He drops his hands and stiffens.
“I think something’s wrong. I’m…I’m scared. I know this is a huge ask, but do you think you can cross over through the portal and see if you can find him? I know he’s busy. I just need to know that he’s okay.”
Cielo tugs me into a hug. It’s the first one he’s ever initiated, but the comfort of it is overwhelming. I hold him back until I can breathe again, and he pulls back and meets my eyes once more.
“Prmmmmsss,” he says, then points to his lips and then drops his palm flat on his other fist.
Promise, he’s signing.
“Thank you.”
He nods, then eyes the latte mournfully, so I lean over and grab it.
“Finish your coffee. Then you can go.”
He slurps it up with long flicks of his tongue, then sheds his newly cleaned jacket and carefully lays it on the counter, and taps it while looking at me.
“I won’t let anything happen to it. Promise,” I say, then use the sign.
He smiles, showing fang, and his ears flick with happiness before he strides away and heads for the door. I hear it open and shut, and then I’m alone.
I have no idea how long this will take or what Cielo will find. Or if he’ll even be back. All I have left is hope. Walking through the apartment, I collapse on Rathyn’s bed and take a big whiff of his pillow.
It smells like him—like Erethar air and the mossy stuff he eats every morning. And us. It also smells a bit like us.
I miss him with a powerful ache, and the fear that threatens to overwhelm me.
I reach out into the darkness again, and for a moment, there’s a flicker.
And then there’s nothing.
I’m dreaming of a cave. And fire. Of pain and chill seeping into my bones. I’m dreaming of a face that I can’t quite make out in the shadows, and a sense of fear and maybe the inevitability of death.
I wake with a gasp, disoriented, with no clue where I am except the feeling of home. It takes me a moment to remember I’m in Rathyn’s bed—though it’s been our bed for a while now. The space beside me is still empty, and there’s a pit in my stomach.
And then I realize the reason I woke wasn’t the dream. There’s someone in the room with me. I fumble for the bedside table light and squint against the figure looming near the bed. It takes a moment for me to recognize Cielo and the look of distress on his face.
That’s not good.
“What happened?” I ask, cursing myself for not knowing his language. God, how is he going to tell me?
But before I can panic, he holds something out to me. It’s a crumpled note, and when I take it, the paper isn’t like anything I’ve ever touched before. It’s oddly soft under my hands.
I unfold it and see swirling script I can barely read, but it is in English.
R needs help. I cannot assist. His communications have gone dark and we cannot locate. Can you find him?
Dread rushes through me as I look at Cielo. “Who gave you this?”
The name is hard to understand, but he repeats himself twice, and I finally catch it. “Eissa.”
Shit. That is not good. “Okay. Okay.” I’m mostly talking to myself now. I drag my fingers through my hair and look up at my friend. “This is bad, isn’t it?”
He makes a distressed noise in the back of his throat—low and sort of mournful.
“Well, he’s not dead,” I tell him. “I can still feel him.”
“Feelll?” Cielo says, the word almost stuck on his long tongue.
