Eye of the Storm Read Online Free

to anchor myself than to hold him back. I want to believe what she's saying. Oh, do I ever want to believe those beautiful words. I think every Mediator would love to know that their parents fought in secret to aid them.  
    Mira looks about as trusting right now as if she's been handed a piece of toast smeared with shit and someone told her it was Nutella.  
    "Prove it," is all I can manage to say.
    Asher doesn't have much on her, just the winter coat she's wearing and a small backpack. Her feet are covered in leaves and sodden, and I feel like an asshole. She reaches for the backpack. Her hands tremble. In spite of the size of her belly, with most of us standing around her, she seems very small.  
    "Jax, go grab a couple pairs of clean socks from my room." I turn to face him, still holding on to Evis.  
    Jax looks bemused, but he gets up, stretching to sort out the kinks he's worked into his back from sitting in a near-spiral. He returns a moment later, and I motion him to give Asher the socks.  
    "Your feet are probably freezing," I say. "Take off your shoes. Put those socks on."
    Asher rummages in the backpack, but she gives me a thankful nod as she pulls out a small album of photos. "I don't know if you'll take these as proof."
    She reaches out a hand with the album, and I step forward to take it. Evis comes with me. I get the feeling he's holding tight to my hand for the same reason I'm gripping his. We step back to the sofa and lean, and I have to let go of him in order to open the album.
    The first page is two women. One is unmistakably Asher, though thinner and not pregnant, fewer lines on her face and a brighter light in her eyes. The other has hair the same color as mine and a smile so wide it looks like it'll take over her face. They're at a music festival, outdoors in the sun. I can almost feel the humidity, almost hear the cicadas. I hear a sharp intake of breath from Evis. My own breath freezes in my lungs as I process what I'm seeing.
    Our mother. Eve Storme. There she is, on the page. A face I've never seen, and yet bits of it are reflected back at me every time I look in a mirror. Her nose is my nose. We have the same widow's peak. Her skin is freckled enough that she almost looks tan. The picture was taken in the height of summer, it seems. Both she and Asher are in white tank tops, both with colored bras showing throw them. Their arms are around each other's waists, and their grins look like they've just been laughing about a shared secret.  
    I look closer at this woman who brought me and my brother into the world. I've always wondered what color her eyes would be. It's a shock to not see Mediator violet or shade indigo in her irises. Instead, they're gray.  
    She looks alive. She looks beautiful. She looks normal.  
    For a long time, Evis and I simply stare at the picture. Neither of us make a move to turn the page. It's obvious that this woman is our mother. I can't help the tightness that constricts my throat or the sting in my eyes. There's nothing I can feel, but at the same time, I feel everything. A maelstrom rages inside my head at the image in front of me. We stare so long that I forget there's more to ask, a deeper explanation needed. It's clear as day that Asher and my mother knew each other. Which means Evis's memories are wrong.  
    "We need you to tell us right now why Evis doesn't remember you." I don't want this to escalate, but from the way I can feel the roiling thoughts in my brother's mind, if he doesn't get answers now, things are going to go south. Fast.
    "Because I set up a mental warding that kept him from knowing me." Asher struggles to reach her feet around her pregnant belly, but she shakes her head at Mason when he steps forward to offer help.  
    She manages to get the dry socks on while the rest of us process what she's just said.  
    "Why?" I ask. I can feel that Evis doesn't believe her, and I feel the same echoes of distrust from Mason and Jax.  
    "We thought it was