Chapter 17
“You’re here!”
Here is a squat, pearl white building wedged between an office supply store and a high-end vintage store. On State Street.
Santa Barbara Travel is spelled out in Arial font. The window display has posters of island getaways and mountain destinations, lush city landscapes and whales breaching crystal blue waves. I’ve passed this agency a hundred times before but have never stepped inside.
Beige walls are layered in maps. The carpet is a dull green. Fake palm trees stand tall in the corners. It’s all very unremarkable. Except for the boy emerging from one of the cubicles in a floral-print silk shirt and pinstripe slacks.
Henri smiles roguishly. “It took you long enough.”
I gape. “You…work here?”
Two older women peek from behind their cubicles, blatantly eavesdropping.
“Work is such a misleading word,” Henri says. “I prefer influence. Inspire. I liven this place up. Right, Carol and Betty?”
Both women give unconvincing hums before disappearing again.
Henri leans in with a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes. “It’s a glamour. They can’t see my true form. To them, I look like an overly tanned white man with blond hair and the brightest teeth they’ve ever seen.” He flashes a winning grin. “I have places like this all over the mortal realm.”
“You do?”
“Hello! Deathless of travelers. Did you not read my Wikipedia page?”
My eyes narrow. “You told me not to!”
“Exactly!” He fixes his shirt cuffs. “So, what’s wrong?”
“I never said anything was wrong.”
“No, but this”—he flaps a hand at my tense posture—“did.”
I sigh, then tell him what happened. From leaving the masquerade ball to discovering the truth about Lethe to my fallout with Max. I omit the parts about kissing Cary. And all the details that followed. But, for whatever reason, I confess to feeling like I don’t belong anywhere.
“I just…” I trail off.
I need someone to talk to. Who isn’t Max. Or Cary.
For his part, Henri rubs his chin, nodding. “Have you considered—” He halts. “Never mind.”
“What is it?”
He smiles sympathetically. “You never felt like that while in Aides.”
I hesitate, scratching the back of my neck.
“Think about it, August—there’s a reason you kept coming back. Maybe something’s waiting for you? Something you can’t find in this realm.”
My fingers tug on the straps of my bag. The ruined blue-and-yellow bracelet sits at the bottom. There was a reason I kept going back. One that I didn’t mean to forget. Another aftereffect of Lethe.
I wanted to find London. Tell him everything I couldn’t two years ago. Everything I’ve felt since.
A cold emptiness shifts through my sternum. “There is a reason.” I glance at the tattoo on my forearm. “But I don’t know how to get back to Aides without Cary.”
“Well, there might be a way.”
My head snaps up.
Henri frowns. “It’s not exactly easy. And it comes with a heavy price.”
Images flood my mind: Sunlit skin. Aloe green eyes. Wavy brown hair. Warm hands on my face. That weird, contagious smile on his lips.
Quickly, I say, “I don’t care. Get me away from here.”
Henri claps his hands. “Fantastic!” He hooks his arm with mine. “But first, we need something very important. Or the ritual won’t work.”
“What?”
“A peppermint latte.”
I jerk to a stop. “Is there a magical coffee shop nearby run by another Deathless?”
His laugh is like the start of thunder. “No! Don’t be silly. There is a lovely café just down the promenade.”
“You’re not serious,” I say, glaring.
“Shockingly, we don’t have bespoke gourmet coffee roasters in Aides.”
At the door, he waves to Carol and Betty, who don’t seem to care that he’s leaving in the middle of the day without a reason.
“Voilà!”
Henri spreads his arms wide like he’s unveiling a buried treasure.
We’re in front of the Great Arch at the Santa Barbara County Courthouse. It’s a short walk from State Street Promenade. We came immediately after I bought Henri his precious latte.
I look around, lost. “This can’t be it.”
There’s no way these grounds are a hidden doorway to Aides. It’s just a historical courthouse. A tourist pit stop. When I came here with Cary, he didn’t mention anything. But of course he didn’t.
Secrets are the only thing the ferrier loves.
Henri smirks. “Oh, you poor mortals. You know nothing.”
Irritated, I turn in a slow circle. “So, what do we do? Walk through the arch? Is there an invisible door somewhere? A camouflaged stairwell?”
I hope this isn’t one of those rituals that requires a blood sacrifice.
“That silly thing?” A laugh erupts from him as he gestures to the arch. “It’s a decoration. We need that.” He points to the Spirit of the Ocean.
“The fountain?”
“Enchanted fountain.” He extends his hand, as if he’s politely offering to help me climb in.
My eyes bulge. “No. Absolutely not.”
He sighs. “I’ve already told you. I can’t take you to Aides.” His other hand rubs at his charm. The serpent and wings. “Unless you’re dead.”
When I shiver, Henri adds, “Trust me, August.”
That’s my problem. I’ve put way too much trust in Deathless. But I don’t have any other choice.
Henri wiggles his fingers at me. There are no guided tours on Sundays. Still, weekend guards patrol the grounds. For trespassers or unhoused people who want somewhere warm and quiet to sleep.
Another beat passes before I whisper, “Okay. Fine.”
With his assistance, I climb over the wide stone ledge. The water’s cool, but not uncomfortable. It stops just above my knees.
I hug myself, feeling silly when nothing happens. “Now what?”
“You must submerge yourself in it.”
Right. That’s how it works with Cary.
I frown at the rippling blue water. “And then?”
“Think of your favorite place.”
“Should I close my eyes and chant there’s no place like home too?” I ask dryly.
Henri beams. “Ha! You’re funny. I see why he likes you.”
A blush flares against my cheeks. I almost correct him. Because Cary hates me. And that feeling is very mutual at this point. But that’s a discussion I don’t want or plan to have with Henri.
I ease down. The water soaks my waist, then my chest. I lean back. Within seconds, my spine and shoulders are wet. The breeze flutters over the water’s surface as I stare up at Henri.
“Your favorite place,” he says again, reaching to press a hand on my chest. “Close your eyes.”
I do.
He pushes down. I sink, fighting every instinct to kick out. Gasp for another breath.
Underwater, I let my mind drift to the clock tower. Sitting on the stone ledge beneath the teal-accented window. My fingers wiggle as I imagine a pen between them, scribbling lyrics. A song about London. Something about the sun against his evergreen eyes.
The water moves around me, but nothing else happens. I’m still here. Lungs tightening as Henri holds me under.
Fear begins to claw at my chest. Sharp and wild as mountain lions. It’s been too long. It never takes this long with Cary.
My eyes shoot open. Through the bleary blue, I see Henri. His mouth opens and closes in a chant I can’t hear. His hand remains firm against my sternum. He’s not going to let me go.
I try closing my eyes again. My favorite place. I just need to think of it.
Think, think, think.
Shoreline Steps. The torii gate leading down a narrow staircase. Listening to the Pacific serenade the shore from a wooden rail. Somewhere I can be alone. Far from the weight of everyone else’s grief.
Another few seconds go by. Nothing.
I’m still here.
My fight-or-flight initiates. Feet kicking, I shake and twist. I need to get out of the water. Henri presses harder. I almost scream, but then I’ll definitely drown.
Is this what he meant? That he can’t take me to Aides unless I’m dead? Does he need to kill me? Is this the only way to London?
I stare up at Henri, pleading. His lips slow enough for me to read what he’s saying: Your favorite place, August.
Through the panic, clarity sinks in. Behind my closed eyes, an image unfolds like a flower in bloom. It’s not the clock tower. Or Shoreline Park. And despite what I said to Cary, this isn’t just one of my favorite places.
It’s the only one.
My mom’s greenhouse.
I see lush leaves, green stems. A burst of vibrant colors: cotton-candy pinks, candied crimsons, bright tangerines. Golden rays stream through a domed glass ceiling.
Rich floral scents in my nose. Dirt underneath my fingernails. Seeds growing into something untamed and beautiful.
My whole life, that’s where I’ve felt safest.
The pull is instant. Cool water takes me in its arms, cradling me. Relieves the pressure on my lungs. Whisper its song. The one it always writes just for me.
My body finally relaxes as I sink.
Sink.
Sink.
My eyes open. The blue water is gone. In its place is a high ceiling. Ivory with gold accents. Floating globes of light wink like starlight.
Aides.
“You’re alive?”
The surprise in Henri’s voice isn’t very comforting. He stands over me, eyebrows lifted. That playful grin of his is half its normal size.
Groaning, I choke out, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well…I wasn’t sure that would work.”
“You what?!”
I sit up, even as my muscles scream to stay down. There’s a plush carpet underneath my palms. The spacious room glows warmly from the matching floor-to-ceiling windows on either side. At the center, an oil black throne embellished with gold leaves sits empty.
“He has never helped someone like you cross over.”
A sharp breath cracks my lips. Milos steps into my eyeline. I scan his strong square jaw, those elegant cheekbones. The cypress crown is bright against his dark hair. His mouth curves into an enigmatic grin.
“Hello, beautiful August.”
Henri reaches a hand down. I take it and stumble to my feet.
“Milos,” I whisper, unsure what else to say.
“It has been too long since you visited me.” He tilts his head, his honey eyes glinting. “But not since you have been here.”
My spine goes rigid. He knows I came back to Aides. With Cary.
Before I can ask how, he says, “This is my realm. Secrets cannot hide from me here.” There’s no anger in his tone. Only annoyance. A child whose favorite toy was stolen by their older sibling.
Embarrassment heats my face. “I’m sorry.”