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The response that came was angry as the spitting fire. “Teratorn don’t just come up for air from the underworld; they need an anchor. Who would waste that energy on a mortal girl? And more importantly, why would you risk our lives to save her?”

“I don’t know, I-I got caught in the crossfire.” Ryder’s pacing resumed.

“These childish games are derailing your first real mission. If you can’t fix this, I will.” The figure stepped closer to Ryder, his brawny, straight-backed shadow completely engulfing him. I had to crane my neck whenever I tried to meet Ryder’s gaze, so I couldn’t imagine how tall this other guy was. “No more messing around.”

“I won’t screw it up, brother.” My stomach fluttered on that detail. “The oath was taken in blood. I still have time to find them.”

The floorboards creaked, and another pair of boots entered my narrow field of view. “It’s been two weeks and you don’t have eyes on your target?” Something slammed in the room, a fist perhaps, rattling a piece of furniture. Brother’s rage made me shiver.

“No,” Ryder murmured, barely loud enough for me to hear. “I haven’t found them yet.”

The flames snapped. He turned to face the bedroom and I jumped back, going until I hit a wall. I really hoped he hadn’t seen me or noticed the fact that the door had been slightly opened—but who was I kidding? With that hunter’s precision, the one that saw every movement no matter how big or small, I’d been caught like a fox in a trap.

I clenched my jaw, molars grinding at the base of my skull. My chest bloated from the air I held hostage, too nervous to breathe. I remained there for several heartbeats, which thundered wildly in my ears, waiting for him to call me out. But he continued talking, whether he noticed me or not, his words now muffled by the space I’d put between us.

Eavesdropping post abandoned, I slid down the cold, bare wood, allowing myself a sigh of relief. I landed on my butt, bracing my elbows against my knees, and let the last words I heard sink in.

This friendship clearly wasn’t built to last, as he readied to drop me to continue his search for another…target? Friend? Potential girlfriend? That I wasn’t sure of.

The conversation I’d overheard raised many concerns, but above all else, the reference to me as just some girl made my heart sink. For whatever pathetic, superficial reason, I’d held a glimmer of hope that his wild, depthless stare was reserved for… me. That it wasn’t just part of the hunt. That it meant something different. But it didn’t. I didn’t. So, whatever.

Pale yellow light trickled in through the cracks of yet another door. This one closer, to my left. It flickered with a soft, rhythmic pulse. I brought myself to standing, the wood around me creaking and groaning as if recording every time I so much as shifted.

I pulled on the handle and peered into the room. My soul might’ve left my body as the promise of relaxation hit me: cozy candlelight flickered off the ivory walls, pooling over the lava tile. A fresh towel lay draped over a stool, next to a steaming clawfoot tub filled with bubbles. An earthy, floral scent diffused from a ceramic vase in the corner. I breathed it in. Lavender. When my feet crossed the threshold, I expected my toes to be hit with a flare of coolness. But the tile was warm, as if it was…heated.

Maybe I was just some girl, but that girl needed a bath. With no hesitation, I pulled off my clothes and got in. After a morning of hell, it felt like heaven.

Chapter 14

The setting sun filtered through the porthole windows and turned the space into a colorful oasis as I circled the bedroom I’d initially been brought to and blotted my wet hair with a towel.

A folded black crew neck had been placed next to the abalone vessel sink like a peace offering. Even if the hem passed my thighs and it turned me into a shapeless heap, at least it was free of teratorn guts. And it smelled like fresh laundry—enough to mask the reek of the clothes I’d had to slip on beneath it, my jeans starched and ashen.

Slashes of pink and orange sherbet hues tunneled in from the skylight, the color splashing the black-and-white nature prints and reflecting off the industrial bulbs in the two metal light fixtures hanging on each side of the ceiling. Each item provided a clue as to who lived here—and with the black and leather touches, the boot-shining kit in the corner, the underlying scent of pine on the pillows, it became very clear—this was Ryder’s room.

Crossing a gray shag rug that felt like butter between my toes, I gravitated towards two club chairs that faced the largest window. A square pouf sewn with a UK flag cover served as an ottoman—well, that answered that question. He was British, maybe.

Nestled between the furniture was a small table with a stack of jacketless books and a pair of framed photos. I picked one up, curious about the memories they contained, and a pint-sized version of Ryder looked up at me with sun-streaked hair and a bowl cut. His gap-toothed Cheese! held an innocence I wouldn’t have believed him capable of if I hadn’t seen this photo. Others huddled near him—mom, dad, brother?—and smiled into the camera. Hands on each other’s shoulders, fingers clasped, matching shirts tucked into their khakis. I smiled back at them. With retro sunglasses and awkward tan lines, their pinched cheeks holding back laughter, it could have been any old Santa Cruz family not cursed by demonic projections.

But there was one weird thing: their shadows.

They seemed to stretch, almost billow, across the fence. Something from outside the shot must have caused it, although…it did kind of look like they spread directly from their backs?—

“Do you have to do that?”

I flinched, almost dropping the picture. “What?”

“Look at things.” I turned to find Ryder leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his right finger tapping the rounded muscle beneath his sleeve.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” I set it back down. “Who are they?”

“A reminder of what used to be,” he said flatly, retreating into the hall.

I followed him out onto the woven rug that had served as a track for his pacing, and the fireplace eclipsed me with its heat. Pressing my hands to the warmth, I could have watched it burn for hours, spellbound by the dancing flames.

Could have, but a mug of tea was forced into my grip and a warped tree stump nudged my knees from behind. Ryder enjoyed his herbal blend on one, waiting for me to take the other.

He was putting me in the hot seat. Literally.