Page 89 of I Am the Wild

"Oh, but my dear, there is so much yet to learn. How great is your capacity for forgiveness, I wonder? I suppose we'll find out in time."

Another tremor rocks the world around us, sending waves of movement through the land. Most of the partiers don't notice, too lost in the revelry and booze. But a few do, and this time they look around, alarmed.

A small smile creeps onto Dracula’s lips. "It has begun. Guard yourself, Miss Oliver. No one in the Otherworld is truly innocent."

I shrug. "The same can be said of anyone anywhere. I choose faith and love over doubt and fear. It's a happier way to live."

He nods, then lifts my hand to his lips, kissing it softly. "Then I bid thee farewell. May you hold onto that optimism as long as you can."

And with that he disappears into the shadows, and I wonder if we'll ever see him again. I think of Liam's baby daughter and hope we don't. She's safer that way.

I'm about to turn and head back to the party when something in the grass glints in the light of the Dragon's Breath. I bend down to pick it up and see it's a Memory Catcher.

Curious, I activate it.

I see a familiar room before me.

Cream walls.

White carpet.

I appear to be looking at things through a window.

Looking straight into Mary’s chambers.

There’s a scream, and the image tilts to the side, revealing Mary on the bed, dressed in a white gown, half-way through labor. Alone. Crying, calling out for help.

I know what happens next.

Jerry will come in soon. He will kill her and the baby, though a young girl will live. I am ready to stop the memory, unwilling to see the gruesome sight, when a person comes through the door.

A person who isn’t Jerry.

The man wears a long black cloak I have seen before. When he walks, his steps are achingly familiar.

And when I see his face, my entire body shakes.

This is impossible.

It can't be real.

And yet the memory unfolds.

He steps closer to the bed, silent, expression cold, and Mary pulls back, frightened, confused. Racked with pain.

As she delivers her own baby, the man grabs the child and—

I look away.

I can't have that image in my mind forever.

But I hear it.

What he does with the child. What he does to Mary.

And when I look back at the memory, she is dead. They both are.

A few moments later, Jerry arrives, a letter in hand he quickly shoves into his pocket. He runs to Mary’s side, screaming, trying to revive her though she is clearly dead. When he finally realizes his efforts are futile, he notices the blood all over his jacket, his hands. And then he runs.