Chapter 8
EVER
Night has stolen the scene by the time we reach the sparse trees on the edge of the forest and leave them behind. The familiar hum of cars returns. Buildings enter our view, paved roads and street lamps. Kelter leads us down an alley. Wads of gum decorate the cement walls on either side.
We pass a metal trash can, dented and overflowing. Kaleida rushes toward the tied-up plastic bag tossed to the side of it. “What is this pretty black material? I’ve never seen a plant that could make this.”
“Don’t touch it!” I warn as her finger points dangerously close to the bag. “It’s plastic and full of garbage.”
“Garbage?”
“Things people don’t want anymore. Waste. They don’t have the magic to turn it into something else here,” Kelter explains, capturing Kaleida’s finger and guiding it away. I see it now: he’s a man of two realms, not at home in either.
“Oh.” She plucks her finger from his grasp and goes for the gum next.
“Don’t touch that either!” I cry.
Kaleida shoves her defeated hands in her pockets, her gray pants blending into the darkness of the alley.
We exit, stepping onto the sidewalk of a shadowy street lined with storefronts, most closed and unlit. The moons cast a blue glow on the paved stretch, the only brightness except for the neon light above the nightclub a few shops down. Music beats through the night, forcing rhythm into the line of people waiting to get in. It smells like smoke and rubber and street food.
I miss the forest already, the lack of people. The quiet.
A massive chunk of metal flings around the corner with a loud roar.
Sypher shrieks.
Milo jumps back, smacking into Eli’s chest. “What is that?!”
Kelter laughs. “A car.”
“They shouldn’t let those things loose,” Sypher grumbles, still recovering from the scare. He steps off the curb to watch the beat-up car zoom all the way down the street, rubber screeching on pavement as it rounds the corner out of sight. “Wendell wouldnothave survived this place.”
Milo grabs Sypher by the back of his shirt collar and pulls him up onto the curb. “You may not either.”
Eli observes quietly, rolling his lucky stone between his fingers.
I step closer to him. “None of this surprises you. How many times have you been here?”
“A few,” he says, then bends to whisper in my ear. “In this life. It was different from how I remembered it in past lives.”
My heart kicks up at his proximity. “Time does that.”
He pulls away with a jerk, as if revealing a bit of himself were a mistake.
We walk the streets of Caldera, Milo jumping with every revving engine and Sypher stunned into silence. He clings to Eli’s side, seeking the same sense of security from him that I do, but only provoking a side-eyed look from that broody face of his.
Kelter and I attempt to explain how traffic lights work and why cars need drivers and construction sites have caution tape. Kaleida squeals over every new discovery, particularly enamored with the street art on the concrete walls. It’s the scent of the greasy, sugary street food that gets to me, though. I thought I’d never smell it again.
“What kind of bar is this?” Milo swipes a narrow sandwich from a street vendor’s cart and folds back the paper wrapping.
“Those aren’t free!” I yell, but his teeth sink into the stolen food. I cringe, waiting for the old vendor to holler and chase him down the street in his stained apron. But he only stares at us briefly, eyes vacant and distant, then replaces the missing sandwich with another.
Kelter and I look at each other. It must be the new elixir being dumped into their water supply. It’s not only keeping them from gettingcurious about the world beyond Caldera and dampening their free will anymore—it’s taking any scrap of passion that once existed.
“It’s like he’s asleep,” Kelter says. “He couldn’t care less.”
Milo pries his mouth open wider for another messy bite, wetting his cheeks with mayonnaise and dropping lettuce on the pavement below. “How is this so good?”
