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Ash.

Christopher Asher Valen.

Mine.

In that moment the room fell away, disappearing around us, leaving him and I. He crossed the room slowly, his gaze never leaving mine, and when he stopped in front of me there was a comforting stillness between us.

“Sara,” he said and I was able to breathe again.

“You came back,” I managed.

“Of course I did, little bird.” The answer was so simple it almost made me laugh. I hugged him before I could stop myself, my arms wrapping around his shoulders as if to confirm he was real and not one of my hazy dreams. He caught me easily, his hands steady at my back.

Daisy then cleared her throat behind me. “Well,” she said, lifting her dirty martini with a knowing smile, “this explains the angry weather. You brought Devil’s Bay with you alllll the way here.”

“You’re drunk,” I deadpanned.

She smiled wildly and twirled her finger around the rim of her glass. “I heard there’s talk of you being Sheriff there. Did you tell Sara yet?”

My gaze narrowed on hers and I swore I almost reached for her drink and sloshed it across her face. I don’t know where the unbidden desire for violence came from, but Daisy had increasingly elicited the feeling.

Ash politely greeted her while I wiped rain from his sleeve. We shared a look that said, let’s get out of here. And we did. Never giving Daisy the ammo she clearly wanted to use against us.

The night before he was scheduled to leave again, we were invited to Irene’s lavish estate for a masquerade ball.

Before Ash’s arrival, she had gifted me a copy of occult texts written by an anonymous author. It detailed certain gifts bestowed upon chosen people. Gifts that often came about at random times and related to seeing the dead. (She believes to this day as I’m writing this that I have a special connection to the dead. Or the dead rather prefer to utilize me for communication.)

If Irene hosted anything, I wanted to be there. Her home was known to house thousands of occult artifacts, many of which worth upwards of millions. And if I could use her collection of texts and artifacts, I may have found myself permanently at home. The amount of research I could complete by the end of my graduate degree could be astounding.

That night, the ballroom was illuminated entirely by candles, neatly spaced mirrors in gilded frames, chalices of wine were plenty and every attendant was dressed in velvet and adorned masks. Reflections trembled across polished floors while a quartet played near the far wall.

Ash found me near the edge of the room. He was wearing a simple black mask that left his eyes visible and for a split second, I experienced us in this moment, in another time.

“Dance with me,” he said.

“You don’t even like dancing.” I laughed softly.

“I always have with you. Remember the summer parties?”

“Summer seems to be our season,” I noted, stepping into his arms. As always, I fit snugly.

It was weird, growing up with someone, getting to see them age. Nearly a decade ago Christian didn’t have facial hair. Over the years, he’d sprouted taller than I could imagine and the scars—there were so many scars.

The music swelled as he guided me onto the floor and slowly everything spun around us. Ash’s hand rested warm against my back as we moved. Candles drifted above us, beholden in gilded chandeliers.

“Is it true…you’re planning to stay in Devil’s Bay?” I asked, quietly.

“Within the year. Perfect timing for you to finish that accelerated program.” He winked.

“Do you think Devil’s Bay will be good to us if we return?” I asked, thinking about all of the death that lay beneath its soil.

“I think what awaits us is…” he trailed off. I felt the squeeze of his hands around my waist, drawing me closer. “There’s something in me that needs to tell you this⁠—”

We stopped beneath a lowered chandelier; flames reflected in his dark eyes.

“I will always find you, Marisa Wren.” He caressed the small of my back and lowered me into a dizzying sweeping dip. His mouth found mine. He claimed with ferocity, with teeth of an animal preying at night. It was sweet, tasting of berries; it was then salty, tasting of metal.

FORTY-FOUR