And then I see the whole scene from above. My body stilling, black eyes staring up lifelessly through thick-rimmed glasses, dark curls squashed in my hood.
I reach out, because it’s not my time yet. I graduated last year. Got my first real job. My life is still ahead of me.
But the pull of the darkness above is inevitable. I’m drawn into its cold black waves. There’s no pain, but I’m drowning, yelling for help, cold to the bone and somehow aware that if I let this river take me, there will be no coming back.
I realize in terror that I’m surrounded by people as desperate as me, every single one of them fighting to not be pulled under. Phantom limbs reach up in pleading gestures, lips wide open. If we can’t get out on time, something far far ahead is going to take us, and I— I’m not ready to go.
The cold waters are unnaturally dense, as if I’m swimming in mercury, but when the puppy stirs against my chest, I attemptto grab at the ghostly waves with renewed determination. Dark silhouettes loom above the surface. Perhaps I should fear them, but they feel like hope, so I move my heavy legs, attempting to propel myself up. One of the other drowners claws at me to push me under the surface, and just as he’s about to succeed, a hand breaks the water above, curls around my wrist, and pulls me up.
Chapter 2
Nate
The water’s heavy, dense, like jelly that hasn’t yet set, so when the stranger pulls, the river releases me with a wetsmack. The man trying to climb up my body falls off, but when I open my eyes, I see more hands clawing at legs in thigh-high boots. Hair, wavy and as red as blood, falls around me, and when I look up to see my savior, I find myself face-to-face with a man who can only be an angel ready for battle.
His dark pauldrons make his shoulders seem even broader than they already are. There’s a sword at his hip, and his golden eyes smile at me as I utter a pathetic whine.
It’s so cold.
“You are safe now,” he tells me in a smooth baritone, and we rise higher with the flap of demon wings that seem to be made out of smoke.
Is this… heaven?
I always imagined it as a golden land of light and fluffy clouds, not a rocky landscape illuminated by a moon so large I fear it’sabout to crush us, but I’ll take it if it comes with a hot guy in armor.
He puts one arm under my knees, the other settles behind my back, and I’m cradled against the crab artistically rendered on the front of his cuirass. I wrap my arms around his neck as we glide through the air. I can’t even force myself to look down and assess where I am, because all my attention is on his insanely handsome face.
He’s moonlight-pale, with a chiseled jaw, perfectly kissable lips, and a nose that slopes so beautifully it could feature in a plastic surgeon’s office as the best example of his work. Oh God, and the way he smells? A few strands of his red hair slip over my face and their scent is intoxicating. Sea salt, leather, and something smoky but… herby? I’ve never experienced anything like it.
And hiseyes. Like crystalized honey catching the light of the moon under dark red eyelashes. When I get a glimpse of his ear and notice it’s pointy, I do a double take, right back to his eyes, and he… winks at me.
That’s it. I’m dead, and because I was murdered trying to do a good deed, I’m in my personal heaven, crafted by the universe just for me.
A dark garden sprouts on both sides of the river, full of columns and statues. They don’t look maintained, but there’s a sense of romance to this landscape, as if I’m about to stand in the lost city of Pompeii.
A second silhouette emerges from behind a fountain in measured steps. This man has no wings, but his long hair cascades down his chest like gilded fabric. He stands tall. His eyes shine like twin sapphires. His navy cloak is fastened at the front with a brooch reminiscent of a large gate covered in thorns. When I nod at him, unsure about the proper way to greet angels, his gaze narrows.
“He won’t do.”
My lips open, but what am I supposed to say to that? Should I unzip my hoodie and show them the trembling puppy so they see me as worthy of… whatever this incredible place is?
Once we settle on the ground, the red-haired man’s wings lose their shape and turn into a dark fog. He clears his throat, still holding me as if I weigh nothing. “With all due respect, Captain… what am I supposed to do? Throw him back in? We’ve been here all night, and you have almost drowned four times—”
“Look at his shadow, Tristan! It’s barely darker than a moth’s wing. So yes, throw him back in.”
I peek at the river, see the hands clawing at air, and the sense of doom I’ve felt in its waters comes back like a punch to the stomach. I grab my savior’s neck harder and press the top of my head to his throat. I feel like that puppy trembling inside my hoodie, at the mercy of the person holding me.
“I don’t know what’s happening, but please don’t take me back there!”
Tristan nods, soft eyes meeting mine with a sense of calm that soothes the trembling sensation inside. And I believe him.Hewill protect me. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” He then looks back at his superior with determination. “Captain, this isn’t a fishing trip. This is destiny at work. The Lord of the Nocturne Court wouldn’t stand for meddling with the threads of fate.”
“Oh, and because he’s your cousin, I’m supposed to feel threatened?” The man’s eyes narrow as he approaches us.
Tristan shakes his head. “You do say yourself that I can be loose-lipped. I can’t vouch that my tongue won’t slip.”
“Fine. I guess this is it then. I’ll work with this… subpar material.”
I don’t understand. My throat closes as the golden-haired stranger leans down in something reminiscent of a courtly bow. Ihave so, so many questions, but then he picks at the shadow I’m casting and pulls up a single thread.
