“What is this?” I snapped. “Astoria Devlin Tempest doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Precaution, that’s all,” he replied with a shrug, his eyes not leaving the TV. “If things go sideways, you might need it.”
Alongside the ID was an additional passport, birth certificate, and everything else I’d need to reclaim the identity I’d spent centuries trying to erase.
“If it all looks fine, you can go,” he added, gesturing lazily toward the now-open door and the flickering, unwelcoming hallway beyond.
My temper stirred—less from anger than from the absurdity of it all. “You could have had someone deliver this to my residence. Or arranged the usual exchange. Instead, you summon me to this… place.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” he replied flippantly, grabbing a laptop from the floor. “Doesn’t matter how.”
I inhaled through my nose. “Whatisthis place?”
“Nowhere,” he said curtly.
I stared at him. “I’ve been here scarcely five minutes, and now you’re dismissing me?”
“Yeah, please.” He made a shooing gesture, not even looking at me. “I have a call with the Pentagon in five.”
“…The Pentagon?” I asked, arching a brow.
“I don’t remember stuttering. Please, Astoria—the door.”
I couldn’t decide if Nemo was inarguably rude or simply strange. Perhaps both. He didn’t spare me another glance as I gathered my things and stepped out, the door yawning closed behind me echoing a careless farewell.
I muttered beneath my breath, the backpack heavier than it had any right to be, biting into my shoulder as I made my way down the hallway. When the elevator arrived, something was… off.
Gone was the plush red carpet from earlier, replaced by cold, sterile tile. The walls, once adorned in warm tones and ornate fixtures, were now a uniform, lifeless white.
I stepped inside, turning in a slow circle. Nemo’s door—shut. The hallway behind me—already unfamiliar. The air shimmered, just for a moment, like heat rising from pavement. My vision bent at the edges, the scene shifting.Magic.
Or whatever name we gave the things that refuse to be explained.
Slamming my thumb against the buttons, I willed the doors to close. As they shut, I backed up against the mirrored wall. My reflection surrounded me, too many versions of the same lie. The woman in the glass was not an accurate reflection of my body, aching from nights without sleep. Nor did she show the bruises blooming across my heart.
She looked the same as always. Unchanging. Unfading.
No wrinkles timestamped the years I’d endured. No smile lines marked the joy I’d once known. These days, people paid good money to erase time from their skin, sculpting theirfeatures into younger versions of themselves. Maybe if I blamed my face on surgery, no one would ask questions.
Was it madness to crave sunspots? To ache for gray in my hair? Maybe. But the woman in the mirror didn’t belong to me. Her face hadn’t known grief. She hadn't buried friends. She hadn't clawed her way out of nightmares.
How could no one else see through her farce?
I pulled the bag closer to my chest, the weight of it grounding me. I itched to open it, to discover what Nemo had managed to unearth. Could this be the thing that broke the nightmare’s hold?
The elevator chimed.
But when the doors opened, it wasn’t to the lobby of the hotel. Instead, I stepped out into the familiar hallway that led to my apartment—though my building didn’thavean elevator.
Still, there was my door. Bright red. A deep scratch down the center where the neighbor’s unruly dog had marked its territory. How Nemo did it, I doubted he’d ever say. And I’d long since stopped trying to untangle the invisible forces that kept the magical world stitched together.
I did what I always did, and let it go.
Unlocking the door, I let the bag slide from my shoulder to the floor, dropping it beside the duffels I had packed.
I shut the door behind me. Locked it.
Then turned and walked toward the street below, already forgetting the hitch in my heartbeat. Already pretending the burn behind my eyes was nothing at all.
