by K. J. Sutton
That’s going to be hard to do, considering you haven’t told me what it is.
It’s Collith.
Phantom breath touched the shell of my ear, and of their own volition, my eyes fluttered shut. If I could go back, would I tell that Fortuna to change course? Would I beg her to forget about Collith Sylvyre? Just like Cyrus, I didn’t want to face the answer. Turning away, I shoved my hands into my pockets and pushed the door open—I kept forgetting to buy new gloves, since the pair I’d had was now little more than ashes.
The thought dimmed my mood even more as I walked toward Bea’s office. Her chair was empty, for once, and I hoped she’d taken a rare day off. Country music played from the speakers overhead while I changed and clocked in. By the time I reemerged, the breakfast crowd had started arriving. One of the local deputies was sitting in a booth. Not Ian, thankfully. The star on his chest glinted. I hadn’t seen Paul in a while—he’d taken some time off while his wife was going through chemo. As though he could feel the weight of my stare, Paul raised his gaze, and I offered a brief wave. He nodded back, just as brief, and then Angela arrived with a plate of pancakes.
I turned my attention to Gretchen Nelson, our longtime bartender and Bea’s girlfriend of ten years. She had shoulder-length hair, black-rimmed glasses, and long fingers that made pouring drinks look like a performance. “Is there coffee?” I asked hopefully. Gretchen opened her mouth to respond.
“Don’t you just love this time of year?” a cheery voice asked. A moment later, Ariel appeared beside me, sliding a tray of dirty dishes onto the counter. Today her dark hair was divided into two braids, and the style made her look even younger than usual. As I studied her, trying to guess her actual age, I realized that I knew practically nothing about Bea’s latest hire. A fact that was entirely my own fault, since I’d done little to befriend her.
“What do you love about it?” Gretchen asked gamely, pouring me a cup of coffee. She responded to my grateful smile with a wink.
“Everything! Pumpkin spice lattes, crackling fires, books, Disney movies…”
“You’re forgetting scrapbooking and baking,” I heard Gretchen reply. My focus was entirely on the coffee, though. Sliding onto a stool, I clamped the mug between my legs to put some cream in. Just as I tipped the small container, the door hinges whined and someone called a greeting to Paul.
At the sound of Ian’s voice, I jerked involuntarily, and hot liquid splashed onto my jeans. Ariel made an alarmed sound and said something about ice. I barely understood her words. Barely felt the pain. It felt like I had no control as I lifted my head and faced the man I’d avoided for a month. I knew this was coming, of course, but knowing was much different from reality.
Ian hadn’t noticed me yet—his blue eyes searched the room, the same eyes that had smiled down at me all those nights ago. When he spotted Paul, the deputy adjusted his belt and moved toward him. He left a trail of cologne in his wake that sent a shudder through me.
Someone said my name, then, and it was like finding a rope in thick fog. I blinked and realized Gretchen was squatting in front of my stool. She patted at the splotches on my pants with a damp rag. She was still talking, but Ian’s presence made it impossible to comprehend any of it. In the next moment, Ariel was back. She pressed something cold into my hand—ice wrapped in a towel. I didn’t move.
“Fortuna?” I heard her say from far away.
I’d made the mistake of glancing toward the table where the deputies sat. The commotion must’ve captured Paul’s notice, because our eyes met and a line deepened between his thick brows. Ian followed his partner’s gaze. When he saw me, a wide smile stretched across his face. My stomach heaved at the sight of it. Oh, God. I’m going to throw up at work, I thought faintly.
More flashes of memory accosted me. Rustling leaves overhead. An empty road illuminated by a single, yellow streetlight. The tiny shape of a bat flitting past.
No. Focus on Ariel and Gretchen, Fortuna. Think about anything else besides the human sitting in that booth. Somehow I managed to tip my head back and look at the woman still hovering over me. Feeling as though the air had become solid, I moved slowly and instinctively, putting the ice onto my leg. It did make the burn less painful.
“I need to use the restroom,” I said mechanically. I had to get out of this room, away from Ian’s unrelenting stare.
Gretchen turned her head, distracted by a customer trying to get her attention, but Ariel gave me a reassuring smile. “Of course. I think I have some extra jeans in my locker. I know my legs are shorter than yours, but you can just roll the cuffs up and make them look like capris. I’ll bring them to the bathroom, okay?”
I nodded—at least, I thought I nodded—and stood up. Another wave of nausea crashed over me. Ariel frowned and reached for my arm. I was slow to react, but she must’ve seen something in my expression, because her hand dropped before making contact. The world righted itself a moment later. Letting out a small, relieved sigh, I set the mug of coffee down and left the bar. I felt Ian’s eyes on me, tracking every movement. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. It was nine steps to the ladies’ room. I counted them silently, needing something to focus on, then I slipped inside and locked the door.
The sounds beyond it became muffled and distant. I turned the faucet on and cupped my hands beneath the stream. Water dripped from my chin and seeped into my collar. I sighed again as I straightened. The wood-framed mirror took no pity on me—the creature it reflected was too thin, her lips chapped and unsmiling. Ghosts peered out from behind her tired eyes. She looked like someone who had been to war, and in a way, maybe that was true. Taunting, cruel, those images slip past my defenses again. Groaning, I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.
There was a gentle tap on the door. I knew Ian wouldn’t knock like that, but I was still slow in opening it, reluctant to face the inevitable questions. Ariel brushed past me without hesitation. A pleasant smell followed in her wake, not perfume, exactly, but something floral. There was a pair of leggings in her small hands and a familiar plaid shirt in the other—she must’ve taken it from my locker. As she closed the door with her back, Ariel watched me pat my face dry with a paper towel. “What did he do?” the girl asked bluntly.
“Nothing.” I shook my head and took the clothing from her. “Well, nothing more than usual. But he gets away with it because of who his father is.”
For once, Ariel was silent. Her brown eyes appraised me while I changed into the leggings she’d brought, then tied the plaid button-up around my waist. There was nothing sexual in the human’s demeanor—rare for anyone in the presence of a Nightmare—and I was too frazzled to think of modesty. When I was finished, she gave me a bright smile.
“You know, we should get drinks sometime,” she said.
I tried to smile back, but mine was noticeably thinner. “I’d like that.”
She held the door open for me, and we left the bathroom together. The next hour moved at the pace of a zombie. Thankfully, a group of hunters came in and sat in my section. I hurried to fill a water pitcher and set several glasses on a tray. After placing an order in Cyrus’s window, Ariel moved to stand beside me. She propped her elbows on the bar and stared in Ian’s direction. I was careful not to follow her gaze.
“Some people are alive only because it’s illegal to kill them,” she muttered.
Though I didn’t know Ariel well, it seemed a surprisingly brutal thing for her to say. I didn’t respond—it was still taking all my focus not to bolt. A second later, someone must’ve signaled to her, because Ariel pushed off the bar and rushed away. She put a smile on her face like other people put on clothes. Turning back to my task, I lifted the pitcher with a shaky hand. Water sloshed over the sides and onto the floor.
“Need help with that?” a voice said from behind.
Blood roared in my ears as I faced him. Ian didn’t step back. At this proximity, I could smell his cologne and aftershave, along with a hint of sweat. I
couldn’t bring myself to look directly into his eyes, but the demon had gotten everything else right, from the small scar on Ian’s cheek down to his overwhelming scent.
“…from a ski trip,” he was saying, ignoring or disregarding my obvious discomfort. “Baby, do you remember meeting Miss Sworn? She’s our resident spinster. Too good for anyone in this town, isn’t that right, Fortuna?”
My gaze flitted toward the human he was speaking to. Noticing Ian’s outstretched hand, she said something to Paul and walked toward us. I did have a vague memory of meeting her, but Ian’s new wife was younger than I’d thought. Early twenties, maybe. At first glance, Bella’s hair was blond, but brown had started to show at the roots. She wore a sweater with a plunging neckline and jeans that looked one breath away from popping open. Her eyeshadow was blue and glittered under the lights.
At first, she was smiling, the curve of her lips almost painful-looking in its enthusiasm. The longer she looked at me, however, that smile slowly shriveled like a leach sprinkled in salt. I wondered what she saw. A leggy blond, probably, or a dark-eyed beauty.
Buried far beneath the layers of fear, pain, and self-loathing, my instincts stirred. To stalk. To hunt. To take.
“Nice to see you again,” I said faintly, worried I might vomit all over Bella’s amble bosom.
She thrust her hand out and nearly hit me in the face. I caught a glimpse of her red nails as I jerked my head back. “Likewise! I’m sorry we haven’t gotten to know each other yet; Ian and I were celebrating our one-month anniversary,” she chirped.
Sorry for your loss, I wanted to say.
To avoid a handshake, I reached for a strand of hair falling into my face, but then Bella’s fingers wrapped around mine before I realized what was happening. Her fears hovered just beneath the skin, and dear God, there were so many. Multiple flavors coated my tongue—butter, soap, sweat—and images flooded my vision. Isabella Campbell was afraid of horses, the dark, heights, needles, peanut butter, flying, and countless more. She was the most fearful person I’d ever met.
My power was greedy, even if I wasn’t. It dug deeper with its wicked claws. At the edges of her mind, like stars at the edge of a galaxy, were her true fears. No. I resisted reaching for them.
The new Mrs. O’Connell said something, but I was too nauseous to comprehend her words. I must’ve given her a response, because she laughed, the sound like wind chimes. She walked away, her heeled boots like thunder against the wood floor. I swallowed and avoided looking at Ian. Please follow her. Please leave me alone.
“You’ve got an eyelash,” his voice rumbled. He raised his thick fingers toward my face. I recoiled, slamming into the edge of the bar. The man lunged toward me, probably to keep me from falling, but I was surrounded by trees now. A wide moon glowed overhead. And Ian was a demon with black, bottomless eyes. He grinned at me, showing all his teeth. He was still smiling as his voice slithered through my mind.
How charming. You thought I would want your soul. That’s not how it works, sweetheart. No, I take something that you value.
Between one moment and the next, I was on the floor, my entire body curled into a ball. I squeezed my eyes shut and whimpered a name. All the sounds in the world were blending together, becoming a chaotic song of clinking dishes, frying food, and voices. When a hand landed on my shoulder, I struck out blindly. I didn’t want to be touched. Never again.
“I’ve got her,” I heard someone say. There was a sudden warmth against my side and ear. I couldn’t move or speak, because the darkness was spinning, and it was all I could do not to vomit. I realized that someone was carrying me. It was a voice in my ear, not an ocean wave crashing against a shore. Breathe, just breathe, it was saying. I was so frightened that I obeyed.
Door hinges whined. The arms around me flexed. A moment later, I felt the coolness of a tiled floor against my hand. He must’ve sat down, I thought dimly. I still wasn’t ready to open my eyes, though.
“Take your time,” that same voice said.
The memories continued receding until all that remained was the light behind my eyelids. I slowly returned to myself, becoming aware the chest I rested against was warm and muscled. Slowly, I opened my eyes. Reality came into focus like the lens of a camera. The face hovering over me sharpened. After a moment, I comprehended that it was Finn’s dark, anxious eyes boring into mine, and disappointment sliced through me. Of course it wasn’t Collith. He hadn’t left Cyrus’s in weeks.
“Breathe in through your nose,” he instructed, unaware of my thoughts. “That’s good. Now out through your mouth. Do it again.”
I released another long breath and studied the room. Familiar wooden walls surrounded us—I was back in the restroom, still cradled in the circle of Finn’s brawny arms. Noises drifted through the door, a steady hum of voices, and heat spread through my face as I relived the past few minutes. No doubt rumors were already circulating. Fortuna Sworn is on drugs. Oh, the virgin server threw a jealous fit when she met Ian’s new wife. That Sworn girl had a breakdown.
“How did you know what to do?” I asked finally, shifting off Finn’s lap. When the world didn’t tilt or waver, I grasped the edge of the sink and hauled myself up.
“My daughter had panic attacks sometimes,” he said. His voice was soft.
Slowly, I turned around and leaned on the sink. Finn remained on the floor. I looked down at the dark-haired werewolf, noting the tightness to his angular jaw. I didn’t need to ask where his daughter was now—Finn wouldn’t be here, in this bathroom with me, if his child was still alive. It felt like the edges of my heart were made of razors, cutting into me with every beat. “Was it Astrid?” I bit out, picturing the sallow-faced female that had threatened everyone I held dear.
Finn kept his gaze fixed downward. “No. Hunters.”
“Hunters?” I repeated with a frown. “Did they think your daughter was a wolf?”
“No. They knew exactly what she was. They were Fallen hunters.” He spoke in his usual gentle way, but I still flinched. My parents had spoken of such hunters, of course. Warned Damon and I to be ever-vigilant every time we left the house. I’d never met one or heard an account from someone who had, though, and it was easy to dismiss something that sounded like a bedtime story.
Finn stared at the tiles, as if they were the answer to a question or the ending of a story. “They killed my mate first,” he said without looking at me. “Came right into the house and started shooting. Katie and I escaped. Not before they shot her with a holy bullet, though. We sought refuge with Astrid’s pack. Their doctor tried to save Katie, but it was too late.”
His voice made my heart hurt. It was hollow, like someone who had cried every tear, felt every pang of agony, and now there was nothing left. “Astrid wasn’t the kind of person to help unless something was in it for her. What did she ask for in return for their doctor’s services?” I asked, holding the sink with white fingers.
“You’re looking at it.” Finn got to his feet. He reached for the paper towel dispenser and pulled one out. “She kept me for a while, to amuse herself, but then the pack needed money for more heroin. Astrid sold me to a faerie passing through. That’s how I ended up in the Unseelie Court.”
“She’s lucky Cora killed her. I would’ve made her suffer,” I muttered. Finn gave me the faintest of smiles and held out the paper towels. I accepted them and faced the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy—I didn’t remember crying, but the proof was looking back at me. Sighing at the thought of everyone witnessing my mental breakdown, I dried the remaining tears, then splashed some cold water on my face.
“I brought the van. Want me to drive back?” I heard Finn ask. Another paper towel landed in my searching, outstretched hand. I dried myself off and faced the mirror again. The redness had slightly faded, but there was still a haunted cast to my face that couldn’t be washed away. I tried to find the will to fix my apron, tighten my ponytail, and get back to work.
For the first time since starting at Bea’s
, I knew I couldn’t do it.
I forced myself to meet Finn’s gaze. Despite the tragic story he’d told me today, his expression was mild as ever. He watched me with the quiet patience of a wolf. “I need to tell Gretchen that I can’t finish my shift. Do you mind meeting me at the van?” I asked hesitantly. The gossips of Granby would notice if a golden-eyed stranger followed me around the bar, and they had enough ammunition for one day.
Finn just nodded and slipped through the door, leaving it open a crack. I lingered there, in the quiet safety of the bathroom, for a few more seconds before following him out.
Country music was still floating down from the speakers. The sound of clinking dishes and a myriad of voices was so familiar that I instantly felt calmer, and I was about to walk toward the bar when I heard a voice down the hall. I turned and saw that Bea was in her office—she must’ve arrived while I was in the bathroom with Finn. It was the perfect excuse to avoid seeing Ian again. I started in her direction, passing the order window as I did so. Cyrus was so preoccupied with his food that he didn’t notice, but I made sure the garbages weren’t overflowing before moving on.
At the sound of my footsteps, Bea lifted her head. There was concern written in the lines of her face, and at the sight of me, those lines deepened. A cigarette dangled from her mouth, which she quickly put out on the ashtray. I knew she only smoked when she was stressed. Guilt seared through my veins, which was becoming a habit with my boss.
“Gretchen told me what happened. Are you all right?” she asked bluntly.
It was my first instinct to lie, but something stopped me. When were we taught to tuck away pain or uncertainty? Why was it ingrained in us that telling someone the truth was to burden them? “No,” I said instead.
Bea flipped her long, graying braid back and folded her hands on top of the desk. I wondered if this was in an effort not to stand and embrace me. She stared down at them, fighting a battle I couldn’t see or hear. It felt like several minutes had ticked by when she raised her gaze to meet mine. “You can tell me anything. I hope you know that.”
