Page 35

I ’d been staring at the granite grave marker for so long my eyes had started to cross.

Its ashen surface blurred into one long, illegible carving I wasn’t ready to see clearly yet.

Glossing over the etchings for maybe the hundredth time, I peered at the rows and rows of graves instead, the sun reflecting off the various gray and black stones erected imperfectly across the hills.

I took a deep inhale, the crisp air burning as I drew it in.

Goosebumps abraded my skin, and a ragged sigh left my lips.

I was screaming in my sleep again, and the strain it put on my already raw throat made it impossible to even breathe without it feeling like it was on fire.

That was why I liked it here: nobody expected me to say anything.

The dead didn’t force me to speak until my vocal cords were in shreds or force me to relive that horrific night at the Boardwalk.

And I bet the person I visited wouldn’t have made me, either…

if they were alive.

Which they weren’t.

Thanks to me.

A horn honked from the cemetery’s parking lot.

I jumped so high I swore my feet left my Vans for a sec.

Glancing over my shoulder, I spotted my dad’s small SUV idling in the loading zone.

Catching my attention, he opened his door and stepped out, pointing at himself, speaking in some form of parental mime language: Do you want me to join you?

With a smile that soured my cheeks, I shook my head.

After the “incident” a few weeks ago, he was always there, hovering—which would have been way more bearable if he was down to acknowledge what really happened when he found me carrying my unconscious best friend, bawling and bleeding and shoeless—but anytime I said the word demon or angel or Source he clammed up and turned greener than an algae bloom.

I got it—he was scared.

And I felt for him for that.

But why continue to tiptoe around it?

Especially when we both knew what ignoring the truth had the capacity to turn me into—something uncontrollable.

Something dark. Something fated for ruin.

I crossed my fingers, squeezing them tightly together, as if the pressure could wring out my annoyance, and willed my attention back to the headstone.

My eyes meandered down the circular sides, counting every little fleck of granite, as I laid the bundle of daffodils I’d been clutching at its base.

The easy thing to do would be to drop the flowers and split.

But I remained crouching, as if my knees were unwilling to bring me back up until I faced what was in front of me.

My arms flailed at my sides and smacked into my thighs.

Oh, this was ridiculous.

Come on, River. Just read it.

Fighting this very persistent, very annoying , urge that told me to do otherwise, my gaze lifted to the feathered angel wings flanking the epitaph and drifted over the words in the center.

With each hushed syllable that left my lips my heart beat faster, and then all the air rushed out of me.

Olivia Fairmore

A bringer of truth in a world all too absent of it.

May her light shine on those who seek it.

Tucking my fingers into my cropped long-sleeve, I buried my face in my palms. I breathed into the cotton, damp from my tears, until I was starved of oxygen.

A blast of air cooled my skin as I lowered my hands.

I wanted to keep hiding—but I saw her when I closed my eyes.

The glint of understanding behind her umber stare.

The glossy ringlets that cascaded to her cheekbones when her fingers went to grip mine.

The way her voice seemed to soothe me and challenge me at the same time—and I’d never hear it again.

I thought back to the first session we’d had—did she get enough time with the goddaughter she’d mentioned?

I’d thought this would bring closure, but confusion scrambled my thoughts.

Why did she have to die?

Did the Night Stalkers take her out, or was it the demon posing as her replacement?

The demon the guy I would not name or ever think of again was working with.

A slow exhale hissed past my teeth.

I mentally swatted at the images of him flooding my brain, especially the one from the Boardwalk when he seemed to willingly hand me my necklace.

Anger seared my veins, manifesting into something as vital as blood.

It numbed my other senses, but it also nourished an animalistic part of me that wanted to scream and claw at the dirt.

He’d snapped my heart in two as if it were a fawn’s leg, and?—

A faint command echoed across my mind.

Take a deep breath .

I stopped spiraling and let Dr. Fairmore’s last words to me sink in, as the inhale filled my lungs.

I held it and counted to ten.

This wasn’t even about him.

Massaging my temples, I released a slow, controlled exhale.

The anger threatened to bury me deeper than the dead.

But I needed there to be meaning.

I needed to understand.

Was Akosua behind all this?

Why? What did she see in Chthonia that made her denounce the Watchers, especially when she was so insistent about the potential fallout if one of them left?

How could there be any good in Chthonia’s vision if it meant innocent people hurting and dying?

I couldn’t deny the sting of responsibility that came with this line of thinking.

If my mom hadn’t followed her stupid, smitten heart, none of this would be happening.

Dr. Fairmore wouldn’t be in a grave.

Javi wouldn’t be in a coma.

I wouldn’t be nursing a broken heart.

Demons wouldn’t be trying to take over Mortal Earth.

And I wouldn’t be left here wondering how I could possibly rectify my mom’s actions when I couldn’t do something as simple as pass high school econ.

I couldn’t even hold a job at this point—no-showing my shifts over these past few weeks gave Tom all the reason he’d been looking for to fire me.

Why was everything so fucked up?

A tepid gust wove through the gnarled oak trees that lined the pale gravel paths, shaking the leaves and acorns free.

Orange flickered before my eyes.

I held my hand over my brows to shield the glare and tracked the flash of color up into the sky.

To my surprise, my lips twitched upwards as I watched the monarch butterfly coast on the breeze.

I lifted a shaky finger as I rose, offering it a perch.

It floated nearer, its toothpick-thin legs tickling my skin.

I actually smiled at the sun reflecting off its wings while it opened and quickly closed them.

My insides fluttered as the butterfly drifted to the rounded top of the headstone.

And as my eyes narrowed in on its intricate pattern, my brain also picked up on all the other intricacies of the grounds I’d initially looked over—the white puffs dotting the air not dandelions at all, but winged spirits that seemed to be forged out of light.

They hummed, bobbing between the dead and the mourning in blessing.

And there was a reason some of the stones caught the glare more than the others, forcing my hand to my brows—tiny hobgoblins, so round and gray they could have been passed off as rocks, polished the markers until their little nubs blistered and bared their fangs at any that tried to breach their plots.

I blinked, and it was like a film rolled over my eyes, making the cemetery perfectly quiet and solitary again.

A fissure of hope cracked my hardened heart.

I’d never be able to undo my mom’s actions, but she’d made a sacrifice for love.

For me. While I couldn’t change the past, I did have a future, one I’d been all too willing to throw away.

There was Chet’s tribunal, which I still hadn’t technically committed to, and even though it’d be hard, not showing up would be letting him win.

A shiver snaked its way up my spine at the thought of facing him on the stand.

But I’d do it. Not just for me.

For Shanley—my friend.

And there was Javi, who…

my front teeth punctured my bottom lip as I imagined him lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to all those machines in a room so dull and colorless, the antithesis of him.

I’d be by his side until he woke up—or until the nurses booted me, which was usually after only an hour.

Today they’d let me stay for two.

And there was the scrap of paper with the other watchtower coordinates I’d shoved to the bottom of my hamper, in hopes it’d end up in the wash with my dirty clothes.

Yet somehow, it always seemed to make it through laundry day unscathed.

I didn’t know where they led or what I might uncover; after the night at the Boardwalk I still hadn’t mustered the courage to face the one in town, but it could be a starting point for finding Akosua.

I knew she had the answers, even if Chthonia claimed her as one of theirs.

Of course, I couldn’t forget, there was also school.

Perhaps the least exciting thing, but I’d be damned if I let myself fail again.

Black-and-orange wings lifted off, capturing my attention.

My neck craned, following the butterfly’s invisible trail into the vista of blue until the light burned my eyes, and it became just another speck amongst the sunspots.

I glanced at the grave once more when something struck me.

The epitaph—it had no dates.

That seemed like critical information to forget.

Strange…

A prickling sensation swept across my shoulder blades, igniting my scars.

I awkwardly bent my arm to reach behind me, the tips of my fingers brushing against the burning skin, alight with intuition.

I broke my gaze and walked to the car.

Maybe this wasn’t my end.

Maybe this was my beginning.