Page 100 of Molt

My blood freezes. “No.”

“You begged me.”

“No.”

“You offered me anything.”

I stop fighting. “What did I give you?”

His eyes gleam. “You.”

The memory vanishes.

I rip my hand away from Lenora and we both stagger.

She saw it.

I know by her face. “Who was that?”

“I don’t know.”

“You recognized him.”

“I’ve seen him before.”

“Where?”

The answer rises slowly.

Not from memory. From instinct. From the same place I always recognize Lenora. “1897.”

Her face goes pale. “What happened in 1897?”

I look at the broken jar. At the original specimen. At the first year I thought this began and finally understand. “It didn’t begin in 1897.”

Lenora swallows. “Then what happened?”

I stare at her. “I made a deal.”

Silence.

“With who?”

“I don’t know.”

“For what?”

Another piece returns.

Lenora lying motionless on a bed. Her skin gray. My hands shaking as I hold hers. A doctor closing his bag. Words I refused to accept. There’s nothing more we can do.

Me running through rain. An address written on paper. A door opening. A man smiling. “How badly do you want her back?”

My chest tightens.

“August?”

I look at her. The truth is so much worse than either of us killing the other. “You died.”