He stood up and pushed a thick, black cloak from his armored shoulders. “I do know you, Logan Elizabeth Ellis.” He raised his arms and held them out to his sides. “I’m surrounded by forty-seven versions of you. They may wear different faces, may have been birthed in times long forgotten, but they were all once as you are now.”

She rolled her eyes. “And exactly what is it you think I am?”

“Broken. You broke her, and she continues to break you.”

Logan stiffened and clutched the arms of the chair. He couldn’t possibly know. She drew in a sharp breath. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Kerestyan told you not to lie. However, allow me to reconstruct your memory. You wrenched the wheel as you squinted against the morning sun, praying you could get the car back into the driveway before he woke up from the couch, where he’d passed out, the stench of alcohol clinging to his weak body. You were so concerned about what he would do if he found out; you never saw her step off the sidewalk. But you heard the impact. You heard her scream before her fragile bones crunched beneath the tires, heard the wet, sucking sound of air escaping her lungs as she tried to cry. And then you felt it when you pulled her tiny, lifeless body into your arms. You felt the warm, sticky fluid coat your hands, watched her favorite pink sweater and school bag turn crimson before your disbelieving eyes. You watched Jessica die in your arms, broken. And her memory has broken you every moment since.”

Logan bit at her lips as hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t know how he knew, and truthfully, she didn’t care. “Are you finished? Is your scare-the-human routine complete now?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stretched out a large arm, which disappeared all the way up to his elbow before he pulled it back, revealing a silver disc resting in his open hand. He descended the stairs and gently placed it in her lap. “Would you care to see her?”

She stared down at the ornate silver frame of the mirror as a thousand different emotions swirled inside her. Hate. Anger. Guilt. The surface shimmered black just before a hazy image faded into view.

She fought for control of her voice. “Is she a ghost?”

“No. When her soul released, she immediately ascended to the Light Realm, which is what you humans refer to as heaven. She existed there, complete and content, reliving her most cherished memories for fourteen years before she reincarnated.”

Logan watched, silent, as the image in the mirror burst into vivid colors. A girl who looked to be about three years old, dressed in pink pajamas, toddled across a hardwood floor while holding an upside down kitten in her arms. She shook her head when the cat squirmed, her glossy black curls springing around her chubby little face. “Mama, Mama, kitty was in my room. Her bite my toes! Hers a bad kitty, a bad, bad kitty.”

Logan smiled in spite of the dull ache throbbing in the center of her chest. “She always hated cats.”

“She still does. In a previous life, long, long ago, she was mortally wounded by a tiger. Though her mind may not, her soul remembers. In this life, and every life to come, she will also endure a short but intense fear of automobiles for the very same reason.”

Logan struggled to breathe under the weight of his words. She stared up at him as her chest tightened. “I scarred her forever?”

The mirror disappeared as he reassumed his place on the throne. “You’re being overly dramatic. You’ve given her an obstacle to overcome, one that will help define who she becomes later in life. Character is not measured by moments of success, Logan Ellis. It is measured by the grace in which you move through adversity. What you’ve given her is yet another chance to grow.”

Anger coursed through her. “Bullshit! You can wrap it in as much philosophic rhetoric as you want, but at the end of the day she’s changed because of what I did to her!”

“What you did to her,” he trailed off in a low rumble of eerie laughter. “What is it with humans and guilt? Had you not killed her, she would have lived only to die at the age of sixteen.”

“No she wouldn’t!”

“Yes, she would have.” His voice echoed through the chamber, shaking her chair. “Had she lived beyond the morning of your accident, when you chose to run away at fourteen instead of fifteen, you would have taken her with you. Your pathetic excuse for a father would have then filed the missing persons’ report he never sought for you alone. Within a matter of days you would have both been found, and much to your dismay, returned to him. Shortly thereafter, he would have remanded you to the state, claiming an inability to control you. Jessica would have stayed in his custody, and without you to protect her, your father’s abuse would have escalated. At the age of sixteen, pregnant with his child, she would have died. Her body would have been just as broken, but instead of lying in the driveway, she would have been found at the foot of the staircase in your former home. Tell me, Logan, would you prefer she died in the arms of someone who loved her, or at the hands of someone who should have?”

Logan slammed her fist against the arm of the chair. “I would have preferred she not die at all!”

He shook his head. “You humans are such selfish creatures. When will you finally realize you cannot undo the past? If you wish to memorialize your sister, plant a flower. I even offer the Nelek Gardens in which you may do so. However, do not use your sister as an excuse to shorten your life span one needle at a time.”

“That’s not what I did!”

“That is exactly what you did. Before this moment, your unconscious mind was trapped in the past, sheltering your waking mind from the truth behind the horrors you’ve committed. I’ve ripped the protective blanket of heroin from you, and under no circumstances will it be returned. You now see that you are everything you believe you are. You are a murderer. You are a thief. You are as worthless as your father said you were. Yet, you are some of those only because you believe those words.”

Logan surged from the chair. “I am a murderer! I killed her. I did it. It wasn’t someone else. It was me!” She collapsed to her knees and clutched her chest as memories assailed her. “I felt it. I felt her die. I felt her leave me…alone….with him!”

“You gave her freedom from a man who would have abused her further.”

She rocked forward as a pain she’d never known twisted through her body. “I killed her…”

“Are you a murderer? Yes, you killed your sister. Accidental or otherwise, her body died due to injuries you caused. You cannot undo your actions. They now comprise a dark sliver in your soul, and that will never change. Never. The soul forgets nothing. You must find a way to move beyond it. And that way is in my granting you what most, be they human, vampire or werewolf, never receive. I have gifted you the ability to understand that while you may have killed a flesh and blood body, she remains.”

Logan squeezed her eyes closed. “It doesn’t change what I did.”

“Then let us explore what else you’ve done. Are you a thief?”

That wasn’t nearly as hard to answer. “Yes,” she breathed.

“I agree. You take that which does not belong to you. However, allow me to enlighten you of a single precious truth regarding humanity. All humans are thieves. They lay claim to land they do not own. They take from the earth that which is not theirs. With every sun that rises, they rob each other of hope. They purloin each other’s dreams. Humans steal with every fetid breath they take. In my mind, when it comes to being a thief, you are but one of billions.”

She drew in a breath and opened her eyes as cold fingers closed around her hand. Not metal, not stone, but strong, pale fingers that made her hand look like a child’s.

She hadn’t even heard him move.

With his assistance, she climbed to her feet and tipped her head back to stare up at him. The hard, unforgiving cut of his face softened slightly, allowing her, if only for a moment, to see why Kerestyan called him Father. Even though he didn’t have eyes, it felt like he was staring straight into her soul.

“Do you truly believe you are worthless?”

She pressed her lips together as more tears streamed from her eyes. How was she supposed to answer that? How, after what she’d done to her own sister, could she be anything else?

And above all else, why was the only thing that really bothered her what she did to Jessica? Shouldn’t she have felt just as bad about being a thief? Shouldn’t she have felt even worse for the striking indifference she felt about everything and everyone around her?

“The answer is no,” Stefan’s deep voice was softer now. “You are a survivor. You are possessing of traits lost on many humans of this age. You see the world for what it is, and with that truth follows knowledge and power. You would have never learned of the existence of vampires had you never run from your childhood home. Every obstacle you faced, every choice you made, prepared you to stand before me this night.

“Until this moment, you existed with no home, and no constraints aside from those you placed on yourself. You bent knee to no human. You shunned all that society demanded you conform to. You, alone, chose and accepted responsibility for your path, and that is why you will leave this chamber on your own two feet.”