I’ve told her I’ve been…busy.Guess that’s true.
So far, the demon hasn’t returned. I almost wish he would, as much as I’d like to imagine he’s gone forever. There’s a constant weight of waiting for something that hasn’t manifested, of danger that remains just out of reach. It’s impossible to be comfortable knowing he can show up at any moment, any day.
I’m paranoid, always checking over my shoulder, watching the shadows. Dad has helped me install a couple of bat houses, and they offer me some sense of security at home. Everywhere else, the red and gold autumn leaves cover the ground, startling me when they crunch under my feet. I take Ginny everywhere I can. So far, nothing has happened. The town has mostly returned to normal.
I’m the only one who still jumps when people call out to me.
Because despite Elmstitch settling back into a routine, it is far less normal than I realized. Things are residing here that are not human. I sense them through my brands, making it hard to tell if Adrial has returned.
Zuriel and I spend our nights isolated, filling our waking hours with research and preparations.
With each passing evening, sex has become a little more desperate. I’m pretty sure we’ve had sex in every room of the museum by now. And on most of the tables. We broke a cabinet—it was not my best moment—and before the sun rises each morning, we just sit there in silence, hoping the night wasn’t our last.
During the day, I sleep haphazardly, drifting to the place where Zuriel and I are once again united, trapped in a rigid eternity. We’ve grown adept at finding each other in the dusky landscape, retreating to his castle with the swarms of bats.
I haven’t told him I love him. Not yet. I think it’s true, except the words catch in my throat. I’ve only ever confessed my love to my parents and my friends. And this affection I have for him goes deeper than all of that—if I were to lose him, I might fall to pieces. If I were to say how I feel out loud, it would only be worse.
Love is a word for beautiful spring days, and I don’t know how to speak of it surrounded by this much darkness.
Zuriel tells me about the universe, of angels, and the realms. And yet, despite his knowledge, I’m teaching him about modern times, recent and current history. I take my laptop to work, and together we compile what we know. He’s a quick learner. He’s picking up common acronyms and even modern slang.
When he curses, it’s cute. Hearing words likeshitandfuckcome out of a scary gargoyle with horns, wings, and a tail, just makes me laugh.
I need the laughter.
Zuriel was right. Hopkins hasn’t returned. There was another exchange in voicemails—I told him I was keeping the museum closed, working nights. My paychecks are still direct deposited, and I even noticed a raise. I’m getting used to not having him around.
Some days I’m furious with him, sometimes I’m thankful—his absence has given me and Zuriel privacy. On my darker days, I’m dumbfounded, in disbelief that Hopkins thinks I can handle this because the museum has more mysteries and haunts than I imagined.
Zuriel has been battling Adrial his entire existence. In his darkest moods, he wants to take me far away from here, hide me. He needs my positivity the way I need his strength and protection. During these times, I have to reassure him we’re safest right here, where we are. On our own turf. We have a plan—not a great one—but a plan nonetheless.
When Ella calls a second time, I pick up.
“Hey,” I answer, scanning the buildings and the road ahead.
“Summer! Thank god you picked up. Elmstitch has been all over the news. You had a jailbreak a couple of weeks ago? Now all the criminals are caught? They were filming on Main Street. I saw your museum in the background! It freaked me out.”
“Yeah, it’s been an interesting couple of weeks. All of that is over, and things are fine now.”
Fine.Right as rain.
Ella doesn’t hide the concern in her voice. “No wonder you’ve been quiet. You okay? Is that why you’ve avoided calling?”
“I’m fine. And I didn’t mean to… I’ve been distracted. I should’ve called you back. I’m sorry. I wanted to. There was never the right time for it.”
“It’s fine. I can imagine.”
For a beat, we’re silent, searching for words, and knowing she’s listening on the other side, wanting the best for me, my heart swells with guilt. She’s my best friend. We’ve been through a lot together. I owe her more than a half-assed apology. “Ella, there’s a guy,” I offer.
“A guy?” She takes the bait. “Tell me everything.”
I give her a version of the truth, the closest one I can come up with. My parents already suspect that there’s someone special in my life—Mom’s hinted she wants to meet them. Thankfully, Dad hasn’t pried. They know Hopkins hasn’t returned and that I’m under a lot of pressure to complete a make-believe project that conveniently keeps me at the museum every night.
And it’s more than that—their friend’s health is declining. Mr. Beck’s burns have become infected. Mom and Dad are spending more and more time at the hospital with him. I visit when I can, wishing I could confess, tell them everything.
They wouldn’t believe me. It wouldn’t make anything better.
John isn’t taking it well. On top of his dad’s decline, he’s responsible for repairing the bakery. He needs the income to pay his father’s medical bills.
