Page 23 of Beasts of Shadows #1

“What brings you to my office, Nari?”

I flounder, grappling through my jagged thoughts. What do you say to your allegedly dead ex-boyfriend?

The one you thought you killed .

“You’re not really here.”

He unfolds from the wall and takes two steps before ceasing.

“I’m sure it would be better for you if that were the case.”

I don’t move. I can’t . My sword is right there , but I might as well have left it in my room, for all it’s worth right now.

My arms hang limp at my side.

“How? I mean…seriously, how ? There was a body and everything.”

He gives a gentle nod, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Yes. A body that felt every excruciating moment. You ever drown, Nari? Your lungs are desperate for air, but there is none. And then, involuntarily, you open your mouth. To scream or just to taste sweet oxygen—you’re not sure.

It doesn’t matter, because that just ushers in a flood of water.

Your throat burns. Your lungs ache. But the pain isn’t the worst of it.

No. It’s the panic.” He holds my eyes steady in his own.

“It’s knowing that nothing, no one, will save you.

Because the only one who even knows where you are is the same person who left you there. ”

I swallow. In a school where anything’s possible, I can’t rule out that this really is Ravi. Somehow. But I’d much rather believe this is some creature playing a game. Pretending to be him. Making me see things that aren’t there.

Why anyone would bother pretending to be a nobody mortal is beyond me, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.

This can’t actually be Ravi.

Gods, I hoped I was wrong. That Ravi and and Professor Sumner at the market at the same time was just a coincidence.

But it explains a lot. Why he seemed older at the assessment. How Nikolai was talking to him yesterday.

Nikolai.

I swallow hard, wondering if Ravi knows what we got up to when I thought I was going to die yesterday.

“If it makes you feel better, I got over being mad a while ago.”

“Good,” I choke out. “My biggest concern was whether or not you forgive me.”

He chuckles, lighting up the familiar dimple in his left cheek.

“Never said I forgave you. Should I bother asking why you did it?”

My lips flop. What is wrong with me? I’m never this stuck.

“Scratch that—I know the why . Someone manipulated your visions to make you think I was a threat, and you were just acting to prevent what you thought I would do. Right? What was it, Mutt?”

Picca and Nikolai have both called me “Mutt,” but it’s only hearing the nickname from Ravi’s lips that makes me flinch. The moniker came in middle school, when Ravi claimed I was as rough around the edges as the stray dogs hanging around the posh restaurants off Cannery Row.

“Was I going to shoot up the school?” He continues, watching me intently. “Kill you in your sleep? Start World War III?”

Ravi finally closes the gap between us. He reaches around my body, and for one second, I believe he’s going to hit me, or throw me to the floor. I do my best to keep from flinching, digging my nails into the desk’s edge.

I’ll give him one free pass. It’s only fair. One hit, since I tried to kill him. But then, I’ll get my sword, and—.

He shifts the Batman bobblehead so that it’s facing the same way it did earlier. Before I moved things around.

When he stands tall once more, he’s smiling. It’s not sinister. Not entirely. More…happy.

This is…

Strange .

There’s a trick here. I just can’t quite see what it is.

“You sent bogeys to kill me.”

“That actually wasn’t me. But it seems fair. Don’t you agree? Karmic.” Ravi shrugs. “Besides, your cousin was very clear about his intentions to keep you safe. Even if I had planned anything to scare you, I knew you’d be fine.”

So he…didn’t want me dead? Not really?

“We’re in a cycle. You and I. A loop we’ve gone through hundreds of thousands of times, each one waiting for you to kill me, or vice versa. You were the first one to actually do it. Which leaves us with quite the predicament come your birthday. But we’ll deal with that later.”

I massage my head. All of this is giving me a migraine. My birthday? March twentieth? That’s not for months.

Didn’t Picca say something about the second semester?

“I’m so confused.”

“Which must be driving you crazy,” Ravi says with a smirk. “I know how much you hate being out of the loop.”

A coil slips from my ponytail. He tucks it behind my ear—fingers brushing my neck like he’s entitled to the contact. Like he remembers how to touch me.

Just like Nikolai.

I smack his hand away. “Fuck off, you ass.”

That’s something Ravi would know. But then again, deities know everything. “That’s not proof.”

His eyes flash—dark, amused.

“The way you always want to be on top,” he murmurs, voice dipped in velvet. “Because you think it gives you control.”

My breath catches.

“That’s not in your student file, is it?”

He steps closer, close enough for me to feel the heat rolling off him. Close enough to remember.

His smile softens, deepens. “Should I show you? You always liked that thing I do with my tongue…”

I recoil.

Heat prickles up my neck. I hate how my body remembers. If I had just settled down with one of Cody’s friends the other night, maybe I wouldn’t feel this…

Turned on.

“I’ll break your damn nose if you touch me again.”

“There’s the mutt I know.” Cocky ass. “Look, I’ll spell it out. I was never just Ravi. And you’ve never been just Nari. We—Bran and Bea—.”

“Bran’s a cereal,” I scoff.

“We’ve been trapped in a reincarnation loop, thanks to my lovely ex-wife.”

Divine echo.

My eyes narrow.

“Our mortal shells reset every time we die. No memories. No power. It’s usually your role to star as the tragic lover who’s sacrificed, but this time…”

My stomach turns. I want to cry. Scream. Apologize. Hit something. Him? Myself? I don’t even know anymore.

“That’s insane.”

He looks ready to say something, but stops, shakes his head, and grins.

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry. Let’s go get something to eat.”

#

I could have said “No.”

I should have stormed out, gone to class, and pretended none of it ever happened.

But I’m curious. I hate that I’m curious, but I am.

Ravi—and I’m starting to believe it really is Ravi—is here. Alive. Willing to talk.

But even if I’m wrong, he’s still Professor Sumner. A teacher. A position of power in a place where I have none. If playing nice gives me an edge—buys me time—I’ll take it.

Friends is generous. Acquaintances? Strategically aligned enemies? I’ll settle for that.

We avoid the cafeteria. Student-teacher relationships aren’t exactly taboo here, but we both agree this conversation deserves privacy.

Not too private, though. Just in case he does want to slit my throat.

He’s had plenty of chances to kill me. Still, I keep my back to the exit. Just in case.

He drives us to the Seawitch Café in town. It’s surprisingly cozy—mismatched chairs, sea-glass tabletops, a mermaid mural flaking in the corner.

I order a plain croissant. He gets a mountain of eggs and sausage, dousing the whole thing in Sriracha like it personally offended him.

It’s such a Ravik Nayres thing to do.

He douses his toast in hot sauce like the food offended him.

Then I say, without meaning to, “You used to put Sriracha in your ramen. Even the cheap packets.”

His eyes lift, just slightly. “Still do.”

Silence stretches across the table. Not uncomfortable. Not yet. Just full.

Then he says, “You used to fall asleep with the TV on. I’d wake up to Crimson Heir reruns and drool on my chest.”

I freeze.

I hadn’t told anyone that. Not Marisol. Not even Azalea.

So either he hacked my memories…

Or it’s him. Really him.

I tear off a piece of my croissant and chew slowly. My stomach’s too twisted for a real appetite, but the warmth anchors me. Something normal. Something safe.

“You also used to talk with your mouth full.”

Like the smug bastard he is, he parts his lips and flashes me a full display of chewed egg and sausage.

“Disgusting,” I say, nose curling.

“You love it.”

He laughs—quiet and familiar—and for a half-second, I hate how much I remember that sound.

“Do you remember the story of Bran and Bea?” he asks, as if this is the kind of thing you casually bring up over eggs and reincarnation.

Of course he would.

“Can’t say I’ve memorized the myth index lately,” I mutter, thinking of Reema’s notebook still sprawled, mostly untouched, on my desk.

He spears another bite. “We talked about it at the Grove. I always had a thing for those old stories.”

“Must’ve been convenient. Since you were apparently in them.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Guess even back then, I was drawn to what we are.”

“And what’s that, exactly?” I ask, the croissant suddenly dry in my mouth. “Cosmic masochists?”

“Not exactly.”

I level him with a look.

He sets his fork down. “It’s not what you think. This isn’t a lovers-to-enemies tragedy. You didn’t kill me in our first life, Nari. Not the way you think. And I never killed you.”

I blink.

“You said—.”

“I said you broke the pattern. And you did. Because you did something you were never supposed to survive long enough to do.”

His expression shifts—gentle, for once. Heavy.

“There was a battle. Amongst the Celtic gods. Macha died first, and with her final breath, she cursed all deities.”

I wave a dismissive arm. Of course, everyone knows this part.

“That’s why gods can’t have kids anymore.”

Ravi nods.

“After that, Calea…”

It hits me, how ruined he looks. Not messy or weeping or anything dramatic. Just—undone. I ache to squeeze his hand, which is a crazy thing to want to do for someone I killed.

“She slit your throat when I was distracted. She’d taken my daughters from me, and old age had taken my grandson. But you…the loss destroyed me. It ate at me. I was grateful when she ended my suffering; even though it bound us to this cycle.”