Oxygen sawed through his lungs. Sweat dripped from his face to christen the forest floor. He succumbed to the urge to collapse. His clammy cheek stuck to the organic detritus, and he closed his eyes, savoring the pain-free moments before what came next.
Because something was definitely coming. This wasn’t normal, whatever was happening, but he was too relieved to worry. Torture did that to a man—made him indifferent. David had learned that from experience.
“Are you okay?” asked a deep voice in a language David had never heard but somehow understood.
Refusing to open his eyes, he ignored him.
“Do you need help?” came another, feminine and uncertain.
After a deep breath scented of cedar and something earthy, he asked, “Where am I?”
“This is the Border Watch,” said the girl. “Did you—did you come through the mist?”
David peeled one eye open.
Only years of hiding any emotion that might betray weakness kept him from startling. The girl peering down at him had blond hair that fell to her hips, all messy waves and hidden braids. She had a plaited leather band around her forehead and gold symbols near her eyes. A gauzy material that could barely be called fabric floated against her body, glistening in silver and diamond white, allowing him full perusal of the shimmery skin beneath.
She was like a star, glowing from within, and sunlight struck dust in the air, sparking rainbows around her.
“Did I die?” he asked, because it was the only thing that made sense.
“I don’t know.” A smile played at the angel’s lips. “Did you?”
“Come on, gent,” said the man behind her, chuckling. “Up you get.”
He offered a hand, but David merely stared. The man’s brown skin glinted like gold where the sun touched it, and every line of his body was edged in light.
David pushed himself to all fours without help, brushing bits of dirt from his clothes as he stood. Echoes of the mysterious pain tightened his chest, but it faded with every second, easy to ignore.
Fully upright, David searched his surroundings for potential threats. He spotted a few strangers among the trees, none with visible weapons. Other details filtered in—glitter in the air, colors too vivid, a scent that, if hard-pressed, he could only describe as cedar mixed with stardust—but those elements could be catalogued later.
He’d been in worse situations than this celestial world beyond the mist, but his skin prickled, a warning of danger nearby. He turned toward his two Good Samaritans and pushed the hair off his sweaty forehead.
A gasp tore from the girl’s mouth. She stumbled away from him.
Accustomed to that reaction, David merely tilted his head, probing the wild fear that darkened her emotional tapestry. The mosaic inside her had been bright with happiness, frilled with intrigue. In an instant, it fell into shadow. He could almost smell the change—fresh cut flowers singed with ash.
Had she heard of him? Surely his notoriety hadn’t spread all the way to heaven itself.
The man’s eyes widened in his narrow face. He was better at hiding his terror, but it pulsed brighter than everything else, right beside a strand of consummate foreboding.
“Something wrong?” David asked. Stupid question when the answer was obvious. Their terror was a palpable, breathing thing, oppressing the oxygen in his vicinity.
Something wasdefinitelywrong. Dread uncovered a chasm in David’s thoughts, and he sensed himself slipping into it.
But he couldn’t.
Not when he was so vulnerable.
He glanced around once more, hoping to find an answer, but nothing sprung forth. Instead, glittery trees and too-bright sunlight besieged him, mythical yet disturbingly real at the same time.
Neither of his new friends spoke, so he injected a bit of silk into his voice, facing the woman. “Tell me why you’re afraid.”
“You were rumored to be dead,” she said at once, complying the same as everyone else.
His insides churned, but David froze it all, making certain his face remained calm. Blank. His voice, however, sweetened in that way he’d taught himself, the way he’d mastered out of sheer self-preservation, the way that extracted obedience no matter what he asked. “Tell me why you’re scared.”
“You have Morgan’s magic,” she whispered.
