Free Where Silence Gathers by Kelsey Sutton Page A

flight, flitting to another branch in a flurry of brown feathers. It hops to a different tree, this one close to the entrance of the mine. I stare at it again. Mom’s voice haunts me. William, don’t!
    â€œMy dad worked down there. He knew those mines better than anyone,” I say. The bird lifts into the sky and soars to better places.
    â€œIs that why you came here? To feel closer to him?”
    It would make sense. A pretty lie, tied up with a pretty red bow. But no, that isn’t why I really came here. The mines. The mines. “Just needed to clear my head,” I mutter, raising the gun. Revenge doesn’t respond, and he steps away. I fire off another shot.
    Bang . Smoke billows from the muzzle. The action feels empty. I imagine the bullet putting a hole into Nate Foster. But with thoughts of him comes thoughts of someone in a white T-shirt, who speaks of redemption and hope. Things I’ll permanently leave behind when I actually do face Nate Foster.
    â€œWhat do you know about my dad?” I ask Revenge without looking at him.
    He shrugs. “Not much, honestly. Once, years ago, you told me your father was frightening. When I asked you why, I couldn’t get anything else. I figured you just didn’t want to talk about it.”
    This raises too many questions that have no answers. My mind goes to the next topic that’s been bothering me. I try to think of a careful way to bring it up.
    â€œSo are you going to tell me about Forgiveness?” I blurt. I don’t know if I say it because I want to know or because some part of me wants to drive Revenge away.
    His countenance darkens. Like with Saul, the space between us doesn’t feel like inches or feet or yards; it feels like miles.
    â€œYou won’t give up, will you?” he snaps. “What do you want to know?”
    â€œI’m just curious.” Now I shrug, but I can tell it hardly convinces him. The truth is something I won’t say out loud. As infuriating as he was, I found Forgiveness … interesting. The way he looked at me has been impossible to forget. It wasn’t like I was a dealer selling the drug he wanted or just another duty to be carried, though. No, Forgiveness stared at me as if I was someone .
    And that’s a drug all its own.
    Revenge picks up a fallen branch. He stoops and plucks a pine cone from the ground, too. Then, with one swift movement, he throws it into the air and swings. The cone shatters. I wait.
    â€œWe’ve been doing this dance for centuries, Forgiveness and I,” he says finally. “Sometimes it’s over within minutes. Sometimes—like with you—it takes years.”
    â€œWhat takes years?”
    He looks at me. A breeze toys with his bright hair. “The choice.”
    For so long, I’d thought of the other plane as something inhabited by feelings and nature. It’s still difficult to wrap my mind around the knowledge that all this time, there’s been something else. “Are there more? Choices, I mean?”
    Now it’s his turn to shrug. “A few. Not as large a group as the Emotions, or even the Elements. Choices only exist if they’re significant enough that they change the course of a human life. And sometimes the choice is made so quickly that even you, with your Sight, can’t catch them. Truth and Lie, for example. Now those are some slippery characters.” Revenge grins, expecting me to smile back. When I don’t, he expels a breath that sounds infinitely resigned. “What else?”
    I bend and pick up the shards of the pine cone, even though it’s fruitless to try to put it back together. They nestle in the center of my palm, permanently broken. Revenge waits. “How does this work, exactly?” I finally ask.
    I’ve never wanted to hear the answer before, and we both know it. Maybe because with Nate Foster in jail, there wasn’t really anything I could do about it. Or maybe