“You risked the storm for me,” I say quietly. “You poured paint thinner on your own portrait for me.”
“And you broke your vow for me.” He looks more pained than pleased. “Baz, I want you to know I’m going to be different this time. I will find a balance—more generosity, less self-indulgence. I’ve already destroyed my drugs, and I swear I’ll be more careful about the people around me. I’ll make reparation wherever I can…” His voice trails off, registering my expression. “You don’t believe I can change.”
“I do. I–I hope so. I want to believe you.”
“Let me prove it.” He pulls the portrait case nearer to him, across the floor of the boat. He busies himself with the locks, and I frown.
“Dorian, you shouldn’t unlock it here. What if seawater gets on it?”
“I’m not opening it—just resetting it. Look. Press your thumb here.”
“What are you—”
“Just do it.”
I place my thumb where he indicates.
“Now enter the code,” he says. “Make sure it’s something you’ll remember, something I can’t guess. I won’t look.”
“Dorian…”
“Please.”
I enter my mom’s birth month and day with my dad’s birth year. The case beeps, registering the new thumbprint and passcode, securing itself again.
Dorian grips the top edge of the case, holding my gaze. “The portrait is yours, Baz. If I prove myself unworthy, you can destroy it.”
It’s the greatest assurance he can offer. And I’m too much in love with him to refuse his sincerity, his trust.
I place my hands over his. “Damn you for making me love you,” I whisper.
Dorian leans forward, his eyes brilliant even in the dark. “If it wasn’t already clear, I love you back.”
Hearing him say it is—Well, it’s fucking blissful. I release a long, shaky sigh.
“So now what?” he says carefully.
“Now…” I chew my lip. “Now I have to deal with the fact that I’m descended from actual fucking gods. That’s something I have to cope with somehow.”
“The muses were part of the god-race,” Dorian says. “So it’s not that far off from what you already knew. Still, I can imagine it was a shock.”
I glance down at the dried blood on my forearm. “That’s putting it mildly. And to be honest, I kind of want to flee as far inland as I can get and never visit the beach again.” My voice shakes, because the more I think about my ancestry, about Manannán beingawakeand active somewhere out there in the dark, the more I think I might lose my fucking mind. “I have woken the sea god—the literal sea god, Dorian. Let that sink in for a second. All the moths, the skriken, the illusions I kept seeing—it was all Manannán, reaching out. Trying to get to me so he could become corporeal. And…shit…he’s out now. What does that even mean?”
“I have no idea.” Dorian blows out a weary breath. “Lloyd’s plans involved Manannán, but Lloyd is dead, so I’m not sure what the god will decide to do. The sea is heavily polluted and full of ships, so maybe Manannán will be too weak to do anything drastic.”
“But there’s another god buried under Old Sheldon Church. We know that much from Mrs. Dunwoody, may she rest in peace. Which means I still need to put some distance between me and this area. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty damn curious about the other thing Lloyd talked about—the Glassy Mountain vampires. I’m thinking we should go there and figure out what’s going on. This Gatsby… You’ve met him?”
“I have. Seems like a well-meaning guy. Not that I’m any judge of that.” Dorian gives me a wry smile. “He talked a lot about someone called Daisy. Maybe she’s the girl Lloyd mentioned, the one with the powerful voice.”
“A long-lost relative of mine,” I murmur. “Yes, I think we should go there and learn all we can. Especially since we need to report Manannán’s awakening to someone, and we have literally no one else we can tell.”
“There’s a thriving art community in Asheville,” Dorian says. “I think you’ll like it.” He grins suddenly, broadly—and then the smile falls and he releases a broken laugh, almost a sob.
“You okay?”
“You said ‘we.’ Like you’re planning for us to go together. Like we have a future.” He sweeps a hand over his eyes. “And that thrilled me—until I remembered that Vane and Lloyd are dead. God, what is wrong with me? I feel so strange.” He touches his chest. “I can sense that I’m tethered to your drawing, but it’s different. Cleaner, lighter. I feel…new. I feel everything.” He looks at me helplessly, his eyes sparkling with tears.
“A fresh start.” I smile back at him. “It’s okay to miss them, and it’s okay to be happy, too.”
