Fractured Souls(7)

It’s so confusing, a tangled mess of wires that need to be unwound. I ask him a few more questions about what Alex has told him so we can compare stories. For the most part, everything adds up, nearly matching. Maybe a little too much, as if Alex’s story was rehearsed. I think about all the times he lied to me; how he pretended he didn’t know me when he did, how he knew my memories had been erased, yet only divulged the information when I asked him. He’s extremely good at keeping secrets, what's not to say he doesn’t have more locked away inside him?
“So do you believe him?” I ask. “When he says he has no clue where the Death Walkers and Stephan went or why they ran off?”
He stretches out his legs in front of him and crosses them at the ankles. “I have no idea what the hell to believe.” He leans in, his shoulder brushing against mine as he lowers his voice. “What I do know is that there’s a slim to none chance that the Death Walkers are just going to leave when they know you have the star’s energy in you. Plus, if Stephan’s in on it with Demetrius and the Death Walkers, which I’m sure he is, then he’s the kind of person that’ll do anything to get what he wants. So walking away from you is pretty much impossible if what he wants is the star.”
“From what I saw that’s what he wants,” I tell him. “I mean, he showed up with a herd of Death Walkers.”
“I wonder why, though. I wonder if it’s for the same reason as Demetrius… if he wants to open the portal… or he has other plans for you and the star.”
“Laylen did you… do you know that Stephan is Immortal?”
With a clenched jaw, Laylen nods. “Not until yesterday, though… when we got you here. Alex explained some things that apparently he’s been keeping from everyone—even Aislin. Like the fact that his asshole of a father pretty much can’t be killed.”
“How is that possible, though?” I eye over the black ink tattooing his skin, the Mark of Immortality. “I mean, I know you are because you’re a Vampire, but what does that make Stephan?”
Laylen scratches at the Greek-like marks on his arm. “He could be a lot of things. There are a lot of different breeds that get the mark… Alex says he doesn’t know why his father has it, though. Only that Stephan told him once that he couldn’t be killed by anything.” Laylen rolls his eyes as I cringe. “Alex didn’t even question him, and I’m not surprised. He always did what his father said… until in the cabin… supposedly.” He pauses. “But still, wouldn’t it seem normal to be suspicious? Especially when he told Alex that he can’t even be killed with the Sword of Immortality, which is supposed to be able to kill all Immortals.”
“I’m not sure if Alex fully understands the word suspicious,” I point out. “He doesn’t even understand why I’m suspicious over everything he does… but how can I not be after everything that’s happened?” I pause, taking an unsteady breath. “I’m not sure who I can trust.”
Laylen offers me a sympathetic look and then places a hand on my leg. His touch causes a very mystifying feeling inside me that coils all the way up to my thighs. “You can trust me.”
“I know that.” I actually mean it, too. Something about Laylen makes him seem like a very trustworthy person, which is what I need at the moment. “What else did Alex tell you?”
Amusement develops on his face. “He told me that you guys took a little trip to the City of Crystal where you discovered that you’re a Foreseer.”
I rub my hand tensely on the mark on the back of my neck—the inky black circle wrapping the ‘S’—the one that brands me a Foreseer. “Did he tell you about the vision I went into while I was down there?”
“He did,” Laylen hesitantly answers. “Do you want to talk about it? I know it has to be hard for you to deal with, seeing that happen to your mother.”
Images stab at my mind like shards of glass; Stephan forcing my mom to go into the lake, the entrance to The Underworld where she’s been tortured by Faeries. “Do you think there’s any way she can still be alive? My mom, I mean… while I was blacked out I had a dream or something and I saw her… she was begging me to help her.”
“Really?” he asks and I nod. He stares at me contemplatively. Part of me grows eager, the stupid side probably, thinking he might say yes, there is a possibility that my mother, who I haven’t seen since I was four years-old, and can barely remember—thanks to the detachment of my soul from my emotions and the erasing of my memories—might still be alive.