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ASH

Ash landed on top of the Shearwater Landing library, dropping into a crouch and gripping the top of the sloping roof as he folded his wings against his back. The sun warmed his bare chest, a slight sea breeze tickling his skin and ruffling his feathers.

Ash scowled. Who’d have thought he’d be back in this place after what, a century? Maybe more?

At least the library was familiar. Most of the plaza below was recognizable, but it had changed since he’d last been here.

Ash scanned the area with his demon sense. The only magical being in the vicinity was a witch sitting at a café on the other side of the fountain. Hardly worth sounding the alarm over.

No one could know demons were back in Shearwater Landing, but the witch wasn’t a threat. An illusion crafted by his demon power rendered Ash completely invisible, and there was no way the witch could detect Ash’s magic.

Ash’s tail twitched. He had to put it away, horns and wings as well, but suppressing his true form bothered him more than it used to. Avoiding humans was preferable, and his last thirty years had been close to human-free. However, tracking Dante through the streets would be easier than flying around, perching on rooftops.

At least demons passed for human more easily than other magical beings. With his disguise in place, he could walk right up to the witch at the café and he’d have no idea what kind of power stood before him.

Ash leaped into the air, spreading his white-tipped black wings. He circled the library and came to land in a narrow alley out back. The old paving stones looked original, just as unchanged as the grand building behind him.

A strange scent filled his nose, like fresh mountain air and flowers. Ash breathed deeply, reminded of home. How was it possible for an alleyway to smell this good? Was there a florist nearby?

It didn’t matter. With a shudder, Ash pulled his demonic features inside himself. His skin itched and burned as his wings disappeared into his flesh, forming large tattoos spanning his whole back. His horns and tail did the same, the tattoos hidden by his hair and pants.

Being incomplete grated, the tattoos tingling, almost nagging at him, telling him it had been too long since he’d put his features away. There was nothing he could do about it. Ash wouldn’t be in this city if he had a choice. Unfortunately, he couldn’t let his preference for isolation prevent him from warning Dante and Onyx.

At least Dante being easy to find was in his favor. He’d have to remind Dante it was in their enemy’s favor as well.

He stalked out of the alley, the scent of mountain air and flowers tempting him in the opposite direction of the plaza. He shook it off. Why were his baser senses suddenly dominating him? The last thing he needed was flowers, so it shouldn’t have felt wrong to walk away from the alluring scent, but it did.

Maybe this was what he got for avoiding cities. One whiff of flowers, and he was pining for his mountain home. And solitude.

People stared at Ash as he entered the crowd of morning shoppers in the plaza. Right. He should have brought a shirt. He never wore one at his isolated hunting lodge. They just didn’t work with wings.

Grumbling, he ducked into a souvenir shop and was briefly relieved to see a display of black T-shirts until he noticed they were adorned with the city crest and a large illustration of a flying sooty shearwater. An almost inaudible growl left Ash’s throat as he grabbed the largest shirt and brought it to the counter.

The woman at the register eyed him, brow raised, but didn’t comment on his lack of clothing. Once Ash paid, he pulled on the T-shirt. It was too tight for his broad chest and thick biceps, but at least no one would be staring because he wasn’t properly dressed.

He exited the shop and crossed the plaza to the fountain in the center. It hadn’t changed. Fish and more damn shearwaters spouted water out of their mouths just as Ash remembered. He turned his back on the fountain and inspected the buildings around him.

Which direction had Dante’s home been in? Something would jog his memory eventually.

It wasn’t likely Dante lived in the same place he had a century ago, but he was bound to be here somewhere, and Ash needed a location to start his search. Tracking was easiest if he had a fresh sense of a being’s magic.

A whiff of that floral mountain air drifted by on a breeze and Ash whipped his head in that direction, frowning. The scent wasn’t as strong as in the alley and faded quickly.

Oh well. He’d be home in the mountains as soon as possible, and everything would smell as sweet as whatever flowers lurked nearby.

Ash surveyed the area. That narrow street to the west was vaguely familiar. Maybe. He headed toward it.

The street was lined with modern shops and restaurants, but the paving stones were old like the ones in the alley behind the library. If only Ash could recognize the exact stones he used to walk along.

He let his instincts guide him until he had the urge to turn left down another narrow street. These buildings were older, and while the ground floors had been renovated, the floors above were familiar. Or weren’t they?

When you remembered cities that had been gone for more than a thousand years, it was hard to be sure. There were too many memories. Usually, Ash kept the past where it belonged, but it was finally catching up to him.

Two centuries of freedom wasn’t long now that it might be coming to an end.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered on. Dante’s place had to be around one of these old corners—well, old for this city at least. The West Coast of North America didn’t have old buildings compared to other parts of the world, and nowhere in the Human Realm had old buildings compared to the Eternal Realm.

What did the Eternal Realm look like these days? Ash shook his head. He’d never find out, damned as he was. Why bother thinking about it?

He kept walking.

Halfway down the block, Ash stopped short, an image leaping from the depths of his mind. This was it. The worn stone building looked pretty much exactly as it had. There weren’t even shops on the ground floor.

Ash crossed his arms and glowered at the building from the sidewalk across the narrow street. Dante’s scent was undetectable, so he hadn’t been here in at least a year.

He scrutinized the structure with his demon sense. No magic? Really? Then why wasn’t the place inhabited by humans? He delved deeper, letting his most primal instincts, the part of him that was pure magic, come to the surface.

Yes, there it was. A spell. It was skillfully masked, so at least Dante wasn’t being careless. Ash hadn’t expected any less. Dante had always been responsible. However, it’d have been more prudent to sell the building, leaving no magic behind, no matter how well hidden, and let some human take the place over.

A dark-gray bird landed on the building’s awning and tilted its head, looking at Ash. His blood heated as his demon fire flared. Damn shearwaters. They didn’t usually fly this far into the city. Not like seagulls did.

Shearwaters were seabirds and naturally stuck to the coastline, spending most of their lives migrating around the globe’s oceans. Except for the shearwaters here. They’d always behaved strangely, and it was no surprise to see one this far from the water. But it was annoying.

At least it was summer, when the birds were meant to be in this part of the world, and not winter, when they were supposed to be breeding in the Southern Hemisphere. The infernal things caused confusion among marine biologists, who couldn’t figure out why the sooty shearwaters of Shearwater Landing defied the migratory patterns of the rest of their species.

Ash knew exactly why, not that any biologist would believe him. He waited as the bird eyed him with a keenness that didn’t quite pass as natural .

Suddenly, the bird took flight, dark-gray wings flapping as it rose into the sky.

Maybe Ash should have stayed invisible so he could have followed it without the people on the street noticing. It would have saved him from buying this silly shirt, but he hated walking through crowds when no one could see him. It was hard not to bump into people, and his intimidating height and build meant that when he was visible, people naturally made way for him.

As arrogant as it was, he preferred it that way.

Ash scanned the sky, the bird almost out of sight. He could find a place to disappear and follow the bird. Maybe behind Dante’s house?

“What are you scowling about?” asked a familiar voice.

Ash turned. Dante leaned against a lamppost, grinning.

“I’m not scowling.”

Dante laughed. “Sure you’re not, brother.”

They were brothers by choice, not blood. Hearing the familiar term shouldn’t have stirred up feelings, but Ash’s chest warmed. Almost like he’d been lonely. “I see you’re as chipper as ever.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Dante cocked his head tauntingly. He had thick, curly black hair and black eyes that looked truly terrifying when they glowed, even with his more delicate face.

Ash and Dante shared the same brown skin, but that was it. Dante was slightly shorter and less bulky. Though, to be fair, everyone was less bulky than Ash, whose dark-brown hair only had a slight wave—barely noticeable when it was short—and whose brown eyes were dominated by a burnt-orange coloring.

“You didn’t feel it?” Ash asked.

Dante’s smooth brow furrowed.

Out of their group of three, bringing bad news always seemed to fall to Ash, but that didn’t mean he liked it. He let his deepening frown and silence do the work for him. They may have been apart for decades, but after thousands of years together, they didn’t always need words to communicate.

Dante’s face fell, and Ash hated being the one to dim his light, no matter how necessary. Dante pushed off the lamp post. “Shall we go somewhere to catch up?”

Ash nodded. “Somewhere private.”