Before she could even begin to explain the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions battering about inside her head, Wayne held up a hand to silence her.
“You know what? Don’t worry about explaining anything now,” he said, looking back out at the cityscape again. “You were right. We should wait for the rest of the team.”
Jo wasn’t sure if Wayne had seen the conflict on her face, or if he was just perceptive enough to know she needed more time to get her thoughts in order, but she was grateful nonetheless. This was going to be hard enough to explain; she might as well only have to do it once.
After another long minute of simply enjoying each other’s silent company, Jo whispered a confession into the night air. “Thank you, Wayne. For taking the risk. You . . . I know you didn’t have to,” she said, realizing just how true the words were. He and the whole rest of the team could have simply denied her request for help and gone on living their own lives. The only one Pan was after was her. But instead, Wayne and the others had agreed. As if they were still a team.
“It’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?” Wayne rolled his eyes, but there was something off in the dismissive tone of his voice, his smirk stiff. “I mean, knowing Pan . . . we’re talking world domination or something here, right? What kind of man would I be if I said no when called on for something like that?”
Jo watched as he took another long drink of his scotch, followed the bob in his throat as he swallowed. She watched emotion flicker across his features as he did it again, knocking back the rest of it and then licking his lips. His eyes were distant as he ran a finger around the rim of his now empty glass.
“This team . . . They’re the only family I have left, you know? The only one that matters anymore anyway. Hard to feel much toward a family I’m supposed to have in this world but have only known for a few months,” he finally whispered, another confession drifting between them on the night air. The mention of family brought her mind back to her mother. But Jo’s earlier decision was merely further reaffirmed. Some things were best for her not to pursue—at least not until the matter of a psychotic demigod was settled. “Even if it means going up against a power I frankly don’t evenunderstand, I would see this through for any one of the Society. I would do anything for my team.”
He’d always been that way, hadn’t he? Loyal to the team, placing them before anything else, even his own wants and opinions. “We’re lucky to have you, Wayne . . . truly.”
She heard a huff of amusement, but Jo couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “You really think that?”
“I do.”
“Good.” A pause, a breath. “Because I would do anything foryou, dollface.”
Jo felt her breath catch in her throat as her eyes were pulled to his face, emotion welling up at the sincerity in his voice. She didn’t have the words to say how much that meant to her. So instead, she held his gaze and reached her free hand out in his direction. After a moment of confusion, Wayne grabbed her hand, allowing her to link their fingers together. When she did, she held on tight, hoping that little bit of connection would show him just how grateful she was to have him by her side.
They stayed like that long after the cold had made its way beneath blanket and coat, not breaking the hold even when their fingers had gone numb.
Chapter 3
Vampire Cream
Jo couldn’t sleep.
When Wayne had finally succumbed to his own exhaustion—since apparently members of the Society were once again beholden to the energetic constraints of being alive—Jo had settled herself in one of the guest rooms, expecting sleep to take her under swiftly after the day she’d had. But after an hour of tossing and turning, she began to realize the dawning approach of a new complication.
Jo found she lacked even a minimaldesireto sleep now. Whether it was because of her newly awakened demigod status or genuine insomnia, she wasn’t sure. But after one hour of restlessness became two, three, and finally four, Jo decided it wasn’t worth trying to force herself into a state she clearly didn’t want to be in.
So, keeping as quiet as possible, fully and enviously aware that Wayne was probably deep in his own slumber, Jo wandered the penthouse with her thoughts . . .
Which turned out to be more stressful and anxiety-inducing than anything. So instead she switched to distraction.
It took a few minutes for Jo to figure out how to use this world’s version of a television, another obsidian device similar to the briefing room table—except this one was mounted on the wall. If the awkward hand waves, various thoughts, and magical pulses to figure out how to turn it on weren’t bad enough, the blaring noise that emerged when it did flick to life had Jo certain she’d disturbed her host’s slumber. Jo held her breath, but when she heard nothing, she turned to the projected image.
It was a sort of hologram-meets-augmented-reality, as the picture came alive around her in near life-like clarity. Wayne’s living room was transformed. The furniture stayed the same, but now it was as if she were seated at the edge of a theater’s stage. Jo watched as it displayed what looked like the telenovelas her abuelita used to watch. Except where the novelas she knew were Spanish-language soap operas spouting over-dramatic arguments between lovers, this one focused on two werewolf-looking creatures howling at each other—Jo honestly wasn’t sure if she was supposed to know what they were saying or not.
For the rest of the night, Jo lost herself in the various news and entertainment channels this new world had to offer, marveling at the similarities and differences to the world she’d come from. One channel was airing a historical documentary about the war between their kingdom and the neighboring kingdom of Taristin; another aired a colorful show about current social media trends, hosted by what looked to be a half-pixie, half-peacock hybrid creature. After who knew how long, Jo eventually settled on a news outlet, watching in awe as they covered current affairs.
Apparently there were weakening magical energy currents beneath the sea surrounding a kingdom named Zakon. Another kingdom, Hoña d’Plasar, was celebrating its five-hundredth year of independence. Also, the release of a new cream meant to return a vampire’s skin to their pre-bio-death pallor had apparently been recalled due to increased sun sensitivity. Who knew?
Jo was so engrossed, she didn’t even notice the sun had risen, her focus on the television only broken by a mug suddenly being shoved in her face. She startled, nearly knocking it out of Wayne’s hands.
“Morning, dollface,” he said through a laugh, voice made deep and rumbly from sleep. “No need to worry. It’s just coffee.”
“Thanks.” Jo cleared her throat and picked up the mug from where Wayne had placed it on the table. A pang of loss hit her at the scent, Nico’s memory wrapping around her as she took a hesitant sip. It hit her then, how long it had been since she’d allow herself to just savor the rich, caffeinated beverage without guilt, without sadness. But Wayne’s words from the night before settled like a comforting weight against her chest; she owed it to Nico to keep going.
Wayne sat down next to her on the couch, crossing a leg over his knee as he sipped slowly at his own mug of coffee. “I didn’t hear you get up,” he said eventually. “Sleep alright?”
Jo’s initial reaction was to tell Wayne that she hadn’t slept at all, that perpetual insomnia might be her new demigod normal, but then she remembered the desk at the police office, the look of fear and worry on his face. Wayne had only just started looking at her like he used to, speaking to her like he had the night before, with a familiarity and fondness she’d missed dearly. She didn’t want to ruin that by reminding him again just how different she’d become.
There’d be time for that when everyone else arrived. “Yeah,” she responded as casually as she could. “Just woke up early, that’s all.”
