Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Nothing burns hotter than best-laid plans.
CELINE
I pull my shirt over my mouth to avoid inhaling the smoke.
Onion didn’t simply break down—she lit up like a bonfire. Flames are curling out of the engine block, licking at the faded paint and swallowing the balding rubber tires in greedy gulps.
“It’s almost impressive,” I murmur.
I managed to pull over before the car caught fire, and we got our bags out just in time.
Now we’re standing here watching her burn.
“Nothing about that car was impressive, darling.”
“Someone will see the smoke.” I glance up. The thick, black cloud is spreading fast, blotting out the blue sky like a fresh bruise. “We better get moving.”
“The town is twelve miles away.”
I strap my backpack to my chest and face him. “I won’t be able to carry you the whole way, but I can get us away from here.”
A thin band of static ripples across the bridge of Riven’s nose. “There’s no need for that.”
“Are you going to waste time arguing with me?” I point at the looming mountain. “People live up there. Someone will see the smoke and call 911. Do you want to pass them on the road in ten minutes?”
He shakes his head.
“Okay, great. I’m glad we agree.” I squint at the road ahead, waving as much smoke away as I can. There’s no way my hair won’t smell like onions after this. “I’ll take off, swing back, and scoop you up after I’ve got some momentum.”
“Scoop me up . . .”
“Yes.” I grin at him. “Like a baby.”
“Wonderful,” he mutters.
Riven is flustered, and that’s more fun to dwell on than the obstacles. “It’s not my fault your copycat wings aren’t strong enough to carry you,” I tease.
He sighs, then winces, and I wonder if he’s also thinking about our combination brawl-fall from the top of Crag’s monstrous neck.
Riven took the brunt of the impact, and the image of him limping out of my cell afterward is burned into my brain.
“I’m a chameleon,” he says. “The wings aren’t meant to function; they’re meant to help me blend in. ”
“Which makes them useless.” I shrug. Riven’s mouth drops open, but I break into a sprint before he can respond, my wings thrilled to be released. “Be right back.”
Catching the updraft, I leap, flapping my wings until I’m twenty feet off the ground.
Once I’ve gotten a decent read of the conditions, I circle back, lock in on Riven like a missile, and dive.
He jumps. We collide hard. I wheeze, scrambling to get a good grip on him before we both end up with road rash.
“Wrap your legs around my waist,” I grit the words through clenched teeth. “Arms over my shoulders. Head—fuck—move your head out of the way, Riven, I can’t see shit!”
He drops his chin to my shoulder, hooks his ankles over my ass, and rests his arms loosely behind my neck. My wings flap as I focus on reaching a good coasting altitude. There’s no way I’ll be able to carry us both twelve miles—but I can get us away from the flaming onion.
“The turnoff for the dirt road is about a mile ahead,” Riven says. “If we follow it, we’ll be hidden by the woods.”
“Got it.” I can do this. One mile. It’s only one mile.
The last time I flew flashes through my mind without warning.
Ice crusting my wings. The moth’s cruel laughter. Impenetrable darkness falling over the arena. The flying lizard screaming as he fell to his death.
“Stay calm, darling,” Riven murmurs. “You’re safe.” His thumb grazes the back of my neck. The gentle touch is enough to pull me out of the memory and allow me to shove it in a box where it belongs.
Sirens wail in the distance.
I flap my wings harder, aiming for the trees ahead.
If I squint, I can see the turnoff for the dirt road.
Almost there. The sirens get louder, bouncing off the granite mountains until they’re all I hear.
With one final burst of speed, I swoop into the forest and land, running until I can slow us down, barely resisting the urge to cover my ears.
I glance over my shoulder as the fire truck zips by, lights flashing.
Riven drops his feet to the ground, layers of leaves and moss muffling his landing. “Good timing.” He doesn’t mention my distraction, and I’m thankful for that.
We walk in silence.
The canopy of trees blocks most of the sunlight, casting the forest in shadows.
I shudder and kick myself for being stupid. It’s nothing like the monster realm. I repeat the thought until I believe it, pinching my thighs every time I lose focus.
Riven is quiet. It doesn’t feel as if he’s lost in his own thoughts, though; it’s more like he’s trying to tap into mine. He’s not staring at me, but his attention is noticeable.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, not bothering to mask my irritation.
He doesn’t respond, peering instead through the trees like he expects a monster to step out and gobble him up. I keep walking. We’re near the dirt road, staying close enough to it to orient ourselves, but not close enough to be seen.
I take the opportunity to do some mental math.
We’re moving at a brisk pace, but the town is at least ten miles away. Even if we find a vehicle quickly, we won’t make it to the portal location until the middle of the night. I swallow my frustration. This plan is off the rails. I shouldn’t have brought Riven.
He’s not a nice guy. If I made a list, his bad column is going to be way longer than his good one. Whole pages longer. So why does the idea of never seeing him again make me uncomfortable?
Because I’m a fucking idiot, that’s why. Stockholm syndrome? Sign me up.
“You’re angry at me,” Riven says.
My foot lands on a stick, and it snaps with a satisfying crack.
He chuckles, and I grind my teeth. “Why would I be angry at you, Riven?”
“Hmm, this feels like a trap.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?” I mutter.
His eyes are fixed on me, but I focus on the uneven ground ahead. “Help me out, darling, are you looking for an apology or a fight?”
“Neither,” I snap. “I’m not looking for a damn thing from you.” It’s a lie, but I already knew that. The preparation helps me hide the instinctive flinch when my magic zaps me.
A band of static rolls down Riven’s face. I’m getting to him.
It’s satisfying.
“In that case, perhaps we can talk about what I’m looking for from you,” he says, his voice a low rumble.
My eyes narrow to slits even as my skin pebbles. He’s got a lot of nerve. I stop walking and face him, planting my hands on my hips. “I don’t give a shit what you—”
He cuts me off with a snarl that makes my hair stand on end.
“I look for you nowhere,” he says. “Yet, you’re always there, anyway.
Every time I close my eyes, I see you. Fighting in the arena, barely surviving, because of me, because I put you there.
And it sickens me. You faced every monster I threw at you with no fear or thought for yourself.
You were fighting for them. At the time I didn’t understand it, and now that I do, I cannot stand it. ”
“You’re jealous?” I scoff. “That’s not my problem, Riven.”
“No, it’s mine, and I’m fully, painfully aware of it.
Imagine being the architect of your own downfall.
Can you picture it, darling? Capture the angel, break her spirit, and kill her.
Simple orders for a simple job. It should have been easy, except the roles were reversed.
You’re free now, Celine, but I never will be. ”
His amber face ripples, and he turns away from me until the static stops. “And now,” he whispers. “Now that I know what it is to care for someone as you do for them, I must live with the most horrible of truths: my actions were unforgivable.”
I slam him against a tree. My hand finds his neck, and my wings catch fire. “Boo-hoo,” I hiss. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Everyone lives with the consequences of their actions, Riven. That’s life, no matter what realm you’re in.”
He frowns. “I never wanted—”
“Morals? A conscience? Too fucking bad,” I snap. “Those things are your responsibility, too. I don’t want to be anyone’s ethical North Star.”
Riven’s eyes flash, but he makes no move to remove me from his space. Instead, he rests his head on the rough bark and swallows against my palm. “I don’t know this star,” he says. “But I’m your monster now. Knowing you could never want me is my punishment.”
A bird squawks in the distance. Wind whips through the trees, rustling the leaves, and my hair tickles my neck. I search Riven’s face. Lines bracket his mouth and eyes. Pain he doesn’t bother hiding as he shows me what lies beneath the amber exterior.
He’s hurting. He deserves to hurt.
I should be glad. Why can’t I be glad?
I love justice. But you can’t stomach cruelty.
The flames abandon my wings. They sag, and I fight the urge to cry from every feather. I might not be able to make logical sense of my feelings for Riven, but my wings are never wrong.
“I’ll only say this once,” I tell him, my voice raspy even as my fingers flex around his throat. “No one tells me how to feel or who to care for. I don’t know if I can forgive you either, but that decision is mine alone. Got it?”
He nods.
I drop my hand and keep walking.
“That’s the one,” I say, pointing at the minivan ahead. It’s old but clean, which hopefully means it’s in good working order.
There’s a for-sale sign taped to the windshield—$500 cash—and the house behind it appears vacant, in a temporary-but-not-forever way.
The grooves in the driveway have fresh tire tracks, and the faded red flag on the mailbox is pointing straight up.
A noisy heating unit kicks on, confirming my thoughts: someone lives here, they’re just not home.
Our hike took a long time, and the sun is setting. We don’t have any time to waste.
“It’s arranged so precisely,” Riven mutters. “Predatory, like a trap.”
I huff a laugh. “That’s advertising for you.” I memorize the house number and street sign. There doesn’t appear to be much in the way of job opportunities out here, but the owners parked the van facing a road few people will ever drive down. I appreciate their optimism.
When I get a chance, I’ll mail them some cash.
I sneak over to the van and try the handle. It’s unlocked, and—I shake my head. The keys are sitting in the cupholder attached to a braided rubber keychain with a gilded acorn dangling from the end. Jackpot.
Riven raises his eyebrows.
I shrug. “Some humans are too trusting.”
“Let’s get out of here before we run into one of their less na?ve neighbors.”
I take my time adjusting the mirrors and getting buckled before fitting the key in the ignition. The van cranks on the first try, the engine turning over with a steady, rumbling purr that screams reliability over speed.
It’s no motorcycle, but it’ll do.
I leave the town the way we came in, not wanting to pass more homes and risk someone recognizing the van. The road is filled with potholes, and I drive slowly to avoid destroying the van’s suspension or chipping a tooth.
Once we hit real pavement, I’m able to breathe better. The relaxation makes me realize how tired I am. Without adrenaline or distraction pumping me up, the winding road is endless, and the guardrails protecting us from certain death look flimsier by the second.
Last night’s sleepless night is catching up with me.
The paper map rustles, and I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles ache.
“There’s a bigger town about an hour away,” Riven says.
“Okay. Good.” I yawn and tilt the vent to blow cold air on my face.
“I brought some cash. We can get something to eat and find somewhere to stay there.” I grabbed a few hundred bucks from my apartment before we went to stay at the compound.
With no working door, I was shocked my emergency cash hadn’t already been stolen, but I wasn’t about to tempt fate twice.
“Tell me something,” I blurt.
Riven sighs. “Don’t you think I’ve said enough for one day?”
I wave my hand at him. “Nothing heavy. Tell me something about yourself. What’s your favorite color?”
“Red,” he says without hesitation.
If Ciprian had used a line like that on me, I would assume he was flirting or trying to provoke a reaction, but there isn’t a hint of teasing in Riven’s voice. If I comment on it, I run the risk of sounding as if I think the world revolves around me. Better not to take that chance.
“Mine’s green,” I say.
He hums. “Like the angel’s eyes?”
Right to the point. Gods, he cuts me to the quick without even trying. The steering wheel groans, and I ease my grip. “Not quite. I mean, Malach’s eyes are lovely, but they’re deep green. My favorite shade is lighter, with a hint of blue, like my mom’s eyes.”
My admission hangs between us, a little too raw to be casual.
I wish I hadn’t gone there, but it’s too late to take it back.
“Why do you enjoy fighting?” Riven’s change of topic surprises me. I open my mouth to answer him and realize I’m not sure how to explain that either. I consider it for a full minute before landing on an answer that’s close to accurate.
“Power,” I admit. “If I can’t be beaten into submission, I don’t risk losing . . .”
“Losing what?”
“Myself.”
The word lands between us and rolls around, a lit stick of dynamite hissing and popping.
In the span of two minutes, I’ve revealed things about myself that make me feel more naked than I’ve ever been in the Fang.
Deeper than blood and bone, it’s as if I reached inside myself, carved out a piece of my soul, and presented it to Riven for inspection.
Moments ago, I was hovering on the edge of exhaustion, longing for a soft place to lie down and rest. Now, I’m too raw to do anything but exist.
“The North Star,” Riven says. “Tell me about that.”
What? Why does he care? I run a hand through my hair, working out a tangle before it can turn into a knot, and clear my throat.
“It’s a star. A big one. Bright, I think, which makes it easier to find.” I glance through the windshield at the canopy of stars winking down at us. I can’t tell one from another, but I think they’re watching. “Humans have used it to navigate for thousands of years.”
I shiver, unable to shake the unwelcome vulnerability.
Riven hums, accepting my flimsy explanation as if it makes perfect sense.
“You won’t lose yourself,” he says, changing the subject so quickly I get mental whiplash. “I know few things with absolute certainty, but I know that.”
I drop my head against the seat and sigh. There’s no reason for me to believe him and a million reasons I shouldn’t, but gods help me, I want to.