Page 113 of The Children of Eve

The room was quiet for a long time. I heard a bird cry in the marshes.

“Sam told me something else,” said Rachel. “She said she could see Jennifer, or used to.”

“Yes.”

“And you never thought to share that with me?”

“Are you saying you suspected nothing? If so, I’m not sure it would be the truth.”

Rachel opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again without saying anything more. She drank her coffee, just to give herself something to do.

“No,” she said at last, “it wouldn’t be. Do you know why Jennifer came to Sam?”

“I’m not sure. It may have been to protect her.”

“That’s not what Sam thinks, or it’s not the only reason. She thinks Jennifer was trying to protect both of you, but you more than her. You must know why that was, or is.”

“I don’t.”

“Doyoustill see Jennifer?”

“Not for a long time,” I said. “I’ve felt her close. She watches me while I sleep.”

Rachel buried her face in her hands.

“Oh God,” she said. “Oh God, oh God, oh God…”

I went to her. I held her close as she shook her head against me.

“What are you hiding?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

She pulled away from me.

“No, what are you hiding from yourself? What have you buried so deep that it’s been lost even to you?”

But I had no answer to give.

Rachel stood to leave.

“Sam will do whatever she wants,” said Rachel. “But I expect you,Angel, and Louis to guide her as best you can, to educate and train her so that if she follows this path, she’ll have all the skills she needs to survive. I want her kept safe. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“In the meantime, you need to uncover what’s hidden. Until you do, we’re all vulnerable.”

I followed her to the door. I didn’t offer her a bed for the night. I knew she wouldn’t want to stay, not after this, not ever.

“Rachel.”

She paused. Around the porch light, early insects flitted, newly hatched and drawn by the radiance.

“What if it’s better that it should stay unknown?” I asked.

“Why? What do you think might happen?”

A beacon revealed itself, cutting through the dark. A signal pulsing in the abyss.