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A Gods-damned Tempest

PRESENT DAY (EIGHTEEN MONTHS AFTER THE REUNION)

N o, no, no .

That was the only thought on River’s mind, the only word she heard, the only thing she felt as her feet pounded the moonlit streets of Lakewater. She passed houses, ran through parks, and raced down streets. Hot tears born of remorse, pain, and fear streaked down her cheeks.

Her running shoes hit the sidewalk in time with her booming heart. Soaked pink scrubs were plastered to her body like a second skin, and her brown ponytail slapped the base of her neck. The rhythmic sound urged her forward, pushing her to keep going.

There was still time to stop this. There had to be time to stop this.

The water pouring from the swirling charcoal clouds mocked her. You thought you’d be able to escape your curse? they seemed to say. You were wrong . You are the Cursed One, and it will always be with you.

Her vision blurred, and she sucked in shaky, too-shallow breaths. The roaring thunder was far too similar to an executioner’s drum. Rain pelted her from above. Lightning slashed through the night sky like the surgeon’s blade she regularly wielded.

River’s heart was pounding far too quickly, her skin was too tight for her frame, and a sense of wrongness permeated her every step. Her sharp nails sliced through her palms, but her fae healing would take care of the wounds without medical care.

Internally, River screamed and screamed and fucking screamed .

She couldn’t stop running, couldn’t take the time to breathe, couldn’t slow down at all. Street signs passed in a blur as she forced herself to run past. Burning muscles and aching joints would not stop her.

Her chest ached, that all-too-familiar burn one she’d hoped never to feel again. Her curse boiled and spat in her veins, a whirling tempest waiting to be unleashed upon the world.

“No,” she sobbed desperately. Water splashed with every footfall, but what were soaked shoes and wet feet in the face of her storm? “Not yet.” She gasped for breath, her lungs refusing to draw in air. “Not again.”

Nearly a decade had passed since the last time this had happened, but centuries could’ve gone by, and she’d recognize the feeling rippling in her veins.

The worst kind of friend, her curse had never left her. Not really. It had been slumbering all this time, waiting for an opportunity like this.

River should’ve known. She should’ve seen this coming. She tried to remind herself of Eliza’s mantra, tried telling herself that her magic didn’t control her, but the words were like oil, slipping out of her grasp.

Another smattering of thunder echoed through the night. A warning. A reminder that she was failing on all fronts.

If River had been in a better place mentally, she could’ve calmed the storm. She could’ve sent it away, stopped it the moment her grip on her magic slipped.

But she wasn’t in a good place. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be in one again.

Cursed One .

The name echoed through her mind, truer now than ever. No amount of therapy or platitudes or mantras could change that. She thought she could leave it behind, that one day, she’d no longer bear that label, but she’d been wrong.

Gods above, she’d been so wrong.

Nothing good ever happened to River. There was too much magic in her. Too much power. It wasn’t natural.

And now…

Another sob wrenched through her, the sound of her despair filling the night air.

Oh, gods. She’d prayed to them for mercy on her soul, but she wasn’t sure they were listening. Not now. Not since this was happening again.

If River had been in Golden City, the capital of the Republic of Balance, she would’ve run to Ryker. Her brother would’ve dropped everything to help her, no questions asked.

But River had been so stupid. So gods-damned cocky.

She’d assumed that between her training and her Maturation, she’d gotten everything under control. That Eliza was right, and her magic didn’t control her. She’d grown complacent, believing that even though she was cursed, she was capable of living a relatively normal life.

It was that mantra.

She’d come to trust in it, and because of it, she had accepted the residency in Lakewater. She had moved away from home and her family, and she’d been in the program at the local hospital for nearly a year without incident.

Until tonight.

Tonight, everything had changed.

The night started as any other.

River’s rideshare pulled up in front of the employees’ entrance at Lakewater General Hospital exactly two minutes before her shift started.

Thankful that she’d prepaid on the app, River darted from the red car.

Heaving her backpack over her shoulder, she waved goodbye to the driver as she bolted towards the side door.

She swiped her badge, hopping from one foot to the other, until the door beeped and unlocked.

Strips of fluorescent lights lit the hallway, and the faint smell of bleach hit her nose.

Her fae senses rebelled at the strong cleaners, but she ignored them as she raced into the women’s changing room on the right.

Throwing her backpack on the first bench, she yanked off her sweater. A glance at the analog clock on the wall had her cursing. The minute hand was marching steadily towards six p.m.

River wasn’t really late, but also, she wasn’t early.

Or at least, that’s what she was telling herself.

Maybe if she kept saying it, she’d start believing it.

She wished this was a fluke, but the truth was, she’d always had trouble getting places on time.

Being late was nearly as much a part of her as the water magic coursing through her veins.

This wasn’t the moment to worry about punctuality, though.

Tossing her sweater in her locker and shoving her backpack in on top of it, River grabbed a set of scrubs—pink, her favorite—and yanked them on.

Exchanging her flats for white running shoes in record time, she threw her hair into a high ponytail.

Grabbing one of the tablets from the charging dock, she hurried out of the changing room at precisely 6:01.

Maybe it would be all right. Maybe no one would notice that she was a minute late, and the night would continue as scheduled. She certainly had a lot to do.

River’s shoes squeaked against the white laminate floor as she raced towards the elevator. The silver doors were in sight when a throat cleared behind her.

“Doctor Waterborn.” The nasally voice caused River’s stomach to clench, and she skidded to a stop, briefly closing her eyes.

Damn it all. She’d been so close.

Wishing she possessed the ability to be punctual, River pressed the tablet to her chest, turned around, and opened her eyes.

A stern-faced man who looked like he’d never smiled or laughed a day in his life stood a few feet away from her.

He scowled, his beautiful fae features twisting maliciously, and hugged a clipboard to his chest. Pointed ears protruded from his short black hair, and his eyes were dark with scorn.

He wore a white lab coat over blue scrubs, his usual attire.

“Good evening, Doctor Collins.” River forced a smile, her stomach plummeting. “How are you? ”

Fury flashed through his eyes. “You’re late,” he snapped, a vein pulsing in his jaw.

Gods-damn it.

Doctor Collins had never shown River kindness, but this was a level of rudeness that she had never heard from him. If the sick feeling in her stomach was any sign, this did not bode well.

Her eyes darted around the hallway, but they were alone.

There was no one here to save her. Before River could think of a reply that wouldn’t land her in hot water, Doctor Collins yanked a pen out of his lab coat.

He jotted something down on his clipboard, the scratching sound awfully similar to nails on a chalkboard.

“Again,” he added, all but growling.

River drew her lip ring through her teeth, forcing herself not to sigh—or worse, talk back. Doctor Collins was in charge of all the surgical residents at Lakewater General, including River. He was her superior and more than capable of making her life a living hell.

For the gods’ sake, the last time River talked back to her boss, he relegated her to a week of cleaning bedpans and swapping IVs.

In an effort to avoid that fate, she dipped her head.

“I’m sorry, sir.” She couldn’t promise that it wouldn’t happen again—fae couldn’t lie. “I’ll be sure to work twice as hard tonight to make up for it.”

She reached for the elevator button, ready to escape this scolding and get to work, but a masculine hand covered it before she could press it.

Her stomach twisted, and she turned around. “Sir?”

She had patients to get to. Why was Doctor Collins keeping her here ?

His eyes narrowed, and he sneered. “Since you’ve decided to make a mockery of timekeeping, Doctor Waterborn, your services are required in the ICU tonight.”

Wait. What? That wasn’t right.

Her mouth opened, a retort on the tip of her tongue, when he continued, “Perhaps this change in schedule will help you learn the importance of punctuality.”

River’s ponytail brushed the back of her neck as she shook her head. “But sir, I can’t go to the ICU. I’m scheduled to assist Doctor Illias tonight. We have a surgery.”

She had spent the past month prepping for tonight’s operation.

Their patient, Lila Howler, was a thirteen-year-old werewolf from the Northern Region.

She had a large tumor on her lungs that would take several hours to remove.

The procedure would be tricky, but it was the best treatment option they had.

River had been involved in the Howler case ever since she started at LGH. How could Doctor Collins take her off it now?

Sparks flashed through her boss’s eyes, a reminder of the fire that ran through his veins. River could’ve sworn that the temperature in the hallway increased.

“Not. Anymore,” the fae said through gritted teeth. “Had you been on time, you would be scrubbing in right now. As it is, Doctor Pierce will be taking your spot.”