Page 35 of The Inheritance

“Mellow is welcome to come,” Elias said.

“Good.” Tia nodded to her brother. “Go pack.”

He put the cat down and ran up the stairs.

“You’re a Talent,” Elias guessed.

“Yes,” she said.

“An assessor?” Leo asked.

“Sort of. Like Mom but with people.”

What kind of power was that? “Does your mother know?”

Tia shook her head. “You have to promise me that you’ll bring her back.”

“I can’t do that,” Elias said. “I’m not going to lie to you. Your mother is probably gone.”

“My mom is alive,” Tia said. “She promised she would come back to us. She always keeps her promises.”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

Tia pivoted to the bookcase and pulled a large black folder with a zipper on it.

“I’m going to get a cat carrier and my things,” she said and handed the folder to him.

“What is this?” he asked.

A tiny shiver of fear flashed in Tia’s eyes. He watched her squash it.

“Mom’s death folder. There is one on her laptop, too. I’ll need to grab that. We won’t need it, but she would want us to bring it.”

Tia disappeared into the house.

“Are they in shock?” Leo murmured.

“No,” Elias said. “They are just ready.”

Adaline Moore had trained her children what to do in case of her death. They were so efficient at it, they must’ve practiced.

This was the war at home, he realized. Ten years of it. He was looking at children who grew up with the gates. Tia would’ve been five, maybe six, when the first gates burst. The boy would’ve been a toddler. They were prepared to lose their mother. They lived with that possibility every day, and now they were putting on brave faces and trying to stick to the plan.

He had to get into that damn breach.

The stone bridge stretched in front of me. It was only twenty-seven yards long, but it felt like a mile. I shuffled across it, one foot in front of the other, my body weak and exhausted, and poor Bear heavy like an anvil in my arms. She was still breathing. I felt her every ragged breath. She was shivering and sometimes she would yelp, but she was still alive.

Almost there.

One step at a time. Almost made it.

Just a little further.

The little cave gaped in front of us. It was a nearly circular depression in the rock, about thirty feet across, its walls smooth, its floor empty.

I tried to set Bear down, but my legs gave out, and we both collapsed. I pulled myself upright and unhooked Bear’s leash from around my neck. Three stalker hearts tumbled to the ground. I had cut them out along the way, strung them onto the leash like fish, and then I put that grisly necklace around my neck. It was the only way I could carry it.

I chopped one heart into small pieces. My hands felt so heavy and clumsy. I scooped a handful of stalker stew meat and shoved it in my mouth.