Page 19 of Beasts of Shadows #1

The library smells of old paper and dust, a comforting contrast after the claustrophobic metal and saltwater of the ship.

Cat lounges in a cracked leather armchair, one leg draped over the side, while Reema arranges a pile of thick tomes on the table.

I settle into a stiff wooden chair, my bandaged palm throbbing faintly as I rub my fingers together, still feeling the sting of the athame’s cut.

“So,” Cat begins, sucking on a fresh lollipop, the candy’s sharp cherry scent filling the quiet room, “you must be thrilled that you’ve moved up in the rankings.”

Sure, I moved up three places.

Because two people died during the exercise. Even with that, I’m still only second-to-last. And Nikolai, Ashki, and I were two minutes late—just enough to hand Kilronan the top spot.

Nikolai wouldn’t even look at me after that, which I guess isn’t any loss.

Reema glances up from the pile of tomes.

I sink into a plush chair with a sigh. Gods. If nothing else, this place knows how to do furniture. The beds, the chairs, even the study desks—it’s all old-world luxury. Like someone raided a palace and decided students deserved velvet and carved mahogany.

Reema arches a brow. “I’m more interested in hearing about this barter you made with a mermaid.”

Her eyes gleam—focused, clinical. Like she’s about to write a thesis on me.

“They rarely show themselves, you know. Not since the Divine Accord after World War II. Most of them retreated into the deeper reaches of the Shadow Realm, where time doesn’t flow the same. Half the faculty think they’ve gone extinct.”

She taps a pen to her cheek.

“It’s very curious.”

I sit up, recalling my conversation with the creature.

“She said something about me being a divine echo. Does that mean anything to you?”

Cat shrugs, uninterested. But Reema stills. Her eyes narrow, a breath catching in her throat.

“That depends. Did she say whose echo you are?”

I blink. “No. Just that I was one.”

Reema leans back, exhaling like she’s trying to organize a dozen mental files at once. “A divine echo isn’t just a reincarnation. It’s a divine pattern . A deity caught in repetition—not reborn to learn, like mortals, but cursed to relive .”

Her fingers twitch, already flipping through one of the nearby tomes.

“They’re incredibly rare. Most gods don’t suffer consequences the way we do—when they die, they just become one with prana—the raw, living energy that fuels the universe. No longer sentient.

“But if another deity curses them— really curses them—they can be bound to mortal cycles. Not for growth. Not for redemption. Just… punishment. Over and over.”

“So like karma?”

Reema gives me a sharp look. “No. Karma implies justice. Divine echoes are cruelty dressed as meaning. They’re usually tied to tragedies. Deaths. Betrayals. Doomed love stories.” She pauses. “Usually cursed by someone close to them. A rival. Or a lover.”

A chill runs down my spine.

Cat pops the lollipop out of her mouth with a click . “It’s been too long of a day for something so deep.”

I scowl, but Reema’s too deep in her thoughts to react. Her fingers drum against the page.

“If a mermaid could sense it,” she murmurs, “then you must be close to whatever prompted the cycle in the first place.”

She looks up at me then—not like I’m her friend, but like I’m a question she hasn’t solved yet.

“Maybe that explains you and Cody,” Cat supplies, smirking when Reema stiffens. “Mortal enemies in a past life, or something.”

On his own, my cousin is funny, a little reckless, but sweet. Reema, by herself, is clever, considerate, and one of the best people I could know.

In the same room together? They’re barely contained animals. Reema’s all rules and rituals. Cody’s the reason they were invented.

Reema chucks her pen across the table, eliciting a squeal from the blond. We all chuckle, until the librarian reminds us to be quiet.

“What is my troublesome brother up tonight, I wonder,” Cat muses, giving me a wink.

What’s up with that?

“The hockey team is going into town,” Reema retorts.

“Now that sounds like a good time,” Cat grins. “I’ve been waiting for the day when we pass our first exercise and can leave campus.”

Reema scoffs. “Like you haven’t snuck down with Bri and Jeremy since that first Friday.”

“I’d like to go,” I offer, a sense of relief taking me. “After today, I could definitely use—.”

“A good lay?” Cat teases.

I match her smirk.

“We’ll see what the night brings.”

Cat tosses the lollipop stick into a nearby cup.

“Allons-y, les filles,” Cat declares, flourishing her arm like she’s leading a parade. “Marché des Monstres, here we come.”

#

The Marché des Monstres is a wild convocation of buildings, stalls, and creatures in every shape and color. It’s an absolute shit show—and I immediately fall in love with it. It has all the charm and chaos of Fisherman’s Wharf, with the added bonus of things you can’t find anywhere else.

Reema runs her hands reverently over a Book of the Dead, her eyes soft with longing hindered only by the price tag—three drops of blood from someone who loves you.

Cat flits from table to table, magnetized by anything that sparkles.

Me? I stop dead in front of a flaming sword.

The blade hums with heat, licks of fire dancing across its surface. It’s locked in place by iron braces, but still—it calls.

Maybe it’s time I get back into fencing.

A glint catches my eye. I reach for a leather choker, a raven charm swinging at the center. It reminds me of the half-moon pendant Reema always wears.

“What’s this?” I ask, turning the charm in my hand.

The stallkeeper—a slight figure with pale blue skin and oversized black eyes—makes a series of clicking and snapping sounds. Its tight curls of white hair puff like an overgrown dandelion.

“It’s an agimat.” I still at the familiar voice. “It’s good for clarity.”

I peer over my shoulder, trying to reconcile the man standing behind me with the boy I remember.

Ravi.

Not again.

I stiffen my spine and walk away, determined to ignore whatever this vision is.

I’ve already dealt with Imaginary Ravi once today, and I’m not up for whatever game the gods are playing now.

Across the market, I spot Nikolai. His seafoam eyes rest on me, dark brows twisted as if he’s puzzling through something.

I flip him off and stalk toward Reema, irritated with both the living and dead men in my life.

“Costs yer first word,” Reema reads from a tag with a frown. “What happens to all the others that came after?”

The blue-skinned vendor just grins, revealing rows of needlepoint teeth.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Geneir greets, slinging an arm around Reema’s shoulders like she’s the only thing keeping him upright.

She turns and gives him a chaste peck, patting his chest.

“How was practice?”

“Brutal.” Geneir pretends to vomit. “Cody turned it into a competition.”

I chuckle, not one bit surprised.

“I won.” He grins when he sees us. “Didn’t even need to hurl.”

“Not everyone has a stomach of steel,” Geneir mutters.

“With a core like yours? I’m surprised you didn’t flex the nausea away,” Reema teases, pushing his sweat-slick hair back with a smile just for him.

It’s ridiculously sweet, and, honestly, disgusting.

They’re the kind of couple who should be insufferable—gorgeous, stable, perfect . Instead, they’re just relationship goals. Like “mom and dad” in the most down-to-earth way. Reema probably has his practice schedule memorized. Geneir probably knows exactly how she takes her coffee.

I should look away. I really should. But I can’t. The jealousy in my chest has claws.

It’s not that I want him. Or her. I just want… something. Someone.

Cat was right about that. But I’ve felt nothing remotely like attraction since Ravi.

And Nikolai doesn’t count. I can admire the view without bringing personality into it.

Which brings me back to my real issue: I’m lonely. And maybe a little horny. The worst combo. This place reeks of desperation wrapped in cologne, and honestly, I don’t even need romance—I just need someone who’ll kiss me like I’m not already halfway to a grave.

Stupid Nikolai.

Maybe if I can just tether myself to someone for a night—even temporarily—I’ll remember what normal feels like, again.

A girl can dream.

Cat claps her hands like she’s just brokered peace between both realms. The glint in her eye reminds me she can read every emotion crossing my mind.

“Right. Time to handle the real crisis.”

She spins on her heel and levels a manic grin at the group. “Nari needs to get laid.”

Cody chokes on absolutely nothing. I do, too. A full-body cough that sounds like I swallowed a hex.

“ Cat .”

She waves me off. “It was an exhausting day. We both deserve a fun night, but you’re picky. What do you think is going to happen if you keep your bunk cold at night? You’ll end up making a terrible mistake. Like…fucking Nikolai. Or something.”

Everyone raises intrigued eyes at me, as if there’s a confession buried in Cat’s misguided rant.

I don’t have the energy to correct them. Cat’s right—it has been a long day.

“Genier. Cody. Who’s on your eligible-player list? She needs someone hot, available, and capable of breaking beds, but not hearts.”

Geneir blinks. “Do you think we just keep stats on hookups?”

“Yes,” Cat says sweetly. “You keep stats on everything else. You’re going to tell me you don’t exchange hookup reviews like trading cards?”

Cody and Geneir both peer at me, finally waiting for my consent.

My shoulder slump pathetically.

“I mean, if you know anyone who can get the job done…” I offer.

Cody shrugs, all too helpful. “There’s Erik. Dumb as a rock, but…enthusiastic, I hear. Or Lucian. Tatted and would one-hundred percent call you ‘goddess’ in bed.”

“Doesn’t have to be a bed,” I mutter.

“Oh, I love you so much more,” Cat proclaims, pulling me into a hug.

“Just find somewhere other than the men’s bathroom,” Cody warns, leveling his sister with a dark eye. “I don’t think any therapy Dr. Kite offers can shake the horrifying image of my sister getting plowed by the school nerd.”

“Say what you want about Jeremy, but he’s my go-to when I want a break from Bri. Maybe you’d appreciate the excitement if you made time for girls instead of books. I mean, really, how can you look like that and do nothing about it? Even Zerelli finds time for—.”

“ Cat !”

Reema’s tan skin burns burgundy, and even Geneir has an uncomfortable smile, like he’s not sure what to do.

Cody smirks, toned arms across his chest. “I’m saving myself for someone with a superiority complex and rage issues. Keeps things interesting.”

“You mean someone who will not get all weird about you wearing those gloves during the deed,” Cat counters. “Prudes. All of you.” She shakes her head. “Let’s get you a drink. And maybe a god. Or a warlock with stamina.”

She winks.

Behind us, Reema carefully slips the Book of the Dead’s tag into her bag—because of course she’s coming back for it.

And me? I walk forward. Into the dark. Into the noise. Into whatever this night is turning into.

I’m not looking for trouble.

But trouble never needed an invitation.

I remind myself of that when I spot him again.

Ravi.

Standing beside Nikolai like they’re mid-conversation—like they know each other.

I can’t imagine how they could have, when Ravi was alive, but maybe it’s a ghost thing?

Or maybe Nikolai isn’t really there. Maybe none of this is.

Maybe it’s just my seer abilities trying to make a connection I’m not interested in seeing. Like—that I find Nikolai’s toxic personality attractive , or something.

I guess it could be worse.

At least there’s no way it’s real.