Page 29

T his vortex seemed to be the gateway to water, and it led me to the deepest part of the ocean.

Once I’d left the barren mesa, and stepped into the rippling whirlpool, everything went black.

My eyes were open, but I couldn’t see my hand even if it was in front of my face.

A familiar lilt rang off the darkness and echoed in all directions.

Was it my breath? The Voices?

A manifestation of my Source?

I didn’t know. Whatever it was, it tugged at my heartstrings, begging me to let it in.

Each time it sounded more dire, more desperate than the last.

Something in its timbre made my eyelids flutter, and its persistence quickened my pulse.

Fervent pressure marked my cheeks, my nose, my forehead, my lips.

So plush and warm and…

intoxicating . Whether I was dead or alive or somewhere in between, it was enough to bring me out of the dark.

Awareness jolted through my body as my fingertips twitched and my eyelids slowly peeled open.

River, River, River.

Was my mind playing tricks or was someone calling me?

I willed my blurry senses to resolve the shadows into shapes and the sounds into meaning.

“River, you’re going to be okay.” The person stressed it as if there was no other alternative.

“Stay with me baby, stay with me.”

A grogginess clung to me, so thick and heavy that it took everything for me to give an “mmph.” My mouth full of spit, I coughed back gibberish.

The motion made my chest cave in painfully.

Coastal humidity stuck to my skin and salted my lips.

Rhythmic chirps reverberated off the coarse strands of grass that tickled my arms. The moonlight broke through the hazy layer of clouds and the summer night dawned around me.

Pushing off my elbows I caught a glimpse of a Victorian before collapsing back down to the ground.

Oof . I squeezed my lids shut—my back was killing me.

Worn fingers slipped beneath the nape of my neck.

“How’s your head?”

My ragged inhales grew a little steadier, but it was the fresh scent of pine that coaxed me to open my eyes.

A boy draped in twilight crouched beside me on this side of the reverie.

Ryder. That’s right.

We were at Madame Myrian’s.

Cringing, I mumbled, “Feels like it’s been hurtled through space and time.”

Ryder’s relief left his lips in a soft exhale.

He spotted my back as I tried to sit up again.

“I’m worried you have a concussion.”

“Yeah?” My hand dropped to my tailbone— ouch .

“Why’s that?”

He tucked a loose hair behind my ear, his thumb stroking a specific spot on my temple.

“That piece of plywood just nailed you when the earthquake hit.”

I froze, lungs seizing.

“What?”

He pulled back and searched my expression, the gold churning in the green of his eyes.

“Do you not remember?”

I remembered everything, including the shakes and rumbles as I unlocked Myrian’s lair.

But I’d made it inside…

My forehead crinkled.

Did Ryder mean it hit his head?

“Everything else on this block seems to have made it.” A rare timidness shook his voice.

“But Myrian’s…” He broke off, letting the carnage speak for itself.

Eyes adjusting to dusk, I scanned the horizon, picket fences jutting out of the shadows, the pastels muted by the distant streetlamps, mosquitoes orbiting the bulbs like satellites.

Three-tiered rooflines jutted into the sky, waiting to come alive in the moonlight.

But one lot between the quintessential architecture stood empty except for the stars.

The lot we were in.

“River, I’m…” He lowered his head and grasped my hand, the other still planted firmly on my middle back.

“This is shit luck. I’m sorry.” His words flew over my head into the graveyard of lumber and nails.

The vaulted arches, the stained-glass accents…

the gateway to my mom was a pile of debris.

With shaky legs I rose to my feet, then came tumbling down like the house.

These walls didn’t level due to natural causes.

Something wanted me out.

I sucked in a breath that burned my throat.

Ryder joined me in the rubble, where I slumped next to a broken gargoyle’s toes.

Parting his long legs, he settled behind me, my back flush against his chest. “We’ll find another way.” He curled his arms around my waist and spoke into the crown of my head.

“I found the way. It was there.” I stared at the wreckage.

“Madame Myrian showed me.”

“She didn’t, though.” He caressed my cheek, tilting my head towards him.

“River, no one was home. You didn’t make it in. The beam knocked you unconscious while you were on the doorstep, and I carried you out here, where we’ve been for only a few minutes.” His gaze flickered to the home next door.

“We should get going. You’re hurt and we have an audience.”

Shifting curtains in the neighboring window caught my glare.

“No. I was there.” A fever tore through me, drenching my body in sweat-lined panic.

I turned and fisted his shirt, bringing his nose inches from mine.

My eyes were wide and wild as I whispered, “I saw them , Ryder.”

Concern dipped his brows.

“Who?”

“The Voices, the Watchers. They’re real , and I know where I came—” A piercing scream cut me off and seemed to echo in the night.

A guttural shriek that could be felt as much as heard, one that raised my hairs to their ends and wrapped me in sorrow: the cries of the Fall.

Was I still there? Or did the fallen somehow follow me here?

My gaze swiveled to every side, landing on Ryder.

I twisted in his lap, my knees digging into his thighs as I practically crawled up his chest. “Do you—” I gasped as another nebulous wail of torment corkscrewed into my ear like a wine opener.

“Do you hear that?”

Ryder gently shook his head, wisps of hair curling behind his ears as he retreated from me to stand.

He scooped me into his arms. I didn’t fight it.

“C’mon. We need to get you somewhere you can lie down properly.”

“To our watchtowers, then,” I mumbled into his chest, limbs immediately going slack.

“To our what?” He tightened his grasp.

“I…” The thought slipped away from me.

Curled into his chest, my head nestled between his pecs, I dozed to memories I never knew I had.