It’s hard to imagine what my life would be like had I not been a procreation of Magnus. I ask myself often, would I have been happier? Would I have had a better childhood? A simpler one? One that wasn’t so bloody traumatic?
I often wonder why the universe punishes us. Does it feel there are some who deserve it more than others? Is it trying to create a balance on an unknown spectrum, or is it all determined by bloodlines? Perhaps if you’re bred into a certain family, there’s a possibility your life will be a living hell—a generational curse of sorts.
I don’t know the answers to these questions, but they’re all I can think right now as I lie in a haze. It feels as if I’m awake. My body hums with warmth and energy, and I feel the breaths expelling from my body. I’m no longer in that frozen wasteland Decius had me trapped in. I’m somewhere else.
“Caz.” That voice. It’s angelic—beautiful, really. “Caz, wake up. Please.”
Willow.
Warm hands press to my chest, and I’m shaken out of a foggy state. My eyes pop open and I draw in a sharp breath, sitting upright. Something heavy slides to my lap. Realizing it’s a gun, I pick it up with instinct and point it at whatever is in front of me.
“Caz!” Willow cries. My eyes move from the rows and rows of shelves, books, and boxes, to Willow’s as ragged breaths fall through my lips. Her brown eyes light up when I lock on them, and she presses a hand to the top of the gun, lowering it with a smile. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “You’re safe. It’s just me.”
I stare at her, studying every detail of her face. I never thought I’d see her again, yet here she is in the flesh. Or so I think. This could be another trick of Decius’—another mind game.
I drop the gun, holding her face in my hands. Her brown skin is satiny-smooth beneath my palms, her lips soft and plump as I run the pad of my thumb over them, familiarizing myself with every feature.
“Willow,” I breathe, and she nods with tears lining her eyes.
“It’s me. Oh my God, I can’t believe that worked,” she breathes.
I reel her in, holding her close. Her body is warm against mine, and I bury my face into the crook of her neck, wanting to smell her, feel her—wanting all of her.
“I thought I lost you.” Her voice has an ache to it, one that cuts right through me like a knife through the chest. I still feel her pain, her heartache.
I pull back, holding on to her shoulders. “How did I get out of Decius’ trap?”
“Beatrix performed a chant that could send us to my world. I begged her to do it. We’re on Earth now.”
“Earth?” I can’t help my frown as I study the room we’re in again. Dust floats about, thick layers of it on the broken-down table surfaces, and there are many boxes around—too many to count. Books varying in thickness are lined neatly against a brick wall, stacked to the ceiling.
“We’re on Earth right now?”
She nods. “I think so. I’m pretty sure this is the basement of Faye’s bookstore.”
“Your friend Faye?”
“Yes.”
“Why are we here?”
“Well, Beatrix told me to think of someplace safe. It was the first place I could think of. I thought of my apartment also, but…” She lets the sentence fall short, then shakes out of it to stand. It’s now when I realize she’s only in panties and a bra.
“Willow, where are your clothes?” I demand, standing with her.
“I had to take them off because of the portal stuff.” She lifts her arms, studying them carefully. “The black veins are gone. I think that means we’ve been given more time.”
“More time for what?”
“To deal with Decius and to figure out how to get to Selah without him in the way.”
“Wait a minute. Can’t he just come here, to Earth? If I can, surely, he’ll find a way too.”
“Beatrix said he can, but he won’t be as powerful. Instead, he’ll use vessels—bad people or even animals. Whatever fits his motive.”
I swallow hard, and the saliva is dry going down. I’m thirsty, and it smells different here—not like Vakeeli. It smells of wet paper and a citrusy scent I can’t figure out.
Something thumps above us, and I lift my gaze to the ceiling. “What the hell was that?”
We listen as the thumping grows louder, carrying across the ceiling. Then the sound of a door creaking on its hinges fills the air, and I pick up the gun again, pointing it at the staircase.
I push Willow behind me, aiming my gun at the stairs as they moan beneath someone’s weight. I spot one shoe—black and white with colorful strings—and then another. A woman appears halfway down the stairs, a large wooden club in her hand, and her eyes wide.
“Drop it!” I shout, and her first instinct is to scream. Her second is to toss the club and throw her hands in the air.
“Oh my God! You have a gun! Ay, Dios!” the woman screams. “Please don’t kill me! Please—I just work here! Take whatever you want!”
“Wait—stop!” Willow steps around me, forcing my arm and the gun down.
“You know this woman?” I ask.
“Of course I do!”
“She had a weapon! Is she a threat?”
“No,” Willow breathes, moving closer to the woman. “God, no. She’s my best friend. This is Faye.”
Faye remains frozen on the stairs, looking from me to Willow, who is walking over to meet her.
“W-willow? What the hell is going on?” Faye exclaims. “Are you having sex with strangers down here?”
Willow only laughs before drawing Faye in for a hug. “It’s him,” Willow whispers. “That’s Caz.”
Faye looks me up and down over Willow’s shoulder with rounded eyes. I stare back, and she finally snaps out of it to grip Willow’s shoulders and push her back a notch.
“Okay, two questions: one, how is he even here right now? And two, why are you both half naked?”
Willow glances back at me. “It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in, I promise. But before I do that, I have to ask. Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”
