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I frown.
“Yes, I know what happened last month. I called a power I couldn’t even begin to understand from another realm into this one. But beyond that, what the hell do I know?” She leans in. “You know, one of the last things Sabra’s mother foresaw before she died was a fissure in this plane that would allow other spirits in. Professor Rossi found prophecies of a similar fissure—of a time when the gods would return.
“Think, Layden.” She leans in, and I’m briefly blasted by the scent of her shampoo and can’t think about anything except how good she smells. “I know we haven’t really ever talked about it. But you’ve been around far longer than me. Was there a time when gods roamed the earth and then went away? Because while spirits from other realms may have always been breaching this plane, I think they used to do it a lot more often.”
She waves her hands as she talks. “But then something happened, and they stopped. Maybe there was even a mass exodus or expulsion.”
I blink, thinking about a story my father always told me. “I’ve felt old my whole life, but you know, I’m still relatively young, too, if you consider the earth’s age. Only two or three thousand years old. My father, though…”
I lean back against the side of the stone building, trying to focus on her words instead of her scent. “Many angels from the Great Hall used to walk this plane until one day they left. But my father didn’t want to, so he stole the Spark of Life and came back to forge his sons and dominate this world.” I look back at Phoenix as it clicks. “Because he was the only one left.”
Her eyes light up, realizing the same thing I am. “Because maybe he saw that all his competitors had left, too, and not just the angels.”
“But what could have happened to send them all running back to the realms they came from?”
“And how did your father escape the great exile and come back anyway?”
We both stare at each other, stumped.
“Don’t you see? That’s why I’m studying under Professor Rossi. He might not have all the answers, but he’s spent his life studying human texts from that age. He knows what people who lived back then said and thought about what they saw when it was all happening. If the prophecy is right, and more spirits are going to be coming back into the world, don’t we need to be prepared?”
“Are you suggesting we need to find a way to send every spirit in this realm back to where they came from? Like some global version of the circle the mage and I cooked up to send my father back to the Great Hall?” Because I can’t even fathom… My head shakes in disbelief at the thought. “It took years for us to figure that out, and that was just working out the magical coordinates to a single realm that I’d already visited once before.”
“I don’t know! But we have to try and find out, don’t we?”
I try to focus on the we in her statement and the way she’s looking at me so emphatically. I nod and fight the impulse to reach out to take her hands. She’s asking for a partner in research; maybe that’s all I’ll ever be to her, but I’ll take whatever I can get if it means being by her side.
She smiles at me, and it makes me feel radiant inside, like the sun after a rainstorm.
But right before I can say anything else or do something stupid like ask if she’d ever want to try this marriage out for real, her phone buzzes loudly in her pocket.
She frowns and pulls it out. Whatever she sees makes her face go absolutely grim.
“What?” I ask, concerned.
“It’s Vlad. He’s sending us to go investigate.” When her eyes come up to me, they’ve lost all the joy she had when she was texting her professor. “There’s been a murder.”
Chapter Eight
PHEONIX
10 Years Ago
I dozed off last night in the plump, worn chair that looked like it was covered more in blankets than any of the original upholstery, which had been worn down to bare seams long ago. Not the most comfortable place to sleep, but I wasn’t about to climb in beside my patient, and the dirt floor looked a little too hard-packed for my liking.
Something startles me awake and I leap to my feet, all senses on alert. Immediately, I look toward the bed, but Layden’s not there.
Then I take in the noise that woke me. Outside the window, there’s a rhythmic thwack, thwack, thwacking noise.
Frowning, I get low and move in a crouch for the window and then stand full to my feet when I see Layden, shirtless in the morning fog that settles over the dewy ground, chopping wood.
And he’s, uh… different, to say the least.
It’s as if some magical transformation has taken over him.
He’s not skin and bones anymore.
Instead, as he lifts the ax high overhead, large muscles bulge as he swings down with incredible force, splitting a huge log he’s got set up on an even bigger stump. My eyes travel down his body. His pecs are round and firm, leading to a six-pack of abs. The muscles in his shoulders ripple in the dancing morning light, but I also catch a glimpse of the stumps still sticking out his back—unchanged amidst the rest of his transformation. His hot skin steams as he stands up after splitting another log into pieces.
