Chapter 1
“Alright River, now climb onto his back.”
I stared at Shanley, then back at the werewolf—the one I supposedly needed to climb. “Ex-excuse me?”
“Haul yourself up his side and situate yourself between his shoulder blades. Here…” Shanley tilted her head towards the beast’s jowls—which I wouldn’t be caught anywhere near—and pitched her very human voice to the low whine of a canine, giving what I assumed to be a command.
With a chuff from his snout, the wolf crouched a little lower.
Wide blue eyes, freckled honey-beige cheeks, and golden-brown hair reflected in his midnight stare, the only pieces of me that might have remained the same after discovering I was half-angel—Nephilim—and the heiress of the Angel of Water.
“There, should be easier now.” Rolling up her sleeves, my friend dropped to a knee and interlaced her fingers, the cup of her palms ready to hoist me up. Her skin was dry from long days at the coffee shop, and calloused by the repeated transition from hands to paws.
Little grooves indented her forearm—bite marks.
The ones near her wrist were definitely new.
I’d worked countless shifts with her at Kona Koffee before I got fired, and she had a story for every scar: boozy late-night wrestling, unlucky run-ins with vampires, and simply Turning at the wrong place, wrong time.
But these marks… these ones she tried to cover with her flannel sleeves. These ones she wasn’t proud of, didn’t joke about.
These were from tending to a beast far worse than a grumpy customer.
These were from Chet Jennings.
Forget the claws and fangs and godlike strength he’d been granted after being bitten at the full moon party earlier that summer—just his name sent a chill down my spine.
The thought of facing him tonight…as not only a witness to his carnage, but a victim of it long before…
was enough to make my pulse thrum off beat.
A wail erupted from the thick of the forest, curdling the mist. It couldn’t be Chet: he’d already be at Crescent Rock under the watchful eyes of the Council of the Moon—the Elders who made up the governing body of all the local werewolf packs—impatiently waiting for his trial to begin.
But Chet wasn’t the only thing that lurked in the night, wasn’t the only monster who’d made it their sole mission to destroy me.
Shadows coiled in the darkness as if they were living, breathing things. Without the light of the moon, it was damn near impossible to see.
Breath a wisp in the air, I glanced behind me. Nothing but fur and trees. The steel gazes of Shanley’s pack tracked my movement.
Most of the wolves were bare, but some of the larger ones had packs strapped to their backs.
Clothes. Around the others, a couple shreds of fabric shone bright against the damp forest floor.
Sometimes, Shanley had once told me while we were mopping up spilled milk, the urge to Turn came on too quick, too strong, and even the nimblest, most experienced wolves couldn’t get undressed fast enough.
I placed a shoe in Shanley’s hands, my fingers knotting in the beast’s mane. “This won’t hurt him?”
She shook her head, ashy blonde strands flopping over her temples.
Of course it wouldn’t hurt him. Kenny was all muscle and brute strength in every form. Pressing my heel into Shanley’s palm, I hiked myself up onto his massive shoulders with such effortless grace I would have never, ever believed I’d be capable of. But…
I was stronger now. Faster. Keener senses. Still couldn’t outrun a werewolf, no matter how much Empyrean magic—Source—I’d inherited from my mom.
Shanley wiped her palms together, brushing off the dirt. “River, you good?”
I nodded, tucking my fingers under Kenny’s long outer chestnut coat to hide how badly I’d started trembling.
He huffed out through his nostrils, paw scuffing the earth, ready to run. I willed myself not to focus on the way his claws indented the soil, how when he rose on his hind legs, standing tall and proud, my head grazed the lower branches.
How, once he took off, there would be no going back.
In less than an hour, I’d be facing Chet on the stand.
I could still feel the heat of his nasty breath, his saliva smearing over my skin… A chill rattled my shoulders. How was I going to relive his public attack at the bonfire, and the private one in his bedroom, in front of Elders, witnesses, strangers?
“Stay low while we’re running,” Shanley said.
My head snapped in her direction, sticky thoughts of Chet dissipating for now.
I’d get through this for her. Because no matter who bit whom that smoky night at the beach, it was her pack, her territory, her problem to solve—and from the little I knew about werewolf politics, punishments were vicious.
I inhaled, the air sharp and minty. I wanted to bring Chet down. But, more importantly, I wanted to be there for Shanley like she’d been there for me all summer, wiping my tears, dragging me out of bed past noon, forcing me to do the unthinkable—socialize.
“Keep your grip tight on the ruff of fur around Kenny’s neck. I’ll be right alongside you.”
In a flicker of movement her hands had tripled their size. Fingers curling, palms swelling, tufts of fur sprouting along her knuckles…
She had started to Turn.
“When I howl, it means we have ten seconds till takeoff,” she added, but those final words were torn apart by a shrill whimper as her flesh and muscle tore and transformed.
A familiar sense of unease hollowed out my stomach. It didn’t matter how many demonstrations Shanley had given me—hearing bones crack and reset, watching facial features morph and sharpen never got easier.
Fixing my gaze on the starlight trickling down through the canopy, on the dark outlines of the redwoods, I waited for her to finish shifting, wincing at every godawful snap of her limbs.
Prickly dry leaves crunched beneath the heavy thud of her feet, now paws, as she stalked to her position at the front of the pack. Velvety ears perked, and she drew her nose towards the sky. A melodic ooooowwww poured out of her throat.
The others slowly pitched in, each wolf’s cry different, distinct. Some low and lively, others guttural and longing, all blending into something—a presence that rang in my ears, my jaw, through my whole body, and blanketed the woods long after they’d stopped.
Kenny rocketed us forward, the howl of the wind replacing the song of the wolves.
I settled into position, focused on keeping my spine arched, my knees locked around his ribs. The powerful shift of his shoulders dug into my legs, my quick gasp lost to the stinging air, my ponytail waving like a flag in the wind as we raced through the night.
The wolves darted through the trees, infiltrating the forest like wraiths. Little by little, the group splintered off, disappearing into the darkness.
I remained hunched, peering over the wild ruff of Kenny’s neck, poised to avoid getting a branch to the face.
Still, it was definitely possible with my luck, in a wilderness this dense and at the speed we were going.
My wide eyes darted around, teary from the wind—bark, shrubs, bushes all whizzing by in a deep green blur.
A silhouette sprang up on our left, twisting towards us. I flinched, nearly slipping off before I grabbed a fistful of fur.
Obviously, it was just a werewolf—probably Shanley. I waited for the flash of a tail, the streak of a pewter coat. My ears perked for the gallop of heavy paws.
Goosebumps prickled my skin, and an ancient pulse of power rushed up my arms.
My fingers brushed my collarbone, reaching for the lapis necklace as if my mom’s heirloom might miraculously appear. It didn’t, of course.
It’d been stolen off my neck by trusted hands—the very same ones that had cupped my chin and tangled in my hair and grabbed my face for the perfect kiss—and placed into the claw-tipped clutches of the Greater Demon, Finis, leaving me weak. Powerless.
Dry wind stung my cheeks, and for a second, I wasn’t racing through the fresh mountain air, but fleeing the burning darkness, the ruined Boardwalk behind me, Ryder’s vengeful screams echoing in the night, my best friend, Javi, limp in my arms.
The silhouette skittered between the trunks, working to keep its stride.
My pulse galloped in my chest. After I banished Finis to the vile realm she crawled out of, I never actually found out where her hit men went. For all I knew, it could have been one of them stumbling through the thick mess of brambles.
Whatever it was, it didn’t belong with this pack.
It was following us.
The temperature dropped, each inhale an icy stab to the throat.
Ryder. These were his woods. He was out there.
Somewhere.
Like Javi, he’d nearly been killed during the attack at the Beach Boardwalk. Not at the demon’s hands—at mine. And not before admitting he and his brother were part of the Night Stalkers, willing pawns in Chthonia’s game to overthrow the angelic realm of Empyrea, abduct me, and siphon my powers.
And I’d fallen right into his trap.
Bet he never guessed I’d get away.
I could still hear the lilt of his accent, his haunting last words sharper than the arrow he’d been aiming at my heart. Make this easy on yourself, River. We have already fallen.
Here, it was louder than ever.
River.
Here, it was like his essence was woven into the canopy, into the soft crush of leaves.
River.
My heart leapt in my chest. Traitor.
“River,” I heard him call.
Impossible. There was no way that was anything more than the whistle of the wind.
No way I was hearing voices again, especially his, after months of straight silence from the ones who used to haunt me daily—the other three elemental archangels—the Watchers.
I squinted into the dark, peering between the flashes of tangled trunks and ivy.
There was nothing but sporadic shafts of light barely piercing the thickest shadows. Nothing but the rustling of the branches in the summer breeze. It must have been that.
Kenny followed the pack with another sharp turn. Around us, the forest thinned, pale boulders and hard plots of soil puncturing the pine-riddled ground. More moss, more stars, less overgrowth. Nowhere to hide.
I whipped my head around, scanning the edge of the wood.
A flash of color. A howl. A wolf darted out. Then another and another, as the pack drew back together. Familiar brownish-blonde speckled fur darted to the front. Shanley. I blew out a sigh of relief.
A grove of redwoods rose up in an otherwise empty field. A temple of sorts, made of stone and bark. A white glow emanated from the heart of it, spearing back into the grass like fronds of the missing moonlight.
Crescent Rock—it must be. My shoulders slumped as we reached the hidden meeting place, but the aching fear curled around me.
I was now minutes from facing Chet on the stand.
From facing his fake tan, fake smile, fake charm.
“You ready?” Shanley took a hit of her vape, quickly stashing it in her pocket. She’d already changed: black jumper cinched at the waist; jacket draped over her shoulders; jowls replaced by high ivory cheekbones.
Booties hitting the ground, I smoothed out my navy slacks—a gift from her girlfriend, Mau. My whole outfit was, actually: the ribbed shirt, the bold lip, the bow in my hair, all of it styled by her. All of it too fashionable. Too itchy. But for tonight, I needed the armor.
Wolves trotted past me, speedy and silent. Several had shifted back to two legs. No one spared me a second glance.
Well, at least I blended in.
A lithe arm linked around Shanley’s. Mau effortlessly slid in beside her, looking radiant as ever in her human form.
Red lips set in a thin line, she fidgeted with her tight knit dress.
A slight tremor rocked her hands as she worked the fabric, then dragged a fingernail to sharpen the corner of her winged liner.
She was nervous. Shit.
Heat flared on the back of my neck.
Shanley ran her hand through her windswept hair. “Let’s go in. Opening remarks start in a few.”
The lump that’d formed in my throat kept me from answering.
“You got this, girlie,” Mau whispered, before she and Shanley disappeared.
I wished I had someone to link arms with. Someone to wholly lean on. Someone to fill the empty void in my heart.
I wished I had Javi. But he was still in a coma, recovering from the demon attack, and it was my secrets, my lies, my schemes that put him there.
If only I’d let him in on my life, as best friends do, he wouldn’t have snuck out after me.
If only I’d told him the honest truth, he wouldn’t have ended up atop the splintered wood and mangled metal as a pile of barely breathing, bloodied rags.
If only.
Willing my feet forward, I sucked in a breath and walked towards the open-air sanctum, alone. That feeling that someone was there, that someone was watching, never seeming to go away.