It felt as though everything inside me were speeding up, blood racing through veins. I stood on the edge of a cliff, about to fall. I took the letter out of the pocket of my sweatshirt and opened it. Saw again her handwriting.

“What does it mean she stopped punishing herself?” I asked. “What does she mean about sacrifice?”

In one swift, furious motion, he crossed the room and took the letter from my hand. He held it crumpled, looking at me with an expression of deep rage, maybe worse. I wondered for a moment if he was going to hit me. His jaw seemed to grow larger. His eyes looked pure black. I was watching a transformation, a strange and terrifying metamorphosis. He was changing, becoming something fanged and brutal, a hungry beast, a wolf.

“Give it back,” I said. “That isn’t yours.”

“It’s all mine,” he said and walked out. I was frightened and angry. My heart was a frenzy of wings and feathers, too heavy but trying, trying to fly.

Chapter 12

12

Cole didn’t return to the house that morning for breakfast. Lucas went off to work, but I waited at home for Cole. I was sure he would come, and I waited for him, practically vibrating with fear and anticipation—but he didn’t show up. Then I began to worry. What if he was gone for good? What if the 9:30 ferry had carried him away? What if he’d taken the letter? I would never know the answers to the questions that now haunted me like little ghosts, little voices in my ear: Who was he? How did he know my mother?

I needed to find him and ask for the truth.

At the inn, the girl at the counter eyed me nervously. “Actually, I’m not supposed to let anyone in there,” she said.

“I just want to know if he’s here.”

“I saw him this morning,” he said. “He was pretty mad about someone being in his room. I didn’t tell him it was you.”

“Thank you,” I said. She nodded.

“You can knock, I guess,” she said. “I’m just saying, he seemed really mad.”

But when he answered the door, he didn’t look mad at all. He smiled serenely. His shirt was buttoned, hair combed. He had shaved. I had the distinct feeling that I was looking at someone wearing a mask—only this mask looked almost exactly like the real face underneath. His expression now was gentle and earnest. And when I asked if we could talk about the letter, he nodded and followed me out of the room, locking the door behind him.