To Ashley, because I miss you.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Acknowledgments
Copyright
About the Publisher
My pulse throbs in my templesa frantic rhythm that matches the pounding of my feet. I feel ridiculous stooping to something as primitiveas humanas running away, but I cant beat them in my natural way.
I should be able to. My sudden increase in strength terrifies even me. But thats the problem; Im too afraid to unleash it. Afraid of what I might do. The people I might hurt. Its too much all at once.
Its not right. So I run.
But Im not really a runner. Not the long-distance kind for sure. Theyre gaining on me. It was inevitable. Its not like I really thought I could get away; I just needed a few minutes to think. So I took off.
What are they going to do? Shoot me in the back? They need me alive and we all know it.
With my lungs aching, I gasp to a stop and they surround me, all of us breathing hard. Im not completely sure where I am. An overpass. No, one of those pedestrian bridges over a freeway. Cars zoom beneath me, the sound of roaring engines echoing in my ears as vibrations shake the cement under my feet. The people around me have drawn their guns. Obviously they dont care about creating a scene. Theyll kill any witnesses without a second thought.
But I care.
I care, damn it!
I grasp at the gritty edge of the cement railing. As I lean back the rushing wind from cars and trucks bursts up, tossing my hair and ruffling my shirt. A semi passes beneath the already swaying walkway. The driver must have seen us because he lets loose the long bellow of his horn as though in warning, and I wonder if hes calling the cops even now.
Not that it matters. Its too late.
Its over, the closest man says, edging even nearer. Come with us. We dont want to hurt you.
Its a lie. We both know it.
My eyes scan their faces. Each and every one is a person I would once have called a friend. Not recently. Certainly not for a dozen lifetimes. But once.
I scrape my palms on the hot, crumbly concrete, using the pain to focus my mind. Theres no barrier. I could jump. But theyd save me. Theyre already too close.
I scrape my palms on the hot, crumbly concrete, using the pain to focus my mind. Theres no barrier. I could jump. But theyd save me. Theyre already too close.
Think.
Think.
The answer hits me, and my breath catches in terror.
Sonya, youre being ridiculous. Mariannas voicebelittling as alwaysstrengthens my determination, even though my bones feel like water. I would rather die than let her have me. Than let her figure out how to become like me.
Because if that ever happened, gods help the entire world.
For the thousandth time I consider killing her. Killing them. But the delay would be momentary at best. There are dozens of them.
And only one of me.
Fortunately, there are also more than six billion people to hide among.
I close my eyes and a ripple of apprehension goes through the handful of operatives pointing weapons at me. I might have three seconds before they do something stupid. I picture my heart, beating so steadily, if way too fast. A sob catches in my throat, but I push it away.
And turn my heart to stone.
Literally.
The agony in my chest tries to force a scream from my lips, but its too late. It takes only a moment, maybe two, before I know Ive done it.
Ive killed myself.
And I taste victory on my tongue as everything goes black.
I sit up with a muffled scream, my hands clutching my chest. Air is honey-sweet on my tongue as I suck in breathsgripping my arm with my nails to feel the pain. To assure myself that Im alive.
Three nights in a row its been like this. Dreams of Sonya. Sonya running from what I can only assume are Reduciates: Earthbound bad guys. Sonya afraid of her own powersafraid to protect herself.
And, of course, Sonya taking her own life. But in the dreams Im not looking down at her. Im not an observer. In the dreams I am her.
Am myself, I guess. In my past life. My most recent life.
But unlike true memories, this dream shifts every time it comes to me, the way I end my life changing with each passing night. Ive pulled the trigger of a gun pressed to my head, thrown myself in front of a speeding semi.
But turning my heart to literal stone? This one was the worst. I dont know if thats how it happened. If any of them are how it happened. I dont understand why my mind is making me see her death over and overand why I cant remember how it all actually went down.
Or better yet, why.
Well, I know why, technically. The secret. The one from way back in Rebeccas timethe girl I was in the early nineteenth century. The one I told no one, not even my partner, Quinn. I was silenced at the end of that life, silenced myself at the end of my life as Sonya. But I dont know what that secret is.
And I have a feeling the dreams wont end until I figure it out.
I should remember. Im an Earthbounda cursed goddess who lives life after life, seeking my perfect love. I should remember all my lives. But something about the injuries I received in a plane crash last year have made everything difficult.
My body is covered with sweat, and its not all from the harrowing dream. The Phoenix heat is sweltering even in the dusky hours of dawn, and the air conditioning is less reliable than the hotel manager insinuated. I drag myself from sticky sheets to twist the tap on the sink thats inches from the foot of the tiny single bed.
The water dribbling from the tap is lukewarm at best, but Im in no position to be picky.
The spring heat is too intense, topping 110 for several days even before I arrived. The temperature broke records every day last week. I wonder if its part of the weather phenomenon my former guardian Mark was sure the virus was somehow causing. It seems like it must be. Everything in the world is crazy right now. The virus is spreading so quickly no one can get a truly accurate death count. Five thousand yesterday, one news channel said. Ten, claimed another.
Either way, its out of control, and nature apparently isnt immune.
I dont know how the hell I can possibly stop this, but Mark and his wife, Sammi, were certain I held the key, if I could just resurge with Loganthe boy Quinn is in this life. I have to trust that. Its all Ive got.
As I splash myself I consider again the braid of twine that Sammi gave me. The one Sonya made. Sammi kept it from when she encountered Sonya eighteen years ago. Sammi and her father were Curatoriates. Theyre supposed to be the good guysthe opposite of the Reduciates. Im not convinced its that simple. Neither was Rebecca. I have a feeling Sonya wasnt either.
I could find out. The little braid is still in my faded red backpack where Sammi put it last week. Itll give me my memories back. The memories that Sonya had.
Probably.
But considering the way the last awakening went, Im not completely sure Id survive a second round. Not without someone to help me. And I cant take any risks until I resurge with Logan.
Or well both be dead forever and the rest of the world will die with us.
That is the single truth that keeps me here. Trying.
Im desperate. That is also a truth. More true than anything else in my life today. Besides, what I really need is to figure out how to wake Logan up before the Reduciates who are after me kill us both. And Sonyas memories wont help with that since she never found him during her life.
I turn on the leaky showerhead and duck into the tiny stall, sluicing away sweat as though I could somehow cleanse myself of the awful dream. Of this awful week. Everything is falling to pieces. I lean my head against the tiled wall and review the last few dismal days as water beats down on my back.
It started out so well a mere three days ago. After sleeping the whole night in a real bed for the first time in almost two weeksnot to mention getting my first shower in eight daysI woke up on Sunday morning ready to take on anything. I was in Phoenix, Id located Logan, and I knew he was the one. The rest would be easy, I was certain. I didnt care that the hotel towels didnt look quite clean, or that the clerk had vastly under-reported how loud the train just outside my back window would be.
That first night I didnt even care about the lack of reliable AC. I had a home base that didnt require ID. And more importantlythanks to getting his number on SaturdayI had a date with Logan. Quinn. Whatever anyone in my head wanted to call him, I had a date with the love of my life. The love of my many, many lives.
And it went fabulously. We talked, we laughed, the sun glinted off his golden hair, short now and a lighter blond thanks to bleaching from the desert sun. At one point he even reached out and touched the end of my nose. It was perfect.