Page 76 of Hidden
He said before he couldn’t entirely control what he saw. And even though they knew about parts of my past, it was different than him seeing it.
“How does it work?” My voice was quiet.
Julian glanced at me, the fierceness in his expression fading. “How does what work?”
“The memories. The ‘pulling’ stuff you were talking about?” I asked.
“It’s called psychometry,” he said. “You’ll hear of individuals who see glimpses of thoughts, emotions, and memories by touching a person or object. But its purest form is stronger than that.”
“Remember what we did with Lily?” Julian asked. When I nodded, he continued, “It’s a similar ritual. The target—you, in this case—would be forced to relive your memories. The practitioner would be there, viewing—as we were with Lily. I try to guide a target toward certain memories, if they seem relevant. But it’s a lot of guesswork. The target can subconsciously change which memories are recalled. Usually that happens with unresolved trauma. They can be stuck on those events instead. Their mind won’t be able to move past it, and I can’t control it.”
As he finished his statement, he turned his attention toward Titus. “Andthat’s another reason why I refuse to do it on her now.”
“Of course not.” Titus’s brows were drawn together, and his mouth thin. “But you’ve never mentioned that before.”
“Because none of you needed to know,” Julian snapped in response. “It’s not something that’s come up often in my work.”
Damen’s expression was guarded. “When did it happen before?”
“That’s none of your business.” Julian crossed his arms over his chest. “Titus, I don’t ask you how many people you’ve eaten. Or about Damen’s deal with the devil. Then there’s Miles’s not-so-secret dallying in dark magic.”
Miles flushed, glancing at me. “I have no idea what he’s talking about.”
“The point is,” Julian cut Miles off, “we’ve always respected each other’s work. Mu made this request lifetimes ago. There are only two ways I would break that promise. First, if Bianca’s life is endangered and she cannot consent. Or second, if Bianca asks me to do it.”
“I’m not asking!” I interjected, holding the sheets against my chest. “Why can’t you tell me instead?”
“We don’t know the details,” Titus admitted.
“Kiania is one of my top three shikigami.” Damen stepped forward. “There’s also Enemi and Ming. Out of them all, you once considered her a friend. They resemble humans in their true forms, but they lack emotions. Inthisrealm, they usually appear as animals. Kiania has always chosen to be a tiger. But, when interacting with you, she’ll take on her human form.”
“Why?” I wasn’t certain how this was relevant. However, it was good to have my suspicions about their human appearance confirmed.
“She’s never told me why.” Damen shrugged. “Then, after you died in one of our lives, she’s refused her human form since.”
I blinked. “And why was that?”
Damen crossed his arms and widened his stance. “We’re not sure. We were hoping you could tell us. I thought talking about it might help trigger a memory.”
“No…” Outside of my dreams, I had no recollections of any previous lives. But perhaps, “How did I die?”
“We’re born in the order of our creation. Jin is first, followed by Huo.” Julian tilted his head toward them. “Metal includes the foundational elements in which life is rooted. The chemical necessary. And Fire is the energy that sparks transformation. Then, since life cannot exist without Water, I come after them in the cycle. Then Tu arrives as a grounding force for life to thrive. Then last, there’s you—Mu. You’re always the last born, and when we die naturally, you’re the first to leave the world as well.”
I titled my head. “I have to be born last?”
“You are always the youngest,” Titus confirmed.
Julian touched my chin. “But in answer to your question, you’ve always been with us throughout all your lives, but you have your secrets. We have no idea how you died. Although the conditions were suspicious. It happened around eight hundred years ago. Then, three hundred years ago, Huo contracted with Kiania again. For the entire duration, she completely abandoned her human form. And, for the most part, avoided you. When you were together, she would try to fight with you. From the little we overheard, she seemed to hate you.”
My concern grew, and I couldn’t help but wonder—despite how strange it felt to phrase. “Why didn’t you ask me what happened? Did I never remember?”
“We did ask,” Damen interjected, his voice curt. “And you remembered. But you refused to tell us.”
The disapproval in his expression put me on edge, and my heart raced. He was annoyed.
My past still affected me in ways I didn’t fully understand.
Who was Mu? The nurses who hated me, was it because of him? Even when I was a child, they knew. Comments that used to make no sense were now perfectly clear.
