I settled next to him in the corner, but to my surprise, as soon as I sat down, he scooted away from me, creating a distance of a few feet.
I tried to maintain steady eye contact with him. First, I needed to try to jolt his memory. But to do that would require some improvisation on my part… “I’m going to run through what I think happened to you,” I began. “Try to remember and correct me where I go wrong… You became a ghost after Aiden shot you with a hunter’s bullet. Then you passed some time in The Shade, watching our family live their lives.” As I reached this part of the story, I realized that perhaps he had been around to witness Gregor’s death after all, and that was why he hadn’t bothered asking about his father… I paused, wondering if he would interject.
He remained quiet, but at least his eyes were fixed on me. He was listening.
“You witnessed many happenings around the island,” I went on. “Disasters and celebrations alike. Then your soul grew tired of waiting around and watching others live. You felt the urge, the desire for something else. Something more. To go somewhere where you truly belonged. You then came across some other ghosts. They told you about the myth of the glowing portals, and you believed it. You went to one such portal at midnight, and that was when you were caught by the fae.” I paused again. He was still listening. “They looked like angels, but instead they brought you here and you’ve been here ever since. In the realm of the ghouls.” As I finished, and he still made no signs of talking, I couldn’t help but ask him in exasperation: “Are you really telling me you thought you were in Hell all this time?”
I just couldn’t wrap my mind around how nobody could have told him. Or perhaps… he had been told but he’d forgotten.
The sentience in Lucas’ eyes grew as I asked the question. He nodded slightly, but then the nod was immediately followed by a shake of his head.
“I… think I remember… somebody told me,” he said, squinting as though dredging his memory. “The… The Underworld?”
I nodded vigorously.
He continued to squint. “The light, I remember that, too. And the angels or… fae, as you say. And then… white coffins. There was more than one of us.”
It was a relief how even his voice was beginning to sound—so much more sure of himself compared to just a few moments ago.
Perhaps he wasn’t quite as far gone as I’d feared. Perhaps all it took was a little nudging for the cobwebs of his memory to clear, to jolt him into remembrance.
“You’re remembering,” I said, hoping to encourage him.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes, I am.” There was a profound look on his face, as though he’d just solved an ancient mystery. “Then… I was taken to a pool, and thrust there with other ghosts. Some of them spoke of the glowing creatures being false messengers, as you tell me now. But then I… I must’ve forgotten along the way.”
“Did you ever try to escape?” I asked. “Surely you must have?”
Lucas faltered. And then the glint in his eyes dimmed again. I realized I’d made a mistake in asking the question. He wasn’t ready for it yet. I was certain that he was sinking back into his shell, but then he whispered, “Yes. I did. Too… many… times.”
His answer made me dare to continue this line of questioning.
“What did the ghouls do to you when they caught you?”
At this, he pursed his lips, his eyes darkening. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he breathed. “I don’t want to,” he added, more forcefully.
“It’s just that… I’m trying to escape myself,” I pressed. “I want to know what I’m up against.”
Lucas’ eyes narrowed on me. “Don’t try, boy. Don’t try. I-It’s not worth it.”
“I’m going to escape,” I said, my voice a little louder than I had intended it to be—more of a correction and reassurance to myself than a statement to Lucas. “I’ve already decided. So anything at all you can tell me would really help.”
“I have told you,” he said faintly. This time, I really was losing him. His eyes averted to his feet, glazing over. Then he drew up his knees again, closing himself off to me, to the world.
He didn’t like talking about the ghouls. That much was clear. I should not have pushed so far in my questioning yet I just couldn’t help it. I was desperate for any information at all. I racked my brain for something I could say to lure him back out of his shell again. My mind turned to one of the first things he’d said to me. That I wasn’t his son.
“I know your son,” I blurted, before even considering how he might react.
It worked. His eyes snapped up to me, sparked again with life.
“My son?”
I was still dying to know how he even had a clue that he had a son—for everybody, including even Jeramiah, seemed to be under the impression that Lucas had no idea that he had impregnated the local miller’s daughter. But I resisted the urge to ask him now. “Yes, your son. I’ve seen him. And he… He very much wishes to see you. His name is Jeramiah. Jeramiah Novak.”
Lucas’s eyes widened in wonderment. “Jeramiah Novak,” he repeated softly. Then a look of anxiety played across his face. “Is he still alive?” he asked in a strained whisper.
“Yes,” I said. “He is a vampire. He is alive.” Granted, I didn’t actually know where Jeramiah was right now—but I assumed that he was alive. Why wouldn’t he be? He would’ve left with Amaya, after his failed attempts to finish off my parents and grandfather.