The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
Victoria Schwab (V.E. Schwab)The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue Sözleri ve Alıntıları
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After so many years, Addie thought she’d come to terms
with time.
She thought she’d made her peace with it—or that they’d
found a way to coexist—not friends by any means, but at
least no longer enemies.
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Adeline’s secret.
Her stranger.
Every bit of unused space she fills with him, a face drawn so often that the gestures now feel effortless, the lines unfurling on their own. She can conjure him from memory, even though they have never met.
He is, after all, only a figment of her mind. A companion crafted first from boredom, and then from longing.
A dream, to keep her company.
“What do you want?” asks the stranger, still studying the sky, and Henry cringes, on instinct, but there’s no anger in the man’s voice. If anything, it’s curious, questing. His head drifts back down, and he looks at Henry with the greenest eyes he’s ever seen. So bright they glitter in the dark.
“Right now, in this moment,” says the stranger. “What do you want?”
“To be happy,” answers Henry.
“Ah,” says the stranger, smoke sliding between his lips, “no one can give you that.”
I remember you.
Three hundred years.
Three hundred years, and no one has said those words, no one has ever, ever remembered. She wants to grab him by the sleeve, wants to pull him forward, wants to know why, how, what is so special about a boy in a bookstore.
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A home, decorated with markets of the life she’s lived, the material evidence of memory.
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The darkness whispers in her ear, arms
wrapped like a scarf around her throat.
I am always with you.
She looks back, and says, “Don’t forget me in the meantime.”
An old habit. A superstition. A plea.
“Why would anyone trade a lifetime of talent for a few years of glory?”
Luc’s smile darkens. “Because time is cruel to all, and crueler still to artists. Because vision weakens, and voices wither, and talent fades.” He leans close, twists a lock of her hair around one finger. “Because happiness is brief, and history is lasting, and in the end,” he says, “everyone wants to be remembered.”
The words are a knife, cutting swift and deep.
Because the girl he loved is gone.
And he’s still here.
He remembers everything.
As much as she hates this shadow, this god, this monster in his stolen flesh, he is still the only one who remembers her at all.