So remember when I said that chapter 11 was the longest chapter so far? Well, now it's this chapter! I've been wanting to write this specific chapter ever since I started the fic, and I really hope you enjoy it.

Also, I want to say thank you to everyone who's left reviews here on . I get nervous responding to reviews with direct messages, but know that I appreciate everyone who's left a review. You guys are the best!

I had always expected a soul gaze to feel like a journey, one where I would see a person's life flash before my eyes like a movie. But as I fall into the soul of the old wizard, I realize what soul gazes actually are.

They're terrifying.

I'm standing in the middle of a burnt field. Wilted crops are spread out all around me, dying amid red-colored dirt. The sky is a muted grey, with dark clouds covering most of the landscape. Lightning strikes the ground in a random pattern, sometimes coming in quick bursts, other times taking its time to smite the earth in a single heavy blast. Everything around me, from the ground to the heavens, feels like a battleground that has left behind a dreadful sense of death.

But the worst of it all is the smell.

The scent of blood is everywhere. It hangs over the entire landscape, in the air, in the red dirt, and when I press my hand over my nose, I nearly vomit when I smell that same scent on my hand. It fills up every sense I have, and my head starts to spin.

Something crashes right behind me.

"Ah!" I yell out as the impact blows me off my feet. I barely catch myself in a roll, trampling the dead crops beneath me. Once I regain my balance, my eyes narrow in on a charred circle that formed a couple paces right behind me. The place where a bolt of lightning had just struck the earth.

I push myself up, and at last, I see the wizard.

He's standing stock still, as if he's frozen in time. He's almost exactly like I'd seen him at the motel, with a scraggly beard, faded overalls, and eyes that are as tired as they are furious. But in his hands, he holds a long staff, and it's not the one I saw at the motel. The one he had was brown, and this one is completely black as if it was carved out of a burnt tree.

I walk towards him, even as lightning strikes the ground around me. I know I should be afraid, but something in my gut tells me it's alright to approach him, and no matter how close the lightning gets to me, it never strikes me down. Beams of light launch out of the black staff in pulsing waves, reaching the sky in brilliant explosions that twist into piercing lightning strikes that then smite the earth. It's terrifying, and my bones rattle with every shock, but I keep going.

Here's the thing. The closer I get to the wizard, the more I can see how hard he's shaking.

That hand that's gripping the staff, it's holding on with a white-knuckled grip. This man, who honestly, is really only as tall as a teenager who hasn't hit his growth spurt, is shaking from head to toe. A curled fist that stays at his side shakes with barely contained rage.

I finally stand face-to-face with the frozen wizard. He's looking up at the sky as if it pains him to look anywhere else, and fresh tears fall down his cheeks. The tears fall down old tear tracks, sinking into his scraggly beard. There's no reason for me to do this, but something inside me makes me reach out my hand, and I set it down on his shoulder. It's thick and strong, like Malcolm's, but I feel it trembling hard beneath my palm.

A jolt of electricity booms behind me. I take my hand away from the wizard, and I have to blink at what I'm seeing.

Everything has shifted. Above us is a bright blue sky, with only a couple clouds dotting the horizon. The previously dead field of crops has been replaced by a tall field of grass, and the overwhelming scent of blood is all but gone. This is still the same field, I can tell, but it's so peaceful now. I've never been here, but somehow… It feels like home.

I turn back to the wizard. He's in the exact same position as before, still shaking and with tears in his eyes, and out of everything in the field, he's the only thing that still smells of blood. But there's something behind him now. I step around him and see a half-circle made up of tall gravestones. Each one is nearly as tall as I am, but almost all of them look old. Most of them are made out of weathered rock, and moss clings to the fronts where names are meant to be.

"You're protecting this," I say to Ebenezar. He doesn't stir, and I don't think he can hear me, but I still say it. "Something happened, and you're protecting what you have left. Even if they're dead."

The desolate field, the ruined crops, he didn't mean for them to die. He didn't mean for the peace to go away. It's just what happened. It's what happened when he was trying to protect these people, or at least when he was trying to protect their memory.

"You're alone," I say. "All the people you love, they're gone."

I turn back to the grave, and I see one that doesn't look old. It's carved out of newer stone, and unlike the others, moss hasn't covered up the name on it.

Margaret Gwendolyn LeFay, it reads. The brightest star in the land, faded, but not forgotten.

"It's a bit sentimental, don't you think?"

I raise my head at the sound of the woman's voice. And just beyond the half-circle of graves, I see her.

"Mom?" I rasp.

My mom walks out of a tall mirror that I know wasn't there before. Her strides are long and purposeful, and aside from the fact that she's not pregnant anymore, she looks exactly like how I remember her. Her face is long and striking, with piercing eyes that still have kindness in them. She's wearing the long sundress Malcolm gave her after they got married, and she's even walking with the simple sandals she'd always wear, even in fall. Her hair is long and loose, and her arms sway by her side gracefully, but with movement so precise that it would draw anyone's attention. My mom wasn't beautiful by traditional standards, but she was stunning.

And now I'm seeing her again. And it is her. It's my mom.

"Hello, Thomas," she says, coming to a stop just a few steps behind the grave that bears her name. "It's good to see you again."

"Is this real? Are—" My voice cracks. "Are you real?"

Mom smiles. "As real as I can be."

"How?" I ask. I'm rooted to the spot, and I can't bear to look away from her. I'm scared that she'll disappear when I do.

"Magic, my son." Her eyes crinkle as she smiles. "And the help of a friend."

I'm breathing hard, and my chest starts to shake. "Who the hell is this guy?" I ask, pointing behind me, but still not looking away from my mom's face. "You trust this crusty old man? Of all the numbers you could've given me, you had me bring over a wizard who looks like he'll turn me into fertilizer for his hillbilly farm."

"Unfortunately, his crops aren't fans of crushed teenagers." Mom's eyes start flickering from side to side like they always did when she was debating something in her head. "He… was my teacher."

I don't buy it. "There's more."

Mom looks at me sternly. "You're not ready," she says.

Those words, "You're not ready." They… They snap something inside of me.

"I'm not ready?" I say, and I can't help the anger that worms its way out. "Are you serious?"

"Thomas."

"How am I not ready? I know, Mom. I know. I know who I am, I know about vampires, I know—"

"Thomas, that's—"

"I've spent most of my life not knowing anything!" I say. I want to stop, I know I should stop, but the words keep coming out. "Mom, you didn't tell me who I am. I know it was to protect me, but I'm not a kid anymore! I need to know these things! I—"

"Thomas!" She yells. It's loud, and it makes me stop immediately, as if I'm a little kid again. I don't know if it's some innate thing, that you listen to your mom when she talks to you like that, but it works. She doesn't yell anymore though, and her eyes soften again. "That is enough."

I feel horrible. My dead mom's right in front of me, and I just yelled at her. What kind of son does that?

"I'm sorry," I say. "I'm sorry."

"It is alright, my child," Mom says, and all I want to do is run to her. But she's an illusion, she has to be. This is magic, but I know there's no magic strong enough to bring her back completely, so I stay still. "My relationship to the wizard is… complicated. If I tell you everything, I fear what will happen. There are some things that need time to take place, and I know that this is one of them. I know that, for your safety, and that of your sibling, this…" Mom chuckles. "This crusty old man must be the one to reveal everything."

I say nothing. I just look at my mom, tracing over every feature of hers as if this is the first time I've ever seen her.

"My child, do you trust me?" She asks.

Malcolm had asked me the same thing all those nights ago. Do I trust her? I told him the truth, and now I tell her, "Yes."

"Then trust me in this." Mom raises her arms toward me. "Come here."

I do. I walk around the graves until I'm right next to her. Her hand comes up towards my face, and I brace myself for the moment it passes through me. Like a ghost I can't touch—

Her hand lands on my face. It's warm.

A choking sound sputters from my lips. I can feel her. I can feel her fingers run through my head, just like she'd always do when I was young and couldn't sleep. I—She's here.

"I always knew you'd grow up to be handsome," she said, combing through my hair with both hands. "You've grown to be caring. You've grown to be strong."

Mom brushes her hand over my cheek, and that's when I realize that I'm crying. I choke out a sob. "Mom. I—I—"

I throw myself into her arms, and she holds me tight. I hug her even tighter, burying myself into the scent of her perfume, the one Malcolm used to buy for her. Her hold is strong yet kind, and I don't care if I look like a child. I never thought I'd see my mom again, and now that she's finally here, I want to hug her and never let her go. There are a lot of good things that have happened to me since she died, but there's nothing that can replace this. There's nothing that makes me feel as safe as having my mom right here.

"I've missed you so much," I say through my tears. There are so many of them I don't even try to brush them away.

"And I, you," Mom says. She presses a kiss to the top of my head.

It's hard getting the next words out, but I feel like I have to. "Something happened. With Malcolm. I don't—I'm—"

"Shhh. It is alright, my child." Her arms tighten around me as my sobs grow louder. "We would not be here unless something had happened, nor if you had not called the wizard. He will help you now. I am sure of it."

I nod into her dress.

"And remember this, my dearest Thomas. Even if… you become one of them, that does not change who you are deep inside. No matter what happens, you will be alright." She kisses my head again. "You've taken good care of your sibling, haven't you?"

Another sob comes out. "I've tried," I say.

"That is all that matters."

I hiccup as a smile crosses my face. "I wish Harry could see you right now." A thought strikes me, and I pull myself back just enough to look at my mom's face. "You don't know his name. Harry, that's my brother's name. We named him Harry."

"Harry," she repeats, testing the name on her tongue. She says it once more and smiles. "It's a good name."

"He's a crazy kid," I say. "It's impossible to get him to do what you tell him to, he makes more wise-cracks than I do, and he's just six." Just thinking about the moment right before the soul gaze makes me laugh. "I really wish he could see you right now."

"He will," she says, "one day." Mom's eyes are shining. I'm only just now realizing this, but I can look straight into her eyes. Maybe it's because she's dead, maybe it's because I'm already in a soul gaze, but I don't care. For once in my life, I get to look into Mom's eyes. I'd forgotten how much she looks like Harry.

"I love you, Thomas," she says, enveloping me in her arms once more.

"I love you, too." I hug her with all the strength left in my body. "I love you, Mom. I love you."

"And I you. So much." She cradles me close and sighs into my hair. "Give Harry my love."

"I will," I say. "I promise."

And as fast as it began, the soul gaze ends in an instant. I'm no longer holding my mom.

I'm gripping the face of the crusty old man. Again.

It's brief, but for a second, we look at each other breathlessly. I can still look into his eyes, and… just like me, he's crying.

I barely have time to process that before the red light from his staff turns blue, yeah, the staff that is pressed against my chest, and I'm launched into the air.

I fly at blazing speed to the other side of the room, and I feel how I tumble backward through a half-destroyed motel room wall. My body skids against the adjoining motel room's carpet, and by the time I finally stop sliding, there is one thought on my mind.

That. Fucking. Hurt.

"Thomas!" Harry yells from far away. I force myself up into a sitting position, even though half of my body is aching from the impact. Harry runs straight towards me, leaving the wizard standing in the motel room all by himself.

"You, it can't be," Ebenezar says. He's still holding his staff, but the light has vanished from it completely.

Harry kneels down next to me. "I'm ok, Harry," I say, doing my best not to wince from the pain in my back. I can still feel everything, so nothing's broken. I think. It hurt but—

Mom. I saw Mom. I replay the memory in my head, and everything comes to me in perfect detail. I remember everything. The scent of blood, how much the old man shook beneath my hand, and how my mom held me. I remember every word. I remember every second. I remember.

I remember her.

My breaths are shaky, but it's not from fear. I'm crying and smiling at the same time, and I don't care because I saw her. I saw my mom.

"Thomas?" Harry says, tightening his grip on the Marine knife.

"I'm ok, Harry." I look him over, and my smile widens. "I'm ok." Harry relaxes, just a bit, and I shake my head. "Can you put the knife down already?"

"You!" Ebenezar yells. "You're—You're—"

"I'm what?" I say in return. I push myself up with my good arm, but I'm so sore that Harry bends down to help me. He wraps his arms around my waist and drags me up, and thank God he's finally put down that knife. "A teenager you launched into a wall? Didn't know I was that much of a threat to the big bad wizard."

"Show me," the wizard rasps. He grips his staff with both hands, but even though he's a bit far from me, it looks more like he's leaning on it.

"Show you what?" I ask.

"She—she gave you one. She gave you…" Ebenezar's voice trails off.

Harry and I look at each other. He's still holding onto my waist, and he balances me just enough to keep myself upright. With my good hand, because the other one is starting to flare up in pain again, I reach under the collar of my shirt and pull out the pentacle necklace mom gave me.

Ebenezar looks at the necklace. He looks at it, at me, at Harry, then at the staff between his hands. It's wooden tip begins to glow again.

"Graaaaaaaaah!" The wizard lets out a deep and ugly cry, one so hollow and pained that it sounds as if he were dying.

Ebenezar points the staff, not at us, but at the motel room's destroyed entrance. A burst of white light shoots out of the staff, followed by a discharge of unbridled electric energy.

The bolt of near-lightning explodes outside the motel, and the wizard lets out a guttural scream.

I'm sitting with Harry amid the crumbling remains of our old motel room. We're on the rock hard couch, which, unsurprisingly, has survived Ebenezar's assault on the property and its surroundings. As for said wizard, the old man is currently standing in the middle of the near-empty parking lot. Light blazes out of his staff, into the air, into the ground, and into neighboring motel rooms. None of them hit us, and honestly, I think it's a bad idea to tell him to stop.

"The wizard's scary," Harry says after a burst of lightning strikes an empty parking spot. Ebenezar watches the bolt hit the pavement, and he lets out a loud shriek of pain.

"Yep," I reply, holding my injured arm close to my chest as a burst of dust rises up from the shattered pavement. Out of amusement, I turned the couch around so we could look at the old man scream and let out steam. It's not because I'm still scared shitless by him and want to keep an eye on him. No way.

Ebenezar presses his staff straight into the ground beneath him, and a dozen cracks divide the road around him. "Is he having a temper tantrum?" Harry asks. He's still wrapped up in Malcolm's flannel, almost like a little Harry burrito.

"Yep to that, too."

A dark grey glow emanates from the tip of the staff. With another shout of agony, the old man somehow plunges the staff further into the ground. The cracks in the floor grow wider. They extend until they've nearly reached the motel, and the earth shakes underneath my feet.

We watch as Ebenezar falls to his knees amid broken pavement. "Is that what I look like?" Harry says.

"When you're having a tantrum?" I consider that for a moment. "Pretty similar. But with less earthquakes."

"Is he powerful?" Harry asks.

"What do you think?" As I say that, the wizard shoots another jolt of unchanneled electric energy straight into the sky. The cloud above him rumbles with unreleased lightning, and I feel how my hair frizzes up from the electric discharge. "He's probably the strongest person Mom knew. He was even Mom's teacher. I'd be surprised if he wasn't powerful."

Harry's hair fares no better in terms of frizz. It's way shorter than mine, but with exactly how short it is, it almost looks like Harry has a full-on mohawk. "He's Mom's…. Teacher?" He asks.

Shit, I think. "Uh, yeah." Please don't ask how I know that. Please, please don't ask. I don't think I can repeat what happened without breaking down.

"That's so cool!" Harry bounces off the couch and runs toward the empty doorway. "Mr Wizard! Mr Wizard!" He yells at the man who is now shooting Harry-sized fireballs into the goddamn sky.

"Harry!" I rush toward him and pull him back with my good arm, wincing as the movement makes the pain in my back even worse. "You are not going out there."

"Thomas, stop being a dummy!" Harry yells as the wizard plunges his staff back into the pavement, causing another earthquake that nearly makes my little brother lose his balance. "If he knew Mom then he can help Dad!"

"I don't think you calling him 'Mr Wizard' is gonna help," I say.

Harry pouts his lips. He thinks on something for a moment, and before I can grab him again, he's already running back towards Ebenezar and shouting, "Sir Wizard! Sir Wizard! Over here!"

I wish I could say I'm surprised, but this is my brother. I'd be worried if he wasn't being this stubborn.

I sigh and follow him again. I grip the collar of his pajamas and drag my brother away from the angry wizard and back onto the couch. We watch as the wizard kneels in the middle of a half-destroyed parking lot. He's breathing so heavily I can hear him panting from here, and he's pressed his forehead to his long staff. His desire for destruction seems to have faded away, but I still don't trust him to not throw me through a wall again.

I'm not sure how long he stays there, kneeling amid his own destruction, but eventually, the old man pushes himself up. He doesn't look at us, just walks over to the tiny corner of the parking that remains untouched. Unsurprisingly, it's the corner where Ebenezar had parked his pickup truck next to Malcolm's station wagon. He reaches for something inside his vehicle, and when he shuts the pickup's door, he does it with a loud slam.

Yeah… This dude has serious anger issues.

Ebenezar walks back to our ruined motel room, and I stand up to meet him. I put myself between him and Harry, and even though I know it's probably for nothing, I pull out the Marine knife I took from Harry.

The wizard looks at me. From how his eye gaze moves between mine and something behind me, I'm pretty sure that Harry is peering out from behind my back. Despite the upturned parking lot, Ebenezar looks completely unharmed. Sure, there's flecks of pavement in his beard, his hands are shaking, and it looks like he's using his staff as a walking stick, but there are no bruises or blood for me to see. He looks alright, until you get to his face.

Dried tear tracks fall in line with the wrinkles on his face. His eyes are red and bloodshot, but they're dry. Any tears he had in him, he shed them alongside the lightning and earthquakes. He looks even older now, and that look in his eyes is the same one he had in the soul gaze. It's the look of an old man who knows he's had everything he knew in this world taken out from under him.

"I swear," he says in a scratchy voice, "on my power that I will not hurt Thomas, so long as he does nothing to harm me." He looks at Harry when he says it, and as rough as his voice sounds, I think he's doing his best to speak gently.

"Ok," Harry says.

Finally, the wizard looks back at me. He pulls something out of the pocket of his overalls and throws it to me. I catch it on instinct, and I grip a scratchy loop of something.

"From a friend," Ebenezar says. The warmth from his tone is gone, but he doesn't sound angry anymore. If anything, he just sounds like he's tired. "Put it on, and don't take it off until you're fully healed."

The old man steps through the motel room's rubble. He walks into the tattered bedroom, and I sag in relief. I hadn't even realized how much I'd been tensing my body. I also hadn't thought about how much that would make me ache. My bad wrist pulses in pain, and my back burns in the spots where my body crashed against a goddamn building.

I look down at the thing in my hand. It's a bracelet of some kind. It's made out of what looks like twine, tiny branches, and half a dozen other materials I don't recognize.

He swore on his power, I think. Mom, you better be right about this being a serious promise, because if this turns me into a pig, I'm blaming you.

I slip the bracelet onto my bad wrist, and I immediately feel a sense of relief. It's like ten different painkillers wash through my system, but I don't feel lightheaded. If anything, it just makes my body feel numb. I open and close my right hand into a fist, and everything moves on command.

I look back at Ebenezar. I don't put away the Marine knife, but my grip on it slackens. He comes out of the bedroom a minute later having barely touched anything.

"What's that?" Harry asks, jumping off the couch to point at the old man. "That thing you put in your pocket!"

I blink. I didn't see him do anything like that.

Damn, maybe I really do need glasses.

"It's part of my equipment," Ebenezar says before letting out a deep sigh. "I think I have an idea of what I'm dealing with."

Harry's hand reaches up to grip my shirt. "Does that mean you can find Dad?"

"I think so." The wizard's spine straightens up, and some of his commanding voice comes back. "But I need something first."

"What?" I ask.

The old man's eyes drill into mine. I wait for a reply, but the guy just stares at me.

"Look, you don't have to like me," I say. "Hell, you don't even have to speak to me after tonight. But this is for Malcolm. Mom loved him, and she would've wanted you to help."

"I know that!" As he yells, Ebenezar's staff glows bright red.

Harry whimpers and I pull him behind me. A wave of power washes over the room, and it hits me straight in the chest with the force of a roundhouse kick. I don't fall, but it nearly takes my feet out from under me.

The wave dissipates as fast as it appeared. Ebenezar stands still as his staff loses power, and lets out a shaky breath. "I know, boy," he says, and the tone is softer.

Harry stays behind me, but he still peeks his head out to look at the wizard.

"What…" Ebenezar readjusts his grip on his staff. "What do you boys know about tracking spells?"

"You… track someone with them?" Harry says in a hesitant voice.

"At least you can note the obvious." Ebenezar huffs, but his tone softens even further. "To perform one, I need a biological sample from the target. It seems like this… Malcolm Dresden, wasn't physically hurt. At least not in a way that would leave tracks."

Harry starts to step around me. "So Dad's ok?"

"Unless they've crushed his—" He stops himself before finishing the sentence. "There's a chance he's alive."

I feel the unsaid implication hang in the air. The guilt in my stomach climbs up my throat, and I swallow hard to force it down. "But you need a sample," I say. "Where are you going to get it?"

Ebenezar doesn't say a word. All he does… is look at Harry.

I shake my head. "No."

"He's Dresden's biological child, unlike you."

I raise the knife in my hand. The old man hasn't moved yet, but I don't care. "You're not getting near my brother."

"I just need a bit of blood, that's all."

"No!"

"Thomas?" Harry says.

I look down at my brother. He's no longer hiding behind me, and he's wrapped his arms around himself. From cold or fear, I'm not sure. "Harry." I get down to his level and grip his arm with my free hand. "You don't have to give him anything. You hear me?"

Harry bites his lip. "But it's to help Dad, right?"

Out of all the times to play hero, he chooses now. "Harry."

"I wanna help!" Harry yells. His lip trembles and he looks away from me. "And—And it's only a little blood, right?"

"That's right," Ebenezar says. Like me, he's crouched down to Harry's level. "And I'll make it as quick as possible."

"Thomas, pleeeease." My brother looks up at me, and I see a single tear fall down his cheek. "I want Dad back."

I… I don't know what to do. I want Malcolm back, too, but if it means Harry getting hurt…

"He's…" Ebenezar clears his throat. I turn to look at the old man, and he looks straight into my eyes. "He's Maggie's son. I promised her that… That I would look after her children." As he speaks, something flashes in his eyes and… I realize what he's saying.

He saw Mom. Just like how I saw her in his soul, he must've seen her in mine.

Mom… You really were one hell of a witch, weren't you?

"He's not going out of my sight," I say, never breaking eye contact with the man.

Ebenezar nods. "…Grab your things. We need to leave before the police decide to come."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Because I wonder just who could've called their attention.

I wrap the bandage around Harry's finger as he cries into my shoulder. We're sitting in the backseat of the station wagon we brought to the parking lot of a random nature trail. The sky's brighter now, and I know dawn can't be far off, but it's winter and this is a nature trail. No one's coming here.

That's a pretty good thing, too. The wizard may have a truck, but it's definitely not strong enough to pull the station wagon. That meant that I had to follow the old man myself, and yeah, Malcolm hasn't taught the fourteen-year-old how to drive yet. Shocker. It took a while, and the parking job looks like it was done by Harry with a toy car, but it got the job done.

I tape the bandage closed as Ebenezar put away the small vial filled with Harry's blood. He looks sorry, at least towards Harry, but I don't let him get any closer than he already is.

"If you get any crazy ideas about coming after me… " He warns. He stares at me through the open door, and I shift Harry on my lap. He's still crying, and even he doesn't want to get close to Ebenezar anymore.

"What do I look like, an idiot pretty boy?" I ask.

"Quiet." The wizard rasps. "You are not part of the White Court yet, but that does not mean you are allowed to live in ignorance of what they are. You have no idea what the worst of it truly is.

"Have you ever seen a vampire suck the life out of a person? Seen them twist everything they touch for their own gain? They're monsters, each and every one of them. They don't care for anyone but their own, and even that line gets blurred from time to time. You're not there yet, boy, and that makes you luckier than all the rest."

I don't know how long he's been holding that in, but I'm guessing it's a pretty strong sentiment of his.

I breathe in deeply, and remind myself that I'm actually still alive.

Ebenezar picks up the staff he had left leaning against the station wagon. Without giving us a second look, he starts walking back to his truck. His feet drag on the snow-covered road.

Harry bounces off my lap and onto the road, despite the fact that he's not wearing any shoes. "What happens if you don't come back?" He calls to the wizard.

Ebenezar stops in his tracks. "If I don't come back," he says. "Run."

And with that, he hauls himself up into his truck. I grip Harry by the shoulders to make sure he doesn't go running after the vehicle. The wizard starts the old pickup with a roaring engine, turns down the road, and heads off.

Harry's shoulders shake beneath my hands. "Thomas."

"We're not running." I've chosen the wrong battles to run away from before. I've chosen even worse ones to fight. That ends tonight. "The old man's powerful, couldn't you feel it? He's coming back."

He turns to look up at me. "How do you know?"

"I just do."

"But how?"

"Harry." I clear my voice. "Do you trust me?"

My brother nods.

"Then trust me." I try to give him a smile. "He'll come back. Let's get you back in the car before you catch something."

I shuffle Harry into the back of the car and slide myself into the driver's seat. I probably won't have to make a getaway, but I can at least be prepared if the worst happens. Yeah that's it.

I pull out the Marine knife and turn it in my hands. The pain in my right wrist has all but vanished, and damn does it feel good. "Where the hell did you even get this?" I ask Harry before reaching over to put the knife in the glovebox.

"It's Daddy's," Harry says in a small voice. "A lady in white found it under the bed."

I shut the glovebox with more force than necessary. I turn around in my seat to look at Harry. "A lady in white?"

My brother nods. "She woke me up when you were talking to the wizard."

No way, I think. Lara, you couldn't interfere directly, so you had Harry do it for you. If you were here, I don't know if I'd hug you or curse you.

I let out a breathless laugh. "I told you about wizards swearing on their power, but that was ages ago. Did… Did the lady remind you of that?"

"Mhm!" Harry settles down in the seat and looks away. "And… Everything's gonna be ok now. Right, Thomas?" My brother bites his lip. I'm looking at a kid who just went through a real-life nightmare, not knowing what's happening, not knowing where his dad is, and to top it all off, he had to hear his brother beg to be killed.

More guilt rolls around in my stomach. I had one job. Take care of Harry. That was the only thing I had to do, and I've screwed it all up. "I really scared you today, didn't I?" I ask. Harry nods, and I sigh. "I'll explain everything when Malcolm's back. Until then, you need some rest."

I reach over to push him down onto the seats, but Harry dodges away from it. "You're not a monster," he says.

I lower my hand. "No. Not yet."

And that's when my kid brother punches me in the shoulder. He punches, and I don't know how, but he actually made it hurt.

"Hey!" I yell, but before I can say anything else, Harry starts banging his fists on my arm.

"You're not a monster!" Harry screams. He closes his eyes, but that just makes his fists fly faster. "You're not! You're not!"

I try grabbing his hands, he pushes mine away..

"Monsters tried to get me! In my dreams!" Harry yells, tight and desperate. "They're mean. They keep chasing you, they find you, and then they—they—"

Harry freezes. His fists stay leaning against my shoulder, and I wait for him to speak.

"You don't do that." Harry sniffles. "You don't do that, so you don't have to die. You're not a monster."

I hold my breath. Harry's crying, and it's all because he thinks I'm not a monster. I'm not yet, not in the way he said it, but…

Ever since Mom took me away from the Raiths, I've always been terrified of becoming my father. I've been terrified to look in the mirror to wake up with silver eyes. I'm scared, scared of myself and who I might become, but Harry isn't. This kid… He's six years old and he's already braver than me.

Monsters. Creatures who hunt in the dark, lurking just beneath the surface. I could become one, I know it, but I don't think that's what Harry's talking about. He isn't talking about the way someone is. He's talking about the way they act.

I know there are monsters in the world. My father is one, Ferrin is another. They use their powers to do terrible things. To make people scared as a way to get exactly what they want, and sometimes what they want is too horrible to put into words. But then there are people like my sister. She was willing to leave Harry behind, all alone with no one to look after him. She was willing to leave Malcolm's fate in the hands of a vengeful cousin and his ogre. But Lara also let me call Ebenezer, and she sent Harry to help me not get killed. My sister isn't the best person, never has been, but she isn't someone I think of as a monster. Maybe she thinks of herself that way, but I don't.

"Say it!" Harry starts screaming again. "Say it!"

I let Harry pound his fists against me, and I smile.

I don't trust myself to believe I'm not a monster, but I trust my brother. And if he says I'm not one… I know how illogical it is, and I know it's probably really stupid, but I think that's something I can hold on to.

"I'm not a monster," I whisper. "I'm not a monster."

Harry stops and looks up at me in surprise. A few tears have fallen down his cheeks, but he isn't hitting me anymore, so I'm counting that as a win. "Come here," I say.

Harry climbs into the front seat and sits on my legs. I wrap my arms around him, and he leans into me. "Everything's gonna be ok," I say.

Harry makes a small noise and nods. It reminds me of how I was with Mom in the soul gaze. And speaking of which, there's something I have to say.

"You know that Mom loves you, right, Harry?" I shake him a little. "That's the last thing she ever said to me. She told me to tell you she loves you."

Harry cranes his head to look up at me. "She did?" He asks.

"Yeah." I take a deep breath. "Here, there's something I need to give you."

I carefully shift myself in order to reach my backpack on the passenger side seat. Taking care to not dent the manila folder that's still inside it, I fish around until I pull out the wooden puzzle box. Harry looks on in wonder as I work out the puzzle's combination, watching as I easily open up the thing that's been puzzling him for years. I click open the box and let Mom's pentacle fall into my palm.

"This was mom's." I hold up the necklace for Harry to see. "She told me to give this to you. I tried to, the day you were born, but you were too little for it."

"But I'm not little anymore!" Harry says, puffing out his chest. "I'm six!"

"Yeah, you are." I grin at my brother. "Which means this is yours."

Harry's eyes are wide as I clasp the necklace around his neck. It sits neatly on his chest, and it no longer looks too big for him. If anything, it looks like it was made just for him. I hug Harry again as he twists the silver pentacle in his fingers. He traces the silver star, going up and down the lines in awe. He keeps doing it until new tears form in his eyes.

"I miss her," he says.

"Yeah," I reply. "I miss her, too."

"Don't go," Harry says. He curls into himself and presses his face to my chest. "I don't want you to go like Mom."

"I—" The words I said to Lara flash in my mind, and I have to push past the lump in my throat. "I can't promise that, Harry."

"Why not?"

"Because life gets complicated." I take in a shaky breath. "Listen to me, even if I have to go, no matter what happens, things will be ok."

That sounds just as unhelpful as I'd imagined it would, because all it does is make Harry cry out, "How?"

That's… A really fucking good question. I sit there, wondering what the hell I'm supposed to say, and I wonder what Lara would do. What would she tell a kid who doesn't know what will happen that things will be alright?

The moment I say that, a very specific memory comes to mind. I'm in the Raith mansion in Chicago, and I'm five years-old. Mom got called away by my father, so Lara was put in charge of getting me to sleep. I'd fidgeted and asked her to reread the story she'd already finished, but she didn't do that. Instead, she sat at my bedside and repeated the words my father had forced me to memorize. I didn't know why she was doing that at the time, but years later, I realized that that was the last time I had spoken with Lara in the mansion. The next I saw her, she was being enthralled by my father, and then I wouldn't see her for many years. Not until my mom had died and she had hired Ferrin to train me.

She was saying goodbye to me that night. In some way, she wanted to tell me that everything would be alright, and she did it in the only way she knew how.

"There's something I learned when I was your age," I say. "Even if you have everything in the world, in the end, it means nothing." I haven't said these words in years, but I don't struggle to remember them.

"Love is patient. Love is kind. Love always forgives, supports, and lives on. When every star in Heaven grows cold, and when silence falls once more, three things will endure: faith, hope, and love. And the greatest of these… is love." It's not an exact quote, but it's the best I can do. "Do you know what that means, Harry?"

Harry looks up at me. He has no clue what I'm saying, of course. I didn't know what Lara meant by it either when I was his age. So I explain it in the clearest way I can.

"It means that, no matter what happens, to you or to me or to anyone, you're always going to be my brother." My voice hitches. "Even if I have to go away."

"Like… '' Harry pauses for a moment. "Like how Mom is always gonna be Mom? Even if she's gone?"

"Yeah." I nod my head. "Just like that."

Harry suddenly sits up and throws his arms around my neck. "The wizard's coming back, right?" Harry asks.

I wrap my own arms around him. "He better."

Harry's tears sink into my shoulder. "… With Dad?"

God, I hope so.

Quick note: The speech about love was taken from Thomas' monologue in Blood Rites, though edited somewhat to better fit the scene.