Page 51

The Pacific Ocean parted at my strides, recoiling with each drive of my knees and swing of my arms, as if we were dancing, me leading, the ocean following. With each salty inhale, it was beginning to feel a lot less like divine luck and more like it was me—like I had summoned the water, and the lightning.

Either way, I was getting the hell out of that cove, away from Chet and the beasts that wanted to kill me. The water shook, struggling to retain its form as I leapt over tidepools and cut across the beach. Whatever magic controlled it must have been pushed to its limits, the water’s glassy shell punctured by leaks that started out small but grew bigger the farther I traveled through it.

Behind me, the ocean covered my footprints and surged forward, as if attempting to lasso my feet. I didn’t let it distract me, using every ounce of energy I had left to propel my legs forward until I reached the base of the cliffs.

The trail on this side of the cove appeared steeper, fissured by landslides, rugged from infrequent use. Scaling it would require all of my extremities, not just my feet. As I flexed my stiff fingers, the ocean shook off the final remnants of magic, releasing a small tsunami headed right towards me. There was no time to absorb what was happening. The burst of power rushed at my heels and I scrambled over the scree, latching on to craggy slabs and exposed roots as every muscle in my body worked to outrun the stampede of water. Its rumble was omnipotent, like a prevailing wind and a heavy rainfall and a fire crackling all at once. I felt it in my ears and my brain just as much as my bones.

I hoisted myself onto the top of the bluff and immediately doubled over, my breaths short and stabbing and not giving me nearly the amount of oxygen I needed. Gripping my kneecaps, I lifted my chin as the swell lapped the edges of the high ground and withdrew just as fast as it had come.

It was over.

My right hand curled into a fist over my heart. I peered at the ocean below, rolling and splashing like nothing was out of the ordinary. All my emotions flooded me at once, and I wasn’t sure if I should cry or laugh or scream. I’d escaped. I’d actually escaped.

A blood-curdling shriek suspended my short-lived relief. Was my mind playing tricks, or had the monsters recovered? After today, anything seemed possible. There was no chance I would stick around to see.

Adrenaline spiked in my veins, and I sprinted through the gold-tipped grasses, scanning the flat field of brush and briars to try and recall which way I had come in. Getting out of the cove had been my priority; I hadn’t thought of where I’d end up once I reached the bluffs.

Desperate to find an outlet to society, I fixated on the faint yellow light peeking out from the cypress grove ahead. Hypnotized by the illusion of safety, I charged through the prickly branches and spilled out onto the two-lane highway, skidding to a halt at the frantic honking. I didn’t know what I thought I’d find there, but as quickly as my hope rose, even more quickly it was slashed by the semi-truck barreling towards me, its headlights speckling my vision like a mosaic.

It screeched past—or that might have been the air leaving my lungs. As the entirety of the day and my exhaustion hit me, I sank next to the defaced white line on the side of the road, the taillights fading with my adrenaline. I tucked my knees beneath me and recounted my misfortunes to the constellations. I’d stretched myself as far as I could.

Even resting against my thighs, my hands would not stop shaking.

Chances were slim that someone would rescue me. This road was quiet. I was about a mile from the makeshift parking lot. And I was pretty sure everyone except the wolves had left.

Shanley didn’t seem like the type to leave me hanging, but she hadn’t signed up to be my human crutch, either. And if monsters prowled these parts, well, that was even more reason for her to split.

But she’d given me a warning when she told me to get away from the bonfire, like she…knew what was coming. I remembered her panicked words, but I also remember thinking there was so much left unsaid in those blue—glacial blue—eyes…

Eyes that pierced me as she locked on to another’s throat.

Air rushed my lips in an audible gasp.

Shanley wasn’t just aware of the threat—Shanley was the threat. Shanley was the darker blonde werewolf.

My stomach might have actually dropped out of my body. A chill cinched my spine and radiated across my flesh. The quirky mannerisms I mistook as a hangover, the wolfy innuendos, the weird obsession with the moon…it all made sense now.

Well, kind of. I was still having trouble grasping the fact that these things were real. And I still wondered if she’d meant to eat me. No matter what her intentions were though, she did save me.

Unsure if I wanted to hate her or thank her, I pulled my cell phone out of my skirt’s tiny pocket, amazed it hadn’t fallen out. Irritation grumbled in my throat. Dead, of course.

Tempted to smash it on the pavement, I dropped it into my lap instead and reached for my mom’s necklace—another item I was shocked had made it through the night, still clasped around my neck. The lapis zapped my fingers, scorching my collarbone as it thudded back onto my chest. Wincing as the pain dissolved, I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

Nothing was funny about my predicament, but there I was, laughing hysterically. It startled me so much I clasped a hand over my mouth to hold it in, but it leapt forth past my fingers. Who harnesses lightning and the sea, kills a demon, challenges not one but two werewolves, and is ready to give up because they have to walk a couple miles in the dark?

People who aren’t born with Source in their blood. Ryder’s voice echoed in my head.

“Source.” A concept with the power to mold me or break me, it left my lips in a cloud and dispersed in the moonlight.

You see things for what they are. And most people in this world do not.

A crossroads lay before me, and not the literal one I’d stumbled onto.

I could hide from the truth and treat my afflictions like I always had: as an inconvenience. Although supernatural creatures and episodes that made my skin feel like it was on fire were no longer just annoying disruptions. The other, honestly more terrifying, option was accepting that I was different. I was something else entirely. I was?—

Nephilim. A word so loaded it caved in my shoulder blades and prickled the scars raised along the skin there like slashes. I took a ragged breath, wanting to think it away before it spread to my lips. Because if I spoke it out loud it all seemed too real: that I was part angel. And no one was here to fight me on it. No one was here to call me crazy. No one was here to confirm or deny it.

Maybe that’s what I needed. I shuffled on my scraped knees, untucking my legs. I was so tired of running.