Page 29 of Crashing Tides

My heart gives a spasm. How did I miss this? “I guess not.”

“It’s just so weird,” Nora says.

In the background, there’s clattering sound. A male voice says, “Are you telling him about the weird-ass symbols?”

“Yes,” Nora shouts. “He says he’s never seen them!”

“How? Is he blind?”

“Maybe,” I say, and Nora stifles a laugh.

“I’ll send you pictures,” she promises.

An hour later, Aleo finally leaves to go take a shower. I dive under my bed and locate the pendant just as my phone buzzes. True to her word, Nora sent a picture of the garage floor.

My heart stutters. In the photo, dozens of plastic bins and cardboard boxes have been moved to the side to make room for what I assume is a car. The cement floor is dark, oil-stained, dusty, but beneath the debris, there’s an outline. At first, I think it’s chalk, then I realize it’s probably spray paint.

I look down at the pendant in my hand.

My blood runs cold.

It’s the exact same symbol.

By morning, I’m thoroughly convinced that the symbol is one of two things: a sigil, like I’d originally suspected, or it’s representative of some kind of deity. Maybe a god. Maybe something worse.

Admittedly, these theories are supported by sleep-deprivation and a dash of tequila, not any actual research.

Aleo and I spend the morning at the gym. It’s a good thing he’s spotting me, because I’m so tired I can barely see straight, and nearly drop two-hundred pounds on my face. Aleo’s quick reaction time is the only reason my brains aren’t splattered on the floor.

“Holy shit, dude!” he cries. People are already looking at us—a crashing barbell is nothing short of a spectacle—but others turn to stare as I sit up, rubbing my forehead, jolted back to life by a rush of adrenaline. “Watch out!”

“Sorry,” I groan, massaging my temple. “Holy fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Everything OK?” calls a guy from a treadmill.

I nod. My face heats. I’m drenched in sweat, suddenly shaky. “I think, uh, I’m just gonna use the StairMaster today,” I tell Aleo, who shakes his head at me.

“Do you think you can manage that? Did you even sleep last night?” He gesticulates wildly. People continue to stare.

“I think so,” I lie. I’m not actually sure if I slept. But I’m pretty sure I can manage the stair machine, and it’s blessedly empty right now, so I start toward it.

“Dude, you’re a mess,” says Aleo, following me. “You should go back to bed.”

“Naps don’t get results,” I say, aiming for cheeky.

He doesn’t fall for it, just stands at the base of the Stairmaster with his arms spread. “I’ll catch you when you fall,” he snaps.

I roll my eyes. Aleo eventually wanders off to use another machine. Ten minutes later, I get my shoelace caught in the machinery and have to hit the emergency stop button. From a treadmill, I catch him mouthing, I told you so.

The rest of the morning passes without incident, but Aleo ribs me all through breakfast while Jane and April shoot me concerned looks. I’m desperate to show Jane the symbol, but it isn’t until lunch that I manage to get her alone.

“Hey,” I mumble, when we’re finished with our plates. “Do you, um, wanna look at something weird?”

She blinks at me, startled. She’s attempted a cat-eye today, but one side is already smudged. It’s pretty rare that Jane wears makeup, and I’m immediately suspicious. Have I forgotten something? Is this a glow up?

Or does she have a crush?

“Weird as in…?” She frowns at me.