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“No, Celeste.” Regret coasts over him, a shadow dragging his eyelids down. He’s so unguarded, like when I was a kid. “Chicago.”
“What’s in Chicago?”
He shakes his head, dismissing my inquiry, and calls out, “Be ready in a half hour,” as he saunters away.
I’ll add this to the list of bizarre events that have occurred in the past few months. It’s eight in the evening, and I’m being whisked to Chicago without explanation.
Not going home.
I might have thwarted one disaster, but I’m still reeling from being separated from Liam and Ivy. And although I already longed to become family to Wells, Ty, and Gage, it’s staggering how empty I feel being away from them too, like they’ve embedded themselves in the deepest crannies of my soul—the very parts I hide from everyone else. They’ve seen me at my worst—battered and beaten, despondent and devastated, lost and searching. And each of them has provided another layer of acceptance, hope, and belonging in their own unique ways.
I haven’t seen Wells and Ty since the night Liam and I left for Tennessee, which feels like a lifetime ago. I long for Ty’s easygoing comfort and Wells’s guiding strength.
Rex takes my bags as soon as they’re ready, and when I reach the front door, my mother is waiting, dressed in her evening loungewear. I guess she won’t be joining us.
She immediately curls me into a hug. It’s forlorn and dramatic, like the one she issued when I arrived. “Even if you rule the world, you’ll always be my precious girl. You and Ivy take care of each other. Okay?”
The mention of Ivy has dangerous expectations bubbling inside my veins, pumping me with renewed optimism. Maybe my father is taking me to meet Liam at a safe house in Chicago. I don’t ask though. If that’s the case, my mother probably isn’t supposed to know.
Instead, I squeeze her back. “I’m not ruling anything. I’m hopelessly in love with a knight of the underworld, like you.” I titter softly, and she echoes it, but a quaver creeps in as I finish my goodbye. “Even if I was, nothing would change the fact that you’re my hero—the tenacious woman who prepared me for any path I found myself on.”
All these years, I’ve believed she was a bit shallow. I adored her, thought she was fierce and determined, but she always seemed focused on trivial matters. All along, she was desperately pointing me toward a safer avenue and preparing me for the possibility of a more treacherous one with her subtle tokens of advice.
We part with a stoic grin and a healing revitalization to our surfacy relationship before I set off for my mystery trip.
The flight time is only an hour and a half, but factoring in our driving time, it’s nearly midnight when the driver rolls up in front of a church.
“What are we doing here?” I ask, peeking out the window to gape at the dingy white cathedral.
I doubt this is any type of safe house.
It’s ancient with a haunted beauty about it. Like the saints are murmuring hushed chidings because we dared to interrupt. My mother would say the rosary at the mere sight.
A raging migraine hammers out a warning as my heart pounds along in protest, battering against my sternum with a beseeching request to retreat. I don’t even realize that neither Rex nor my father answered me, until they’re tugging me out of the back seat and onto the slick sidewalk.
The storm blew through the entire Midwest, so everything is a foot deep in crunchy snow, apart from the scraped walkway. The air is filled with an unpleasant aroma. An unlikely cocktail of chocolate and tuna and sulfur pervades the slapping wind, clogging my throat with a burning urge to cough. But the eeriest detail at play is how the world seems to be colored in a sepia filter, as though we were frozen in time, softly tinged in a reddish yellow. Preserved. This snippet will forever be touched with the shading of aged history—importance. The amber streetlights prance around me in consensus.
And my bones fucking ache.
“You’re not going to answer me?” I snap at them as they each brace one of my elbows, guiding me up the stairs. “This is some creepy, fucked-up expedition you’re staying tight-lipped about. I cannot be the only one who is reaping a horror-house vibe from this ancient cathedral.”
I might be freaking out. A tad.
Ready to run, screaming, down the icy streets in my three-inch heels to avoid being possessed by one of these pissed-off spirits.
Yeah. That’s a new thought for me.
When we reach the top, my father pulls me closer. “This is as far as I go, Cee.”
“What?” I wheeze, breathless from the invasive chill assailing my lungs. “What the hell is going on?” I glance at Rex, imploring him to connect the dots, halt the dizzying streetlight waltz, prevent the phantom whispering saints from seizing me.
I might not have Ivy’s refined gut instincts, but I recognize when something is off. Upended. And this is it.
“No matter how dark it gets …”
“This is it for me too, Celeste,” Rex chokes out.
“I’m sorry,” I hiss, chucking any and all of my well-bred manners. They are not abandoning me here. “What. The. Fuck is going on?”
