Page 54 of For Dear Life

“Because I could see your mind and memories. A very splintered version, but your mind is your own. If you were reanimated, your mind would be a void.”

“But what if the witches used magic to change that?”

Leif’s panic surrounds him—in his wavering voice and his eyes, wide and shining in the dark. How long has Leif convinced himself of this?

“Leif.” I reach out to him, surprising myself as much as Leif when I rest fingers on his warm hand. “I promise that you are very much alive and under nobody’s influence.”

His fingers grip mine, as if holding onto me could transmit the truth. “And the mind-control? What if that’s happening? You once thought Rowan controlled me. Why was that?”

“Because I suspected Rowan was capable of underhanded things. Nothing you did or didn’t do prompted me to think he controlled you.” I allow Leif to keep a hold of my hand. “Have you remembered something?”

“Only that witch’s face—the one from the hospital—and clearer images of my surroundings. There were three. One could’ve been Maxwell. What if they’re all necromancers? There could be others out there who they killed and—”

“Highly probable. I’m glad you’re not a shifter, otherwise they might’ve killed you too that night.” Leif chokes a small sound. “Because I suspect they’re only using necromancy on shifters, since they’re already partially disconnected from society.”

And easier to attack magically.

Leif’s silence returns before he eventually says, “I hadn’t considered that.”

I’m distracted by his hand around mine, another reminder how Leif really is closer to shifter than human size, but don’t pull away.

The more I’m around people, the more their incessant need to touch begins to make sense. They’re doing what I’ve spent a lifetime avoiding—connecting. Leif’s hand hold isn’t the odd and slightly proprietary type from earlier, but a need for reassurance. The idea I could reassure anybody remains laughable to me, but as I might say or do the wrong thing should Leif’s distress grow, I prefer his hand on mine.

But I don’t like that he’s distressed.

“Are you looking for more memories?” he asks hesitantly.

“Not currently. Why?” I squeeze his fingers and he winces. “I am attempting to remove some of your anxiety.”

“Like, with magic?”

“With touch, like normal people do.” He takes my other hand, and my eyes go wide. “I don’t need to hold both of them, Leif.”

“Can you look into my mind again, Violet?” he asks, and his worry clouds us again.

“Perhaps not tonight. You were—are—distressed after seeing the witches, and I don’t want to make matters worse.”

“Two days ago, you would’ve jumped at the chance and not cared,” he says quietly.

Leif’s half-correct. Partially, I want to answer him with an enthusiastic ‘yes’ and get inside his head tonight in case the memories fade. But if Leif’s emotional state descends any further, I don’t have the skills or capacity to comfort him. All I’m capable of right now is stepping away from my single-minded and self-centered tendencies.

“I would very much like to look inside your mind, Leif, but even touching the edges would be pointless. You’re too upset. Your worries interfere with memories.” I bite my lip. “Tomorrow?”

“You reckon I’m okay?” he presses.

“Witches have altered your mind, so even though you’re not under anybody’s influence, you are not okay.” This time, his grip tightens. “But you’re unharmed and alive,” I suggest. “That’s a positive outcome.”

Unsure whether his quiet is the end of our exchange or not, I untangle my hands from his and stand. Leif stands too and picks up the toy that fell from my pocket when we arrived. “There’s blood covering the dog now. From the spell.”

I take the object and examine the streaks. “Then the gift is more suitable for me in this state.”

Leif cracks a smile. “I’ll never know when you’re serious or joking.”

“I rarely joke, Leif. Rowan indicated that I’m ungrateful for your efforts. I should thank you for expending energy and money to win this prize for me.” He shrugs. “And I should also thank you for joining me tonight.”

“I enjoyed the time,” he says. “Up until Oz almost died, and I saw the witches.”

“Those are some of the reasons I enjoyed the time.” I hold the dog by its long ear. “Don’t scowl at me, Leif. We have valuable information, and I would not have that unless you’d accompanied me. So, I am grateful.”

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