“I’m sorry,” Vi said. “If there was anything in there about who you were, who you used to be, it’s gone.”
And she was sorry. She’d broken her promise: She never had found out who Iris was, where she’d come from. And now she never would.
But really, Vi believed she’d saved Iris in some way. Now Iris didn’t need to know the terrible things that had been done to her; the terrible things she might have done to others.
Iris leaned her head back against the tree, looked up at the sky through the canopy of leaves. Vi looked too. There were no stars. Only darkness. The occasional bright flash of lightning.
Vi turned to see a shadow moving quickly toward them across the wide expanse of lawn, running, past the lost-looking patients, past the night staff trying to maintain control.
It was Eric, his wild curls flying out, his pajamas pale and soaked, his feet bare.
“What happened?” he asked, panting to catch his breath. He looked at Vi. “Where’s Gran?”
“Eric—I—” she stammered, unsure what to say, where to even begin. The power and confidence of the monster was fading. She looked at the building in flames behind Eric and knew she had done it. She remembered setting the fire, yet somehow it felt like it had been someone else. Like it was a movie: a monster on a rampage.
She wasn’t sure who she was now, a monster or a girl or some combination of the two.
Miss Ev—in her robe, her wig crooked—was standing next to the building, staring at the flames, shouting, “Dr. Hildreth!” She rushed toward the east side door, like she was going to go right in, but Sal grabbed her, pulled her back, which proved to be more of an effort than he’d expected. They tussled, and Miss Ev nearly got away, but Sal got behind her, wrapped her tightly in his arms, and walked her back away from the building.
“You’re not gonna do anyone any good going in there, Miss Ev,” he said. “We need you out here. The patients need you.”
“Dr. Hildreth!” Miss Ev sobbed.
Eric looked from Vi to the Inn, his face lit orange from the glow of the flames. “What did you do to Gran?” he demanded.
Vi pitied the little boy she’d believed was her brother. She wanted to shelter him from the truth. But she knew the truth would come out. And it was best that he hear it from her.
“Gran,” she began, voice unsure, “Gran isn’t who you think she is. And I’m not who you think I am.”
He stared at her, his mouth opening a little. His eyes narrowed in anger. “I know who you are. I know all about you.”
“Eric,” Iris said, “I think—”
“You’re not my sister,” he said. “You’re a stray”—he spat out the word—“like Iris.”
Vi felt something collapse inside of her.
She forced the words out through her too-tight throat: “How long have you known?”
“Since Gran brought you home.”
No. Vi shook her head.
“She gave me a special job,” Eric said. “To keep an eye on you. Give her reports.”
“Reports,” Vi repeated. The rain was so loud, so cold. She was shivering, shaking all over.
It shouldn’t have surprised her. Not after everything she’d learned tonight. But still, it did. He’d been giving Gran reports on Vi just as Vi was giving Gran reports on Iris. If they’d waited long enough, surely Iris would have been giving reports on some new kid.
Eric nodded. “Gran said to treat you like a sister. That I had to go along with whatever you said, whatever crazy beliefs you had. I shouldn’t ever tell you your ideas weren’t real. She said… she said you could be dangerous.”