It’d been stolen off my neck by trusted hands—the very same ones that had cupped my chin and tangled in my hair and grabbed my face for the perfect kiss—and placed into the claw-tipped clutches of the Greater Demon, Finis, leaving me weak. Powerless.
Dry wind stung my cheeks, and for a second, I wasn’t racing through the fresh mountain air, but fleeing the burning darkness, the ruined Boardwalk behind me, Ryder’s vengeful screams echoing in the night, my best friend, Javi, limp in my arms.
The silhouette skittered between the trunks, working to keep its stride.
My pulse galloped in my chest. After I banished Finis to the vile realm she crawled out of, I never actually found out where her hit men went. For all I knew, it could have been one of them stumbling through the thick mess of brambles.
Whatever it was, it didn’t belong with this pack.
It was following us.
The temperature dropped, each inhale an icy stab to the throat.
Ryder. These were his woods. He was out there.
Somewhere.
Like Javi, he’d nearly been killed during the attack at the Beach Boardwalk. Not at the demon’s hands—at mine. And not before admitting he and his brother were part of the Night Stalkers, willing pawns in Chthonia’s game to overthrow the angelic realm of Empyrea, abduct me, and siphon my powers.
And I’d fallen right into his trap.
Bet he never guessed I’d get away.
I could still hear the lilt of his accent, his haunting last words sharper than the arrow he’d been aiming at my heart. Make this easy on yourself, River. We have already fallen.
Here, it was louder than ever.
River.
Here, it was like his essence was woven into the canopy, into the soft crush of leaves.
River.
My heart leapt in my chest. Traitor.
“River,” I heard him call.
Impossible. There was no way that was anything more than the whistle of the wind.
No way I was hearing voices again, especially his, after months of straight silence from the ones who used to haunt me daily—the other three elemental archangels—the Watchers.
I squinted into the dark, peering between the flashes of tangled trunks and ivy.
There was nothing but sporadic shafts of light barely piercing the thickest shadows. Nothing but the rustling of the branches in the summer breeze. It must have been that.
Kenny followed the pack with another sharp turn. Around us, the forest thinned, pale boulders and hard plots of soil puncturing the pine-riddled ground. More moss, more stars, less overgrowth. Nowhere to hide.
I whipped my head around, scanning the edge of the wood.
A flash of color. A howl. A wolf darted out. Then another and another, as the pack drew back together. Familiar brownish-blonde speckled fur darted to the front. Shanley. I blew out a sigh of relief.
A grove of redwoods rose up in an otherwise empty field. A temple of sorts, made of stone and bark. A white glow emanated from the heart of it, spearing back into the grass like fronds of the missing moonlight.
Crescent Rock—it must be. My shoulders slumped as we reached the hidden meeting place, but the aching fear curled around me.
I was now minutes from facing Chet on the stand.
From facing his fake tan, fake smile, fake charm.
