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Wild. Utterly wild. “And…demons?”

“Chthonia, where they serve the Court of the Cursed.”

“Who does everyone else serve?”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “No one.”

Ryder slowed the Chevrolet as we approached the base of the foothills, the pale slopes cratered and brittle. The pinnacles emitted an almost metallic glow against the conifers and pines that grew sporadically on the peaks. I squinted to try and make out the forms carved into the sandstone outcroppings: aliens, peace signs, a symbol that looked like a cross between a sun and a compass, and…phallic doodles. I rolled my eyes.

In the fields below, scorched wood and broken billboards piled into mini pyramids, and rusty pipes littered the berm. The area no longer served as a grazing, golden field for cows but a graveyard of unwanted junk. Ahead, the trash was laid into a semicircle, marking the end of our dirt road. Nestled within the juts of the cratered rocks and the stacks of crushed cars was a run-down autobody shop.

It could have been abandoned—then I caught a flicker of movement as we crossed the threshold and the bustle of the yard enveloped me: the clink of a wrench, the hum of a lift, the whistled song of the mechanics. Dwarves serviced the vehicles with the rote of a hive, their bushy brows furrowing, blistered hands hammering, stocky arms hauling, bearded lips singing.

Half the roof’s sign was hanging off, but that didn’t stop its emerald flicker. The Wizard of Auto was rundown but reigned, and it was anything but deserted.

Ryder looped around the front of the working garage and pulled into a makeshift parking spot near where his leather-vested buddies posted up. Their motorcycles perched on kickstands, in a neat line like dominos, the inky metals glistening in the sun.

His hand met mine as I went to unlatch my seatbelt. “Wait for me here.”

My face shot to his, the first time I’d looked at him straight on since my episode in the car. “No way, I’m coming with.”

Hazel eyes flared, gold specks sifting against the green. “I don’t have time to assess the situation.” A tightness to his voice stopped me from what I was doing, and his fingers squeezed mine, hovering over the buckle. I took in the dwarves, their facial hair mimicking the colors of a changing autumn: rich chestnut, mahogany, ginger. Singing and shuffling and hyperfocused on their tinkering—nothing about this screamed danger. But Ryder did get reamed for blasting my senses, maybe he didn’t want to make that mistake twice.

“Okay fine.” I released the strap, scooting to the passenger door and propping my back against it. “But I’m going to get comfortable.” He tracked the cross of my legs as I kicked my feet up, stilling as my shoes met his thigh. I wiggled my toes against his dark jeans. Too soon they met the air as he hopped out, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Ryder strode to the pack of biker dwarves, a dark object in the shape of a crescent strapped to his waistband. It moved rigidly against his left leg’s long, sweeping movements. Thin slits lined the edges, and through them I caught a flash of silvery white—it was so quick that if I blinked, I’d miss it. I narrowed my eyes. It was a sheath. For a knife. I sighed. Of course, he was armed.

As he strode by, each dwarf held out a fist and Ryder went knuckle-to-knuckle down a half-formed line, turning grimaces into chuckles, scowls into sweet talk, and curled lips into broad smiles with obvious comradery. These were his friends.

Another person hung with the crowd, perched atop a splintered table, his shadow folding over his triceps. Boots on the seat, tatted elbows on knees, hunched in discreet conversation with two dwarves.

It was Ryder’s brother, Leif.

The first time I’d met Leif, he was less than thrilled to have me at their house. What would he think of me being here, at their weapons depot? Oof. I sunk into the leather, hoping the dashboard would shield my cheeks flaring with heat. I watched him while he watched Ryder with their shared wild green stare, Leif’s made even sharper with his dirty-blonde hair pulled into a tight bun.

The small group parted, and the chatter ceased as Ryder ambled closer to his brother. He wasn’t greeted as warmly by his kin. No hints of enthusiasm softened Leif’s tightened jaw. No dimples marked his clean-shaven cheeks. His gaze didn’t waver from his younger brother’s face. For a second, I was convinced he wouldn’t notice me.

Then something in their exchange had them flicking their eyes towards the Chevy.

Towards me.

I mustered a motion that resembled a wave. It didn’t get returned.

Could a demon just come and get me, like now? Leif’s attention didn’t linger on me long enough to catch the fifty shades of red I was turning.

When Ryder set foot towards the washed-out emerald building, Leif jumped down to join him, thank the freaking lord. They were off to see the Wizard, one that dealt weapons instead of spells, under the guise of an autobody shop. A path laden not with yellow brick but crushed sand and oil slicks. They snaked around the side of an empty lobby, out of view from the yard.

The minutes ticked upwards as I waited for them to come back. I didn’t know how many more times I’d be able to retrace the doodles, swear words, serpents, and random N’s and S’s in thick block letters that were sprayed onto the corner of the garage’s wall with my eyes.

My boredom rose with the temperature. I should’ve rolled my window down when I had the chance. Now it was locked. I fanned myself until it felt like my wrist might fall off.

A lonesome picnic table sat outside my door, the fresh air calling my name.

Wait here, he’d said. That didn’t mean I had to hotbox myself, I thought as I opened the door and stepped out.

I welcomed the wind’s immediate relief even if it carried dust, noise, and watching eyes. With a sigh, I gathered my hair off my sweaty neck, the strands knotty from the heat, curling it around my fingers and draping it over my shoulder. Situating myself beside the abandoned engines and the mounds of scrapped car parts, their bare edges sparkling like the tips of sharpened swords ready to slash anyone unlucky enough to graze them.

“We meet again—River, is it?”