Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Every decision has consequences.
CELINE
The car smells like onions.
That must be why I’m fighting tears.
I shift my weight in the driver’s seat, hoping the stench doesn’t sink into my clothes.
After walking for miles in complete silence, Riven and I found the old beater outside an abandoned gas station.
With its dented fender and key-scarred, rust-flecked paint job, it’s not a car anyone puts on their wish list. It was, however, accessible, and it has—had—half a tank of gas.
I glance at the gauge; we’re down to a quarter now, which means dumping this car and stealing another one soon.
Mountains surround us on both sides, and the engine whines as I navigate the hairpin curves. I’m almost grateful for the sound. The silence is eating me alive.
Riven makes a small sound in the back of his throat.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye. His jaw is locked tight, and there’s a greenish tint to his amber mask. “Are you okay?”
“No,” he mutters. “The curves . . .”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Are you carsick?”
“If that means I’m doing everything in my power to avoid making this vehicle smell any worse, then yes, I’m carsick.”
I drop my left hand to the door, but there aren’t any buttons. “Focus on the horizon,” I tell him, huffing a sigh of relief when my fingers find what I’m searching for. “Grab that crank on your right and turn it in a circle.”
“Why?”
I roll my eyes at his suspicion. “Cool air usually helps.”
The windowpane drops in a series of jerky lurches before falling the final few inches all at once. It lands at a slant. My eye twitches, and I look away. Focus on the road, Celine. Not your car, not your problem.
I slow down and take the next turn at a crawl. The air rushing through Riven’s window is brisk—not freezing, but the change of seasons is especially evident at this altitude. It clears some of the onion smell, though, and Riven’s breathing evens out, so I call it a win.
“Better?” I ask.
He grunts, and I reach for the dial on the dash. After fiddling with the knobs for three or four minutes, I admit defeat: this car is a dud. Onions and AM radio are all it has to offer. I’m going to crawl out of my skin any minute now.
The sun rose about an hour ago.
They’ll be waking up soon. And when they discover I’m gone, our relationship will be seriously damaged. I’m not sure I’ll be able to repair it, even if this works out exactly the way I want it to.
My fingers grip the steering wheel a little too tightly.
I’m not leaving them. They’ll know that, I think, but it won’t matter because I made this decision on my own. I cut them out of it because I knew they wouldn’t agree, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I’m not sure there’s any apology that can make up for that.
“Did you leave a note?”
I sigh and nod, then realize Riven is probably still focusing on the horizon. “Yes, I did.”
“They’ll get over it,” he says.
I groan. “Will they, though?”
“They won’t risk losing you.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t ruin things.”
He grunts, in obvious disagreement this time, and I wish I couldn’t tell the difference. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel “How are you carsick after handling witch stone transportation with no issue?”
“I was nauseous every time,” he says. “I’m better at hiding it than the rest of you.”
I hum under my breath. My wings want out. I’m tempted to rub my shoulders against the seat to scratch the itch, but the onions hold me back.
“You’re agitated,” Riven says.
I toss him a glance to show him what an understatement that is, but he’s scanning the mountains instead. I frown. “Your safe house . . . were you sad to leave it behind?”
“That’s a difficult question.”
“Is it?” I wince at the bite in my voice.
My worry is making me mean, and there’s nothing to distract myself with except the onion-scented elephant riding alongside us.
I never should have gotten myself into this mess: trapped in an enclosed space, careening along the edge of a cliff with the carsick enemy I kissed last night.
“I had no emotional attachment to the house, if that’s what you mean. I built it as an escape, yes, but a dwelling inside an enclosure is still a cage, isn’t it, darling?”
My belly flips, and I shoot him a look. “Do girls usually hit their knees for that?”
“I beg your pardon?”
I grind my teeth. “The darling thing. You know, the deep, growly voice . . . Rumbling ‘darling’ like you’re dying of thirst and they’re the only glass of water for miles around? Does it usually work for you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says.
“Sure, okay.”
I’m making a fool of myself, and it’s pissing me off.
Riven can call others darling if he wants.
There’s something between us; I’m not denying that, but he’s smart to fight it.
Smarter than me, at least. I shouldn’t have let him come, and I certainly shouldn’t be winding myself up over the idea of hypothetical women he may or may not have flirted with.
“Do you want to know why it doesn’t matter?” he asks.
I take the next turn faster than necessary.
Yes. Fucking tell me, in that filthy fucking voice that sounds like bedtime.
“No,” I say firmly.
We drive the next hour in silence.
I ease the car to a stop at a rest stop in an idyllic mountain town, wincing as the brakes scream like a dying cat.
There are cobbles, wooden shake shingles—overlapped with charming irregularity—and towering conifers.
The trees are bristling with coarse, waxy needles and loaded with fat pine cones, the ones stuffed to bursting with bright red seeds.
The view is beautiful, but all I care about is the blinking fuel light in front of me.
Happy to be noticed, the car belches a thick cloud of smoke, which somehow . . . Gods, somehow it smells like onions.
“Fuck,” I mutter, wondering how this town escaped from the made-for-TV Christmas movie it was clearly designed for. There’s even a hand-painted sign advertising firewood for sale.
“They’ll notice us here,” Riven says.
I nod. “We’ll have to do our best to blend in.”
He chuckles. “Not a problem for me, but you . . .” Riven glances at me. “You’re impossible to forget.” It would be a compliment if he didn’t sound pained.
I hide my smile. I enjoy it more because he doesn’t. “If there was another town nearby, we could get gas and stay under the radar while we’re at it, but this is the only place on the map.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Riven warps, becoming a thick, older man with a thicker white beard.
I laugh. “You look like Santa.”
He narrows his cloudy blue eyes. “Stay here.”
Then he’s out of the car, crossing the parking lot on bowlegs, his thumbs tucked inside his pockets. I groan.
It’s not a bad idea to let Riven handle this part. He’s trained to pass anywhere unnoticed, and I’m better equipped to make scenes than mitigate them. It’s the right call, but it means I’m stuck waiting. And I hate waiting.
What can I do to fill the time?
The onions. I’ll find the damn smell. I don’t know if they’re sprouting from the musty, suspicious carpet in the back, or if there’s a half-eaten bag of chips wedged between the seats, but eradicating the odor will make me feel better. Probably.
I crawl between the seats and gingerly poke around.
The floor is littered with trash, and I encounter everything from empty aluminum cans to a spilled, cardboard box of screws. There are no onions. If anything, the smell is fainter back here, and since I’m not willing to put my bare hands on anything, my search is a complete bust.
I squeeze my thighs to pull myself back to the front seat, and someone knocks on my window—fuck! I yank myself upright and peer through the glass.
There’s a blue uniform held together by straining buttons. Human cops. Shit.
I crank the window down and offer the man in front my most winning smile.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” He sucks in his stomach. “We got word of a possible broken-down vehicle.” The officer behind him peers down at me over the top of his sunglasses. He’s wiry, a couple of decades younger than his partner, and a stiff breeze could blow him over.
“You’re so sweet.” I do my best Imani imitation, but it only seems to make them nervous. Shit. If I don’t figure this out, I could end up in handcuffs, and I do not have time for that. “I’m not broken down, just a little down on my luck.”
Kill me now. I sound like a dumbass, but they look worried for me instead of about me now, and that’s something.
The big one takes off his sunglasses. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he says. “Do you have a place to stay?”
My smile tightens, but I hold it together ruthlessly. “I’m only passing through.” There. That wasn’t a lie. Maybe they’ll lose interest. Last I checked, driving wasn’t a crime, although the stolen car is another matter entirely.
“Why the hurry?” The thin one isn’t looking at me anymore; his eyes are narrowed on the rust-bucket-on-wheels polluting his pristine mountain town. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If he runs the plates or asks for my ID, I’ll have to knock him out.
Movement catches my eye.
Riven, still wearing his old man disguise, rounds the corner, carrying a can of gas.
Okay. As long as he plays along, I can work with this.
I raise my voice—not enough to freak the humans out—but enough to make sure he hears me.
“I’ve got a job lined up,” I gush. “I was so excited that I didn’t realize how low I was getting on gas.
My boyfriend went to get some. He’ll be back soon. ”
Riven pauses, and I see the familiar blur of static.
He chooses a face I know as well as my own.
“There he is.” I giggle and point. “Thanks, babe, I was starting to worry.”
Riven, wearing Ciprian’s face, offers the officers a friendly smile. “Thanks for checking on my girl, but I can take it from here.”
“Doesn’t seem like it to me.” The wiry cop sneers at the car, looking Riven up and down and muttering, “A girl like her could do better.”
“Carlton,” the other officer snaps. “That’s none of our business. Congrats on the new job, ma’am. Do yourself a favor and keep an eye on that big red E on the dash—we wouldn’t want you breaking down somewhere less friendly.”
My smile wavers. “Of course. We’ll be careful.”
The officer tips his hat and ambles away. Carlton is slower to follow, and when he does, he glances over his shoulder half a dozen times before disappearing around the corner.
“Do you know how to fill—”
“Yes,” Riven whispers.
“Hurry.”
“Yep.” He pours gas in the tank, a muscle in his cheek working as the mocking glug-glug of the fuel punctuates the slow progress. Once he’s done, I pop the trunk, and he tosses the gas can in the back before climbing in on the passenger side. “They’ll come back,” he says.
“We’ll be long gone.” I crank the engine, wincing as a noxious cloud of smoke surrounds the car. Forcing myself not to stomp on the gas, I ease out of the parking lot.
We’re five miles down the road before I let myself relax.
“Human cops,” I groan. “At least they’ll forget about us soon.”
“The thin one won’t,” Riven mutters. “He’s a shifter.”
I whip my head around so fast my neck cracks. “What? How could you tell?”
He taps his nose. “Hard to be sure, but something canine.”
“Do you think he clocked us?”
Riven cocks his head. “I’m not sure. He was suspicious of me, but he’s probably never smelled a veydra before. He’ll be trying to figure it out.”
I wince. Mysterious is the last thing we need to be. “Lose the Ciprian face,” I say. “It’s freaking me out.”
Riven returns his amber mask, and I shove the map into his lap. “Try to find somewhere to stop and switch cars. In case he decides to follow us.”
After studying the map for five minutes, Riven clears his throat. “There’s nothing nearby.”
My heart flips as he confirms my suspicions.
I memorized the map before we left, but I hoped I missed something.
We’re driving through a string of mountain towns, each one farther away than the one before it.
Ten hours of driving will get us to the rumored portal location, but even with Riven’s refill, our gas won’t last that long.
“I think . . .” Riven trails off.
“What?”
“I think we can make it here, though.”
I glance at the spot he’s pointing at. It’s not far, but it is out of the way. “Not a tourist trap?”
He shakes his head. “Doubtful, it’s too far from the main highway.”
I nod. I’d rather be sure, but we don’t have a better option. Rolling my window down, I let the cool air slap me in the face to distract from the itch between my shoulder blades.
Maybe if I think positively, things will look up.
That works for about ninety minutes before the car starts smoking like a chimney.
I should have known better. Luck’s never been on my side.