Page 81 of The City Of Fractured Memory

I sigh dejectedly. It would’ve definitely softened the blow of learning my parentage if it turned out I could shift too, not to mention the relief I would’ve had for my aching joints if I could just fly everywhere instead of walk.

“Riven has pointed ears, but I have mortal ears,” I say, my mind flying through everything I’ve learned. “I’m guessing there’s no telling what traits a half mortal would be born with.”

“Oo, who’s Riven?” Osiris asks with a coy smile, pumping his eyebrows at me.

“Ignore him,” Amari sighs. “Riven—he’s the other like you? The one mentioned in the prophecy?” I nod and she continues. “To my knowledge, you two are the only half Echofae, half mortal babies to have ever been born. So yes, your guess is as good as mine. We will have to work together to figure out what lies beneath your skin. You could stay here with us, you know? We could help you make sense of it all?” she offers, her eyes betraying her desperate hope.

I smile at the kind offer, but it falls quickly and I avoid her gaze, instead choosing to look out over the lake again as I consider her words. As tempting as it is, I know I can’t stay. Prophecy or not, I can’t hide out here away from my problems.

Though the thought is tempting.

“You have to go back, don’t you?” she smiles sadly, her grip on my leg tightening slightly.

“Back in the mortal territory, I’m a detective. Well, I was. I’m not really sure what I am now,” I tell her. “Seers have been murdered, and the case has led me towards this cult.”

“The Children Of The Briar?”

My gaze snaps back to hers. “You know of it too?”

Maybe she could be the one to give me more answers.

She nods. “Your father was part of the secret society, though he was no secret keeper, that’s for sure. He was careless about the words he let slip past his lips; he often bragged to your mother about his high position within it. She wasn’t the only one listening, though.” She gives me a pointed look and I nod in understanding. “How does the Briar connect to the murders?”

I sigh heavily. “Honestly, I’m still not certain. The pieces are slowly coming together, but at the moment, all of it is conjecture. I have no physical evidence.”

She considers that for a moment. “Why don’t you search the victim’s memories?”

I shake my head. “Their memories were siphoned, there’s nothing left.”

Osiris frowns. “Surely that’s impossible, there’s always something to recover?”

Considering Echofae magic is very different from mortal magic, I can’t imagine things like this would be familiar to them, especially since the Echofae have allegedly been locked away from us for a hundred years. Though, given that Stryx snuck out and subsequently got me in, and of course the fact that my mother met my mortal father, I’m starting to reconsider that. Could all these Echofae have been quietly entering the mortal quarters without detection all this time?

I study him, partly in curiosity, but mostly out of unease. “How would you know that?”

“We know many things, Octavia. We Echofae are not as reclusive as you think,” Amari answers for him, confirming my suspicions. “There’s magic that could help you. Echofae magic. We are all connected, and our magic can latch onto that connection. It may allow you to see deeper than a mortal could.”

My hope builds back up a little, my pulse quickening. “Can you teach me?”

She smiles widely at me. “It would be my pleasure.”

Thirty-Five

Six hours later, I’m laying in the long grass, a sweating, panting mess. I’ve excelled at most things throughout my life, but clearly, this will not be one of them.

“Why don’t you try taking your boots off?” Stryx offers, sitting cross-legged on a tree stump a few feet away, blowing on her fifth mug of tea. Osiris sits in-between us, though his eyes have been unabashedly set on Stryx the entire time.

“Stryx, not everything can be solved with bare feet,” I scold, though my words lack any bite as I run my teeth along my lip, trying to stifle my laughter.

“Yes, well, I wore shoes to that brothel, and look how that went,” she points out, and my laughter bursts free.

“Causation and correlation aren’t the same thing, Stryx,” I cackle. “I doubt the Gods decided our fates would be determined by your feet.”

Osiris shrugs with an indecent smile. “I don’t know, they look pretty great to me.”

Stryx throws a stick at his head and I howl.

“For love of Scath, can we please stop talking about feet,” Amari begs, but her appalled face only makes us all laugh harder.