Chapter 3 Heidi
HEIDI
Several minutes later, I park off the route to one of my favorite hiking areas in the woods surrounding Koasville. Covering my face, I try to calm down.
My inner animal is still restless and fearful, but at least we're no longer on the verge of shifting.
"Please tell me that didn't actually just happen," I finally groan.
"Oh, it happened, and now I'm gonna haunt the hell out of that son of a bitch," Jess seethes.
Not for the first time, I'm grateful that I don't take on ghosts’ emotions. I don't think I could handle any more anger right now.
I sniff, brushing moisture off my cheeks and glass off my lap. "Gods, I hate it when I freeze up like that. I'm so pathetic."
Jessica turns to face me better in the car. Even though my best friend is slightly see-through now, it's sometimes a little spooky how present she is, even compared to other ghosts.
She looks pretty much exactly like she did when she died: hair the same bright blue that she's kept for years since graduating high school, the same golden brown skin, the same ripped black leggings, sneakers, and bloodstained T-shirt of her favorite singer that we went to see together months before the Upheaval.
Logically, I know she's gone.
But in a way, that's hard to believe when she's giving me this look she's given me a hundred times.
"Heidi Elise Murley. You're not pathetic—you were in shock. Understandably, because that guy is fucking nuts and you need to press charges. But in the meantime, what's our rule about the way we talk about ourselves?"
I flick a pebble of glass off my seat, grumbling, "We have to do something nice to apologize anytime we talk crap—"
"Shit!" she amends, holding a finger up in the air to emphasize her point.
"Any time we talk shit about ourselves, we have to do something nice for ourselves to balance the scales.
I vote we go home as soon as that jerk is gone, and then you have to make yourself something delicious instead of eating the takeout that's getting cold in your backseat.
And then you make butterscotch chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. "
"To take to the Amato quintet when I see them tomorrow for the next dig?"
"Bitch, those are for me. And then we binge-watch something trashy until you doze off. Deal?"
I laugh, but it's still shaky. "Deal."
My phone vibrates in my purse. I fish it out and check my messages. A couple are from Everett.
Big Kahuna: The fae team is trying to push up tomorrow's dig to start at 5 AM. Are you okay with Silas showing up to transport you here at the asscrack of dawn?
Big Kahuna: Or I can tell them to fuck off and stick to the plan because you need enough rest to guide the excavations. Not like we'll find the sleepers without you, anyway.
It's true. Getting to the sleepers has been a lot more complicated than anyone thought it would be.
When I first sensed the sleeping emotions of beings somewhere below the citadel, I was strapped to one of the liches' lab tables and in a lot of pain, so I thought I was hallucinating. Mainly because it kind of seemed like their emotions were somehow coordinated, reaching out desperately.
There was a strange edge of longing, too, that I thought was my own helplessness.
But I sensed them again later. It started happening more and more often until Maven and Crypt DeLune rescued me.
Later on, Felix caught wind of what I'd sensed and contacted the fae ministry for permission to excavate in their long-ago motherland. The ministry appointed an excavation team, and they started working with Felix, me, and the Amato quintet to unearth the mysteries.
Things got difficult fast, though. I thought we would be tunneling straight down to get to the sleepers, but it turns out they were buried way down there in an intricate labyrinth.
Whoever is asleep has been down there for a long time, and someone went to a lot of trouble to keep them there. Felix's theory is that the ancient fae were trying to protect the sleeping beings from the Entity when he first began corrupting the Nether thousands of years ago.
I think he may be right, and I can't wait to get those poor souls out of there. Who knows when that may be, because every time I feel like we're getting close, there are more endless tunnels.
There are two other texts from Stephanie, my old boss, waiting on my phone.
Captain Sugar Mama: Just checking in on you, kiddo!
Hope the date's going well. I know you said you're still getting back on your feet after the Upheaval (TOTALLY understand, because same), but if you're still interested in coming back to the bakery, I get people in here every day begging for more of your masterpieces.
No pressure if you're still figuring things out!
Captain Sugar Mama: BTW I also wanted to let you know your gross cheater ex bf popped in earlier to try getting your new number again. I wasn't there this time, but Levi and Anna made sure to let him know it wasn’t happening. If he's harassing you, let me know and my hubby will be all over him.
Stephanie's husband is a police officer, while she owns the most adorable little vintage bakery in Koasville.
Stephanie hired Jessica and me in high school, and we both loved working at the bakery so much that I stayed as the main baker and Jessica worked part-time while helping her parents manage their construction business.
Until the Upheaval, anyway.
"Aww," Jessica gushes, reading over my shoulder. "I haven't seen Steph in forever, but I'm not surprised she's looking out for you. Maybe I should go haunt her family for a bit while you're off excavating tomorrow. I could see if her husband's hot younger brother is still living with them."
"I thought you said he could fly with those ears."
"He can, but did you see the size of his hands? Big ears, big hands, big everything, I bet."
I snort at her before fidgeting with my phone, glancing at the broken window beside me. I have security cameras and a few protective wards on my home, thanks to Everett asking Silas to add them a few months ago. And whenever I'm not frozen in panic, I'm actually faster than most shifters.
I'll be fine staying at my place tonight.
But still. It really sucks that Ryan showed up and made me feel unsafe at my favorite place in the world.
I've spent a few years working on my three-bedroom, two-bathroom forest cottage outside Koasville to turn it into a dream. It was a dirt-cheap fixer-upper when I bought it after graduating—the first thing I ever bought with the money Everett insisted on sending me for years.
I've put a lot of love and elbow grease into it, getting help from Jessica and her family now and then.
She became my roommate a while ago, and together we turned it into a charming, adorable, brightly colored cottagecore haven, complete with an indoor garden, a sunroom library nook, and a comfy upstairs loft that doubles as a projector home theater.
My home is cozy and remote on a spacious plot of forest land, so I can shift without neighbors seeing. For the last eight months, I've spent a lot of time alone there reading, watching movies, chatting with Jessica, and generally avoiding the outside world and all its secondhand emotions.
All this to say, I love my home.
But if Ryan keeps popping up there…
"I might need to talk to Steph's husband about Mr. Douchenozzle," I decide.
“Oh, girl, no. Definitely talk to the Amato quintet about it instead. That jerk will be turned into an ice cube before he can even sleep off the alcohol," Jessica points out.
"As much as I love my brother and his quintet, their methods are very not human, and—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know—and you prefer to act like one of us," she finishes with a sigh.
"Fine. Maybe your security cameras caught his craziness on video, and you can get a bajillion restraining orders against him.
" Then she pouts. "In the meantime, I'll go haunt Steph's brother-in-law tomorrow while you're gone.
I'd do anything to tag along, but you know they salt the hell out of that entire area so we ghosts can't bug Carolina Reaper. "
That's Jessica's nickname for Maven because, and I quote, 'she's the hottest.'
"Good plan. I'll see you when I get back," I grin. "But before you leave tomorrow, I promise to make butterscotch chocolate chip oatmeal cookies in your honor."
"I accept these terms and conditions," Jess says, saluting me before drifting out of the car to see if Ryan is still hanging around my house.
I text Everett back.
Me: 5 AM works great. Do you guys like butterscotch?