Slowing my pace as I approach, I glance around to check for anyone… or for Helen’s meddling orbs. Neither of them are out here.
As always, the main doors of the Worship Center are unlocked. Hecate doesn’t keep hours.
I slip inside and pause in the central chamber, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. Three hallways branch off from here, each leading to a different aspect of the goddess. The Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone.
I don’t go down any of them.
Instead, I count to thirty, listening for footsteps, voices, or any other sign that I was followed. When I hear nothing but silence, I turn and slip out through a side door.
It leads to the garden, then out to a narrow path winding to the cliffs… which lead to the Drowned Tower.
17
AVERY
The pathdown to the cliffs is treacherous in the dark. Rocks jut out at odd angles, slick with sea spray and whatever moisture the clouds have been crying all day.
Eventually, the Drowned Tower emerges from the darkness like a black finger pointing at the sky.
It’s five stories of ancient stone, half-eaten by the sea and time. The torches in its windows burn steady and golden, defying all logic, as if this place exists on a different plane than everywhere else on the island.
I’m almost to the stone causeway when I see Tobias standing at the start of the bridge, his dark coat blending with the shadows. Fog crawls around him like he’s a poet standing at the gates of hell, soft edges wrapped around a mind that’s seen far too much, and my pulse kicks harder with every step toward him.
When I’m finally in front of him, he swallows hard, his fingers flexing at his sides.
“You came,” he says, so softly that he’s barely audible over the waves crashing against the rocks below.
“You told me to.” I take a deep breath, suddenly aware of how isolated we are. It would be so easy for someone to push me off these cliffs and claim the tide took me, or to say I couldn’t handle the grief anymore and jumped on my own.
He gestures at the causeway, bringing me back into focus.
“We have about four hours before the water starts rising. Stay close behind me, and I’ll show you where to step.”
His fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to reach for me, then they curl into his palms instead, as if the wrong word will send me running.
“Thank you.” I give him a small smile, hoping to relax him, even though I’m far from relaxed myself.
He exhales, and heat twists through my stomach that has nothing to do with grief and everything to do with him.
Stop it. He’s Council. Yes, he’s young for Council, but he’s here to investigate Oliver’s disappearance. This can only end badly.
That doesn’t stop me from noticing the moonlight catching the silver in his dark, tousled hair, or his shoulders relaxing when I smile at him, or the way he’s looking at me like I’m precious and worth protecting.
He holds my gaze a beat too long, then he nods once, turning and stepping onto the causeway.
The stone is slick beneath my boots, worn smooth by centuries of waves and feet. Iron handrails are hammered into the rock, but they’re rusted and unreliable.
“There’s a gap coming up.” He stops and turns to face me, extending his hand. “It looks wider than it is, but the landing stone is uneven.”
Trying not to overthink it, I reach forward and take his hand.
His grip is warm and firm, steadying me as I step over the gap. My boot hits the uneven stone, and I wobble, but he’salready pulling me forward, his other hand catching my elbow until I find my balance.
“Okay?” he asks, so close I can feel his breath on my cheek.
“Okay,” I reply, and he releases me immediately, stepping back like the contact burned him.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to…”
