Dr. St. Augustine lost her little girl years ago, and Lilah lost her mother as a child. Now they share a special bond, one that Drusilla St. Augustine would die for. This beautiful song by Fisher reminds me of their surrogate mother-daughter relationship, particularly in this scene where they must separate for one to live.
“Lilah, please.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed. Her eyes pleaded with me. “I can’t let you die here. If you die here, all this is for nothing. In the last six years, I’ve seen enough to know that this world could have been destroyed several times over, but I’ve moved heaven and earth to make sure it wasn’t. I wanted your world to stay just the way it was. I didn’t care if it was destroyed, if it was just me. But a world without you was one that wasn’t worth living in. Don’t you see, Lilah? I did all of this for you. The books behind the Ninth Gate. The Key. All these things I did for you, to keep you safe.”
I pulled back. I’d never seen Drusilla like this. She wasn’t making sense. I was just an employee, at the least. A friend, at the most. As an empath, I felt her physical injuries–an ache in my chest, left arm, left hip. A duller ache on the left side of my head. But it was the rawness of emotion that crushed me, hung in my chest in a fist-sized knot between my heart and my throat, in a place Emery had told me was the high-heart chakra–a tiny room of energy in the body that was felt as absolute joy in times of happiness but a gaping hole of unfulfillment where the heart’s deepest truths were spoken in times of loss. Feeling what Drusilla felt was…sheer torture.
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