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Chapter 23

Javi chewed his tapioca pearls while he considered my request.

I picked our favorite bubble tea place to meet—somewhere casual, neutral—because nothing says I’m-sorry-let’s-not-fight more than boba.

“Yeah, I have her business card. Why do you want it?” he asked mid-slurp.

Okay, I knew this answer. I’d rehearsed it in the sun visor’s mirror. Yet here, in the act, I failed to remember what partial truth I decided to tell.

“I think she can help me uncover some things I’ve been trying to learn about myself.” That didn’t sound too off script.

Chewing a mouthful of tapioca balls, he stared at me intently. “Don’t you have therapy for that?”

“My therapist actually suggested it.” The suspicion coming off him was stronger than the matcha in my drink. I took a nervous sip. It went down the wrong pipe, and I spent a good minute coughing, unable to look guiltier if I tried. “As a way to…get a unique perspective. You know, reframe.” Which, kind of, because isn’t that what facing my emotions meant?

His thick black eyebrows came together. “And you decided to start with the psychic who harassed you at Grad Night?”

My jaw quivered. I bit down to try and keep it steady, so hard that sweat dotted my upper lip despite being in a freezing-cold air-conditioned room.

“We have this thing called the internet.” Avoiding my eyes, he tapped his phone’s screen and started an aimless scroll.

“She doesn’t have a website. I tried every search engine.” It was true. An hour ago, I’d been curled up in the passenger seat of Ryder’s car with the windows down, the music softly playing in the background and his arm resting atop my calves…while we input every rendition of Madame Myrian into the browsers’ search bars on our phones—just so I didn’t have to do this. I exhaled sharply. “There’s no trace of her online.”

Javi pulled a fabric bi-fold wallet out of his back pocket, and there between the Magic cards, old school IDs, and crumpled dollar bills, lay Madame Myrian’s business card.

“Here.” He slid the plain white card across the table.

My eyes narrowed as I tilted my chin and considered taking it or ripping it in half. Was it so bad to just give up now and go back to watching reruns of our favorite sitcoms in our sweatpants?

Javi took another long pull of his drink. “Do you need company, or is your friend joining you?” Condescension drenched his tone.

As much as I wanted to deny it, I couldn’t stomach another lie. “Yes, he is.”

“Figures,” he grumbled into his tiger milk tea. “Well, I hope you find the insight you’re looking for. Maybe she can even teach you a thing or two about being a good friend.”

My heart lurched painfully. “That’s not fair.” Because I didn’t want it to be.

“You know what’s not fair?” His nostrils flared as his voice rose. “Always being by your side, answering every damn beck and call, and still getting the shit end of the stick. It’s one thing to dip out on our adventures, but when did we start keeping secrets from each other?” He pushed the plastic cup away from him, jostling the ice. It tipped over, the light brown liquid seeping onto the tabletop.

“Javi,” I pleaded, making a point to keep my voice low. “I don’t even know how to start to explain what’s happening to me. It’s evolving and complicated and I’ll sound insane.”

“Try me, Riv!” He slammed his fingers into his chest. “I’ve sat outside almost all your doctor’s appointments. I’ve witnessed a thousand of your episodes—and I’ve held your hand through them all. I’ve helped you off the ground. I’ve comforted you when you were drooling and muttering gibberish. I’m still here. Try me River, please.”

The croak in his throat, the wrinkles in his forehead, the sheen to his eyes—I truly wished it were enough. Enough to say fuck it and bring him along for the ride and show him a world far trippier than the ones in his comics. But it wouldn’t be the sunset we’d be riding off into—it’d be more like the apocalypse. Complete with vicious demons and bloodthirsty werewolves and half-angels armed with such wicked beauty they were perhaps the most dangerous of all.

Something else struck me then—what about the mental filter Ryder had mentioned after the teratorn at his house? Would Javi even be able to see Source, or understand it? My mind had been on the verge of breaking at least ten times since I’d accepted this twist of fate—and I was Nephilim. What would it do to him, a human? It’d be life altering, sure, but would it shatter him mentally? I was all too familiar with having a brain that operated differently. Even if I wouldn’t change it, it was hard. Draining. I didn’t want him to go through that unnecessarily. But I also didn’t want to lose him. It was a no-win situation.

“I have one question.” He broke my silence. “Does he know?”

I knew who he was, and for that, I hated my next words. “Yes, but…it’s different.”

Pushing up off the laminated table, he thrust his chair back. It squeaked against the linoleum, curdling my eardrums. “That’s all I needed to hear.” He paused after standing, messing with a crumpled straw wrapper. “We have half a summer left, and you’re spending it with him. I guess our friendship—I mean that little to you that you can so easily toss me to the curb. By all means, be with whoever makes you happy, Riv. I just can’t believe I was stupid enough to think it was me.”

“You were going to leave me first,” I whispered, trying and failing to hold back that festering piece of resentment. It gnawed at my integrity, killing any lingering decency. I didn’t want to use that against him. I was a monster. I was…“I’m sorry.”

I wanted to hear his snort-chuckle laugh, not his skateboard gliding away. Wanted to see his crinkled brown eyes, not his empty metal chair. Wanted his goodbye to insinuate a next time, not that he’d been hurt beyond repair. His absence left me with a haunting isolation, fueling the emptiness inside. I used to love being alone. I guess I got what I wanted.

“That looked rough.” Ryder slid through my remorse and into the vacated seat.