Yeah. One monster at a time.
Starting with the one that lives in my soul.
EVIE
Kieranand I step outside Circe’s palace, and while a few of the animals linger near the garden walls, most have melted back into the forest. The night air is cooler out here, and he’s standing close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him, burning hot like a furnace.
He’d hate knowing how much his body betrays him to me.
People fear Kieran because they see the steel, the violence, and the cold mask he wears like armor. But my heat sensing always knows the truth. A cold-blooded killer would run cold. Kieran burns hotter than anyone I’ve ever met, and I’ve never been scared of him because I know that beneath that steel is a man who feels everything far too much.
“We need a search plan,” Kieran says, bringing me back into focus.
“In a moment.” I take a deep breath, trying to center myself and stop cataloging his heat signature like research data. “First, what was your read on Circe when I asked about Oliver and Thad?”
Kieran considers the question with the same careful intensity he applies to weapon maintenance. “She was calm and unconcerned.”
“Exactly.” I nod. “She was unbothered. She didn’t deflect. If Oliver or Thad were here and she didn’t want us to find them, she would have been more evasive. Don’t you think?”
“You think she was telling the truth.”
I bite my lip, turning the evidence over in my mind. “I think that according to every text I’ve read about Circe, she’s protective of witches. If Oliver and Thad were here and needed help, she’d do everything she could to give them what they need, and she definitely wouldn’t keep him from me.”
Kieran’s eyes hold mine a beat longer than the question requires. “So you don’t think they’re on this island.”
“No.” My throat tightens. “I don’t.”
“Then there’s no need to search.”
“There is. Because if I don’t, I’ll never forgive myself, and the alternative—accepting that he vanished into thin air during that storm—is unthinkable.”
Kieran traces the hilt of his dagger with his thumb, like he always does when he’s thinking.
“That makes sense,” he finally says, and the lump in my throat shrinks.
“I’m going to try tracking his heat signature.” I center myself and close my eyes, reaching for my magic. “Aeaea is tied to the winds that guide souls. If Oliver passed through here, there might be residual heat in the air currents.”
Extending my awareness outward, I search for the familiar warmth of my brother’s fire. I scan everything—the wind rustling through the leaves, the trees standing sentinel around us, and all the spaces in between where a person could hide.
Nothing.
“What are you getting?” Kieran asks, surprisingly gentle.
I shake my head, refusing to open my eyes, because then he’ll see the tears threatening to form. “Nothing yet. But there’s another possibility.”
“Which is?”
I take a deep breath, open my eyes, and wipe off a single tear that escaped. If he notices, he says nothing.
“What if Circe transformed them into animals?” The words tumble out in a rush. “According to Ovid’s accounts, witches have inherent magical resistance to her transformation magic. But if I can get close enough to the animals, maybe I’ll be able to sense Oliver’s heat signature, regardless of his physical form.”
Kieran reaches for my elbow, then pulls away before touching me. “Tell me where to start.”
We spend the next hour approaching every animal we can find.
The wolves allow me to get within a few feet before padding away. A family of foxes watches us from beneath a flowering bush. We track down a flock of songbirds, a pair of hawks, and an owl that watches us with too-knowing eyes.
There’s nothing.
