Chapter 16 The Real Danger
The Real Danger
Silence stretched between Lucien and me as we headed to the hotel parking lot after checking out and climbed into the Rolls-Royce.
Some part of me wanted to light up the air by mentioning that perhaps it was now my turn to drive, but the mood was far too somber for me to feel even a little humorous.
I couldn’t help but think over all the conversations I’d had with Lucien since he’d shifted into his human form the day before. It felt like a lifetime had passed since he stopped me from touching the shadow mark.
All this time until now, he’d spoken as if we were in this thing together. That it was a given I join him on this adventure. That I was a part of whatever this was.
But now that Chase’s threat to wipe my memories was gone, and that he’d been forced to tell the agents that I was his Eteria, it was as though a switch had been flipped, and suddenly he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.
At least that’s how it felt when he drove out of San Diego like a demon out of hell.
It also didn’t help that watching Lucien driving had become a perverted habit of mine.
Sure, the California landscape was quite monotone, and Lucien was much more of a feast to the eye, but staring at his striking profile set in a dark, contemplative expression as he leaned an arm against the window, which made his shirt ride a little too high and expose a little of the V leading underneath his pants, made me feel both hot and bitter.
Told you he was way out of your league. A traitorous mocking voice slithered into my head. How sure is he even that you’re his Eteria? This sounds like a title that belongs to someone far more deserving.
I didn’t want to believe that him taking me back home had anything to do with him not being attracted to me or something like that.
My heart wished to think that it was all due to very valid reasons—valid for him only, though—and his own sense of righteousness about not putting an innocent human in danger.
But some part of me couldn’t help but take it this way too.
His reasoning might’ve been somewhat sound, but it only sounded like excuses to me.
Matteo had used such excuses, after all.
Sure, they weren’t on a life-danger level, but they were about potential financial ruin.
His wealthy parents, who disapproved of me, had threatened to close down The Hallowing Hour and spread rumors that would prevent me from finding another job if I continued dating him. They said this to my face.
I’d thought that Matteo had broken up with me to protect me from that.
Later, I learned he’d been cheating on me.
So two truths could exist at once. He did protect me from his parents. He just also hurt me irrevocably when I discovered his affair and that his love was nothing but a fucking farce.
Who was to say that Lucien wasn’t doing something similar now?
Perhaps he wanted to get rid of me with or without the danger aimed at me because of him. Maybe, like Matteo, he realized I was attracted to him when he’d totally lost interest.
Maybe, like Matteo, he weaponized the truth as an elaborate excuse.
I had over ten new messages and about twenty missed phone calls.
About half an hour into the drive, when the silence started to become unbearable, yet neither of us seemed willing to break it, I took out my phone from my bag, wanting to play some online game to pass the time.
It hadn’t occurred to me until then that I hadn’t been on my phone since the morning, when I woke up, due to everything that was happening.
Apparently, in the few hours since, people had started looking for me.
Since I wasn’t exactly popular, I hadn’t really expected it.
Aside from the occasional nasty nagging by my parents or requests from my editor, my phone was more often than not as silent as a graveyard.
I checked the call log first. One was from my editor at The Hallowing Hour, Andra, and another one was from Ellie, a very distant friend from high school who insisted on keeping in touch with just about everyone from our former friend group.
The other eighteen calls were from Thayer.
My older brother.
Who hadn’t been speaking to me for a year.
My chest tightened when I saw his name and the number of times he tried to reach me.
It felt like a heavy weight landed on my shoulders when I opened the message app and began reading. I wanted to read Thayer’s first, but Andra’s text caught my eye.
The first was from a couple of hours ago. A few sponsors pulled out. We might not be able to publish this month. Will let you know what’s happening when I have more info.
My heart stopped. The sponsors she was talking about were the only things keeping our magazine afloat. Without them, there would be no magazine.
I swallowed hard, my hand tightening on the phone.
My job was in danger. The job I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into.
The job I had taken on to find out what exactly killed my sisters that awful day eight years ago, through access to crime logs, and my attempt to draw the well-hidden supernatural to me.
Losing this job wouldn’t be just about losing my livelihood. It would mean I had spent the last few years wasting my fucking time.
Especially since Lucien wanted me “safe and sound” and far away from him.
I could feel the answers slipping through my fingers, as though I were trying to hold water. My frustration was growing, and along with it, a deep, never-ending grief that whispered in my mind that perhaps I would always be left hanging as to what really happened eight years ago.
With a trembling finger, I returned to the messages log, and since I only had one text from Ellie, I opened it, hoping it would bring me some levity.
Hey, Drew! I’m moving to LA next month (can you believe it?!) and I would Love hanging out with you and catching up! I’ll let you know once I’m settled and we can meet for coffee or something! So Excited!
The tightness in my gut relaxed slightly. At least one thing never changed, and this was Ellie. She was the brightest, most charming person I’d ever known. Charming enough to keep in touch with me, the outcast of our former friend group, from time to time.
Her moving to my city actually made my chest tighten.
Ellie had been the only one who hadn’t abandoned me after everything that happened to my sisters. She’d been the only one to sit with me during lunchtime in our senior year of high school; she’d often stood up for me when classmates called me crazy and stupid and far worse things.
She’d been the only one who hadn’t entirely dismissed me when I insisted that what I saw happen to my sisters couldn’t possibly be human.
However, when I moved to LA after high school, I wanted to start anew, and I’d cut her off.
It wasn’t her fault she was a reminder that I had become an outcast, but knowing she was still in touch with the other people I had once upon a time thought of as friends, that she refused to change her people-pleasing ways, made it easier for me to let go.
Especially since my sole priority in life was to find out what really happened to my sisters eight years ago.
Because I knew what I saw. There had been a shadow mark and also a sigil, or rather, a Spellscript, at the crime scene.
And while Ellie never told me that I was wrong, she always had that doubtful look in her eyes.
Feeling the sudden gloom falling on me, adding to the weight on my shoulders, I took a deep breath and moved on to the messages from Thayer.
But I hesitated before I opened the first one.
What if my parents told him about our recent call a few days ago, and he decided to send me a rant about upsetting them?
Sure, it wasn’t like him to do that, especially since we weren’t on speaking terms, but Thayer could have a short fuse sometimes, and my parents were experts at knowing which of his buttons to push, manipulative as they were.
Still, while I didn’t want to read the messages, I knew I had to get it over with.
We need to talk was the first one he texted me a few hours ago. Then, soon after, he texted Why aren’t you answering the phone?
He had given up for about an hour before he sent the next message. Are you ignoring me because you’re still mad?
And then, a flurry of texts.
I know I fucked up, Drew, he wrote. The way I went about the whole fight was wrong. I insulted you and looked down on you and I want to apologize for it when I arrive in LA.
I paused, heart freezing over. Arrive in LA? What the hell was going on? He couldn’t possibly be coming here for me. He had a whole-ass life back in our hometown of Seattle. Last I heard, he even had a girlfriend who’d moved in with him.
But I really want to meet you because something happened, I read, my confusion growing, replacing my gloom with a sudden sense of tension.
I received a letter—an actual letter—from an unknown sender.
I really need to talk to you, and it better be in person.
Can you send me your new address so we can meet face to face?
I booked a flight and should arrive later this afternoon. Please call me.
The last text he sent was from an hour ago. Please at least text me so I know you’re alive and well, Drew. You don’t have to call. I just need to know that you’re safe. Please.
Thayer hardly ever pleaded for anything.
I’d never seen him say please so many times.
Something was wrong.
I dialed his number and called, but it went straight to voicemail.
Now multiple things were wrong.
Was he already on a flight to LA? Why?
Why did Thayer think I was in danger?
He couldn’t possibly know about what had been going on the past few days. He had no ties to the American Supernatural Society or anything—I mean, he was the most avid denier of the truth, out of everyone in my life, even my parents.
Maybe he’s like Chase, that awful, traitorous voice murmured in my ear. Maybe all this time, he knew everything and pretended not to. Maybe he’s a supernatural himself. Don’t trust him.