Page 15

T he 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.

Lucky for him, I was too tired to challenge the gesture.

And hot tea by the fire sounded so…

pleasant. Mild. Just what I needed.

But that described everything this situation wasn’t .

I took his silent instruction and sat on the smooth surface, taking an indulgent sip.

“So?”

“So.”

“So…” I paused, derailed by the art drawn onto his right forearm.

Stories that’d been buried by layers of night and leather now glistened, unearthed in the firelight.

And they were as mesmerizing as the flames.

I explored the verses, the symbols, the pictures trailing to his triceps and into the barrier of his t-shirt.

Then back down to the unblemished back of his hand, to the lone old English letters on his fingers and the two stenciled in his thumb’s web.

“Um,” I mumbled, tearing my eyes away from his tattoos.

“I guess I’ll start. What exactly am I walking into?”

He stirred his tea with a tiny silver spoon.

So posh for a hunter.

“I’m not understanding.”

“I mean it’s got be like Armageddon out there. Someone lets a demon loose and it flies around terrorizing the locals? We’ve had some weird shit happen here, but not that weird. I can only imagine what’s trending on Twitter?—”

“River.” He stopped short before continuing.

“There are no other witnesses. They’re?—”

“DEAD!?” And what did that make me, an accomplice?

“No.” He waved his free hand in attempt to quell my hysteria.

“They’re only human.”

That only escalated my fever pitch.

“Yeah, and so am I . And so are you . And I happen to think human life is worth something. I assumed you did, too. Unless you really just want to…” Kill me sounded a bit ridiculous, but really?

They’re only human? I took the living space in more thoroughly, glazing over the reclaimed wooden furniture and the large woven tapestry, straight to the twig-inspired lamps and the steel fire poker.

Weapons, if needed.

“No.” He facepalmed, dragging his hand downwards like he could wipe the expression off his face.

“Not ‘only human’ as if they don’t matter. What I meant is they’re people not born with Source in their blood—you know, magic.”

“Magic?” The word soured on my tongue.

His hand remained on his face, cupping his jaw.

“Is it that hard to digest?”

“I…” The flames popped, guiding each one of my wispy neck hairs up.

The noise felt heavier than the air, pressing on my ears, crushing the drums. My skin got hotter, itchier, with untapped energy just like it had during my last session with Dr. Fairmore, and when the lightning bolt struck the teratorn.

Folding my lower lip into my teeth, I clamped down as if I could bite back the overwhelming fear and confusion.

Ryder wouldn’t know what to do if I had an episode now, and I didn’t want to explain, even if my mind was starting to feel like it was sizzling on top of the embers.

“You see things for what they are.” He set his drink down and clasped his hands together.

“And most people in this world do not.”

I latched on to his voice, to his conviction, as if it was the only sound in the world, like it was my favorite song blasting through my headphones.

“Why does it feel like I’m the first person to tell you this?” Creases were drawn into his forehead.

He’d been documenting the delay in my expressions, which to him probably looked like I was struggling to believe what he was saying.

Which, yes, but I inclined my head.

He had no idea I’d almost lost myself to an episode.

“Because you are,” I whispered, my voice shaking as badly as my hands.

Everything in the room seemed to still at that—our breaths, the blood in my veins, time itself—until his rough palms cradled my fists.

“Well, I’m a good tutor, as you know. Take a look at this.” He guided me to a window and pulled the linen curtain aside to reveal rows of ripe veggies in planter boxes, water storage tanks, and undeveloped trails that led through the redwoods: his backyard.

“Source is as vital as the air we breathe. It runs through everything. Seeds the size of a lentil grew into those towering trees. And eggs, little shells of life, hatched into the circling hawk over there and into the hens nesting in that coop. A spinning ball of gas millions of miles away feeds the days and the plants and our moods.”

I took biology 101; I didn’t need the review.

The magic I saw stemmed from the passion in his gestures—not just the flurry of pointing, but the delicate touches to my lower back he didn’t seem to be aware he was doing—the pure enthusiasm in his tone, the excitement flaring in his vibrant green eyes.

It totally transformed him to speak about nature.

That was magic.

“It’s a miracle.” His whisper echoed across the space between us, which thinned into more of a sliver with each exhale—I couldn’t tell if I was inching towards him or he towards me.

I remembered his words— just some girl, just some girl —but my heart would not stop racing.

“Everything has a sixth sense. Humans are just born with a mental filter that catches and rejects anything supernatural before it can pass through.”

Geeking out on the magical intricacies of everything sounded lovely, but we had more pressing things to discuss.

“So…the teratorn. No one saw it.”

He nodded.

“Except us.”

Us. A term that roped me into the supernatural minority.

“And whoever decided to summon it.” There was the harsh truth I’d been waiting for.

I picked at a cuticle.

“Who would do that?”

“I don’t know.” He shifted his weight.

“It wasn’t my bidding.”

A rush of intuition burned in my throat, clenching my heartbeat, freezing my lungs.

The blood flushed to my head and his words echoed, branding my mind with molten strength.

“I didn’t ask if it was.” Impulse drove my feet backwards, away from the window—away from him.

Ryder followed my slow but determined steps until I was backed against a wall.

He stood so close his breath warmed my hairline.

The heat gave way to a hellish fever, yet every one of my hairs stood on end.

I hadn’t even considered what he said as an option.

But now…did he just admit he could command something like that?

Maybe he had seen me through the slit in the door and wanted to quiet my suspicions.

If anything though, this raised them tenfold and left me with the impression he conjured demons—which definitely came with a pretty gnarly warning label.

Trying to keep my breaths even, I tore my gaze from the gold flecks in his eyes, glancing up at the domed ceiling, but it too felt like it was caving in—just like the rest of my life had.

“I have to go to work.” I was surprised to find any words, especially ones that seemed logical enough.

Enough to get me out of there, at least. Even if it wasn’t my scheduled shift.

Even if I had no idea what time it was.

“Now?” Ryder inched back, reluctant to give too much distance, as if I might flee.

“It’s almost seven PM.”

“Yeah. I…uh…” Think, think, think.

“I’m training the new employee how to close.”

Ryder read my movements like tea leaves, analyzing each blink, swallow, and shoulder fidget.

If I caved to my body’s impulses and grimaced, what would that reveal?

I didn’t want to lie, but I needed to be real with myself: he played with the dark side, he’d figured out my school schedule—I’d be damned to give out my home address.

“Won’t your parents be home soon anyway and want to know why some strange girl is sitting in their living room?” I was trying way too hard to be conversational.

Don’t lay it on so heavy, River.

“Your brother already seems a bit…unimpressed.”

“He’s always like that.” Ryder broke his stare and went back to the window, the last light glistening on his hardened gaze.

At this angle it cast a glassy film over his eyes, as if this was all just a front and he was about to be real and break down—or maybe that’s what I was hoping for.

He sniffed, and in a moment the look shattered, disappearing with the rest of his emotions.

“Well, I know my dad would be pissed,” I continued, forcing my voice light.

“I should actually touch base with him. Have you seen my phone?” Not because I was freaking out or anything.

He pointed to the mantel.

“Thanks.” I delivered the same lie to my dad.

Next in line, Javi…Shit.

Javi. He’d waited for me at the lighthouse after class.

How would I even begin to explain I’d ghosted him because I’d been chased off campus by a sharky-mouthed, blood-spewing demon?

And worse, that I’d fled with a guy wearing combat boots who didn’t even consider me—I gulped—fully human?

Hey! I typed. Sorry I bailed.

Got called into work.

New girl no showed. Def owe you a trip to watermelon ice cream.

Three dots indicating he was typing flashed, then disappeared.

Flashed, then disappeared.

I waited another minute.

Nothing. And then, No worries.

WITH A PERIOD.

That was it.

He hated me. Our friendship was ruined.

I pinched the upper bridge of my nose.

At least this proved the theory Ryder used to explain everyone else’s ignorance.

No one saw the teratorn—but us.

I rolled my eyes at the convenience of that.

Javi’s response stung, but I’d find a way to make it up to him.

Ice cream and comic books to start.

After I decompressed and hid from any potential demonic accomplices.

“We should get going then.” Ryder broke my attention from my screen.

“We don’t want you to be late.” Oh, I sensed some skepticism.

“Right.” I slipped on my Vans and followed him outside.

A full moon rose into a burnt tangerine sky.

Pine needles, golden under its fading light, crunched beneath my shoes.

The mud had dried. No sign of rain clouds.

The heavy air clung to my skin, hot and sticky from the burst in humidity.

I tried not to think about the last time I was outdoors, which had to have been almost eight hours ago, hardly functioning on any level, just so, so done, caked in ash and demon blood.

A fierce wave of lightheadedness rushed through me, and I battled against the sudden wobble in my legs—and in a harmonic spin with the Earth’s rotation my body hurtled into the wall of the truck bed.

Squeaky-clean. No teratorn guts.

Not even a chip in the paint.

“Cleaned it while you were sleeping,” Ryder answered my unspoken question.

Damn, he was getting good at reading me.

I straightened my features.

“Water, a dash of vinegar, and lemon essential oil. My little secret.”

I snorted.

“How organic of you. How’d you do this, though?” I waved at the smooth glass of the windshield.

“That’d be me.” The declaration rumbled like the voice of God, then I noticed the oil-stained jeans sticking out from under the fender.

Ryder jumped. Actually jumped .

He hadn’t even been this spooked over a demon.

“Leif, you scared the shit out of me.”

The mechanic emerged from beneath the car, rolling back on the chassis.

“Reflexes a bit rusty, eh?”

Ryder’s jaw locked as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“I thought you already left.”

“Your suspension needed some extra juice.” Leif lifted his hand, his blackened fingertips smearing the lubricant all over Ryder’s as Ryder helped him to his feet.

Immediately, I recognized the shaggy blonde mane now clasped into a bun, the hazel irises now a dominant green, and the height on him—still two inches taller than Ryder.

The boy from the family photo was now a man.

“River.” Ryder’s hand grazed my lower back.

I tried not to lean into the touch.

“This is Leif. My brother.”

Leif raised his eyebrows at my clothes and his chin at my hello, skipping the how-you-do’s.

Eyeing me with an incisive stare as sharp and predatory as his brother’s, which convinced me he knew my secrets just by reading my gestures.

His interest didn’t linger, and he moved to his workbench, grabbing a rag to wipe off his arms. Unlike Ryder, he rocked a full sleeve of tattoos, a colorful canvas of conquests and dreams.

“Consider your truck as good as new.” He clapped his hands and grabbed a weathered leather jacket, throwing it over his white-ribbed tank.

The umbra cast by his shifting shoulders spanned past his silhouette, a spooky trick of the light that caused shadowy extensions to unfurl from his upper back.

I’d seen that before.

A few times, actually.

I again recalled the picture in Ryder’s room.

As Leif popped his collar, a small yet recurring emblem stood out in his tattoos: NS with a serpent’s head near his thumb.

Too soon it disappeared within the other designs as he hiked his leg over the wide saddle of his classic motorcycle.

Nearly mistaking the turn of the engine for a mini explosion, I jumped so high I was pretty sure I left my skin for a second.

“I’m out of here then.” Leif bumped his brother’s knuckles and took a final glance at me, eyes boring past the surface.

“You two should get going as well.”

“Right.” We answered at the same time, jittery, as if needing to prove our innocence.

We must have looked like bumbling fools rushing for the doors and fumbling with the handles as we clambered into the car.

Neither of us made a peep as we trailed Leif down the dirt driveway and out onto the main road.

He saluted us as he turned his iron hog left, and we skidded to the right.

“You work at the coffee shop downtown, right?” Ryder asked.

Don’t remember providing that detail, but I must have at some point, I thought, as I nodded yes.

After that, the silence kept—which I was fine with.

I had too much anxiety to say anything coherent.

I stared at the side of the road, hoping to see my bulky wireless headphones, because without them I couldn’t turn my brain off.

I mean, how does one go from learning econ to magic and not feel overwhelmed?

Magic. Not just pulling rabbits out of hats.

Magic capable of incinerating living beings.

I gnawed at my lip. My necklace hummed against my fingertips, a temporary wash from the stress.

I peered over at my driver, who paid more attention to the rearview mirror than he did the actual road.

It didn’t ease my fear that a pissed off demon could manifest out of thin air at any moment.

“I do want to say one thing.” The tiniest tremble entered my voice, so minor no one but Ryder would have noticed.

“I think it’s pretty suspicious all this started happening around the time I met you.”

“All of what?”

“All of this weird stuff.” Although I peered out the window, his reflection dominated my view.

He maintained his focus on his task.

I tried to do the same.

“The other day I woke up to a flying gremlin, today I was chased by the Creature from the Black Lagoon’s cousin. I can’t tell the nightmares from reality anymore, and there’s one common denominator in all of this: you.”

Ryder tightened his grip on the wheel.

“These things don’t materialize overnight. It takes decades, or an obscene amount of money, for a human to interact with a piece of dandruff from another dimension. So, unless you’ve invested in some 4D spectacles or are suddenly a scholar in Source…” He tilted his neck towards me and raised his brows despite the obvious answer to that.

“Maybe you’ve been a part of this world all along. You’ve just been taught not to notice.”

“For eighteen years I’ve been getting along fine and dandy,” I argued, “then you show up and shit hits the fan. Any other suggestions?”

“Really.” Ryder shot me a disbelieving look, lightning fast, before focusing back on the stretch of road in front of us and behind us.

“In that entire time, you’ve experienced nothing?”

“Besides the tarot reading from hell, no.” I held in my lies as tightly as I clenched my fists.

I hadn’t explained the Voices to anyone—the shame held me back from opening up—plus, I’d been able to do life fine-ish the way things were.

But now…now the Voices were gone, and the same old wound still existed.

Now it felt like everything was crashing in at once and if I didn’t change the topic I might get buried.

“We’re focusing too much on me here. I still don’t understand how you tie into all of this. Why haven’t I met anyone else like you? Where are all the other Ryders?”

“They’re here,” he said.

“What, in hiding?” I waved at the endless stretch of forest.

“No.” He tightened his jaw.

“The Nephilim walk among us.”

They had a name.

Even if I couldn’t pronounce it, my heart leapt faster than the blur of trees passing by.

“Are they all as stealthy as you? Is that why I haven’t seen them?”

“You’ve seen them, but you haven’t noticed.”

“How so?”

“Your eye has clearly been trained to overlook their abilities. As if it were only human.”

That.

Phrase.

He glanced over at me, probably to make sure I didn’t mistake him for an ax murderer again.

“But angelic DNA is dominant. Those traits can’t stay dormant forever.”

“What does that mean?”

He smirked.

“It means you’re part angel, baby.”

I heard what he said, but the words didn’t register.

They went right over my head.

With the freaking halo I had, apparently.

Angels. Demons. Magic—Source.

I took a deep breath to try and stifle the panic.

“How does that even happen?” I twisted a strand of hair, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

“Well, when an angel and human love each other very much…”

Not those details.

“I actually took sex ed, but thanks for being so willing to give me a refresher.” I rolled my eyes.

“Aren’t angels supposed to be in heaven or something like that?”

He laughed softly, running his tongue along his molars.

“Figures you’d bring that up. Heaven, hell. Good and evil. Those concepts are for mortals, not us.” He scrunched the hair on the crown of his head, pulling the unbridled strands out of his eyes with the hand that wasn’t driving.

“The angels are in another realm, and they used to come to Earth on assignment. Some stayed for the mortals—those were our ancestors, and unlucky for them, they were totally star-crossed. It’s forbidden for an angel to get romantically involved with a human.”

My heart seemed to have inched up my throat, and I had to gulp it back down.

“What happened to them—the angels that fell in love with mortals?”

“They were punished, banished.” Ryder shrugged.

“No one really knows for sure.”

“Do angels not come here anymore, then?”

“Supposedly a few. But we never see them.”

It felt absurd to be having this conversation as the trees cleared and we sped past a liquor store, but at least the return to familiar civilization grounded me so I could ask the important questions.

“What kind of assignments?”

“Someone’s suddenly curious.” Yeah, well it wasn’t often he willingly provided me info, so I was taking advantage of it.

His smile had faded, but the left corner of his mouth still twitched up.

“Deliver messages, provide strength and comfort, mete out judgement…”

“So, what does that make you then? My guardian angel?” It was supposed to come off funny and sarcastic, but it came out exactly how I felt: scared, overwhelmed, and done.

Totally done. Doner than I was earlier—and I hadn’t thought that was possible.

Ryder shifted in his seat and hunched his shoulders.

I could literally see him retreating into himself.

“I don’t know what I am anymore.”

His emo response would’ve annoyed me more, but I sighed, because that made two of us.

If Ryder was right and I was Neph…

Nephli…ugh, whatever it was, part-human part-angel, did that mean my parents were, too?

Obviously, it would.

But were both? Was one?

Did the other know? Was my mom condemned for love?

So many questions spiraled in my mind.

Something occurred to me.

“Do the angels, do they ever…communicate in other ways with you?”

He raised a brow.

“Like…”

“Like through sounds or your mind or I don’t know, handwritten letters?” I figured I’d make it as general as possible so as not to reveal myself, but my voice came out small, mouselike with embarrassment.

“No.”

Wow. Sharp and to the point and not even a breath between my last word and his.

Any hope I had shattered, but I had to think the Voices would’ve said something if they were literal angels.

A knot formed in my stomach and prickled my senses, irritating those vertical scars on my back.

Maybe they did—at one point or another they’d mentioned powers and apocalypse and I’d been too scared and stubborn to listen, and…

I would hear them out now if they just came back.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Are you saying I’ve been surfing alongside these beings and serving them drip coffee this whole time without realizing it?”

He nodded.

I envisioned the impassive employee at the Boardwalk ticket booth counter, the girl with the choppy bangs in my class.

The longboarder dude who paddled out next to me, the quadruple-shot-extra-foam-two-pumps-sugar-free-vanilla-latte drinker who never tipped.

They had all seemed normal.

Was it a mask?

“What are they doing here?” I caught myself.

“What are we doing here?”

“Trying to get by, like the rest of humanity.” Why did he sound.

So. Indifferent.

Meanwhile, I was on the verge of hyperventilation.

“Sounds complicated when you’ve got monsters spawning out of nowhere. I’d say life is a bit more dangerous on your side of the tracks.”

“Demons,” Ryder corrected.

“Which are really the tortured souls of corrupted angels. And they don’t spawn—they’re summoned, remember?”

“That’s beside the point!” I snapped, even if his disclosure made my heart skip a beat.

Like, how did he think that would make it better?

!

“Well demons aren’t born, they’re made! And that doesn’t always happen,” he added.

“Then why is it happening to me?” I couldn’t disguise the strain in my voice anymore.

Was I becoming a demon—is that what was happening?

“You have an idea, Ryder. I overheard you talking to your brother when I was in your room.”

I may have confessed to espionage, but forcing an honest answer was worth the risk.

I waited on the edge of my seat for his response, my fingers drumming the sides of my legs.

Minutes passed, and flaky paint soon replaced the stripped bark as the buildings started to outnumber the tree trunks.

Fully out of the forest now, the low howl of the wind faded to crosswalk beeps and the tune of the pedestrian shuffle.

The neon bulbs of downtown rose ahead like a sun.

Blocks from my drop I was nowhere closer to solving the mystery of this guy—or myself.

When he didn’t speak, I forced myself to needle him, which wasn’t hard considering how annoyed I was.

“Seriously? I can tell you all about me, but when it comes to you, not a peep?”

As the car slowed to a halt, Ryder gave his most honest response: the silence that defined him.

He didn’t owe me anything anyways, and how could I forget: to him, I was just some girl .

“Screw you.” I jumped out, stopping before I slammed the door.

Over my shoulder, I called, “By the way, if you’re my guardian angel, then I’m officially firing you.”