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Max couldn’t sleep.
The house was quiet, everyone except Loren and the other Devils gone. He tossed and turned in his bed, blankets rustling., sheets tangling around his limbs. He found himself reaching across the mattress every time he drifted off, the absence of the witch who should’ve been sleeping here tonight jolting him back into this horrid reality.
After about an hour, he couldn’t resist any longer.
He sat up in the dark and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He knew he shouldn’t do it, especially not after Dallas had left Hell’s Gate, the both of them agreeing to spend at least one night apart before attempting to talk through their troubles again. But he did it anyway.
The Sight flooded his vision, black swallowing up his whites and irises, leaving him in a room flowing with colorful protective spells.
He remotely tracked Dallas, picturing her face in his mind. There was no need for a photograph; she was seared into his memory. He could never forget her.
She was down on the coast. Alone, by the looks of it. In the middle of the damn night.
Max pushed to his feet and got dressed.
—
The sopping dock groaned under Max’s boots as he walked to the end of the long stretch, salty wind tearing through his hair and jacket.
It was dark and quiet, the beach of Tranquil Shore tucked away from Angelthene’s noise and light pollution. A full moon hung above the ocean, tinting the foamy waves with silver. No more fog, but the evening was still cold. At least now they had an explanation for that.
What a strange night this had turned out to be. A strange few days, actually. Weeks. Months if you counted everything that happened before Kalendae. Max supposed this was their new normal.
A girl with red hair and white wings sat at the very end of the dock, knees tucked up to her chin, clumps of feathers fluttering on the wood around her.
Feathers she had clearly ripped out. There was no blood on the dock, but there didn’t need to be for Max to know it had caused her pain to tear them out. The wings were a part of her, hooked up to her nerve endings now that she was fully healed from her surgery.
“Nice night to get eaten by a demon,” Max joked. His deep voice was nearly swallowed up by the lapping of waves against the dock.
Dallas didn’t turn. “Good thing my Darkslayer bodyguard is here.”
Max stopped several feet behind her. “How’d you know it was me?”
“I’ve heard your feet thumping through Hell’s Gate for several months now. I can recognize your walk in my sleep.”
“Sounds like I need to work on moving quieter.”
Dallas wiped at her eyes. “I have a lot more to work on than you,” she mumbled thickly. “Besides, I like hearing your footsteps. I find them comforting.”
He walked closer, wood flexing underfoot. “Is that why you’re not biting my head off for coming to find you?”
Dallas stared out at the dark horizon. “I was hoping you would come. I never wanted to leave Hell’s Gate, I just…didn’t know how to fix everything I’ve wrecked.” She wiped at her eyes again with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “I still don’t know.”
Max sat down on the dock beside her. He swung his feet over the edge, the soles of his boots nearly grazing the choppy water.
He studied Dallas. She still wouldn’t look at him, the silver rings around her pupils gleaming like the stars dusting the sky.
“I’m here now,” he urged quietly. “So let’s fix it.”
“How?” she whispered.
“Well, for starters we can talk.” He nudged her in the shoulder with his own. “Looking each other in the eyes always helps too.”
Slowly, she turned her head until she was facing him.
“There,” he praised, a small smile pulling at his mouth. “That’s not so bad, is it?”
