Page 7 of Gods of Prey (Parallel Prey #3)

Sienna

I feel myself materializing in the downtown streets of Seattle. The sensation is disorienting. I’m here but not here. Present yet insubstantial.

It’s not the first time I’ve felt this. Although, in the previous timeline, when I died and returned to Bash’s side, I was much more affected. And lost.

Rain passes through my ghostly form, a constant reminder that I no longer belong in this realm.

My murder once again stripped me of physical presence.

Now, I’m merely an echo, a wisp of consciousness tethered to lingering memories of pain.

Pain that I had to endure as punishment not once, but twice in this particular mortal lifetime.

I’ve manifested a more casual outfit, opting for simple black pants and a sweater I would have worn when I was mortal instead of the formal gown I wear in Umbraeth. My wings are gone too. There’s no one to impress or intimidate here.

Beside me, Revel solidifies into full physical form, his divine essence seamlessly adapting to mortal constraints. The unfairness burns within me.

“You look substantial enough,” I mutter, watching him flex his fingers and adjust to his mortal body. It looks foreign and uncomfortable on him. “Must be nice.”

He runs a hand through his soft hair, his expression hard and unreadable. “I wish I could say the same for you.”

“Bash is this way,” I supply, ignoring his insult and the rush of self-conscious thoughts trying to pry their way in. I point my ghostly finger north and turn that way without checking if he’s behind me.

We move through evening Seattle, me drifting like morning mist while Revel walks beside me, intently listening to every detail I share about this mortal version of Sebastian.

He occasionally draws curious glances from passersby who see a handsome man apparently talking to himself.

The city feels both intimately familiar and strangely foreign.

I’ve been here plenty of times across all my mortal lives.

I recognize every street corner, every coffee shop, yet now view them through divine awareness that my mortal self never possessed.

Last time I returned in this form, Bash resided in New York.

Seattle has a completely different feel.

“What was it like for you?” Revel asks suddenly as we wait for a traffic light to change. “Living in this realm as a mortal? How were things between you and Sebastian?”

The question catches me off guard. “We were close,” I admit reluctantly.

“In this life, things got a little tangled up with Jovie.” I bite my lip to stop myself from admitting too much.

Instead, I focus on other things. “Our parents were cold and calculating, which gave us a deep mortal bond. I made friends with Jovie at her previous job.” The memories flood back—laughter with Bash over wine, conversations with Jovie at Old Soul Café.

“You miss it,” Revel observes, not a question but a statement.

“I miss them ,” I correct him, though he’s not entirely wrong. “This life was...good. Until it wasn’t.”

Until I had to relive it and no one else but Bash, and eventually Jovie, realized it was happening.

We turn down a street, and I feel a pull toward a close residential building. Fourth floor, corner apartment with the small balcony overcrowded with plants. I tell him what I’m sensing and he silently gestures for me to lead the way.

“You know,” he says hesitantly, “I’ve watched both of you, through all your lifetimes. From Aurelys. I never knew any details, though.”

I stop abruptly, my ghostly form rippling with indignation. “You spied on us?”

“Not spied,” he corrects quickly. “It’s my responsibility to monitor Sebastian’s mortal journeys. You were simply there, too.”

I want to be angry at this invasion, but curiosity wins out. With a skeptical glare, I ask, “And what fascinating insights did you gather from your observations, interim god?”

Do you know about the secrets I’ve been keeping?

He ignores my sarcasm, carrying on in a clinical tone, like he’s already bored with this conversation.

“That you’re different in every life, yet fundamentally the same.

In Ancient Egypt, you were a priestess with unbending principles.

In Renaissance Italy, a fierce protector of your brother’s artistic talents.

During the French Revolution, you died defending him.

” His eyes meet mine. “But in every life, your essence remains constant—fierce loyalty, hidden gentleness beneath sharp edges, stubborn to a fault, and a profound capacity for both justice and mercy.”

His words leave me momentarily speechless. I’ve never considered how I appear across my many lives, too focused on enduring each one to see patterns. That Revel has not only noticed but analyzed them so thoughtfully is unsettling.

It feels like my enemy has a leg up on me.

Before I can formulate a response, we arrive at their building. Without thinking, I try to press the elevator button, my finger passing through it uselessly.

“Allow me, goddess,” Revel says with a hint of mockery as he summons the elevator.

On the fourth floor, I pause outside their door, hearing familiar voices within. My heart, or whatever ghostly equivalent I now possess, clenches painfully.

“They’re both here,” I whisper.

Revel nods, serious now. “How do you want to approach this?”

“I can’t just knock on the door,” I remind him, gesturing to my transparent form.

“No,” he agrees, “but I can feel Sebastian’s energy inside. It’s turbulent. He must be using divine power unconsciously, creating a protective bubble around them both. I’m not sure he would see either of us right now.”

I press forward, passing partially through the door, just enough to see into the apartment while remaining mostly in the hallway.

The space hits me with a wave of longing.

Jovie’s mismatched furniture, photos on the walls, several featuring me and Sebastian together in our mortal forms. It’s so opposite of everything Bash was when I left.

And there they are: Jovie curled against Sebastian on the couch. My brother strokes her hair with such tenderness, it makes my nonexistent chest ache.

He’s found it. That feeling we’ve been chasing for centuries.

The tether we both need to prevent us from becoming the cold, soulless creature who created us.

Gods live for such a long time, they lose their sense of morality.

Who could have guessed he would find his in a being that lives a fraction of the lifetime he will?

Then, they shift positions, and I see it.

And the breath I don’t need catches in my throat. There, nestled against the hollow of her throat, gleams a delicate gold chain. And hanging from it?—

No .

My locket. My heart-shaped locket that I’ve hidden and found through thirty-three lifetimes.

The one I imbued with a fragment of my own divinity in a moment of rebellion against the Divine Council’s sentence.

The one that my brother should have buried somewhere safe the moment I died.

It should not still be hanging around the neck of a mortal who has no idea what she’s wearing.

Rage floods through me, cold and sharp as winter moonlight. My form flickers, becoming more solid with the force of my emotion.

How dare he?

How dare Sebastian allow something so dangerous, so precious, to remain in her possession?

Jovie looks up suddenly, her eyes scanning the room. “Did you hear something?”

Sebastian glances over at her. “Hear what?”

“I thought—” She touches the locket absently, her fingers closing around the gold heart. “Never mind. Probably just the building settling.”

I watch in horror as her skin seems to glow faintly where she touches the pendant. The divinity in the locket recognizes her somehow, responding to her touch. That should be impossible. Mortals shouldn’t be able to access divine power, even the small amount I’d infused into the metal decades ago.

Unless . . .

Unless Sebastian’s own divinity has somehow awakened hers. Unless being loved by a god has changed her on a fundamental level.

If the Divine Council discovered this—if they knew I’d hidden pieces of my power in mortal objects, if they learned that Sebastian’s mortal had been touched by divine essence—the punishment would be swift and absolute. Not just additional lifetimes. True death. Erasure from existence itself.

I have to get it back.

But how? I’m barely corporeal, and she’s not supposed to be able to see me. Even if I could manifest fully, I can’t exactly walk up and demand she return jewelry that technically doesn’t belong to me anymore.

Shoving my anxieties aside, I turn my attention to assess their space.

While they lounge on the couch, I allow myself to sink further into the apartment.

I see their kitchen, their bedroom, and a bathroom.

Everything is a mix of order and chaos. A meticulously organized bookshelf sits beside a makeup vanity with products haphazardly thrown around.

Coats are hung neatly above a mess of shoes.

It’s a physical representation of both their personalities and makes me wonder how my brother can even handle her mess when he’s become so rigid.

On the opposite end is an office that I assume is his.

In true Sebastian fashion, it’s void of any personal effects.

A large mahogany desk takes up most of the floor space with nothing more than a slim laptop sitting on top of it.

But what gets my ghostly heart pumping is the wall across from the desk—the one he likely stares at all day as he works.

It’s got a map of the mortal world hung on it with several red push pins jammed into different spots. Strings connect each one to different places, but most are spun around one singular pin: the one in the center of New York City.

Immediately, I have the sense that this is related to my death and the men who executed it.

He’s hunting them still, just as I suspected. An entire mortal year later.

And out in the open, where Jovie has likely seen. Does she know of his crimes?

The irony cuts deep—my brother mourns me while simultaneously forgetting his true nature and responsibility. The mortal side of him grieves his sister while his true self abandons his divine twin.

I pull back into the hallway, finding Revel watching me with an odd expression.

“He doesn’t remember who he is,” I confirm, the reality finally sinking in. “He truly believes he’s just Bash.”

Revel shakes his head. “That’s the problem. He’s not just hiding. He’s forgetting.”

“That’s not the worst part,” I hesitantly add. Revel raises his brows, urging me to continue. I’m not entirely sure that I should, and my body recoils a little as the words make their way out.

“He’s still killing,” I finally admit, then explain what I saw in the office. I had hoped that with so much mortal time passing, he moved on from this ridiculous little vendetta he’s holding over my life. But he isn’t, and the effects of his crimes will send waves across the entire cosmic system.

The God of Life does not rip souls from their bodies. It simply doesn't happen.

Add in that he’s been manipulating time, and we’re all screwed. Myelle will have our heads for that alone.

“We need to get through to him,” Revel concludes.

“How do we reach someone who doesn’t want to be found?” I ask, my voice smaller than I’d like.

This is worse than I imagined. Going through it alone before made it easier to excuse away.

To convince myself things weren’t that bad.

But now, it seems that Jovie knows. And the horrified expression Revel has been wearing since we got here has me realizing this is worse than I allowed myself to accept.

“We need to find a way to build up his trust,” he says decisively, and for once, I’m grateful for his confidence.

Where I appear to be spiraling, he’s remaining steady.

“You’re the connection. Maybe if we can make you substantial enough for him to see, to feel, it might break through his self-imposed amnesia. ”

“And how exactly do we accomplish that? I’m dead in this realm, Revel. There’s no changing that.” I stare at him, eyes wide and brows tucked against my hairline.

“We’ll figure it out.” Pointing to a large sign across the street advertising rentals available, he smirks. “First, we need a place to stay.”

As we move across the rainy street, I steal glances at him—this man who has been my adversary for centuries, now my only ally. For the first time, I wonder if there’s more to Revel than I’ve allowed myself to see.

I quickly push the thought away. We have a mission to complete, a cosmic balance to restore. Whatever unexpected revelations might be emerging between us must remain secondary to that purpose.

And yet, as we walk side by side through the Seattle night—him solid, me spectral—I can’t help feeling that something fundamental has already begun to shift.