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“It’s... it’s not in the sea,” I rasped, leaning my head against Caspian’s warm chest, unable to stop the violent tremors wracking my frame. Caspian instantly unzipped his heavy black moto jacket, stripping it off and wrapping the warm leather tightly around my bare shoulders, pulling me closer to his furnace heat.

“What do you mean it’s not in the sea?” Manem growled, stepping up behind Dax, his dark face contorted into a scowl. “The ambassador’s journal explicitly stated the spear was anchored to the tide!”

“The faults shifted,” I explained, my voice steadying as Caspian’s heat seeped into my marrow. “The nymph said the First Vault was buried. The weapon was carried inland.”

Dax knelt in the sand beside us, his eyes wide as he looked at my face. “Inland? Where inland, Tauriel? This mortal realm is massive.”

I took a long, shuddering breath, looking from Dax, to Mal, to Caspian’s intense, royal blue eyes staring down at me.

“She gave me a name,” I whispered, the sea wind pulling at the leather jacket wrapped around my chest. “She said if we want to claim our doom, we have to leave the sand. We have to go find the Nauti Mermaid... inside the den of smoke and numbers.”

Dax’s brow furrowed in utter confusion. “The Nauti Mermaid? A den of smoke and numbers? What kind of dark sanctuary is that?”

I closed my eyes for a single heartbeat, the layout of the coastal towns along the highway flashing through my mind. The realization dropped into my head with dry, surreal clarity.

“It’s not a dark sanctuary, Dax,” I murmured, a faint, breathless laugh breaking from my lips despite the cold. “It’s a coastal dive bar.”

Mal let out a low, incredulous breath, while Manem’s jaw dropped in disgust. Caspian simply tightened his arm around my waist, his royal blue eyes burning into mine with an unyielding, dangerous promise.

“Then we leave the beach,” Caspian rasped low, his voice cut from iron. “We find this ‘Nauti Mermaid’... and we take our steel.”

The biting coastal wind went straight through me, setting off an uncontrollable tremor in my jaw as we walked back up to the parking turnout. I huddled against the driver’s side of the Suburban, my hands shaking so violently I could barely keep my thumb pressed against the screen of my phone.

Beside the hood, Manem was leaning his massive frame over the passenger window, his dark face contorted into a mask of pure, murderous frustration as he roared at the dashboard.

“ANSWER ME, VOICED GLASS! WHERE IS THE INN?!” Manem bellowed, his voice echoing over the roar of the surf like thunder.

“She... she can’t hear you when you scream at her like that, Manem,” I wheezed through chattering teeth, dragging my wet hair out of my eyes.

I unlocked the screen, opening the browser, and rapidly typed hotels near Neskowin. The lackluster cellular data of the Oregon coast spun for a frustrating three seconds before a list of cheap, roadside motels appeared. I tapped the first entry; a basic, salt-crusted place called the Pacific Tide Lodge just two miles up the road and hit the dial icon.

“Hi, do you have any rooms available tonight?” I asked the clerk, my voice steadying slightly as the Suburban’s engine finally kicked over, Dax having slipped into the driver’s seat to turn the keys.

“Yeah, we have two left,” a tired, nasal voice answered through the static speaker. “One queen with a pull-out, and one double-double.”

“We’ll take both,” I said, reciting my card information from memory before hanging up.

My body finally stopped shaking as the Suburban’s vents began to blast thick heat into the cabin. I ushered the men to clear the doorways, shifting into the driver’s seat myself as Dax slid back over to the passenger side. I slammed the heavy SUV into gear, the tires spraying gravel as I drove the short distance to the lodge.

The Pacific Tide Lodge was exactly what I expected; low concrete structures painted a faded seafoam green, its neon sign buzzing weakly against the heavy Oregon fog.

I stepped into the small, wood-paneled lobby alone. My Converse sneakers squeaking loudly against the linoleum as I checked us in, paying the tired clerk at the desk and taking the two brass keys.

The rooms were directly across the hall from each other on the second floor. Room 14 was a small space with a single queen bed and a battered tweed couch; Room 15 had two double beds and a small sitting chair.

We gathered in the narrow, mustard-carpeted corridor between the doorways, the four men standing like an invading guard rotation in their modern human clothes.

“Alright,” I said, leaning my sore shoulder against my doorframe, my voice raspy from the sea brine. “We have two rooms. One has one bed and a couch. The other has two beds. We need to split the watch.”

“I am staying with you,” Mal said instantly. He stepped out of the shadow of the stairwell, his dark crewneck sweater making his eyes look dangerously sharp as he met my gaze. “The nymph said the weapon is on land. The perimeter isn’t secure.”

I didn’t know what game Mal was playing, but I wasn’t about to be a part of it.

“No,” Caspian cut in, his voice dropping into that lethal, quiet register that always heralded a fight. He stood a pace in front of Manem, his dark chestnut hair catching the dim hallway light, his jaw set like iron. “I take the inner circle watch. You take the across-the-hall rotation, Transfer.”

Inner circle watch, not me, not the girl he slept with.

The inner circle.