Red. A speck of it, peeking out from behind a mossy slope. I’d scoped this entire field, every dip, every knoll. Nothing. Nothing but vast, open wildness. And now…
I drew closer. The red speck bloomed into the curve of a cupola, the hillside giving way to four pale walls. A chapel on the riverbank, next to the willow’s weeping tendrils.
A shadow flitted against the stained-glass windows. Someone, something was inside—help. Lungs tight, legs burning, I sprinted to the door. It hung open a crack.
I burst across the threshold. “Hello! Help!” Dust wafted in the shafts of light funneling through the arches, spilling over the silent pews. Candles flickered at the altar, wax pooling onto the aged carpet. “Hello?” I called again, chest caving in with hopelessness.
In a fluid movement, quiet and swift as a wraith, a person stood up from the second row, turning to face me. And that guttered flame below my collarbone ignited into a wildfire.
“Ryder!” His name was a ragged exhale on my lips. Slippers thudding against the aisle, I crashed into his chest, winding a tight ball of his black t-shirt into my fist. “Please, she’s coming! Help me, please.”
He slid one of my loose curls between his fingers, twisting the ends. “You wore your hair half up this time.”
I gave him a shake, my hair falling out of his grasp. “Ryder, you don’t understand. She’s coming.”
“Who?” His long, dark strands fell over his forehead, framing his temples.
A different sort of heat burned through me, but I swatted it away—along with his hand. “Grýla!”
“That old hag?” A coy smile. That dimple I adored. “I can fight her off. But by the sound of it, you already did.”
“You don’t know how strong she is. I’m sure that wasn’t the last of her.” Releasing the fistful of cotton, I stumbled back. “Wait. Why are you here? Is this one of her tricks?”
He filled the short gap between us in one smooth step. “Our souls are bound.”
“What—” I shook my head, coherent thoughts vanishing amidst the shock. “What do you mean?”
“I broke the cardinal rule of a hunter,” he said, gaze sweeping my hair, fingers reaching for another rogue curl. “I second-guessed myself.”
I stilled, hardly able to form the next word. “And?”
He pulled up his sleeve, the blue-and-white river tattoo—the only one inked in color—flowing along the curve of his bicep. “The blood oath never fully sealed.”
That night at the Boardwalk, so many weeks ago, hit me with the force of a flash flood.
I sank into myself, my knees quivering. After Ryder had delivered me to the enemy—after he’d stood there and watched as I struggled to fight the Greater Demon’s evil magic—he’d handed me the very thing he’d stolen off my neck: my necklace. My conduit.
As my brain worked to block the heartache, the chaos, the memory, I’d actually forgotten that in the end, he’d helped me. And then I’d escaped.
We were still tethered.
“So, when I got sent to this realm”—I inhaled a lungful of icy air—“you did, too…”
He tucked the lock of hair he’d been playing with behind my ear. “The real mystery is what kind of trouble did you get into to put us…” He took in the arched room. “Here?”
“I—I’m looking for Gaia.” A step backwards.
A step forwards. “Did you find her?”
“I found Grýla. And…” My back thudded against a wall. “You.”
There was hunger in his eyes, pupils dilated so that only a hint of green flared around them. When he braced his forearm above me, his gaze dropped to my feet, my dress—each curve barely concealed by the thin layer of silk—the ritualistic paint smeared across my chest, my arms, my neck.
His free hand swept beneath my chin.
I shook my head. “No.”
A smirk, a parting of his lips, a nod.
