The Survivors: Body & Blood (book 3)

The Longest Night

Everett opened his mouth as if to speak but then, pensively, closed it again. And that's when I knew I was telling the truth. I just wondered how long it took me to notice, or, rather, how long everyone else had known this.

"Everett, what have I done? Why did I want to run so badly? Why did I start all of this? Lizzie is dead. Raven is after us, all of us. Who knows what will become of the rogue Survivors, or what will become of the ones they left behind?" My voice shook as I spoke, speaking a fear I suppose I'd always had but took until now to process. How blinded had I been by what Iwanted? And for how long? "It wasn't the prison I saw it to be, was it?"

Everett finally spoke, "No."

He let the word hang there; so did I. I stared into space, as I felt him search for the right thing to say. He chose his words carefully. "Sadie, something inside of you was pulling you to the outside world. It wasn't fair of them to contain you, or at least it wasn't fair of them to expect that none of you would resist containment. And don't forget the threat John made about impregnating you. I'm pretty sure, no matter the time, place, or circumstance, that would have given anyone sufficient reason to bolt. But even still, I cannot imagine it was your selfishness that brought all this about. These things would have happened, anyway."

I didn't hear his comforting words. I fixated on just one: Selfishness. That's exactly what it was. All my actions. All my choices. Following only what I wanted, only what I felt like. And in my wake? Everett and the rest of the Winters, Cole, Corrina, and my family. All victimized by my impulsive, flighty, and selfish nature.

"I'm not even responsible for Lizzie?" I whispered, my voice heavy and tight. I was responsible for her. I knew he was trying to say I wasn't, but then it was clear to me then. I started crying. "I killed her, didn't I?"

"You had nothing to do with that! There's no blaming yourself for that!"

"But John . . ."

Everett scoffed, but I could see real anger in his face. "Don't listen to a word the bastard says. All he's ever done, all he's likely ever to do is try to make you feel like that is all your fault, and that's only out of fear that he'll lose his power, fear that he'll have to adapt to a world outside. Fear and stupidity," he spat. "Fear, stupidity, and being an asshole."

"Everett," I chided. He shrugged.

"Lizzie was born in 1670. Did you know that? The oldest of the elders by several years. That made her 342. And she just died, Everett. And for over 300 of those 342 years, nothing major has happened in this family. But then me. Then bringing you and yours. Then the 28 rogues. Then Raven. Now this." I turned up my glass and drank the rest of the scotch in one sip.

He reached for my hand and squeezed it, but he said nothing. He knew better than to speak. There was nothing anyone could say.

We were quiet for a long time then. Everett stood up and refilled our glasses behind the ancient oak bar, my eyes transfixed on the moon's reflection on Flathead Lake.

After a long while, my mind started to slow. It had been moving constantly, continually trying to think while simultaneously processing emotion—something it had never been good at. And now the emotion was giving way, and I was starting to see reason again, if only the faint, feathery edges of it dusting against my mind's eye.

"Where do we go from here?" I asked, but I meant it rhetorically.

"Think like Sadie," he said. I gave him a quizzical look. "Think like you. Methodical. Procedural. What do you need to accomplish next?"

"Too many things at once," I said. "I need to figure out how to use the reading power I got from Valentin. I need to have a plan for going after Raven, or an even more genius plan for protecting ourselves if he comes after us first. I need to figure out what happened to Lizzie, and we need to give her a proper funeral. I need to . . ."