Page 20 of Palingenesis

But it’s also a signed copy.

An out-of-print cover.

I won it in an online auction.

One of very few ever printed and mine.

“Henry, please.”

The laugh that bursts out of him is manic, and makes me jolt. It’s distracting, concerning in a way that I can’t react to fast enough when he snaps the book backwards and breaks the spine.

A wounded sound escapes me.

“You care more about kindling—bullshit made from dead trees—than me. But you forget.” He keeps bending, yanking, ripping away. “I made you, Shannon. You would be nothing without me. You get to do this because of me!”

His grip changes, tearing the book nearly in half, and a strangled cry claws up my throat as I leap forward.

All I manage to do is shove the book into his chest, separating the final bits of glue keeping the pages together.

The tears blurring my vision is what I blame for not seeing what’s coming next.

Though if I was being honest with myself, I should have known it was coming the moment I challenged him. With someone like Henry, it’s only a matter of time before he snaps and the inevitable happens.

First, it’s the pieces of my book landing against my shoulders, pebbling the side of my head.

And then his fists.

Hands that once soothed me and brought me pleasure now land with enough force to bruise muscle. To break skin. To make me bleed.

All the while pages flutter around us like feathers floating on an arctic wind.

“Henry, please,” I beg, but I already know. Nothing I say will stop him. It never has.

If he loved me, he wouldn’t do this.

Another blow lands on my chin, and I taste blood.

“Henry,” I cry, tears burning my already swelling eye. “Stop.”

I barely manage to get my arms up between us, the force of his hits making me stumble back into the door. The knob juts hard against my hip, and I cry out, my feet stumbling under me.

He follows me down to the carpeted hallway, lithe body crouching over me and this time, the pages of my favorite book.

It’s the last thing I see before I…

Just…

Close my eyes… and imagine stone-chiseled features.

Wish… on a flame-fueled wishing well.

Pray that my belief is stronger than his blows.

Chapter 11

The Legend

I have watched from the shadows, perched high above the population of this small town for longer than I recall. The mountains have been a good home, the terrain difficult for most humans to venture too far into for long, leaving me to my secrecy for hundreds of years.