prologue
I met my best friend’s gaze and remembered who we used to be. Such young, silly creatures with carefree dreams and impossible hopes. I’d never imagined it could turn out like this. I’d never dreamed that sweet, freckled boy would become a Beast, or that sad, lonely girl would grow up to kill him.
“Tell me how to save you, Ollie,” I whispered.
“You can’t,” he answered, his eyes bright with pain and all the days we wouldn’t get to have. Then he said, his voice hardening, “Wake up, Fortuna. Wake up.”
“Oliver, wait,” I began to say, my own voice tinged with desperation. But it was too late.
Every dream had to end, and I was already gone.
covington, louisiana
Red and blue lights flashed over the lawn.
Police vehicles filled the street in both directions. There were also two ambulances, but the sirens had gone silent, and they’d been parked for the past hour. Collith and I stood across the street, tucked into the shadows. We weren’t the only ones observing the crime scene—most of the neighbors had come outside, drawn by all the movement and noise. They stood in robes and pajamas, looking confused and worried. But I didn’t sense real fear from them, not yet.
That would change once the cops started bringing the bodies out.
“Did you catch a name?” I asked Collith quietly. I didn’t look away from the house.
His voice was grim. “One of the officers knew them. This place belonged to Mark and Kiersten Henderson. Married couple, moved here a few years ago. No kids. Apparently they kept to themselves.”
Mark and Kiersten Henderson. I repeated their names silently, memorizing them like a dark song lyric. The ice in my chest began to crack. I willed myself to go cold again, and my expression settled back into its hard mask. No kids, just like the rest. That was good. The only good thing about any of this, really.
I wondered, not for the first time, if it was a coincidence . . . or if there was still something left of Oliver inside that thing I’d seen. That black-eyed, blank-faced creature with skin covered in dark lines, hulking wings rising over its golden head.
It doesn’t matter, I reminded myself. Even if part of Oliver had survived, even if there was some lingering sense of humanity that made the Beast draw the line at hurting kids, our story only had one ending. Oliver was going to die, and I would be the one who killed him.
My resolve hardened. I refocused on the humans’ progress. Silhouettes moved past the blood-spattered windows. There were at least over a dozen people inside, at least, which meant we still had a wait ahead of us. Collith used his own energy store when he worked an illusion, so the fewer minds he had to influence, the better. This was the fourth house we’d been to in the months since Finn’s funeral, and we had learned a thing or two about how to make the process smoother. We were getting better at this, sickening as it was.
Finn. The thought of him sent another crack through me.
“Were they like the others?” I asked abruptly. I kept my eyes on that big, bright window.
In my peripheral vision, I saw Collith nod. “Fallen,” he said. “I can smell the blood from here.”
The ice in me cracked a third time, and now small bits and pieces slipped through. Guilt. Fury. Pain. Strangely, as I watched one of the police officers bolt out of the house and vomit on the front lawn, I started thinking about Oliver’s freckles.
It seemed like such an insignificant, random thing to think about. But I was trying to connect that sweet, freckled boy to
the abomination who had killed these people tonight. As another officer rushed outside, a memory came through. I stopped seeing the pale-faced, shaking policewoman, and a young boy loomed before me instead, replacing the nightmare playing out across the street.
We sat on the beach. Our small knees were buried in the sand, and the shore in both directions was empty, completely untouched except by us. The sky was clear and blue overhead, not a single cloud in sight. Seagulls flew through the wide expanse, their wild cries snatched away by a salt-laden breeze. To our right, the sea glittered. Waves reached for us again and again.
I was teaching the strange dream boy how to build a sandcastle. He sat beside me, his eyebrows knitted together with concentration. He didn’t move like other children I knew. He didn’t move like anyone I knew, really. He did everything slowly, as if it were all new to him, or he was afraid of making a mistake.
He’d finally started talking, but he didn’t like it. His words came halting and uncertain. I had stopped asking the boy questions a while ago, since I never got an answer. It was like he’d just been born, or something. Now I eyed him anew, wondering if it was too soon to try again. After another minute, I gave in to my relentless curiosity.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
The boy stared at our castle with a crinkled brow, a frown hovering at the corners of his mouth. I could tell he was thinking about it, harder than he’d thought about anything. For a few seconds, I watched him, certain he would remember it. But then the boy said, his voice faint, “I don’t know.”
I frowned, too. “You don’t know your name?”
He stared at the castle, his eyes darker than they’d been a moment ago. “I don’t think I have one.”
Impatience sparked inside me. I put my hands beside his. “Well, that’s silly. Everyone has a name,” I said.
“Oh.”
The boy sounded so confused, so worried, that I felt a jab of remorse. It wasn’t his fault—none of this was. I gave him a kind smile. “It’s okay. We’ll just pick one out for you.”
His eyes widened. “Can you do that?”
“Why not?” I shrugged, patting the side of the turret I’d just built. Parents usually picked names, but what if you didn’t have parents?
The thought sent a pang through my entire body.
I’d forgotten, for a minute, that I didn’t have parents, either. Not anymore.
I blinked rapidly, desperately fixing my gaze on the castle again. But the boy didn’t move to help me, as he’d been helping every night since it happened. I glanced over at him, wondering why he was just sitting there. Then I got a look at his face, and a startled jolt went through my small frame. For the first time since the boy had first appeared in my dreams, I saw excitement in his expression.
That was when it clicked—he expected me to name him right now.
My mouth twisted with uncertainty. I’d never named something before, not even a pet. Dad had been allergic to everything, dogs, cats, turtles . . . No. I didn’t want to think about Dad, not here. My mind skittered to the first memory it could find, and I remembered the movie I’d been watching before bed, surrounded by other foster kids in a living room that smelled like ramen noodles. The movie was a cartoon called Oliver & Company. It had made me laugh, and I hadn’t laughed since that night I was desperately fighting to forget.
“Do you like the name Oliver?” I asked abruptly, meeting the boy’s gaze.
“Oliver,” he repeated with a tentative expression. Then, again, more firmly this time, “Oliver. Yes.”
The seagulls called out again. Their cries echoed in my ears as I bent my head. We worked in silence for a minute or two. When a breeze tugged strands of hair into my eyes, I tucked them back and snuck another glance at the boy. His mouth was puckered in soft concentration. Oliver, I thought again, studying the freckles that dotted his skin like sprinkles. The corners of my lips tilted. It fit.
“Fortuna. It’s time.”
Collith’s voice penetrated the haze of images around my mind. I blinked that freckled boy away and reminded myself of
the cold truth—that boy had died a long time ago. If he’d even existed at all.
Refocusing, I nodded at Collith to indicate that I was ready. We both knew it was a lie, and he had already offered to go in alone. Like all the other nights, I’d just shaken my head. Knowing what my answer would be never stopped Collith from saying the words, though. I still felt them hovering between us as we crossed the street and ducked beneath the crime-scene tape.
No one looked at us, which meant Collith had shielded us from view. We went up the sidewalk, passing several police officers and other uniformed people who must’ve been part of the investigation. If this was like the other three cases, which were all still ongoing, I knew what the humans would find—nothing. No fingerprints or footprints, no hairs or fluids.
There would only be feathers. Long, black feathers.
The humans were puzzled by them, but they were the one thing connecting all the victims together. Well, that and the way they’d all died.
Terribly. Violently. Darkly.
I would see their faces in my dreams for the rest of my life.
The smell hit me in the doorway. I couldn’t detect the difference between human and Fallen like Collith, but I knew blood. It was as recognizable as my favorite perfume, or the aroma of coffee, or the cloying scent of Emma’s joints. Most days, it felt like I’d been baptized in it.
But even as that familiar, terrible smell stuffed itself up my nostrils, I didn’t let myself pause or hesitate. If I did, I might not be able to go through with this. I shifted my body to the side, allowing a man in a black coverall to pass, then went inside. I took a few steps into the room before I stopped and looked around, ignoring the spiderweb cracks that kept spreading through my chest. Don’t run, Fortuna. Don’t you dare run. I sensed Collith drawing to a halt beside me. He didn’t say anything. I kept my face turned away, as if I were concentrating.
The house was smaller than it looked from outside. Everything was in its place—the old couches, the faded side tables, the colorful rugs sprawled over the wooden floor. But there were marks of a place that was lived in. A place that was loved. The vase of pink hydrangeas on the dining table in the corner, and a flowered blanket that rested in a pool on the floor, as if the person using it had jumped up from where they’d been sitting. There was no sign of that person now, though. This was not where the smell was coming from, I thought, forcing myself to keep looking.
We’d deduced that every family had been caught by surprise, because the messes we found were in the spots where they actually died, while the rest of the home was left largely intact. Oliver was good at this. An efficient monster, I thought bitterly, finishing my scan.
This wasn’t the crime scene, but there were still two technicians and two police officers standing in here. As I turned my attention toward the doorway on the other side of them, I halflistened to their conversation. They were speculating on what kind of animal could’ve done this. It was so reminiscent of things I’d heard and read about my own parents’ bodies that my stomach began to churn.
When it became clear the investigators were about to bag the victims up, I turned to Collith, and he nodded. He walked around the humans and through that wood-framed doorway, the white paint along the top of it peeling. I dragged my eyes back down and refocused, facing the yawning darkness as we walked deeper into the house. A moment later, we found ourselves in a narrow hallway. There were two closed doors on either side, and one at the very end—that door was open.
And that, I knew, was where the source of the smell came from. With every step, the ringing in my ears got louder and louder. My heart felt like a wild thing inside my chest. I wanted to turn back. A scream built in my lungs, and I swore I could feel the physical pressure of it. I focused on putting one foot in front of
the other, bringing myself closer and closer. The noise inside my skull was so loud it was painful now.
Then, when I reached the doorway of the kitchen, the ringing stopped.
The silence felt swollen, like a body rotting in a grave. I stood in the doorway, rooted in place. I had a vague sense of Collith saying something to me, but I couldn’t make out the words. I scanned the room slowly, and my breathing was loud in my ears.
The female had died screaming. I wondered which had come first—the claw marks across her throat, which had practically beheaded her, or the dead male who lay slumped across from her. My guess was the latter. The female’s face was twisted in a mass of anguish and terror. I’d felt pain like that.
Traces of her fear still lingered in the air, and it smelled like food that had gone bad. I breathed through my mouth as I turned my attention to the male. His death had been worse. Messier. His torso was barely more than a rib cage, with bits of torn flesh still clinging to the curved bones. I couldn’t find his arms and legs amongst all the blood, but his head was on the floor at the other end of the room. A sour prickle filled my mouth as I examined the male’s features, searching for anything that might seem familiar. But he was a stranger, though. Like all the others.
Whatever kind of Fallen creatures they’d been, these two hadn’t been fighters. There was no sign of magic, and their body parts appeared human. When Finn died, he must’ve just begun to shift, because his fingers and teeth had been replaced by claws and fangs.
No. I wasn’t thinking about Finn right now. I refocused again, blinking fast and hard. The blurred carnage solidified.
The photographers had finished documenting everything, and dozens of items throughout the room were marked with numbers. I tried to see the scene like they would. To picture how the whole thing had played out. But it was no use—every time I saw Oliver’s latest victims, I remembered the first ones.
I’d protected my mind against the most powerful, ancient beings to walk the Earth, but against my own past, I was as helpless as a child. I stared down at a pile of intestines on the tiles, and all at once, it felt like I was traveling through time, landing amongst the broken, rusted, sharp-edged memories. I was eight years old again, kneeling on all fours, careless of the wet sensation seeping through my nightgown. The memory filled my mind until it was all I could see.
I’d gone back to her.
After I’d found my father, and seen that he was dead, I’d left that awful-smelling room and gone down the hallway. My mother was still there, slumped against the wall. I sank to my knees, staring at her horrified, blood-spattered face. Her skin was whiter than I’d ever seen it, like paper speckled with red ink.
“Mommy?” I said.
My voice was hoarse—I had stopped screaming a while ago, but my throat still hurt. Mom didn’t move. I put my little hands on the holes, trying to make the flow stop. Like a Band-Aid. Bleeding was bad. I knew that much.
But no matter how hard I pushed down, the blood didn’t stop. It squelched through my fingers. Help. I needed help. I raised my head, whimpering, and looked back at my mom’s still face. “Mommy, tell me what to do,” I pleaded.
Still, she said nothing. I knew she was dead, of course I knew that. But I had grown up with the knowledge that magic was real. I knew it could do incredible things, and so could the creatures my mother had told me about. Witches existed. Angels, too. I remembered Mom’s stories about them, and how they’d once been guardians in another world. With a rush of painful hope, I decided to pray.
My mind launched into a desperate, silent appeal to anyone who would listen. Soon the cold began to creep into my bones, and exhaustion weighed down my eyelids. Never breaking in my string of promises and pleas to the one that could save Mom, I rested my full weight on the floor. Wetness had soaked through the entire bottom half of my nightgown, but I didn’t care.
I looked down and watched a dark stain bloom across the white fabric. I kept my hands on my mother as it spread. Pressure, I thought. I had to keep pressure on her. My lips kept moving as I prayed on, and on, and on.
Time went by. Eventually, a man appeared in the hall. I was so focused on my job that I barely noticed. I only registered the faint tang of cologne, and my nostrils flared, desperate to replace that coppery smell wafting up from my mother. The man had something pressed against his ear, and he was saying something like, “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”
There was a snap, and he put something in his pocket. He walked slowly over to us and spoke again. When I felt the man’s hand on my arm, I jerked away and lowered myself down so my cheek touched the wall. I stared at my mother and touched her with the tip of my finger. She was still warm.
“Are you there?” I whispered.
When she didn’t answer, I edged even closer, so close I could have kissed her if I’d wanted. The words to her favorite song popped into my head. Haltingly I sang, “Y-you may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one . . .”
I couldn’t remember the rest. Mommy was so quiet now. Why didn’t she help me remember the rest?
Suddenly a new sound shattered the night. This one I recognized—I had asked my mother what it was, once. A siren. It meant that someone needed help. Not us. We didn’t need help. We were fine. I huddled against Mommy’s shoulder and pressed my forehead to her temple. My stomach lurched when she didn’t move. But she was fine, she would wake up soon. I just needed to protect her. The man beside me tried to talk again. His words were as meaningless as before. I kept singing, and soon, I forgot about him entirely.
I was still repeating that one line from the song in an aching cycle, since it was all I knew, when another man appeared. This one had a mustache, and his voice was a gentle rumble, like a giant’s. He knelt beside me and my mother, the buttons on his uniform gleaming from the beam of a flashlight. There were more people behind him, I realized dimly. I hadn’t even noticed them come in. Figures moved in and out of my parents’ bedroom. They spoke quietly, but I heard the horror in their voices. The confusion. One of them said Damon’s name, but not even that could pull me away.
“I know you’ll miss her, and she’ll miss you, but we have to take her,” the police officer said, bringing my attention back to him.
I finally comprehended what he was saying. Terror overcame me, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. My grip tightened on Mommy’s hand. “No. You can’t take her. I n-need her,” I hiccupped.
He didn’t relent. “She can’t stay here, honey.”
“No!” I lashed out at him like a wild animal. The burst of adrenaline that hit my veins helped some of my sense return, and I finally remembered that I’d left my little brother in a darkened bedroom. I turned and looked toward the door with wild eyes. “Damon, where is Damon? I need to find Damon!”
The man tried to pull me down the hall, tried to soothe me with more words that swallowed me with their emptiness. I fought him and draped myself over my mother’s remains. As if that would change anything. As if it would bring her back. And then I was screaming again, clawing at the man’s arm as he picked me up. I kicked my legs out uselessly while he carried me out, filling my ears with his lies.
I wasn’t okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.
“Fortuna. Come back. Come back to me.” Hands cupped my cheeks.
I blinked up at Collith, dimly aware that I was gripping his wrists. There was a slight tremble in my fingers. Lately, I’d been slipping into the past so often it felt harder and harder to come back. “Get me out of here,” I whispered.
His response was to wrap an arm around my shoulders and tuck me firmly against his side. His scent assailed my senses, and for just an instant, it blocked out everything else. I let myself close my eyes. The carnage was replaced by darkness, and Collith, and the solidness of his body against mine. And his voice, the soft sound of it filling that terrible stillness: “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
We left the room together, and I was breathing through my mouth now, trying to avoid the smell of death. The sound was small and ragged. Hearing it, Collith’s grip tightened. Part of me wanted to close my eyes and press harder against him . . . but
another part of me resisted. That had been happening a lot these days, I thought as Collith led us out. Every time we got closer, or it felt like I’d started to depend on him, I kept the smallest distance between us.
When we neared the entrance, I pulled away and raised my gaze, fixing it on the open door just a few yards away. The night sky beckoned like an old friend.
This time, I didn’t look around. There were still a couple people here, and their low voices followed me and Collith outside.
At the first crime scene, I’d halted on the threshold, my heart lurching with alarm as something else occurred to me.
“Wait,” I’d said, turning back. “The blood. Police officers will see it, and they’ll take pictures—”
“Glamours linger after death,” Collith had replied, his tone reassuring. “And by the time it fades, any evidence or witnesses are taken care of.”
“Dracula?” I’d guessed. Collith nodded.
Tonight, I left without hesitation. The police lights flashed in our faces again. Even though no one could see us, they felt like a spotlight on my pain. I put my head down and hurried toward our rental car. Collith opened the passenger door and watched me lower myself into the seat before he circled the hood and went to the driver’s side.
Once he was inside, pulling the door shut, I turned my face and looked out the window. There was nothing to see besides my own face reflected in the black glass. I’d lost weight, I thought faintly. Collith drove to the end of the block and turned, taking us away from that house of horrors. Within a minute, we were surrounded by farmland. I kept staring at myself, and my own haunted reflection was a reminder of everything that had happened to make me look like this.
There were so many cracks inside me now that I was on the verge of shattering. That happened a lot these days, too—getting to this point, this pain.
But every time I was at the edge, someone intervened.
At Bea’s, when I opened my locker in search of eye drops and discovered a cupcake waiting for me, Ariel’s subtle scent wafting out. At home, when I emerged from my room, red-eyed, and drew up short at the sight of Damon, Danny, and Matthew, all of them dressed for a hike, looking in my direction with expectant smiles. Some days, I’d get a timely text from Adam or Gil, inviting me to come train at the shop. Then there was Emma, leaving freshly baked cookies on the counter or asking how my sessions were going with Consuelo.
Without fail, my Shadow Court pulled me back again and again. Even those who weren’t technically part of it.
At the same moment I had the thought, I sensed Collith’s arm move. His fingers interlaced with mine, and then he lifted my hand, his lips pressing a brief, gentle kiss against the back of it. I watched him silently. Despite the cold that spread over my skin from that kiss, I felt warmer, a small spot of heat buried somewhere deep inside me.
I waited for Collith to say something, but he just turned his head, concentrating on the road again. Light from the screens in front of us cast a pale tint over his skin, and there was that stubborn lock of hair over his brow, I noted distantly. The one that always had my fingers itching to reach up and brush it back. But I couldn’t even if I wanted to, because Collith hadn’t let go of my hand. And I hadn’t pulled away.
As I continued to study Collith’s profile, the memory of his voice came back to me from those last minutes in the house. It had been my port in a storm of guilt and self-loathing. I’ve got you.
The warmth began to spread, threatening to thaw the icy wall I’d built. Finally tearing my gaze from Collith, I met the eyes of the woman in the window again. Streetlights and darkness rushed past, and she stared back at me with a look in her eyes that I knew all too well. Fear.
No matter how hard I fought it, no matter how many times I tried to pretend it wasn’t there, I felt it in my ragged breath, in my tight chest, as if there was a shadow behind my heart. Whispering to me with every hard, unsteady beat.
I was afraid. Not just that we would be too late again, and we’d be finding the remains of another family instead of saving them. Not just that I might let down Finn, and my parents, and everyone else that my twisted creation had slaughtered.
I was afraid I couldn’t do it. Afraid that when the time came, and I was facing the creature Oliver had become—the one he’d always been, I corrected silently, a truth I would’ve seen sooner if I hadn’t been so weak, so stubbornly blind something would make me hesitate. The memory of that quiet, freckled boy. A shred of nostalgia or misplaced affection that might still live deep inside me, no matter how many times I reminded myself that the boy I loved didn’t exist. He had just been another repressed memory. A monster.
In the cruelest of ironies, I’d been taking Oliver’s advice a lot lately. A long time ago, back in the days of the dreamscape while we were still us, he’d told me, Picture the worst possible outcome. Be cruel to yourself. Spare no pain. Do this again, and again, and again. Until one day, you’ll find yourself immune to it, and the fear will no longer control you.
So on nights like this, and most other nights, too, I pictured it. The exact moment when the light would leave Oliver’s eyes, and the holy blade I planned to put in his gut was covered in blood. His blood. Maybe mine along with it, but that part didn’t matter. I imagined it a hundred times, and then a hundred more, trying to prepare. To harden.
My stomach clenched with resolve, and I lifted my gaze. When the time came, I promised again, I would be ready. But the woman in the window didn’t believe me.
chapter two
Sunlight glittered over the lake.
The water was so still that it looked like glass, but there was nothing still about the rest. Not the bugs, which flitted through the air and created small, ephemeral ripples. Not the birds appearing sporadically in the sky, swooping against the blue expanse and calling to each other in high, musical sounds. Not the gentle sway of the boat I sat in.
I leaned back and arched my pole back to cast the line. A moment later, the lure plopped gracelessly into the lake. My brow furrowed. “Damn it,” I muttered.
“Release the reel button as the rod comes to eye level,” a familiar voice said.
I nodded and reeled the line back in. “Like this?” I asked, trying again.
This time, the lure landed farther away. Finn squinted toward it, holding his own fishing pole over the edge. The corners of his solemn mouth tilted upward. “Good. Very good.”
“Thanks.” I smiled back and relaxed against the edge, holding my fishing pole in a loose grip.
After a moment, Finn turned away and gazed out at the lake.
I knew I was staring, but I didn’t care. I drank in the sight of him as though I were waking up from a really long, really terrible dream. He looked the same, I thought. No, that wasn’t true—he looked better.
I’d met Finn when he’d been a captive at the Unseelie Court, a creature that had been starved and beaten for years. Even after we’d been together for a while, after he was safe and fed and warm, I realized now that Finn had never truly recovered. I’d never gotten to know this healed, complete version of him.
Emotions swelled in my throat, a thick tangle of them, as if I’d swallowed too much at once. Sorrow. Pain. Guilt. To hide it from Finn, I refocused on my lure and watched how the light played on the water. Birdsong rode a breeze that smelled like pine trees.
“Is this real?” I asked finally.
My question was met with silence. I looked over at Finn again, and his expression made me feel a familiar wistful pang. The soft, thoughtful light in his eyes, the slight purse to his mouth. He was considering his response in the same quiet, careful way he’d done everything when he was alive. I guessed there were some things that never changed about a person, no matter how much blood and tears they shed.
“Depends on your definition of real,” Finn said finally. Another bird flew overhead and its shadow passed over him.
I rolled my eyes, smiling, and turned back to our lines. “I don’t remember you being so philosophical before. It’s annoying.”
“I was a wolf most of the time,” Finn reminded me.
“Yeah, well, that never seemed to stop you from expressing your opinion,” I countered. Finn’s lips curved in the barest hint of a smile, and he opened his mouth to reply, but then my fishing pole surged forward. I swore and shot to my feet, tightening my hold on it. “Holy shit! I got one! I got one, Finn!”
“Jerk the line, make sure you’ve got him good,” he urged. He stood and put his hand on my elbow to balance me as I yanked my fishing pole and a big, glistening fish shot into the air. A girlish
squeal escaped me. Finn laughed while I frantically began to reel it in, and I was laughing, too, nearly losing my grip on the pole again.
Finn rushed to grab it from me, his white teeth shining. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you—”
I jerked awake.
Reality came back in pieces. I was in a motel room. My skin still stung from the shower I’d taken a few hours ago, after I had scrubbed all the imaginary blood off my skin. Sighing, I slumped against the headboard and ran my hand down my face. The old clock on the nightstand revealed it was the Witching Hour. Maybe that was why I’d woken up. I wondered if Collith was awake, too, but I didn’t hear anything through the thin wall between our rooms.
By the time we’d left that blood-filled house, it was almost two in the morning. The closest Door was several hours away, and I’d felt hollowed out after what we had just seen. Collith suggested stopping at a motel for the night, and I hadn’t argued.
I’d searched for options on my phone while he drove. When I reached the drop-down menu for how many rooms we would need, my finger had hovered over the screen.
After a moment’s hesitation, I chose two.
In the months since my return from Hell, things had been . . . paused between me and Collith. I never spoke about what had happened with Oliver, and Collith never asked, but he knew. He knew about Lucifer, too. Understandable, really, that he’d distanced himself. Collith wasn’t even staying at the loft anymore, or at Cyrus’s, and there were often weeks we didn’t see each other.
But he texted every day.
It was strange, getting messages from Collith. Sending them back. We’d never had that kind of relationship before. Most of our time together had been narrowly escaping life-or-death situations, or arguing about whether I should kill someone. I’d only
seen him flirt on a handful of occasions, and he’d teased me even more rarely.
Lately, Collith had been doing both of those things, and more. He sent me book recommendations. Passages and poems he thought I’d like. Pictures of flowers in his garden. It wasn’t constant, but the texts always seemed to arrive just when I was about to slip into the dark corners of my mind. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, exactly—somewhere along the way, seeing Collith’s name on my screen had become a highlight in my day.
Once in a while, usually late at night, I questioned the change in him. The shift that had happened in the way he treated me. It was almost as if he’d made his mind up about something, and now he was . . . waiting. And while he waited, he reminded me in consistent, subtle ways that he was there. Supporting me. Loving me.
If I weren’t so fucked up and confused, I might have been tempted to let him.
As I’d held my hand under the shower spray, I’d blearily gone over the victims again. Laurie’s people still hadn’t been able to find any connections between them, either. The kills had to be random. Mindless. Oliver was on a bender, his humanity completely gone. Which meant there was no way to predict who he would hit next.
No way besides the dreams.
They started a few days after Oliver got free, and the dreams were how we’d found two of the four crime scenes. Monstrous, dark dreams that were worse than any of the nightmares my best friend had once protected me from. I felt myself tear into people like they were nothing more than paper, their flesh giving way beneath my hands, hot blood spilling over my fingers. Their screams filled my ears.
It wasn’t hard to figure out that I was seeing the killings through Oliver’s eyes. He might’ve had his own body now, but
there was still a connection between us. A connection that, every time I thought about it, made my stomach churn.
I’d already asked Savannah if she could use this twisted bond to track Oliver. That would’ve been too easy, though, and magic was a fickle asshole. Savannah didn’t know of any spell that could accomplish what I wanted, and she also didn’t know enough about the strange power connecting us. My power.
The dreams were still useful, since I had been able to use context clues. Landmarks. House numbers. Once, I’d seen a name on an envelope. It was a strange feeling, dreading the moment I fell asleep and anxiously waiting for it, too. Praying that we would be able to find Oliver faster next time, maybe even fast enough to get there before he’d left, and finally end this. There was just the small matter of figuring out what Oliver’s—
My thoughts were cut short when I heard a tap at the door. I got out of bed and hurried across the room. When I swung it open and saw Collith standing there, I was suddenly too aware that I wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Hi,” I said softly, giving him a questioning look. We’d agreed to leave at seven.
Collith’s hazel eyes were inscrutable. He was fully dressed, as if he hadn’t even tried to sleep, which meant we’d stopped here purely for my sake. “I heard you through the wall and thought I’d update you in person. I just got a call from our mutual friend,” Collith said.
By mutual friend, of course, he meant Laurie. The Seelie King had been keeping his distance, too, since Finn’s funeral. But he had even more reasons than Collith to stay away, and I hadn’t tried to change his mind. Not when all I had to offer him was I don’t know or I can’t right now.
“And?” I said. Apprehension fluttered in my stomach. These days, updates from Laurie weren’t a good thing.
Collith held out his phone. “Recognize this?”
As I took it from him, my fingers briefly brushing his, I stepped
back and inclined my head in a silent invitation. Collith stepped past me, and I tried not to breathe in his scent, focusing quickly on the image Laurie had sent.
It was a bird’s-eye view of a corn field, and right in the center, the crops had been cleared to form an earthen circle. And in the center of that, someone had carved a symbol deep into the dirt. When I registered the shape of the symbol, it felt like the air in my lungs froze.
It was the same as the mark on my back.
My gaze shot back to Collith’s, and my voice was sharp. “Did he send anyone to this place? Where was it taken?”
“West Bengal. In the eastern Himalayas,” he answered. “Laurelis sent two of his agents, and the area was abandoned. But they could sense magic had been there—strong magic.”
“It’s a mark Olorel created,” I murmured, my brow lowered in thought. “That it made traveling between dimensions easier. Is he trying to go back to his world?”
A storm brewed in Collith’s eyes, making them darken as he countered, “Or bring someone here?”
The possibilities were terrifying. I fell silent as I remembered the things I’d seen in Hell. When an image of Lucifer’s creepy sister reared up, I hurriedly gave Collith his phone back. I caught a final glimpse of the field Lucifer had ruined just before Collith put his phone away. My frown deepened.
Whatever the mark meant, it was beginning to feel like all roads led back to Olorel.
For the hundredth time, I considered what I knew about him. My knowledge had evolved since I’d first heard his name. Back then, it was a three-day feast I’d needed to survive. I’d only been at the Unseelie Court to save my brother, and I didn’t give a shit about what some ancient faerie had sacrificed.
Now I knew that Olorel had been one of the greatest powers in the universe. He could create tears between worlds, and he’d used that ability to save the rebels during the Battle of Red Pearls.
He’d used that same ability to make the Unseelie Court, a safe place where they could exist away from humans. The devil and his followers had been using Olorel’s mark to reach across the dimensions for centuries—like that super fun time Belanor branded it on my back—and even Hell had a feast in his name. But when I’d asked Lucifer what they were celebrating, all he would say was, It’s a promise.
Dread gripped me, and my gaze rose back to Collith. “Whatever Lucifer is doing, we need to stop him,” I said. “So I guess the plan stays the same. Finding Oliver will lead us right to the devil. I know it, Collith.”
He gave me a faint, solemn smile. “I believe you. We stay the course.”
Something shifted in my chest. I believed him, too. And in that moment, it struck me just how much I’d grown to trust Collith. How much I depended on him. He’d become a part of my life gradually, sneaking into a thought or a breath, until now being with him felt as natural as breathing.
Suddenly I wondered if my thoughts were written all over my face. Uncertainty rushed in, and I realized I didn’t know what to say. We were still standing by the door, so I reached for the knob and opened it, mostly just to stop myself from making some kind of clumsy, mortifying confession to Collith. “Well, thanks for passing on the update,” I said.
Collith nodded, but he didn’t move. I waited for him to walk out. He continued to linger there, his brows drawn together, his mouth bracketed by lines of tension. As the seconds ticked by, I realized that his silence had nothing to do with Laurie’s update. Frowning, I closed the door again and forced myself to stay quiet.
“I’m afraid for you,” Collith said finally.
The old me would’ve instantly gone on the defense or jumped to conclusions. But I knew it didn’t come easy to Collith, revealing this. He guarded his secrets like most people guarded their heart after it had been broken a time or two.
“Afraid I won’t be able to do it, you mean? When the time comes?” I said, keeping my expression neutral.
“You love him, Fortuna. You may not want to admit it, but if you’re going to survive this, you need to.” Toward the end of his response, there was almost a hint of pleading in Collith’s tone. Then the tang of his fear whispered over my tongue. He was telling the truth, but that didn’t do much to lessen the sting of his doubt.
“Do I seriously need to remind you that he killed my parents? He tore them apart just like he tore that couple apart tonight. He killed Finn.” My voice cracked.
“Be that as it may, you love him.” Collith wasn’t backing down. He paused before he added, “Just as Laurie loved me even when he believed I’d stolen his power on purpose.”
A dozen sharp retorts rose to my lips, and I pursed them so hard that it hurt. I welcomed the small pain—it made it easier to ignore the bigger ones. I didn’t want to talk about any of this.
As soon as I had the thought, the urge to run gripped me. I fought it, because Collith deserved better than that. I was done running. I gave him a humorless smile and said, “Okay, what I’m really hearing you say is that we’re all wildly dysfunctional, and we should make healthier choices in our relationships.”
Collith didn’t smile back. “You don’t have to do it, Fortuna. You don’t even have to be there,” he insisted.
“Yes. Yes, I do.” My voice was flat. My mind filled with a memory of Finn, and it was quickly followed by a rush of pain. I cleared my throat, glancing around the room as if I were looking for something. My gaze snagged on the TV.
“Will you stay for a while?” I asked impulsively. “We could watch a movie.”
Before I had a chance to regret the offer, Collith said, “I’d like that.”
I felt a strange rush of nervousness. I turned away quickly,
relieved that I had something else to focus on. “Okay, great. Here’s the remote. Let me just . . .”
Trailing off, I handed the remote to Collith and left him again. I proceeded to make a nest, of sorts, on the floor in front of the TV, then propped the pillows against the base of the bed. As I worked, I told myself I was imagining the amusement that seemed to radiate from the figure standing on the other side of the room. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. And why was it suddenly so hot in here?
Once I’d finished, Collith didn’t wait for an invitation—he took off his shoes and folded his long body to sit on the motel’s flowered bedspread. He held the remote in a light grip and began to absently flick through the channels. After a moment, I lowered myself down next to him, sitting close enough that his scent wafted to me again. Collith seemed wholly immersed in his search.
“Oh, it’s The Empire Strikes Back,” he said suddenly. “This one is my favorite.”
Finding out that Collith was a Star Wars fan was like discovering Dracula’s favorite author was Jane Austen. My discomfort forgotten, I smiled and looked over at him. “What? The Empire Strikes Back isn’t anyone’s favorite. That’s weird.”
Collith gave me an affronted look. “The Empire Strikes Back has everything, Fortuna. The soundtrack alone is incredible, but there’s also plot, dialogue, stakes. It’s a masterpiece.”
“Wow,” I said with raised brows. “I had no idea you were such a giant nerd.”
“Takes one to know one,” he countered. My lips twitched. Collith’s gaze lingered on mine for another beat, and the undeniable heat of attraction filled the space between us. Then Collith went back to watching the movie.
Instead of turning toward the TV, too, I studied him. Collith seemed unaware of my attention. The blue lights flickered over the planes and angles of his serious, beautiful face. “This is the best part,” he murmured.
I finally tore my eyes away from Collith. Leia’s pale, upturned features filled the screen. “I love you,” she said.
“I know,” Han Solo replied, looking back at her with a promise in his gaze.
I struggled to focus. Collith’s scent was distracting, and despite how exhausted I’d been in the car, I was suddenly wide awake, every part of me hyper- aware of the male sitting within reach. We were so close, and yet, the distance between us felt impossible. I wanted to close it, or at least take a single step.
For once, I had an idea of what that step should be.
Swallowing, I turned my head slightly, keeping my gaze down as I spoke. “I never apologized,” I murmured.
I sensed Collith looking at me. “For what?”
My eyes rose to his. The memory of that night sparked, and I saw a flash of myself dropping the sapphire at Collith’s feet. Regret seared my soul. “Helping Viessa take the throne.”
He must’ve seen the shame inside me, because Collith shook his head, his brows drawn together. “I don’t judge you for it, Fortuna. Any of it.”
Another silence hovered between us. A thousand thoughts raced through my head, and it felt like my heart was rising and falling at the same time. “How can that be true?”
Collith gave me a sad, wry smile. Our past was in that smile, I thought. Every lie, every betrayal, every mistake. “Because there are a great many things I’ve had to apologize for,” he reminded me.
That was true, too. We’d both made mistakes, and we’d both been hurt. My mind went even further back, back to the beginning, and I remembered the night I’d been whipped at Collith’s feet. I felt a dull ache in my chest like the echo of an old wound. And when Collith leaned forward and pressed his forehead to mine, I remembered what he’d said afterward. I made sure to feel every single lash.
“You shouldn’t touch me,” I whispered. But I didn’t move.
He didn’t move, either, and his voice rolled through me like a gentle wave. “Why?”
“Because I’m . . .” I made a vague gesture toward myself, not sure what I was trying to say, exactly. “I’m . . . not safe. Anyone who gets close, anyone who . . .”
God, I wished I was better at this. I pulled away, wiping the tears off my cheeks with both hands. When had I started crying? Collith didn’t try to offer comfort, but he shifted as subtly as he could, putting himself even closer to me. A silent offer or a show of support, I didn’t know which. Probably both.
It wasn’t the first time, but eventually, there would be a last. Inevitably, I thought about the other massive, invisible obstacle between us. I brought my knees in to my chest and rested my cheek on them, looking at Collith sidelong. “Are you going to take it back? The throne, I mean?”
He remained silent. And as I felt my heartbeat intensify, I realized the answer terrified me.
Mostly because I had no idea what I wanted it to be.
“I don’t know,” Collith said finally. Light from the TV flickered over his frown.
I hesitated. There was something else I wanted to say, but Viessa had always been a sensitive subject, especially after we’d worked together to unseat Collith. Not talking about her was one of the reasons we felt so far apart. I considered my words carefully before I said, “I do regret the coup, but . . . she’s a good queen, Collith. She definitely thinks like a faerie sometimes, just like you did. In a way, your visions are the same. She’s trying to bring the Unseelie Court into a new era. A new way of doing things. Some of the changes she’s made I wish I’d thought of.”
I shook my head wonderingly, a smile touching my lips as I remembered the last time I’d been to Viessa’s Court. She’d completed the carvings on all the doors, and finished the pathways, too. She had also installed more lights. Those weren’t the only changes, though. The new queen had also implemented policies
that protected human lives and kept the nobles in line. She’d even started an education program to force the old ones into the ways of the twenty-first century. There had been many, many assassination attempts.
Fortunately, Viessa had Nuvian at her side, and I knew firsthand how good he was at protecting headstrong queens.
Collith made a sound in his throat, bringing me back to the present. His voice was quiet as he said, “Have I mentioned lately how extraordinary you are?”
Finally giving in to the urge to touch him, I rested my fingers on Collith’s chest and searched his gaze. “I could say the same thing to you. Collith . . . how are you doing it?”
His brow furrowed. “Doing what?”
I hesitated. We had never talked about this, either. Which was why, once again, I made myself say the thing I’d been avoiding.
“You’ve been cut off from the Courts just like Lyari has. On top of that, you’re a Nightmare, which comes with its own fun set of challenges. And yet, you haven’t wavered this summer. Not once. Every time I’ve needed you, or disappointed you, or hurt you these past few months, you’ve been here. There should be more changes by now. How have you stayed . . . you?”
Silence met my question. Collith had the look on his face that told me he was considering his next words carefully. As I waited, one of his hands rose absently, trapping my own against his heart.
“I’ve been fighting the darkness inside me for a lifetime, Fortuna. There are still some things from my past that I haven’t told you about. Choices that I’m not proud of.” Collith’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t let go of my hand. He refocused and continued, “Most untethered faeries become goblins because they perceive themselves that way—weak, alone. The rejection from our own kind can drive us mad. But it wasn’t that way for me. Being severed from my Court only made my mind clearer.”
“That makes one of us.” The words slipped out of me. I was too comfortable, too drawn to this version of Collith. The one
who looked at me so openly, and laid himself bare without a trace of fear. My eyes dropped to Collith’s lips, just for a moment, and then I caught myself and looked away.
But Collith saw.
He made a sound that made my core clench, and then he growled, “Fuck it.”
When I turned to look at him again, he gripped the hair at the back of my head and closed the last breath of distance between us. I melted into Collith instantly, moaning into his mouth as we consumed each other. This, I thought distantly, this part of us had always worked. He tasted as good as I remembered, and the taste of him drove all sense away. I let my body take over. As I shifted to straddle Collith, sliding my hands beneath his shirt, I exalted at the ridges and strength that greeted my fingertips.
Instinct took hold of Collith, too. He moved with the speed of the fae, and suddenly I was lying on the bed, the bedsheets whispering against my skin. Still lost in his kiss, I wrapped my legs around Collith and rolled my hips. He lowered his head to tease and skim my neck while I tugged at his shirt again. Acquiescing to my silent demand, Collith pulled away to take it off. I made a satisfied noise and he reclaimed my mouth, making one of his own.
At the same moment I felt Collith reach for the waistband of my shorts, shouts came through the wall over the bed. The humans were so loud their voices overpowered the movie, which was still playing on the other side of the room. Collith and I went still at the same time. We stared silently at each other as the couple next to us argued about who got the last of the blow.
Collith collapsed on top of me with a sound of frustration. Smiling, I raked my fingers up the back of his head. “We always seem to wind up in motels together,” I whispered.
Soft laughter sounded in my ear. Then, with a groan, Collith pushed himself up and rolled away. He bent to retrieve his shirt
and stood. As Collith pulled it on, light from the TV shifted over the hard, defined lines of his stomach.
“The truth of the matter is, I want you everywhere,” he said. “But you’re rarely by yourself, and the constant presence of your Court helps me resist you. It just so happens that motel rooms are where we tend to find ourselves alone. Good night, Fortuna.”
“Where are you going?” I blurted, watching Collith walk to the door. He thought he could say something like that and then just . . . leave?
“Back to my room.” Collith must’ve seen my confusion, because he paused before adding, “Until this is all over, I think there should be some boundaries.”
“Boundaries,” I repeated slowly. “So when you say ‘until this is all over,’ what you really mean is . . . until Oliver is dead.”
Collith turned in the doorway, one hand on the knob. His eyes were hard. “No. I mean until it’s really me you want,” he said.
I hesitated. “I . . . I do want you, Collith.”
He searched my expression with an intensity that I hadn’t seen in him for weeks. My body heated, and I felt the slow rise of hope.
At the exact moment Collith opened his mouth to answer, his phone rang. The sound pierced the stillness, and I jumped, yet my gaze never moved from Collith’s. He reached into his pocket and sent the caller to voicemail. Relief whispered through me. I was afraid that if we didn’t finish this conversation now, tonight, it wouldn’t come up again. Not for a long time.
Once again, Collith opened his mouth to speak, and once again, his phone rang.
I felt myself deflate. “You should probably get that.”
Collith’s eyes flickered, and his mouth tightened—he knew I was right. With obvious reluctance, Collith pulled his phone out and glanced at it. Whatever he saw made him stiffen, and his reaction sent my pulse racing, too. Collith touched the screen and brought it to his pointed ear, turning away. I moved to the end of
the bed and rested my elbows on my knees as I waited, pretending to watch the movie. While Collith spoke to the person on the other end, I thought about the other phone calls. The ones that always concluded with us walking through a sea of blood and body parts. But there couldn’t be another scene so soon, I told myself. Not two in one week. That didn’t fit the pattern, and Oliver had been consistent.
But apparently I didn’t fully believe it, because the moment Collith faced me again, pocketing his phone, I pounced. “Who was that?”
“Dracula,” Collith said.
A chill ran down my spine. In a burst of memory, I remembered that Dracula had come to the homestead a few weeks ago. I’d been in shock after Finn’s death, and Collith had taken care of it. I hadn’t even wondered about it until now. “Why would he be contacting you?” I asked.
Collith’s expression was grim, and his eyes were a shade darker than usual as he answered, “Because we’ve been summoned.”
“Collith.” I spoke more sharply now. “Talk to me. Where are we being summoned?”
There was a note of resigned finality in Collith’s voice. “To a meeting of the Order.”
The alarm on my cell phone went off at 6:50 a.m.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes, surprised that I’d managed to fall asleep again after Collith left. I had tossed and turned for so long that I’d almost given up. Oliver was mostly to blame for the noise in my head last night . . . but some of it was Collith’s fault, too.
Collith, who was probably waiting for me. Sighing, I dragged myself out of bed and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth
and wash my face. Five minutes later, I stepped out of the motel room and found Collith leaning on the wall outside the door.
“Good morning,” he said. It was a habit he’d picked up from Emma.
“Good morning,” I said automatically, giving Collith a swift appraisal. He didn’t look tired, but there was the slightest wrinkle to his clothes, which were still the same as yesterday’s. He could’ve sifted home to shower and change, I thought, trying not to frown. Why hadn’t he?
In an instant, I knew the answer—Collith hadn’t wanted to leave me.
“No dreams?” he asked, completely oblivious to the way I couldn’t seem to stop looking at him.
I shook my head. “Not this time.”
“Good. You needed the rest.”
“Yeah, I guess.” With a soft smile, I started walking toward the parking lot. Collith fell into step beside me, his elbow brushing against mine. Birdsong floated through the quiet. When we got to the car, Collith opened the passenger side door for me again, flashing a small, crooked smile of his own. That familiar, stubborn lock of hair fell into his eye, and as Collith closed the door and rounded the hood, I watched him rake it back in an absent, habitual gesture. Then he got in and started the car, making sure the heat settings were how I liked them before he started driving. I felt another soft sensation inside me, a feeling that made me think of petals unfurling.
As we began the final leg of our journey to the Door, the morning sun was drowsy. It illuminated Collith as if he belonged in the light. I kept my face turned toward him, acting like I was absorbed by the brightening sky. Secretly, I mapped out the dips and lines of his profile. A small voice at the back of my head told me to stop it. To look away. But . . . I liked looking at Collith. The admission should’ve been frightening, and maybe something inside me did flutter a little. Only a little.
Still unaware of my scrutiny, or at least doing a valiant job of pretending to be, the object of my fixation slowed at a stop sign and turned on the blinker. It clicked into the stillness, marking every second that passed and neither of us brought up last night. Not just the kiss but what had come after that, too. Dracula’s phone call, and the fact that our lives were about to potentially turn upside down again.
I’d asked Collith all my questions last night. The Order, it turned out, was a supernatural council formed of rulers from nearly every species. Witches, werewolves, vampires, fae, even nymphs. They only convened when it seemed like Fallenkind was being threatened or exposed. The most dire of circumstances, Collith told me, his voice tight with worry.
Although neither of us had said it out loud, I knew we were both thinking the same thing—the meeting was about me. I was the problem. Why else would our attendance be required?
“Do you think they’re planning to kill me?” I’d asked.
“They can try,” Collith said, his eyes glittering in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time. These past few months, Collith had been a cool, calming presence in my life. Sometimes I forgot about the lightning that simmered beneath his skin.
The conversation floated through my thoughts for the next hour as we returned the rental car and made our way to the closest Door, which was through the bulkhead of an abandoned church. Within seconds, Collith and I found ourselves walking through familiar woods. Even now, neither of us said anything. Thick, green leaves rustled all around us and the air smelled like growing things. After a while, the path became even more beaten, and the branches retreated. A flock of geese appeared over the distant treetops, their wild cries echoing through the ambertinted light. Collith and I arrived at the edge of the forest, and then I saw it—home.
Emma was outside, tending to the flowers she’d planted around the barn. She turned as if she heard us coming. It had
been a good summer for Emma, despite how much she worried about me. There hadn’t been any more health scares or trips to the hospital. I wanted to keep it that way, so every time we came back from a crime scene, I never went into much detail about what we’d found. Emma didn’t ask, either.
While Collith and I finished crossing the yard, she got to her feet and brushed her hands off on the gardening apron I’d recently given her as a birthday present. “Good morning,” she called.
I felt lighter, suddenly, and some of the darkness that had been crowding in my chest began to dissipate. “Good morning, Ems,” I said.
She beamed at Collith as he walked over to her. Her thin, wrinkled arms rose to embrace him like they had been separated for months, though I was pretty sure she’d seen him a few days ago. Collith still bent to hug her back, just as he always did, and Emma’s voice was muffled as she said, “I made pancakes. Would you like to join us?”
Collith straightened with a regretful expression. “I wish I could, but there are some things I need to do.”
“What sort of things?” Emma demanded, and I pursed my lips, my shoulders giving a small twitch as I fought a laugh.
“Boring things,” Collith said with a warm smile. He lifted his head, and I felt another tiny flutter when his gaze landed on me. “I’ll see you in three days.”
The reminder caused a knot of anxiety to form in my chest. In three days, I would be attending my first—and hopefully last— meeting of the Order.
Not trusting myself to respond in front of Emma, I just nodded. Collith walked over to kiss my forehead, then turned away. As I watched him go, I felt a gentle prickle on my skin. I turned to catch Emma watching me with that familiar, knowing look of hers. I swallowed a sigh and moved closer to her.
“I know I’m not a cute faerie, but could I get some pancakes?” I asked lightly.
“Of course you can.” She wrapped her arm around me, careful as ever not to touch my skin, and we strode toward the door, moving into the building’s shadow. The air instantly became cooler. I tipped my head back, taking in the familiar slope of the roof and the morning-tinted sky beyond it. A breath slipped past my lips and the tension left my shoulders, a single word singing through me. Home. For the first time in twenty-four hours, I felt safe.
But then I blinked, and our quiet barn became a scene from one of the murder houses. Red and blue lights shone over the yard and reflected in the glass windows. Uniforms swarmed everywhere and a faint, terrible scent clung to the air. I stood there, staring at my worst nightmare with frozen horror. Staring at the blood splattered on Nym’s bedroom window.
I made a low, choked sound, but I didn’t know if I was trying to shout or scream. Terror and denial raged through me like wildfire. No, this couldn’t happen here. Not to them. This was a dream, just a terrible dream.
I made another sound, my mind latching onto the thought. A dream. Of course! It all made sense now. None of this was real, and I was asleep. I commanded myself to wake up. Wake up, damn it!
My fingers twitched. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe past the panic—
“Fortuna?”
Emma’s voice broke through the high-pitched ringing in my ears. I blinked, and suddenly the awful scene was gone. The barn was exactly as it had been before. Still, serene, lit by the colors of morning as if someone had painted the siding pink while I was gone. Emma stood in the doorway, staring at me. A faint line had deepened between her brows, and I recognized it immediately. Worry.
Tasting Emma’s fear on my tongue cleared my head, and faster than a blink, I gave her a weary smile. I trudged toward the barn as if I’d only paused from sheer exhaustion. “Coming,” I said.
Emma didn’t quite buy it, which was evident by how slowly she turned. But the older woman must’ve decided not to push me, because she went inside without another word. Trying to ignore a heavy sense of foreboding, I moved to follow.
My Shadow Court had sensed something, as well. As I walked to the open door, I felt their silent questions. The soft, hesitant touches that somehow felt like the barest brush of fingertips. I sent reassurances back and withdrew. I knew if I lingered, they’d see right through me. They would know how terrified I was. They would discover the truth that I had been keeping from everyone, including myself.
The truth that Collith might be right, and when the time came, I wouldn’t be strong enough to save them.
At the threshold, I stopped again. Emma’s footsteps sounded on the steps as I turned back and looked outside. Maybe to catch another glimpse of Collith, or scan the shadowed trees for something that didn’t belong. Holding my breath, I searched the stirring leaves and the waking horizon. Nothing moved. Only birdsong drifted past my ears, followed by a gentle breeze that smelled like dew and freshly mown grass.
I exhaled and went inside.
Three days later, I stood outside the Seaside Motel. We arrived in Maine near sunset, just as Dracula had directed when he’d called to say Collith and I had been summoned. As I stared at the quaint, slightly deteriorating building, knots of apprehension tightened in my stomach. I wondered what we were getting ourselves into, and if this would be a repeat of my other experiences when I’d met a Fallen monarch. It hadn’t exactly gone well with Astrid, or Belanor, or Luther.
And now I was about to stand before an entire group of them.
Collith opened the door of the motel room for me, and I wasn’t startled by the sight of a figure already standing inside. When Collith had come to the loft so we could walk to the Door together, he’d mentioned that we were meeting Laurie near the Order’s headquarters. The Seelie King was a member, of course, so he was expected to be in attendance. I’d hidden my reaction from Collith, but it would be the first time Laurie and I had lain eyes on each other all summer. My heart had reacted at the thought of being in the same room as Laurie again, just as it did now.
He turned at the sound of our arrival, and the first thing I noticed was that he was wearing black.
I’d seen Laurie in black before, but never quite like this. His muscled legs were displayed in tight leather, and his dark shirt looked like it was from another time with its billowy sleeves and neckline ties. His piercing eyes were enhanced by the thick lines he’d drawn across his skin like war paint. They were striking, and jarring, and maybe a little frightening.
Which was exactly what Laurie had intended, no doubt.
“You have something on your face.” Laurie leaned close, his brows drawn together as he examined me. His fingertips skimmed my cheekbone in the barest of touches, and a whisper of heat drifted through my stomach. A heat which promptly vanished when Laurie said, “Ah, I see now. It’s admiration. Here, darling, let me get that drool at the corner of your mouth.”
“We should get your head checked. You’re seeing things.” As I pushed his fingers away, trying to act normal so neither of them would notice my uneven pulse, I spotted a paper cup in Laurie’s other hand. “Oh, thank God. Is there coffee?”
He took a sip and grimaced. “There’s something. I’d say it tastes like dirt, but at least dirt has some flavor. Remind me why we couldn’t meet at the Hilton? There’s one down the street.”
“Because we’re only going to be here for an hour,” Collith said, giving Laurie a hard look. “An hour, Laurelis. We can’t be late for this.”
Laurie rolled his eyes and flicked his wrist in a dismissive gesture, as if Collith were being totally unreasonable.
“What are we doing here for an hour?” I asked, my eyes darting between them.
Laurie looked at me as if the answer were obvious. “I brought what you’re going to wear tonight. Get your head out of the gutter, Fortuna. Are we just pieces of meat to you?”
I didn’t grace this with a response. “Bathroom?” I said, pointing.
Laurie nodded, his eyes gleaming. I walked past him and slipped into a dark room on the right. I flipped the light switch
and turned. As promised, a black garment cover hung on a mounted hook. Just as I was about to close the door, Collith said something that made Laurie laugh. It rang out through the stillness, and I found myself smiling at the sound. I left the door open a crack and hurried to get undressed.
Once I’d returned to the main area, I faced the dingy mirror on the wall.
The dress was blue and silver. It looked like it was made of metal, with intricate designs carved onto every inch. When I’d put it on, I’d been surprised to find the material was soft. The sleeves were long and nearly transparent, clinging like a second skin. The design was cut in such a way that my entire back was exposed, but the train covered most of it. It dragged behind me, not like a wedding gown, but like a cape. A ridiculously long, heavy cape.
“This is a different look,” I remarked, still studying myself. Laurie shifted, and his face appeared next to mine. His rings flashed as he tucked a wayward strand of my hair back into place. “This is a different audience,” he informed me. “We aren’t just trying to intimidate some old faeries tonight. We want you to appear powerful but pure. Untouchable but righteous. It’s not an easy thing to achieve. Luckily, you have me.”
“Do I?” I murmured, looking at his reflection.
The words just slipped out. In an instant, I wished I could take them back, yet . . . I wanted to know the answer, too. Laurie went still, and our gazes met in the glass again. The room became so silent that I could hear sounds from outside—a seagull’s call, and the rumble of an engine. My wild heartbeat, which had begun to quicken at what I saw in Laurie’s eyes.
Before he could answer, the door behind us opened.
Collith’s familiar scent greeted me, instantly comforting. He moved into my line of sight a moment later, his pale face filling the space on my other side. His hazel eyes seemed darker than they’d been an hour ago. He was on edge, and the fact that I
could see it meant my own apprehension wasn’t exactly unwarranted.
“The envoy should be here any minute. Are you ready?” Collith asked.
I fought an urge to swallow, knowing the faeries would hear it. I bent and picked up my train, then straightened and squared my shoulders. Resolve hardened in my stomach. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. Let’s go.”
“Fortuna.” The seriousness in Collith’s voice—more than usual, that is—made me turn. His jaw moved, the muscles flexing with tension. “If these creatures find out you’re not only the creator of this beast, but that you’re capable of making more things like him, they’ll see you as a threat.”
“Would they kill me on the spot or at least make it a nice, civil execution?” I asked lightly.
“That’s not going to happen,” Laurie interjected. His voice was cool, but something in it reminded me just how deadly the Seelie King was beneath that pretty, smirking facade. I smiled at him faintly and put my hand on his arm in silent gratitude. It was the briefest of touches, just a slight press of my fingers, but Laurie’s eyes burned as if I’d done so much more. My own eyes darted away, and I was careful not to look at Collith as I walked toward the door.
We left the motel in a tense silence. Collith and Laurie seemed to know exactly where we were going. They led me past the docks and down to the beach. Once we reached the sand, I paused to adjust my hold on the dress, making sure none of the ends would drag over the dirt. We began to walk alongside the shore. Despite the reason we were here, I couldn’t help noticing the beauty of this place. The dying light cast shadows and color over the water, drawing my eyes to it. Farther out, I saw something that didn’t belong.
I nudged Laurie, keeping my eyes on the lines of red amongst the calm waves. “What does that circle mean?”
