"You're Scottish?" Damien's voice was incredulous. "And you're just now telling us?"

Stark shrugged again. "What does my human family have to do with anything? I haven't even talked to them in almost four years."

"It's not just a family," Damien's voice rose with excitement as he started ruffling through the pages of his notes again.

"Oh, for crap's sake. Your family is your blood, you moron," Aphrodite said. "What was your grandfather's last name?"

Stark frowned at Aphrodite.

"MacUallis," Stark and Damien said together.

"How did you know that?" Stark asked.

"It was the Clan MacUallis who were the Guardians of the Ace." Damien grinned victoriously, holding up the page of his notes that held the words: CLAN MACUALLIS = GUARDIANS OF THE ACE for everyone to see.

"Looks like we found our blood bridge," Jack said, hugging Damien.

Chapter Sixteen

Zoey

Heath stirred and muttered something about skipping football practice and sleeping in. I watched him and held my breath as I paced my circle around where he slept.

I mean, would you want to wake him up and tell him he was dead as dirt and wouldn't ever be playing football again?

Hell no.

I tried to be as quiet as I could, but I couldn't hold still. This time I hadn't even pretended to lie down next to him. I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop myself. I had to keep moving.

We were in the middle of the same dense grove we'd run inside of before. When before? I couldn't

really remember, but the short, gnarled trees and lots of old rocks looked cool. And the moss. Especially the moss. It was everywhere - thick and soft and cushy.

Suddenly my feet were bare, and I was distracted by sinking my feet into the moss and letting my toes play in the living carpet of green.

Living?

I sighed.

Nope. I suspected nothing here was really alive, but I kept forgetting that.

The trees made a canopy of leaves and branches, so the sun only got through enough to be warm without being too hot, but a cloud passing overhead had me looking up and shivering.

Darkness . . .

I blinked in surprise, remembering. That was why Heath and I were tucked away in this grove. That thing had been after us, but it hadn't entered the grove after us.

I shivered again.

I had no clue what that thing had been. I only had a sense of utter darkness, a vague whiff of something that had been dead for a while, horns, and wings. Heath and I hadn't waited to see any more. We had both been breathless with fear, and we'd run and run . . . which was why Heath was sound asleep.

Again. Like I should be.

But I wasn't able to rest. So instead I paced.

It really bothered me that my memory was messing up. And, what's worse, even though you'd think if my memory was jacked, I wouldn't know it because I, well, wouldn't remember it - I was wrong. I knew I was missing hunks of stuff in my mind - some of it new stuff, like that I just now remembered the scary thing that had chased Heath and me into the grove. Some of it was old stuff, though.

I couldn't remember what my mom looked like.

I couldn't remember the color of my eyes.

I couldn't remember why I didn't trust Stevie Rae anymore.

What I could remember was even more upsetting. I remembered every instant of Stevie Rae dying. I remembered that my dad had left us when I was two and basically never come back. I remembered that I'd trusted Kalona, and that I'd been so, so wrong about him.

My stomach felt sick, and, like that sickness was driving me, I kept pacing around and around the inside circumference of the grove.

How could I have let Kalona fool me so totally? I'd been such an idiot.

And I'd caused Heath's death.

My mind skittered away from that guilt. The thought was too raw, too horrible.

A shadow caught at my vision. I started, turned quickly, and came face-to-face with her. I'd seen her before - in my dreams and in a shared vision.

"Hello, A-ya," I said softly.

"Zoey," she said, dipping her head in hello. Her voice sounded a lot like mine, except there was a sense of sadness about her that colored everything she said.

"I trusted Kalona because of you," I told her.

"You had compassion for him because of me," she corrected. "When you lost me, you also lost compassion."

"That's not true," I said. "I'm still compassionate. I care about Heath."

"Do you? Is that why you are keeping him here with you instead of allowing him to move on?"