Page 31

A few hours later, I peered through the fissures of a rusty iron door leaning off its hinges.

My nose wrinkled as I took a step back, getting a full view of its frame, and caught a whiff of the sulfuric air.

“Ryder?” My echo was the only thing that answered.

I twisted my hair into a low bun to get it out of my face and pulled out my phone.

Of course, there was no reception.

I glanced at the defaced walls of concrete that towered on both sides of me.

This was a far cry from a lighthouse.

This wasn’t even a place .

It was just an alley between pee-stained buildings that, for some reason, he wanted to meet in, because there was no way he wanted me to actually step inside that wretched, rat-infested place.

My voice scattered the pigeons, and they drew my eyes up to a symbol engraved in the stone above the bronze trim: a circle containing an eight-pointed star, four of its arms twice the size of the others.

Almost a dozen more spikes jutted out from behind the smaller ones, shorter in length and with a twist to their ends, like sunrays.

It reminded of a figure I’d seen on a nautical chart.

What was it called…?

A compass rose. But I’d also seen it someplace else…

I racked my brain until it came to me: it’d been carved into the moonrocks above the Wizard of Auto.

No more coincidences , I reminded myself, glass from the shattered windows crunching beneath my feet as I reapproached the entrance.

Bolts dotted the door’s scrap metal like stray bullets had struck it.

Slightly concerned it’d collapse on me when I touched it, I held my hand back, letting it linger inches from its surface.

My eyes played tricks on me as I stood there, and a pattern started to emerge as if I’d been staring at the passing clouds, not a door.

I swore the bolts formed a shape—a coupe glass with a garnish that looked like a star on its rim.

Then I blinked, and it was gone.

Swallowing against the acidic burn of uneasiness, I pressed the door open and gazed into a musty warehouse with bowed rafters and chipped cement.

A cool draft rustled my hair, tickled my arms and legs, making me regret the distressed black shorts and high-neck tank I’d thrown on.

More glass, rusted nails, and rodent droppings dotted the dusty ground between the dozen or so pillars.

Grimacing, I stayed put in the alley and scanned what seemed to be an empty hall for Ryder.

The roar from a muffler passed in the distance, rattling the busted plumbing, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

A stray cat leapt from its trash can burrow, the aluminum crashing to the ground, its screechy roll across the pavement raising my shoulders and drawing up the hair on my arms. The clang when it hit the building might as well have been inside my skull.

I clutched my forehead, careful to massage around my temple.

Breathing back the anxiety, I willed the sounds to stop building.

I was still on edge, but they faded to a level I could manage.

So, inside it is, Ryder .

I squared my shoulders and stepped through the doorway.

As one foot rose and crossed over the threshold, something truly amazing happened.

It landed on solid oak ground, sturdy wood replacing the broken foundation in a long, shimmering brushstroke of what I could only describe as magic.

When my body finally unfroze, I stepped inside the warehouse, the heavy door slamming shut behind me.

The harsh bang didn’t faze me: I was too busy watching the glossy finish run up the walls, washing over the cracks and the holes and correcting the sags in the vaulted ceiling.

Unsteady beams straightened and twinkled as an invisible hand wrapped them in holiday lights.

The stale interior warmed with the glow of candles and the sun peeking through the stained-glass windows.

A small gasp left me as I walked over to them, the glass no longer in shards beneath my high tops, but reset without a scratch.

Medieval scenes in primary colors shimmered in the natural glow from outside.

A similar style, but these were so much more lighthearted than the one in my dad’s office, the figures laughing, dining, praying, sparring—was it a trick of the light or did I just see their swords clash?

“River!” a distinct, melodic voice called and made my pulse skyrocket.

I spotted Ryder sitting near the center of a bar that ran the entire west side of the space, his chair facing my direction, one boot planted on the floor, the other resting on the lower footrest. We locked eyes and he lowered his hand, bringing it to rest on the inside of his thigh.

I shamelessly tracked the movement—my gaze dropping to his distressed black jeans, then up and over the tight curves of muscle beneath his V-neck.

I glanced down at my own all-black outfit.

Oh my God, now we were dressing alike.

Biting back a smile, I snaked past the interspersed tables and went to him.

It was still musty in here, but that was the beer.

I slid onto the stool next to him with such unnatural grace I couldn’t fathom where it came from.

But I didn’t hate it.

“What is this place?”

“Elsewhere Tavern.” His wavy hair was primed to sweep across his face with one small motion.

I curled my fingers around the lip of my seat, fighting the urge to push the dark strands back with my fingers.

“What do you think?”

Tearing myself from his emerald gaze, I swiveled around, taking in the once-empty room.

Now filled with barrels and laughter and patrons I had clearly overlooked on my arrival, because I might’ve dropped dead at the sight of the mini trolls with grass beards playing cards at a table next to us.

I looked to the windows for confirmation, shapes and shades of the alley wavering behind the tinted glass.

There was no denying that this was the warehouse, and I existed here, but also…

elsewhere.

“How…?” My voice came out hoarse.

“Remember our conversation about the parallel dimension that allows the supernatural to exist alongside humans? This is a living example of that—a parallel realm carved into the one you just came from that shares the coordinates and footprint of the warehouse, but inside…it’s a whole ’nother world.” He traced invisible shapes onto the solid wooden bar top with his finger as he talked.

“That seal I’m sure you saw above the door allows Nephilim, among others, in, and is a barrier to keep mortals out. So, looks like you have an acceptable amount of Source in your blood.” Ryder tipped his glass and took a swig.

“But we knew that all along.”

“So, the warehouse is the true mirage,” I muttered.

A million questions formed on my tongue, but one tugged at me more than the others.

“What would have happened if you were wrong, and I was mortal?”

“You’d combust the second you walked in.”

My eyes widened at the potential for how bad this could have gone.

He didn’t seem the slightest bit disturbed.

“Kidding,” he added, lips twitching.

“You’d see an empty warehouse. Like the junkyard we saw before we crossed the threshold into the Wizard of Auto. You look like you could use a drink.”

I opened my mouth to fight him as he raised his hand but…

I did need something to take the edge off.

The adrenaline hadn’t had time to wane, and I’d been stuck in a constant state of it.

Over the course of a week my entire life had crashed and burned, and I was still choking on the ashes—one drink wouldn’t kill me.

The round top of a bowler hat skimmed the bottom of the counter.

Was the bartender crawling on hands and knees?

Golden caps from a ladder hitched onto a groove in the bar right in front of us, and the felt brim drifted upwards, followed by flattened pointy ears and overgrown brows that fused with the tips of a wiry handlebar moustache.

Beneath all the hair, there were so many human elements—deep folds in his rosy beige cheeks, a youthful gaze, a natural pout to his bottom lip.

But there was a distinct air of otherness , one that made my heart flutter.

He presented us with two pints of golden liquid, tipped his hat, then shuffled his way back down.

I wanted to smile in thanks, but I had trouble reeling in my jaw, which had fallen to the floor.

“Dwarf,” I whispered, as if I needed to confirm it out loud to myself.

Ryder nudged me with his elbow.

“Staring is quite rude.”

“I-I’m sorry.” I closed my mouth and focused on the bits of upturned skin on my cuticles, tearing off the dry pieces.

Ryder grabbed my hand and tucked it under his, hiding it.

“Sorry,” I muttered, raising my head to meet his.

“This is just wild—” The words caught in my throat as my attention snagged on the scene behind him.

“Is that a centaur playing a fiddle in the corner?” My head hadn’t stopped shaking, the disbelief stubborn and unwilling.

“Sorry. I’m getting distracted again. Anyways, I wanted to thank you. For yesterday.”

“They’re a faun,” he corrected me.

“And stop apologizing. Maybe this is wild, but it’s new and you’re adjusting. It’s pretty unheard of that a Nephilim doesn’t know what they are, let alone to find out at your age. You’ve been conditioned to think none of this is real.” He leaned closer, spearmint breath a pleasant burn that awakened my senses.

“But let me tell you, there’s nothing more real than this.” He held up his glass with the hand not shielding mine.

“Cheers for breaking through to reality.”

I raised my drink.

Our eyes and pints met.

The bitter aroma tingled my nostrils.

“To reality.” I sipped the froth gingerly, and my insides flurried.

“What is this witchcraft!?”

“It’s a pilsner.” I couldn’t tell if he was laughing or choking.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

The bubbles tingled in my belly and instead of fizzing out, they rose to my chest. I took another big gulp, which quickly turned into me downing half the glass.

We had just toasted to reality but suddenly…

I needed to escape it.

Suddenly, I didn’t want to brood on my past and talk in circles about yesterday or discuss what I’d found out about my dad.

I wanted to live in the moment, to get caught up in the present—and presently my hand slipped out from under Ryder’s palm and lowered to his thigh.

I trembled at the bold move but pushed past my nerves and lifted off the chair, coming to stand between his angled knees.

Every inch of him stilled, waiting.

My fingers slid over the exposed part of his tatted upper chest and went around his neck, my gaze snagging on the vibrant blue peeking out from his shirt hem.

I ran the back of my fingers over the ink in the lightest sweep.

“You still haven’t told me what this means.” I picked up his hand, stamping the Celtic letters with my lips.

“Or this.” Although Leif had pretty much disclosed the N and S stood for some sort of secret Nephilim Society.

But I wanted to hear it from him.

Goosebumps trailed in the wake of my touch.

He cleared his throat, dipping his chin to divert mine.

“It’s just a mark of the hunt. It’s nothing.”

“Fine.” I let out a breathless laugh.

“You want to do something else besides talking?”

He wet his lips.

“Like…”

Something burned in me, a feeling that only warmed as the light changed in Ryder’s eyes.

As they flared greener, brighter.

Someone strung a lute in the background, but all I could hear was him, the slight quickening of his breath.

He clenched his jaw and shut his lids, and in that moment, I could see him trying so hard to keep his feelings locked down.

It was cute, actually.

But I knew my kiss would ignite him.

It incinerated both of us.

The warm pressure of our lips coming together made everything else fall away.

Those rigid arms he’d kept at his sides wrapped around my waist, reeled me in closer so that nothing except the heat of our bodies existed between us.

A second instrument laced the air, the music building with the pace of our kisses.

Another urge overtook me.

“You know what else I want to do?” My words were muffled against his lips.

A sexy hum answered.

The tips of our tongues met, and for a second, I almost forgot about where we were—and who might be watching.

I slowly pulled back, taking his lower lip with me.

When I released it, I told him, “Dance!”

Ryder stayed fastened to his seat, his earring dangling from our fluid motions, tousled hair finally toppled over his forehead.

God, he looked so kissable—and stuck.

Like I’d cast a spell that glued him to the spot.

“Come on!” Fingers intertwined, I led him to the stage I’d been eying ever since we sat down.

A small crowd had formed around the mythical musicians—three of them now—turning this corner of Elsewhere into a dance floor.

The fiddle’s strings rang quick and clear above the steady strum of the guitar and the lower plucks of the harp.

I tugged on Ryder’s hand and pulled him into me, putting my other arm around his waist, swaying to the upbeat music, smiling up at him as if I were drunk in love—and maybe I was.

But I didn’t care.

He squeezed my hand tighter, and in a move that totally surprised me, he twirled me.

Again and again.

My hair unraveled from the hasty bun I’d put it in, the layered strands flowing down my upper back, tickling the scars that peeked out of the racerback cut of my tank.

I became so lost in the moment I couldn’t tell when Ryder let go of my hand or when I latched on to another’s.

All I knew was that to dance was to escape, and these bodies cocooned me, their hoofs and wings and outstretched arms protecting me from…

My hips froze. Protecting me from what?

I thought I’d stopped running.

Cool sweat drenched the nape of my neck.

My head tossed around, searching for Ryder.

All I saw were strangers, their smiles twisted and no longer enchanting.

As I snaked through the sea of unfamiliar faces, they pulled at my wrists and cursed me for leaving.

I didn’t want to stay but for some reason my knees started bending, like the music had a hold on my soul, sucking me back in.

And then I saw him watching from the bar.

A thousand secrets lay behind those furrowed brows.

I didn’t want to become another.

I wanted to feel seen, and he made me feel like I’d never have to hide again.

My hips swung like a pendulum as I strode over, ready to serve my heart on a platter.

Maybe that was too much, but again, I didn’t care.

His gaze tracked every movement until I reached the edge of his shadow.

He took a ragged inhale as I stepped into the crook of space between his knees and where he rested his elbow on the bar.

A shiver worked its way through me as his eyes left my face and slowly drifted to my neck, my chest, my ribs, like an invisible finger was dragging down the very front of me.

He dropped his stare to the counter.

“What did you find out, River?”

Huh?

Oh. I’d almost forgotten why I’d called him.

It wasn’t to make out in a magical bar.

I slunk back onto my seat.

Right. New developments.

A sigh left my tingling lips.

How was I supposed to get deep when my cheeks still hurt from smiling?

By remembering how my dad betrayed me, that was how.

I looked at the twinkling ceiling.

The pain was an ice pick that chipped at my heart.

The more I thought about it, the more it broke.

My mouth curved into a snarl.

“He knew—my dad.” My fingers curled into the wood.

“He knew this whole damn time.”

“That you’re Nephilim?” Ryder guessed.

Teeth clenched, I nodded.

“Ask me why he kept me in the dark for eighteen years?” I gritted out, staring at the girl across from me.

Translucent glass bottles framed her strained face, her nostrils fuming as a reddish hue bloomed in her cheeks.

And her eyes were a cold, abyssal blue that could freeze hell itself over.

It was me. I was staring in a mirror.

Between the racks of liquor, I saw Ryder lift his gaze in the reflection.

“Why…did he keep you in the dark for eighteen years?” he asked softly.

“I have no fucking clue.” I whipped my head towards him.

“But who does that!?”

He didn’t flinch at my anger, even as I slammed my palm onto the counter.

“You know what’s even more messed up?” A round of applause muffled my voice as the band ended one song and dove right into another.

“He played a role in my mom’s death. And I know he struggles with that guilt. We could have…” I bit back the tears.

My dad didn’t deserve them.

“We could have bonded over that.”

“What do you mean? I thought your mom died in a drowning accident.”

Straightening my shoulders, I took a deep breath, but the words came out fast and harsh.

“Angels can’t have relationships with mortals, right? Well, my mom was an angel, and my dad was clearly a mortal and what do you know, she ended up dead—actually worse, she was sent to the Fall. Did you know that’s where they take them?”

Ryder shook his head no, his eyes narrowing as he processed what I said.

“Yeah. She was sentenced to an eternity of dropping for betraying Empyrea, where she gets to relive her agony again and again. I just don’t understand why they waited so long to take her.” I scowled, the memory of that fated day at the beach muddied by my mounting frustration.

“Was it even a rip current that got her?”

I glanced at his hands, which stayed slack at his sides, waiting for one of them to inch forward and hold me.

“I think it’s the most realistic possibility,” he said, “because we don’t have enough evidence to say otherwise. I mean, she could have been in hiding all those years and that’s when the Sainthood found her—that’s what happened to my…” He stopped himself and clipped out a sigh.

“You saw what you saw. It was a rip current…right?”

I tugged at the hair closest to my temples.

Honestly…it could have been a storm or an angel or my mind playing tricks, and instead of being a big girl and addressing the trauma, I’d spent ten years hiding from it.

“I don’t know what I fucking saw!” My outburst earned a glare from the bartender.

I swallowed the fire building in my throat, my voice shaking with the effort it took to remain low when I spoke again.

“What’s gnawing at me is that I shrugged off the people who actually cared, the ones who’ve been trying to tell me everything. The Voices.”

A subtle tension that only I would notice furrowed Ryder’s full, dark brows.

“They’re not just voices, Ry,” I continued, my voice low.

His back went rigid at the nickname, but I was in such a frantic train of thought it had honestly just rolled off my tongue.

“They’re the archangels tasked to guard Mortal Earth—the ones you said were legend. My mom didn’t just leave Empyrea; she left her place among the Watchers. I saw how it all started when we were at Madame Myrian’s. That’s how I know what the cost was for her to leave.” Tears burned against my squinched lids.

I hated the sensation so fucking much, but I hated how Ryder just sat there even more.

Touch me, I begged him with my mind.

Hug me. Comfort me.

“River.” He made sure to annunciate every syllable.

“You didn’t make it inside Myrian’s house. I told you this. A piece of plywood knocked you out when the earthquake hit.”

My entire body stiffened.

I blinked once. Twice.

“ That’s what you took from what I just said?” I threw my hands up in the air.

“Why are we arguing about this again? I did make it inside, I saw the past, I saw the Fall, I saw their wings, I saw my mom choose love. I saw everything .”

Ryder turned his focus to his drink, like he was purposefully avoiding my glare.

“Oh, is our fighting make you uncomfy?” I snorted, matching the scowls of the dwarves who had posted up next to us.

“I thought you got off on it.”

He shifted in his seat.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re always pissing me off.”

He rolled his eyes, and that just provoked me even more.

Digging into my front pocket, I pulled out a tiny scrap of paper and placed it on the counter.

“Look.” The crinkles from being shoved into my shorts distorted the writing.

Whatever, it was still legible.

He peered at the numbers.

“What am I looking at?”

“Coordinates,” I said with no room for hesitation.

“I found them written on the back of an article about a lighthouse that shares the same coordinates as the first row of numbers.”

He tilted his head.

“Where’s the rest of it?”

“Um…” A hot flash of embarrassment rushed me as I envisioned myself ripping the page to shreds earlier.

“Doesn’t matter. Anyways, there were also dozens of patterns scribbled on the back, but not just any patterns, the Empyrean symbols for the elements. Like the ones we traced onto Madame Myrian’s door.”

“What are you getting at, River?” he asked with an irritated ring in his voice.

“Okay…” Palms steepled beneath my chin, I continued, ignoring the bite of annoyance in his tone.

“Hear me out. I think these are tied to specific places the Watchers used to access Earth. Kind of like wormholes, but they’re actual structures. Watchtowers.” I pulled out my phone.

“I haven’t researched what the other coordinates are, but I think if we go to them, we can find out where the Watchers are…”

“River.” Ryder lowered the cellphone from my face.

“This is a bunch of scribble.”

“No.” My eyes clung to the bright light of the screen.

“My dad knew what my mom was. He must’ve known about the Watchers and their connection to these sites, that’s why?—”

Ryder’s demeanor hardened.

“We both know your dad isn’t the most reliable…”

“What?”

“Listen.” His hands hovered beside my arms, as if he were about to start rubbing them, then they dropped to his lap.

“This sounds like a story your dad tells himself so he can live with the facts, that your mom died and there was nothing he could do to save her.”

“How can you say that?” I clenched my jaw to keep it from quivering.

“I’m telling you this is real.”

He sighed dramatically, like this was the biggest waste of his time even though he knew how important this was to me.

“Say the Watchers are real—hypothetically. Their job is to protect mortals, right? So…where are they now? The world’s gone to shit.”

I twirled the frays on my cutoffs, tugging at the loose threads.

“When my mom left, it…broke their power.”

He scoffed.

“And let me guess, you think you’re the one to save us?”

He might as well have thrown his drink in my face.

What the hell was wrong with him?

“Well, that did cross my mind, but now you’re making me feel stupid for even considering it.”

“Oh, River.” Ryder doused my name in a bitterness that made his lips pucker.

“There are no chosen ones in this life. You said your eyes were open now, so look around.” He stretched his arms along the wooden curve of the bar top.

“Earth isn’t made for you to rule, it’s made to make you suffer. You’re not a savior. You’re one of us. Forgotten.”

My jaw dropped.

“You’re the one who pushed me to find out who I was. Now you don’t accept it?” I had no words.

Actually, I had two.

“Fuck you.”

Ryder shrugged and downed his glass.

I didn’t think it was possible, but my mouth fell open even wider.

“I have to go.” His chair screeched across the hardwood as he stood and threw down a twenty.

“Leif and I are going hunting.”

The conversation I overhead him having with his brother at their house resurfaced in my mind.

“Oh, to find that person you’re looking for.”

A muscle around his jaw tightened.

“We already found her.”

Her.

Heat engulfed me as shame flooded my system.

Maybe that’s why he was suddenly being so standoffish.

I swiveled in my chair.

“You planning on stringing her along, too?” The comeback burned in my throat, and I salivated with ire.

“Not if I can help it.” The light from this angle made it look like a sheen coated his eyes—but there was no way Ryder cared.

He’d wielded his words like throwing knives, and they’d found their target, right in my heart.

With the little dignity I had left, I met his stare.

And immediately wished I hadn’t.

Iciness radiated from his eyes, such a deep hunter green they bordered on black, and squelched the fire in my veins.

His shadow fractured in the dim light, stretching out behind him in two elongated pieces, dousing me in a bitter coldness.

At some point my nails had snuck between my teeth—he didn’t reach to stop me.

He left without another word.

The scent of his jacket—aged leather and pine—lingered in the air.

I stared, unmoving, any loving part of me emptier than his vacant seat.

I don’t know how long I sat there as the blood rushed to my head, and the shock settled over me.

As my toes and fingers tingled, and every inch of me went numb.

As the part of me that waited for him to return withered and died, and I chugged a second and third drink.

I do know at some point autopilot kicked in, deciding it was time to go, and I mindlessly shuffled out the door.

Twilight steeped the alley in the hues of the dwindling sunset.

Dragging my nails against the building, I stumbled towards the street, letting the bumpy stone scratch my fingertips.

Tears stung my eyes, and my breath came in heaves, and I was cradling the wall before I could stop myself.

Scream sobs echoed in the narrow space as I withdrew from the world, tasting, feeling, seeing, smelling, hearing nothing but the buildup of pain and humiliation as I whittled down to a shell of a human.

There were a lot of crappy outcomes in this hand I’d been dealt, but nothing compared to this—opening myself up just to be shut down.

To be left with no sense of belonging.

I reached for my necklace, forgetting it was missing.

A pulse of anguish lingered where my hand brushed bare skin.

Fresh tears lined my lids.

A translucent tendril of energy reached out from my body, as if searching for a conduit.

I watched, felt , the smoky wisp sweep across dumpsters, the windows, as if it were an extra limb that moved as inconspicuously as a shadow.

Touching, prodding, weighing its resources—metal and glass—and stalling at the lack of…

elements.

A ragged exhale left me as my Source petered out.

What would I have done if it found something worthy to latch onto?

Bring the whole place down?

Bring myself down? I glanced at the door to Elsewhere and shuddered.

Caving into dusk, I dragged myself home, taking the long, windy route, wading through the ripples of loneliness until I reached my front yard.

Feet planted on the flagstone pathway, I stared up at the second floor—a simple place where I’d spent my childhood dreaming, growing, living.

Suffering.

It didn’t feel like home anymore.