Page 136 of Balance

I studied the flowers, the meaning sinking in as my fears faded. Come to think of it, now her selection was more than fitting.

Grief.

A sense of peace swelled in my chest, and I smiled at her, holding out my hand. No matter what life, she never failed to amaze me.

“I think it’s perfect,” I answered, holding the flowers to me as she stepped back. “You’ve always been the best at understanding others.”

Bianca’s mouth snapped closed, and even though she was already distancing herself, I still could hear the sharp intake of her breath.

At that moment she looked so fragile that the need to step out of the circle—a space I’d already prepared and could not easily be broken—and reach for her was almost suffocating. However, before the urge had more than a chance to pass through me, Bianca had already sidestepped the conversation.

“She has a ring on her necklace,” Bianca said. “She asked me to give it to Dr. Stephens.”

I glanced toward Kathleen, a strange feeling of disconnect washing over me as I knelt beside her small, prone form. I hadn’t seen the woman since childhood, but I did have memories of conversations and baked cookies at her home. She’d always been brewing something, and somewhat of a lecturer. To see her now, so still and quiet, was jarring.

But for Bianca’s sake, I pulled at the chain around Kathleen’s neck, bringing forward and loosening the chain until a golden ring fell into my shaking hands.

“Here.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound as shaky to her as it did to me. I inched toward the edge of the circle, holding my arm above the flames as I dropped it into her outstretched hands. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked—that was all that mattered.

“It’s fine,” was her only reply as she remained unable to hold my gaze, then she moved three steps backward and sat on her knees, linking her fingers in her lap. “I’m ready,” she declared as she braced her shoulders with expectation.

I blinked at her—humor washing over me. Her bluntness never failed to catch me off guard.

However, that was a rather presumptuous statement, considering that I was the one doing all the work. Then again, she had gone through a lot today.

“Okay…” I almost whispered, pulling the hood over my face. Normally I’d have loathed wearing these horrible garments, especially after learning about Bianca’s deeply held beliefs that I was a monk. But for once, I welcomed the covering.

Even though my skin was already burning, I welcomed the darkness and limited sight.

If I couldn’t see her, it might be like she wasn’t there at all. I’d never done this before—not in this life—and having her keen gaze on me had a way of making me forget my thoughts.

And the words.

Goddamn it, I hated Latin. Why the hell did I decide to write this particular ritual in Latin?

I probably could have used French or Chinese, but knowing Kathleen, she’d come back and lecture mejust because. She’d always been a stickler for tradition. And I couldn’t admit it to Bianca, but I was actually really glad Kathleen hadn’t come back as a ghost.

What kind of man did that make me?

I’d worried for nothing. Once the words began to flow—and a long out-of-reach humming sensation buzzed through my skin—I forgot Bianca was even there.

My fingertips pulsed. My every cell was electrified, yet it wasn’t enough. Of course, there was enough power—enough intention—for this moment. However, unlike everyone—including Bianca—I still couldn’t make that same connection to my earlier self.

Tu remained unclear and unreachable—maddeningly out of reach.

My skin itched as my focus scattered under ending phrases of the burial ritual, worsening under the pull of the full moon. Tu was trying to communicate with me, but I remained unable to pass over that hurdle.

And I still didn’t understand why.

It wasn’t fair. The others remembered far more of their past lives, had more of a connection, than I did.

Even Bianca, who hadn’t even been aware of it that long.

All I knew were bits and pieces—quick glimpses into a past and personality that seemed so far out of reach. When I dreamed at night, I chased after those shadows in hopes that one day that missing piece would finally fall into place.

It felt surreal burying Kathleen—knowing that after this, I’d have to meet with Jonathon to tell him what had happened. But as the last of the five candles flickered out with my closing rituals and the echoes of the passage rites faded away, a sense of otherworldly peace had come over the area. Moving was mindless and easy, habitual.

Though I might not remember it clearly, I’d buried countless wanderers and villagers with these same actions—these words. The homestead faded, as did my audience. Before I realized what had happened, I was standing in front of a short mound of freshly packed dirt. The only light the lantern Bianca still held beside her as she remained sitting, cross-legged on the ground, and the full moon rising high in the sky over the treetops.