Page 5

5

Sylvi a

J ust a second longer…

The gem shard’s aura pulsed under my touch, teeming with wordless promises. I stood perfectly still on the bathroom counter, allowing myself five—no, ten —more breaths with the amethyst in my hands. I held the last breath for an extra beat, then tucked the gemstone under the freshly cleaned clothes in the box that held my personal effects.

Even then, the reassurance of power teased me. I wished there was a way to shut it off. A little piece like that wasn’t nearly enough to fuel a transformation spell. Yet, it found its way into my hands any time I came to freshen up.

I closed my box pointedly and turned to the mirror. Late morning sunlight streamed through the tiny window reflecting behind me.

The traitor brand was stark black on my cheek. Somehow, the sight was becoming familiar, though the dark circles under my eyes made the rune less prominent. Between that and the bruising along my body, I was a mess. I’d given in to two hours of sleep, then lied to Jon that I’d gotten far more. He was out getting coffee. Although I couldn’t stand the taste, I considered choking some down to wake myself up.

I adjusted the snowflake necklace at my hip. There was a chip in the corner of the charm that I hadn’t noticed until now. I traced every detail of the weathered plastic groove with my finger. I couldn’t be sure if the damage came from our many moves between motels or when I’d dropped it between seats during a drive. The clasp had become less secure over the weeks as well. I swallowed guilt for not taking better care of Jon’s gift; at least the damage was the consequence of being well-traveled.

After combing through my hair one final time, I peeked out of the bathroom. Jon’s bag was already packed on the bed, prepared for travel. Perhaps there was time for me to search the room once more. I’d made it a habit to scour our motel rooms for treasures to add to my stash. The other night, I’d found a button under Cliff’s bed and an earring with a missing gem behind the dresser. Not my most interesting haul, but better than the dead roaches from the previous place.

I hovered at the threshold, a spark blossoming as I caught sight of Cliff. Considering his late night, he shouldn’t have been out of bed this early. Still in his undershirt and a pair of navy joggers, he was hunched over his laptop—a mug of motel coffee in his right hand and entirely too absorbed to notice me.

He was practically handing me the perfect opportunity to inflict some innocent revenge.

Throughout our journey, both hunters had been extremely supportive of my desire to continue training—to challenge myself. With the number of hunts that intercepted our route, honing my skills was a necessity. Survival of the fittest was one of the most apt human expressions I adopted.

But truthfully, I trained for myself. To quiet that incessant, gnawing voice in my chest that no longer settled for the naive girl who had fled Elysia.

Cliff coached me, advising workout regimens—both physical and magical—and sparring with me when we could spare the time. His instruction was harsh, pushing me to my very limits. Sometimes, I resented the ache in my muscles the day after a grueling session.

Despite this, I kept my whining to a minimum; the results were certainly there. I not only felt stronger, I noticed the difference. My belongings were becoming easier to carry. I could perform twenty-five pushups instead of a painful ten. My spellwork, too—I could switch spells in quicker succession, not stumbling over the ancient Fae. Conjured ice lasted hours if I reinforced it.

Jon helped me train, too, but he was admittedly less effective overall, given how distractible he became with me. On a rare occasion—my favorites—Jon and I would abandon training altogether and simply find a place in the forest to lie under the autumn sun and talk for hours.

Watching Cliff take a sip of coffee, I whispered a spell under my breath. I kept my magic in the shadow of the doorway, shaping the swirling frost into a javelin shape with a soft chiiink . The rotating weapon was about the length of a human forearm with dulled tips that would little more than bruise when it found its mark. And, with any luck, it would scare the shit out of Cliff.

When he set the mug down, I thrust my hands out and sent the ice whistling forward.

Cliff ducked— easily. The projectile flew over his shoulder and smashed through the front window.

I winced at the explosion of glass. Shit.

“Good morning to you, too,” Cliff said, glancing at me with a lift of his brows.

Jaw slack, I glided across the room until I hovered over the table.

“You saw me?” I didn’t bother to hide the childish deflation in my voice.

“Heard you. I know the sound of your wings.”

Chilling yet oddly flattering.

“I can patch it with ice,” I said, looking at the torn curtains that now fluttered from the jagged hole behind them. “Maybe the motel staff won’t notice until we’re on the road. ”

Cliff waved a hand. “Trust me, this place has seen far worse. If you’re gonna kick yourself about anything, do it for being so obvious. I’ve seen grizzly bears with more stealth.”

“You fucking liar,” I said, sending a small burst of frost at his chest. “I just need to practice on someone who’s not a paranoid freak.”

Cliff smirked. “Hey, in our line of work, that’s a compliment.”

I folded my arms, glancing from the shards of glass littering the carpet to scan Cliff’s athletic frame.

“How was last night?” I asked.

“Good. Real good. How was your trip to pornstar coma-land?” He peered at me over the rim of his mug.

I huffed, rolling my eyes to the heavens.

“You know if you just came and visited just once , you would understand,” I said, dropping down to sit on the open edge of his laptop.

He scoffed. “I’ve seen you guys passed out with that pile of dirt too many times to count. It’s creepy as shit.”

I chewed my lip. His tone wasn’t cruel, but it gave me pause all the same—as it always did.

From the moment we peeled away from Elysia, hiding trysts with Jon to the spectral plane had been impossible—tentative ventures that became quickly a routine indulgence. Cliff knew from the start. Aside from dry remarks, he never outright objected, but I saw the dark look he shot at Jon’s back sometimes. A guarded disapproval that we all deftly evaded discussing—that I was wrong for Jon. That we were wrong, some unique abomination in the landscape of their lives.

Too often, I considered whether Cliff was right.

“I know Jon talks to you about it. Don’t you ever wonder what it’s like?” I doubled down, batting my eyes at him. “Why won’t you come see me there?”

“I think I just made my case. Why would you want me there, anyway?” He lifted an accusatory eyebrow.

“I don’t know. Curiosity?”

He chuckled softly, in that decibel like velvet sandpaper. “ Curiosity ,” Cliff echoed, shaking his head as he tipped my chin up. “Sweetheart, you’ll just have to get me out of your system another way.”

He grinned as I shoved his hand away, my cheeks burning.

“By vomiting?” I offered sweetly.

I tucked unruly locks of hair behind my ears and debated again on asking for a sip of coffee. But Jon would be back soon, hopefully with something less bitter than the cheap brand that the Briar Inn stocked.

In his absence, the faint pulsing of my gemstone shard seemed to call out to me from across the room. Until I could use it as I wanted, its aura was a mocking lullaby. But I could do something.

I flew to the table, tapping on Cliff’s smartphone where it lay facedown beside the laptop.

“May I?” I asked.

He unlocked it. Not that I needed him to—but he was unaware I had peeked at him typing his passcode three weeks ago.

“Candy Crush?” Cliff asked.

“More important than that,” I scoffed.

He returned his attention to the laptop. Glancing at it, I realized a video had been quietly droning in the background. It wasn’t what usually held his attention—typically, I could expect to find him combing through grisly news reports of bizarre dismemberments or missing persons that led to a new case. And on more than one occasion, rewatching old episodes of Xena: Warrior Princess.

This was nothing like those; the screen displayed a video of a chamber filled with people sitting in tidy rows. Somehow, it held Cliff’s attention raptly.

On his phone, I pulled up the search engine. My palms danced over the digital keyboard with muscle memory, painstakingly scouring the local news for any reports of nature miraculously blooming out of season or wildlife acting out of character—the most common telltale signs of a charged gemstone in the area.

To my surprise, there were several nearly identical entries below mine that had been entered only a few days prior.

unusual plant blooms in fall

strange animal behavior in Arkansas

unexplained occurrences nature near me

things acting fucking insane for no reason

I peeked up at Cliff, my heart aching. If he hadn’t been so absorbed in his video, I would have sprung up to embrace him. For all his grumblings about my obsession to change forms, he was trying to help me.

After several minutes of fruitless research, the familiar leaden weight of disappointment set in. I rocked back on my heels, sighing. More of the same: absolutely nothing . Every hopeful report on a possible gemstone so far had led us nowhere on our meandering journey west. Empty caverns, boring meadows, and nothing but more miles on the car to show for it.

Maybe the next leg of the journey west would finally offer a stroke of luck.

Abandoning the phone, I rose into the air and circled around to see what Cliff was watching. Still the same video: the screen showed a vast number of humans dressed in robes. One by one, young men and women walked up to the stage and shook hands with important-looking people wearing the most peculiar hats.

“Is this a ritual?” I whispered.

Cliff exhaled through his nose, stifling a smile. “It’s a livestream from May. I found out my kid sister graduated college with honors. They’re almost to the E ’s now. They’ll call her name soon, and she’ll walk across the stage here. ”

“Ah.” I did the math in my head, trying to remember the human-named months. This video was at least half a year old.

Cliff peeled his eyes off the screen to study me for a second. “You gonna ask me what college is?”

I smiled at him knowingly. “You look so excited to explain it to me, anyway.”

“I oughta make you guess,” Cliff muttered with a little laugh. “It’s a place humans go to learn and prepare for the job they want after high school. Graduation means they passed all their classes and didn’t get so plastered that they slept with the dean’s daughter.”

“Personal experience?” I asked.

“Friend of a friend.”

I cringed a little inside. Stars —of course that hadn’t been him. He’d been busy being disowned by his family and hunting his first spirit with Jon when other students were progressing toward that milestone.

“It reminds me of affinity ceremonies back home. It happens much younger, closer to ten or twelve summers, but we do a far better job making it festive.”

He snorted. “Not like they can set off fireworks in an auditorium.”

“The affinity ceremony takes place underground , and it still looks more exciting,” I insisted. “It’s one of the many festivities during Midsummer. Special foods are prepared to honor the children who found their affinity since the previous summer. The affinities welcome new members into their cohort by creating a spectacle.”

“Let me guess. Lightning strikes? Wildfires?”

I swooped closer to elbow his neck. “Nothing that draws unwanted human attention, obviously. Air affinities make objects dance above everyone’s heads—scarves, goblets, wine, that sort of thing. Water fairies make the dining hall sparkle with floating streams. Oh, the earth displays are a favorite. They make flowers and mushrooms sprout right out of the ceiling—it smells amazing .” I glanced wistfully at the cracked plaster overhead.

“What about ice?”

“It’s been a couple years since we’ve had a new ice affinity, but last time, we made these huge, glittering ice sculptures all around the hall. They didn’t melt for days and days.”

My mind wandered to my own affinity ceremony—my acceptance into the ice cohort. More than anything, I pictured the pride in my father’s eyes as I raced toward him across the chamber.

I cleared my throat. “Hazel was disappointed that she didn’t find her affinity before the ceremony this summer. Chances are, she’ll find it before the next. Even if she doesn’t, that’s alright. She’s still on the younger side.”

Cliff’s pause was noticeably heavy. Before he could say anything, he stiffened, his attention back on the screen.

The voice in the laptop said, “ Anna Grace Everett, graduated with a bachelor’s degree in environmental science, summa cum laude .”

A pretty blonde girl with the same green eyes as Cliff filled the screen. She strode onto the stage as people cheered from the crowd. Finding the camera, she waved both hands overhead, soaking up the attention with a good-natured grin.

“Environmental science,” Cliff said. “Always a tree-hugger, that one. You’d probably get along with her.” He swallowed hard, pausing the video on another close-up of her face. He stared like he was memorizing it. “Can’t believe how grown up she is—twenty-three years old now. Feels like last week she was little enough to squeeze under the couch when we were playing hide and seek.”

Truth be told, I could hardly wrap my head around Anna being older than me. Any time Cliff spoke of her, I pictured a child like Hazel .

“And how old are you again?” I asked with tentative levity. “Forty?”

“Twenty-seven, you little shit.”

I chewed my lip. In two months of gently prying about Cliff’s past, I learned that his mother had once convinced him he was allergic to gluten and that he’d briefly had a pet snake when he was eight. Nothing more. Jon was slow to open up, but Cliff was a fortress.

“I’ve seen her name in your phone contacts,” I said. “Have you gotten in touch with her lately?”

Cliff bristled, voice sharpening. “What have I told you about digging into my phone?”

“I was trying to call Jon, and Anna just happens to appear at the top of your contacts list.”

“Tell that to the last three hookups you texted back for me. That chick from Tennessee calls me once a week asking if I still think about her in the shower—thank you so much for that .”

Pushing the laughter from my voice, I said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

He blew out a sigh. “Guess Blockbuster got me nostalgic yesterday. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to check what Anna’s been up to,” he muttered. “Looks like she’s still under Dad’s thumb since she went to the university he always wanted us to go to. I’m not gonna bother her. It’s enough to know that she’s doing alright.”

“Is it?” I murmured. “I would give anything to be able to pick up the phone and call Hazel right now if I could.”

Cliff leaned back in his seat so I received the full effect of his crooked smile. It was a kind of cocky, well-meaning grin that could disarm anyone. I had to remind myself that he was a master of misdirection to keep from smiling back. I had seen this deceptively simple move work many times on others.

Enough to see the flicker in his eyes that came with it, the faint clench to his jaw.

“Sylv, I’m fine . We finally iced that vampire nest, basically saved the city, and hey—bonus—none of us died in the process. It’s been a good end to the week, and you’re being a buzzkill.”

I huffed, shaking my head. “Come on, that ‘ I’m fine’ garbage doesn’t work with me anymore. It’s not a crime to talk about her, if you wanted to.” The hum of my beating wings felt deafening as I dropped my voice lower, gentler. “Anna didn’t hurt you the way the rest of your family did, right?”

A ripple of tension set through Cliff’s frame, but I felt bold, desperate not to lose my grasp on this shred of his past. I glanced at his neck, where his pulse was pounding.

“No,” Cliff said after a second. “She was barely fourteen. Just a kid.”

His gaze set on the cell phone like it was burning an acidic hole in the table. When he spoke again, his voice was fragile and gravelly—scarcely recognizable from its usual commanding resonance.

“It’s been years , Sylv. A long fucking time. If she can get past talking to a dead man, she’ll think I ran out on her—or worse.”

“You don’t know that,” I offered.

“And you do?” He rubbed his eyes with his palms. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“Maybe start by saying you’re proud of her. I mean—anyone who knows you could see that.”

He sucked air through his teeth. “That’s not enough.”

“Come on—you could sweet talk a rock into buying gravel. Trust yourself.”

I angled my hover into a graceful arc toward his phone. No sooner had I landed and swiped my palm over the touchscreen, Cliff snatched it out of my reach.

“This isn’t your goddamn business, okay?” Cliff said, the sudden punch behind each word making me jump. “Fuck off about this. Who cares? ”

He shut the laptop with a harsh snap and started to rise from his seat. I acted on a half-formed thought— stay— and thrust my palms out to conjure a spell.Ice connected to his wrist, creating a thick cuff that sealed against the tabletop. Cliff’s eyes glimmered with surprise as they shot to me. He attempted to free himself with several vicious tugs before it became clear my ice was too thick.

“Cuffing people to tables now?” he grumbled, dropping back into the chair. “Dick move, Sylv.”

I drew in a shaky breath—bracing myself. “I know you don’t like to talk about what happened with your family—”

“And yet here we are,” Cliff drawled.

Pulling to a hover, I folded my arms over my chest and glared at him. “I’m done with your walls and your fucking secrets and you constantly shutting me out. If you want to brood alone, fine. But don’t pretend like no one cares.”

My heart pounded the moment the words fled my mouth, each coming out sharper than intended. I rarely raised my voice at Cliff like this, and now our eyes caught and my nerves buzzed. What if I had impulsively crossed a line I couldn’t return from?

But he didn’t look upset—in fact, the corners of Cliff’s mouth indented like he could be convinced to smile.

“You yell a lot when you care,” Cliff said. “Kinda starting to think it’s your thing.”

I eased back in the air, giving him space. “Don’t you think your sister at least deserves a chance to hear the truth?” I asked softly.

“Just drop it,” he cut in, the anger draining from his voice. “Now’s not the time.”

“Then, when?”

“I dunno, maybe never. It’s goddamn better that way. What’s your deal about this, anyway?”

I paused, looking inward. The sharp sting wasn’t entirely his doing. I hugged myself, rubbing a spot of freckles on my arm .

“I just had to say goodbye to every family member and friend I’ve ever known, and you’ve got the chance—even if it’s just a chance— to have a sister again. I guess I’m jealous.”

Cliff’s pause drew out heavily. When I looked up, his expression was unnervingly… not fucking annoyed at me.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked.

I raised my eyebrows sharply, giving him a moment to recant the offer. “You’re really going soft on me, aren’t you? Do I get a hug, too?”

Cliff smirked, but to my immense surprise, he doubled down. His studious gaze raked me up and down, and I felt rooted in midair. All at once, I was back in the Elysian forest, meeting his wide-eyed stare in the night as the Elder declared my banishment from the only home I had ever known.

“You’re doing a good job working through some heavy shit,” Cliff murmured. “And if, I dunno, it’s too heavy…”

“I’m fine,” I answered quickly.

Cliff let out a low, skeptical scoff. “Bullshit. You’re going to hit me with that after bitching at me for the same thing?”

I placed a hand over my heart. “Fairies aren’t known to lie.”

“Guess you’re a trailblazer, then,” Cliff muttered.

“Well, I suppose I could open up a bit if you give your sister a call.”

Cliff’s jaw feathered. “Not happening.” He leaned forward, rapping his knuckles on the table. “Now, you gonna let me out, or is this some new kink for you?”

“Don’t rule it out.” I landed on the table, running a hand over the thick, icy cuff. Then I looked up at him through my lashes. “Why the hurry? You have somewhere to be?”

Taking wing again, I backed away in the air.

He glared at me, rising halfway, only to be caught by the cuff. “ Sylv…”

I couldn’t deny there was some level of thrill to this, observing a powerful hunter rendered helpless by my magic. Part of me wanted to see how far he’d go to free himself—drag the table in pursuit of me, or perhaps attempt to break off a chunk of the wood that held the cuff.

Cliff tugged again, his anger useless to him as his voice rose. “Let me out of this goddamn thing, or—”

The door lock clicked open, interrupting us. The relief on Cliff’s face was plain as Jon entered the motel room with a drink carrier in one hand—and my wayward ice javelin in the other. He paused in the doorway, looking between us.

“Everything okay?” he asked slowly.

I shrugged. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Routine question when I find Cliff stuck to a table next to a shattered window.”

“We were training,” I said innocently. “I was just about to free him.” Waving my hands, I made the cuff vanish.

Cliff yanked his wrist to his chest and held it protectively like I might change my mind. I thought he might curse me out, but I swore there was a hint of begrudging pride aimed at me beneath the annoyance.

“Just a spontaneous workout," Cliff told him. "No psychopath behavior here.”

Jon caught my gaze knowingly as he shut the door with his back. He lobbed my icy blade back toward me. I whispered a spell in sync, the magic cradling the ice in midair and dismantling it into a freezing mist that fizzled out as I stretched my palms apart.

“Well, as long as there’s no psychopath behavior,” Jon scoffed. He set down the drink and brown paper to-go bag. “Maybe let’s ease up on breaking shit.”

“I can’t,” I joked dryly, sweeping a hand from my collarbone down my leg. “It’s the price of the warrior’s physique you see before you. I’m simply growing too powerful. ”

Jon melted into a chuckle, the kind of boyish grin that came more often lately, like he had bottled sunlight in him.

Following the delicious scents wafting off the drinks, I brightened. “They had hot chocolate?”

Jon frowned. “You didn’t want black coffee?”

He uncapped a frothy drink topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings, and my grievances died on my lips.

“Don’t even joke about that,” I mumbled.

Before long, I was sitting contentedly at the edge of the tabletop with a warm, fairy-sized mug in my hands. I cast a mild cooling spell to keep it from burning my tongue—years of practice that I had perfected with tea. As I thought about scooping up a refill, I considered the mug in my grasp. It had been among the supplies that mother had thoughtfully provided before I fled with the hunters.

My heart twisted the way it always did when I thought of her.

“Aelthorin’s just days away now, isn’t it?” I asked.

Jon couldn’t quite look at me. “There’s that possible haunting in Kansas we’re monitoring, but yeah—the spot in Colorado marked on your map is a straight shot from here.”

His eyes cut to Cliff, who seemed to mirror the unreadable expression.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked. “I don’t have the patience to sit through another one of your silent, brooding conversations.”

Cliff set down the sandwich Jon had brought for him. “We need to head south for a supply run first.”

“Oh.” Yet another delay on our journey west. I racked my brain, thinking of last night's brutal hunt. The click of Jon's gun as it pulled against an empty chamber. “Is it the silver?”

Jon nodded. “We’re cleaned out of ammo. Besides my knives—” He tapped his jacket, where the twin blades rested against his chest, “we have nothing. Between that nasty wraith and the nest here in Holly Grove, it drained us.”

I set my mug in my lap, letting out a measured breath. “So if we run into so much as a runty ghoul on the road…”

“We’re toast,” Cliff finished for me, his voice thick as he took another bite of his sandwich.

“Every day we go without restocking is a huge risk,” Jon tacked on, pushing a hand back through his hair. “But there’s a hunters’ outpost not too far from here. It won’t delay us more than a day or two.”

He shot me a small, reassuring smile, but a beat of uncertainty seized me all the same. I had delicately traced an approximation of our path toward Aelthorin on my map. The line zigged and zagged with car troubles, time-sensitive hunts, even my own fruitless detours for potential gemstone locations. At this rate, it’d be another month before we reached the mountains if the same patterns persisted.

Were Mother and Hazel waiting for me already? I couldn’t see how it was possible for them to reach Aelthorin, but Mother had seemed so sure that we would reunite soon. My guilt deepened at the truth that I didn’t hate this prolonged time with Jon and Cliff.

For all I knew, my family was worried sick about me while I was foolishly opening myself up to Jon and taking in whatever fragile pieces of his heart he offered.

“I imagine there will be other hunters. Any chance they’ll be thrilled to see me?” I remarked, smirking as I observed the boys’ reactions closely.

“You won’t be anywhere near that place,” Jon said firmly. “We go way back with the marshal of this location. Cain will get us what we need quickly, and we’ll be back on the road. ”

I frowned, drumming my fingers against my mug while images raced through my mind. An entire facility dedicated to the nightmares I had been warned about since I was a child.

“Are there other locations? These… outposts?” I asked, trying to suppress the visible chill snaking down my spine at the thought. Dozens, perhaps hundreds of hunters, all gathered in one spot. Something told me the vast majority wouldn’t share Jon and Cliff's disposition toward my kind.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Cliff cut in. “But yeah. There’s about a dozen stateside. Most of 'em specialize in what their territory needs. Tracking, witch-warding, rare artifacts…”

“And this one?”

Cliff hesitated, glancing at Jon. “Louisiana’s outpost specializes in training.”

I forced a smile, but it was tight, suffocating. Training . Somehow that term was more visceral than any armory. Men and women being forged into killers, set to eliminate all non-humans. Turning boys like Jon and Cliff into living weapons.

I pretended to sip on my empty mug, sighing through my nose. “Well, we can’t have you fighting the next vampire nest with toothpicks—even if I’m there to save your asses. Again.”

“When did you get so cocky?” Cliff asked, chuckling through the diffused tension.

“When I realized how badly you needed me around.”

A new kind of melancholy strain rippled from my statement, especially when Jon and I briefly locked eyes. We shared silent questions that neither of us knew how to answer.

I owed it to my family to reach Aelthorin as soon as possible. I should be among my own kind again, not traipsing around with hunters. But the longer I stayed, the harder it was for me to picture settling into a village for good. It would mean parting ways with Jon—likely forever. With each passing day, the mental image of saying goodbye became foggier .

More than ever, I found myself regretting our safe plunges into the spectral realm. Every visit only made my forbidden wanting grow.

Yet, it was a mistake I would willingly make over and over.