survived unscathed.
“Figures Sexton’s plant would be the one to make it.” I swept the dead leaves from the pots surrounding it into a pile, keeping the poisonous plant in my peripheral. It wasn’t only surviving amidst the decay in the room—the damned thing was flourishing.
I propped the broom against the wall beside the belladonna and stormed to the front of the garden room, where I halted at my worktable and stared into the kintsugi mirror hanging crookedly on a nail. The reflection showed Fennel and Cecil behind me and over my shoulder. The guys stopped what they were doing and watched me, curiosity in their gazes.
“Demon Betty, I need to talk to you.”To me. I need to talk to me.
Seconds ticked by. A minute.
“Show your face, please.”My face. Show my face.
Slowly she—I—bled into existence in the mirror. Her—my, our—eyes were wide, the irises black and gray with a burnt orange center, like bits of smoldering coal. It was the most alive I’d seen them.
“Are you still hiding memories from me? Like you did this morning?”
She—I—didn’t move.
Beneath the demon’s black-and-orange eyes were eyes that flashed from golden brown to glittering silver. The earth witch—me, I—was present and accounted for.
“You had better start talking, because—” I stopped myself from lashing out. Giving into my anger was what had gotten me into trouble last night.
“I’m sorry.” I stared at the soil lines in the once-shattered mirror. Sighed. “Look, I need to know everything you know. Please. I know you care. I’ve seen the way you protect me and mine.”
Not me and mine. Us and ours.
Us and ours, the earth witch agreed, her voice grounding and a touch sympathetic.
“Us and ours,” I said.
Fennel strolled over and sat on the floor beside me, wrapping his tail around my ankle. His way of offering support.
“My grandfather put the dying wolf on Ida’s steps, didn’t he?”
Yes. The wolves left him on the street. They weren’t strong enough to breach your protection spell.For a sliver of a second, she seemed ashamed. I hadn’t thought demons could feel shame. None of the ones I’d ever dealt with had possessed the capacity.
Because she’s not some random demon. She’s me.The amount was the issue. Exactly how much of her was demon and how much of her was me? We weren’t entirely one, yet neither were we separate.
He said we would die if I didn’t take over. I believed him.
Curse words filtered through my brain, stopping short of my mouth. Instead, I bit my lip and fumed. He’d manipulated me. I was angry, but unsurprised. Since coming out of the soil, I'd been slowly putting the truth of his betrayal together, piece by piece, like the world's shittiest puzzle.
“He knew I’d figure it out. In fact, hewantedme to figure it out, didn’t he?”
I stared at my reflection. Three Bettys stared back in each repaired section of mirror. All different. All me.
All nodding.
“Give me all my memories.” I moved over to the biggest unbroken section of mirror, aligning all three faces. “Show me everything.”
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