chapter forty-eight

One of the wendigos jumped in front of Harrison to shield him, but Lena only laughed and hefted the spear over one shoulder. "You think I can't put this thing through both of you?"

The millipede raced onto my face. It was heavier than I had expected, and its legs stung like thorns. I heard a whirring sound, and pain pierced the center of my forehead.

Harrison raised his book. "Even if that were true, killing me would guarantee Isaac's death, and we both know you can't do that."

Blood dripped down the side of my head. I turned my head to keep the blood from running into my ear, which brought Guan Feng into the center of my vision. She was staring at Lena, and her eyes had filled with tears. She didn't seem to be afraid. Not of Lena, at any rate. If anything, she looked like she was afraid to trust what she was seeing, like she wanted to touch Lena to confirm that she was real. She noticed me watching, and her expression turned to stone.

Lena stabbed her spear into the earth. The millipede pulled back, obeying Harrison's unspoken command. My jaw unclenched, and I forced myself to breathe normally.

"Search her," Harrison barked at Guan Feng. "Strip her of any magic, and

don't let her have any wood. Not even a toothpick."

Lena smiled and spread her arms, never taking her eyes from August Harrison. Her unwavering attention even made me nervous. "If you hurt Isaac, I will shove an acorn down your throat and force it to take root in your gut. Care to guess how tall it will grow before you finally die?"

Harrison stepped forward and backhanded her. I pushed myself up, but the wendigo gave me an almost absentminded kick in the head.

Lena never even blinked. "Is your hand okay?"

Harrison grimaced and rubbed his knuckles. "It doesn't matter. As long as I have him, you're mine. And once you've spent enough time in my company, you'll kill him yourself."

Lena's gaze dropped to me, and for the first time, her confidence cracked.

As strong as she was, we both knew Harrison was right.

I understand humans are unable to remember their first years of life. Their bodies and minds develop so much, and so quickly during that time. Perhaps that's why I remember so little of those early sessions with Nidhi Shah. I've read her case notes, but much of the person she describes is a stranger.

Only two thoughts etched themselves into my memory during that first meeting. The first was Nidhi's smile, beautiful and warm and reassuring. The second was my realization toward the end of the day that I was completely in love with her.

I learned so much from her. Nidhi said one way Frank controlled me was to make sure I never acquired the skills to be independent. Because it made her happy, I threw myself into study.

I mastered reading in three weeks. We began with children's stories, like Doctor Seuss and the Berenstain Bears. (I learned later that she had deliberately avoided giving me a copy of The Giving Tree.) Once I could make it through those, she brought me a handful of comic books.

I devoured them. Tank Girl and Wonder Woman, She-Hulk and Batman, Catwoman and Katana. I wanted to meet them. I wanted to be them. I shaped my first wooden sword from my oak tree, mimicking the exaggerated, thick-bladed weapon from Katana's appearance in an early Outsiders comic.

I was catching up on Black Widow one evening when I felt Nidhi watching me. I continued reading, enjoying her attention. I knew she was attracted to me. I could feel her fighting it every time we spoke, every time I hugged her or sat beside her on the couch. She had brought me into her home because I had no place to go. Now I couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

"You've changed your hair," she said.

I pulled my fingers through the black locks. I had done nothing. I hadn't even noticed the darkening color until a week ago. My skin had turned a deeper

brown as well, far more than it ever had before, even when I was working day in and day out beneath the sun. "Do you like it?"

She didn't answer, but instead walked over to see what I was reading. "I loved that issue."

"Me, too."

I could have seduced her as I had done with Frank Dearing, could have taken her desire and grown it like a new-budded flower. But I refrained. Whatever happened, it was important that it be her choice. I wanted her to love me on her own terms.

She sat down, not on the couch beside me, but in the rocking chair at the end of the coffee table. "You've grown so much since you lost Frank. The Porters are asking for my evaluation. I believe you're ready to live on your own."

I jumped to my feet, heart pounding. "I'm not. I can't—"

"You don't need a counselor anymore," Nidhi said. "You've adjusted to everything so easily. You're far stronger than any of us imagined."

It was the way she lowered her eyelids that did it, shielding her eyes while staring at me through her lashes. A month ago she had been a stranger, and now I could read her simply by watching those long, expressive lashes. "You're right," I said. "I don't need a counselor anymore."

I saw her swallow, saw the skin of her neck and face darken slightly. "Lena, it's normal for a patient to develop feelings for her therapist…"

"What about the therapist's feelings for her patient?" "I care about you. I hope you haven't misunderstood—"

"I haven't misunderstood anything." I smiled, trying to show her that it was okay. "I know what you want. I can feel it."

To her credit, she didn't try to lie. Her forehead crinkled. "You can sense emotions?"

"Only that emotion." I laughed, delighted to see her blush deepen. "I didn't say anything because I thought it would make you uncomfortable."