I hurried through Griffin’s Edge, actively trying to avoid looking at anything that reminded me of Henri—which wasn’t easy, because that was literally everything in the bar—and also actively working to ignore guests and workers calling for my attention. I couldn’t talk to them right now. I was this close to a breakdown, one attempted conversation away from having a panic attack in the middle of the bar and mentioning my uncle, which would only cause half the patrons to also have a panic attack.
I mean, this was their safe haven. It had been for decades. With Henri dead, they’d freak out, thinking it wasn’t safe anymore. And maybe it wasn’t, but it was still better than alternative options.
All this to say that I shoved my way through the crowds, staring intently at the hardwood floor and doing my hardest to pretend I was both blind and deaf. I was absolutely not about to deal with persistent guests demanding to know why I was already leaving again when the bar was short-staffed and their sister had been waiting for her raw steak for an hour.
All I could think was, Who cares about stupid steak when Henri is dead? How is the world even still turning?
It felt like an eternity before I made it to the door. I breathed a sigh of relief as I stepped onto the threshold. But then I felt something: something that made me pause, one foot on either side of the doorway.
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the weird feeling flickering in my chest. That’s right, folks. Please give a round of applause for the anxiously-awaited return of Ian’s Weird Feelings. So glad to welcome them back to the stage.
At least they were better than the grief and rage that were currently fighting for dominance in the battleground of my brain—and leaving it bloody and ravaged in the process.
I began to wind my way through the bar, still refusing to engage with any guests, though now because I was homing in on a sense of connection that I’d only felt twice before: when I’d been attacked by the murderer, and when I’d met the Ancient One.
I was like 99.99% sure the Ancient One couldn’t be here, which left only one option. And I’d be damned if I wouldn’t kill her on sight. I mean, okay, I know it would be terrible for business, but it might be worth dealing with that fallout to avenge my uncle.
I can’t describe it exactly, but my Weird Feeling intensified as I made my way toward the back booths. As if I was playing that kid’s game of hot-and-cold all by myself, and my body knew I was getting close. Warm…very warm…you’re burning up!
I knew it was her as soon as I saw her, even though I’d never seen her before in my life. Not without a hood on, at least. She was sitting in the corner booth alone, and she watched me approach calmly, like we were having an ordinary meeting, not like she’d just murdered my uncle in cold blood upstairs. It took everything in me not to immediately lunge across the table and punch any part of her I could reach. My common sense snuck through the rage, whispering to the furious parts of my brain that there was zero chance of that going in my favor.
Which was probably true, but the temptation was still so, so hard to resist.
I wish I could say there was no family resemblance. I really do. Because I didn’t want there to be any similarities between us. But I can’t say that; as I approached, I realized just how much alike we looked. The Ancient One had resembled an older version of me, as if it were my father. She could have been my sister. Same dark blonde hair, though hers was much longer and swept up in a thick, messy braid to the side of her face; same wide brown eyes that Milo had once told me reminded him of a golden retriever’s (don’t ask me when he met a golden retriever to even know that comparison); same light spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks that probably never faded, regardless of how little time she spent in the sun.
Clenching my fists to keep from swinging them at her instead, I lowered myself into the booth across from her. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, because honestly, based on the whirlwind of emotions in my head, I had no idea what would come out once I opened my mouth. A string of curses? Sobs? Your guess is as good as mine.
She studied me for only a moment, a little smile on her face, before she leaned back casually and said, “How nice to finally meet you.”
Blood was trickling down my palms as I dug my nails in deeper. “I’m not exactly in the mood for small talk after you murdered my uncle.”
She made a little tsk noise. “Well, I had to get you away form the Ancient One somehow, didn’t I? I couldn’t have it shaping your opinion of me with lies before I got to tell you my side. Besides, I did warn you to stop trying to find it. If only you’d listened.”
That was too much. I leapt to my feet, slamming my palms on the table. And yes, it hurt like hell since I’d literally been breaking the skin of my palms with my nails for the last two minutes. And yes, I did leave lovely smears of blood on the wood.
Not like it was the first time I’d have to clean up bloodstains in Griffin’s Edge.
“Don’t you dare act like this was my fault,” I hissed at her. “Maybe I should have been here. But he wouldn’t be dead if you hadn’t killed him.”
She leaned back over the table, clasping her hands together and smiling slowly at me. “Well, that’s true for quite a few beings these days.”
“I know,” I hissed, still standing. “And I’m going to end your trail of death.”
Her smile grew. “Are you now?”
“Yes,” I growled, reaching for Sgrios. There was one good thing about us being so similar, and that was that I knew she could be killed. In fact, if my history was any indication, there were actually a hell of a lot of things that could hurt or kill her. Who knew all those near-death experiences would prove to be good research?
She slowly got to her feet. “Well, then I suppose our conversation will have to wait until you’ve calmed down a bit. If you want to kill me…you’ll have to catch me first.”
And then she ran out the back door.
I cursed and raced after her. All these murders, and now she wouldn’t even face me? Was it cowardice or something else? If she was hoping to tell me ‘her side’ of the story or whatever, I had bad news for her. I wasn’t interested. As far as I was concerned, nothing she could say would win me over. She’d burned that bridge several times.
Whatever the reason, she was fast, and my chest burned as I sprinted to catch her. She’d rounded the side of Griffin’s Edge and was headed for the fog out front. Of course she was; it was the only way to travel anywhere else.
But if I lost her into a gap without squeezing through the same one quickly enough myself, she could go anywhere. I wouldn’t be able to follow. And I’d be forced to meet again on her terms, whenever she chose.
Well, I was done playing this screwed-up game by her rules. I had to follow. I couldn’t let her get away.
I just wish it didn’t depend on my cardio skills. Sure, I had gained some ground, but my lungs were on fire. Even in the dark forests, I didn’t sprint this fast—the twisted roots provided built-in hurdles. Now, though, it was just me, racing down the path.
She’d found a gap; I saw the tear widen enough for her to step through. She glanced back at me, smirking, and vanished into the mist.
I cursed and threw myself forward the last few feet, praying it was enough to get me through before the fabric of reality shifted.
And it was—barely. I literally tumbled after her, somersaulting onto a sheet of ice.
She looked back at me in surprise, snow whistling around her head. It was only as I got to my feet, teeth chattering, that I realized how cold it was. “Are we in goddamn Antarctica?” I shouted.
“I don’t know, I didn’t think of anywhere specific, I just went through the first gap that showed up trying to get away from you, you idiot!” she yelled back, taking several steps away from me, her arm reaching out to feel for another tear.
But I wasn’t letting that happen so easily this time. I lunged forward—still aching from the cold and the impact of somersaulting into ice—and grabbed onto her arm.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, just in time for me to look her dead in the eyes and give the grandest, fakest cough I could muster.
For once, my atoms came through for me. We jumped. Aaaand promptly found ourselves in the dark forests, because my atoms weren’t willing to be that helpful.
She ripped her arm away from me. “Of course you bring me here,” she growled, sounding almost disgusted. “Your stupid default, on the inhuman side. You’re so special.”
I took a step back at the venom in her voice. I didn’t even know what that meant. “What are you talking about?”
She threw her hands up in frustration. “You don’t even know! It’s like this: we each have a default place we travel to the most. Where our souls are most connected. Yours is here, because you’re just so special, and you’re more inhuman than human, and you don’t even realize how valuable it is to come here so easily! It took me years of jumping to end up here and finally get some answers.” She looked at me, her face twisted in a mix of disgust and hatred. “It’s not fair that you got this. You got this, you got the bar at the edge of reality. You got everything that made your life better. Why? You’re not better than me. You’re not more special. You’re just lucky. It’s not fair. I deserved more.”
My mind was spinning. If what she said was true—and I had to assume it was, because I did seem to default to the dark forests—what did that mean for her? Where did she default to? Would she even tell me?
Curiosity beat out my rage. “Where’s yours?”
Her eyes flashed angrily. “Oh no, I’m not letting you find my home that easily. I like to meet on my own terms, and that’s how it will stay.”
Something was growling in the bushes. No doubt her angry words had attracted the attention of some unfavorable, hungry beast in the forests. I glanced towards the sound, seeing branches quiver. “Well, I’m sure our friend in the bushes would love to devour us while we stand here at an impasse.”
Her disgust turned into a smirk as a gap emerged behind her. Damn it, had she been searching for one this whole time? How had I not noticed? I was getting rusty. “You’ll be enough to satisfy it, I think,” she said cheerily, stepping backwards through the tear.
Oh no. Not happening, not today. Just as a monster exploded from the bushes—I felt its breath on my skin—I barreled through the gap, feeling reality close behind me.
We were suddenly on top of a mountain in the human dimension. It was very cold, and the air was very thin. I gasped for breath. “You could…stop running…and we could…just fight it out…like normal enemies,” I wheezed out.
“Pass,” she said, disappearing through another gap as snow flurries swept past us in the wind. I cursed and hurriedly followed.
Now we were back in Neverland, at the mouth of a large, dark cave. The surrounding hills and rocks were the usual shades of charcoal and ash, drained of color, though I could see a cluster of violet and emerald skyscrapers in the distance where the nearest city stood.
“Come on, now,” I argued, waving Sgrios. “I don’t want to hear your side of things. I just want to kill you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Very tempting, but I’m still gonna pass,” she said. “Have fun with the spiders.”
Spiders? She began to walk away across the gray grass as an awful clicking noise came from the cave behind me. Slowly, a shiver running down my spine, I turned to see massive spiders emerging from its opening. Some were on the ground; more crawled outwards on the walls and roof of the cave, making a nice 360-degree tunnel of horror.
Every single spider was at least as big as me, if not larger. And all of them had eight enormous glinting eyes zeroed in on me.
I cursed and glanced after the murderer. She was still strolling away, and by the look of concentration on her face, I imagined she was trying to find another gap to escape me before I could get away from the spiders to follow. But I couldn’t just run after her; the spiders would catch me.
I had to fight them off enough to pursue her. Continuing to let out a constant string of curse words—look, I wouldn’t say I’m scared of spiders, okay, but I’m not exactly a fan—I pulled out my lighter.
Not quick enough. Just before I could flick it open, a sticky tendril of web shot out from the undulating wave of spiders and wrapped itself around my ankle, pulling hard enough that I crashed to the gray ground.
I scrabbled for something to grab onto as more tendrils of webs latched onto my lower legs and began to pull with increasingly greater force, dragging me painfully backwards over the rocks. My heart was pounding; I could feel the hairy legs of the first spiders as I finally managed to hang onto a large root. But they were right there. I had seconds.
I flipped myself onto my back, still holding onto the root with one hand and my lighter with the other. Perhaps that was a mistake, because in doing so, I discovered that the spiders were even more right there than I’d realized. And by that I mean, one of them was standing directly over top the lower half of my body, its pincers clicking eagerly, my terrified face reflected in its eyes, looking ready to chomp down on my legs.
Oh, and I could also now see the extent of the webs I’d been feeling. They encased my legs from the knees down entirely, making it impossible to stand. And more spiders were beginning to surround me, all clicking and chattering, probably discussing how excited they were to bond over a nice meal of tasty flesh.
God, I hoped they didn’t like fire. A lot of dark beasts don’t. Cursing yet again, I closed my eyes, held my hand up as close to the spider standing above me as possible, and flicked open the lighter.
The clicking turned to angry squeals and chitters. Heat singed my fingertips and sweat began to drip down my face from the rush of burning air, but I didn’t dare try to move or risk closing the lighter. At least if I burned to death, the spiders would too.
Something hot and wet squelched against my knee; I bit my cheek to keep from gagging. The growing smell, of ash and melting spider skin and acid, was not helping. But at least it seemed to be working. Amidst the screams of burning spiders and the disgusting squelches of the substance on my legs, I was pretty sure I could still make out a frantic scurrying noise as the remaining spiders retreated into their cave.
I held my breath and gritted my teeth against the pain—my skin was blistering from the heat, sweat pouring down my neck—until the flurry of sounds had died. When it was silent around me except for the crackling of embers, I finally flicked the lighter shut and opened my eyes.
Chunks of burnt spider flesh littered the ground around me. Glassy black eyes and fragments of hairy legs smoldered. The spider who’d been directly on top of me, ready to eat, had been unluckiest, considering I’d opened the lighter right by its face. Those wet squelches? Yeah, I had hot, half-melted pieces of giant spider all over my lower body.
Great, another pair of jeans ruined. My first thought—besides the obvious disgust—was, Henri’s going to be so pissed that I destroyed another pair of pants.
And then I remembered that Henri would never care about another pair of ruined jeans again. And a fresh wave of tears welled in my eyes. Partially due to the sadness, and partially due to the acrid smell of burnt flesh.
Groaning, I kicked my legs free of the remaining webs—luckily, the heat had dissipated the majority of them—and got to my feet, gagging as the chunks of flesh rolled to the ground.
Then I leaned to the side and threw up. I really tried not to, I did. But the combination of the flesh stains on my jeans and the smell was just too much for my stomach to handle.
Then, once I’d emptied its contents, I finally looked up, glancing around hurriedly to see where the murderer had gone.
It took me a moment to notice, because she was just stepping through a gap. I saw the shimmering split in reality’s fabric like a mirage in the air, catching a glimpse of her hair and heels as she vanished into the tear.
This time I wasn’t going to make it. There was no way. The spiders had done exactly what she’d wanted them to: keep me distracted long enough for her to escape. No doubt she was headed back to wherever her default was, to hide out until she decided to find me again.
Well, I had to at least try to catch her. I hadn’t followed her across dimensions and set fire to a bunch of carnivorous spiders just to give up now.
Letting off another string of curses under my breath, I took off running through the obstacle course of spider chunks, jumping haphazardly to avoid smoking pieces of flesh. I swear I dodged one leg that was still moving, reaching out to touch me. No thank you.
It was farther than it had looked. Even as I got closer, breathing hard, the tear was shrinking, dissolving back into the thin fabric of reality. Sure, it would be replaced by another. But if this one closed, I’d have no idea where she had traveled to, and I wouldn’t be able to follow.
I skidded to a halt in front of the gap just as it had narrowed to the size of my fist. I couldn’t make it through; the door wouldn’t rewiden if I tried to travel through it now. My heart sank.
But I realized I could still see through the gap.
I leaned in close to squint at the scenes just barely visible through the small tear in reality. It was hard to make it out: like peering through a continually-narrowing peephole in a shrinking door.
I could see a tall, Gothic-style structure that looked like it belonged in a vampire novel. And beyond it was a gate, opening into what looked like a graveyard; I could just barely see the stark marble of headstones lining the grass. Some trigger in my brain insisted that I recognized this place, that I’d seen it before, though the sense of déjà vu didn’t click in the moment.
Instead, I was too busy squinting at the murderer as the gap narrowed still further. She was walking down the path towards the graveyard, and just before the tear closed, she turned back. I saw her eyes widen, saw the anger clear on her face as she met my own gaze through the tiny peephole—and then it sealed itself shut, and reality’s fabric twisted to hide its previous gap, leaving me standing there with a pounding heart and maddening sense that I knew that place, and that the memory was on the tip of my brain.
I won’t bore you with the details of my return to Griffin’s Edge. It was easy enough to find the next nearest gap and travel to the bar like I’d done thousands of times before. But this time, I didn’t go back into the bar. I couldn’t. The guests and memories of Henri were too much to face, and besides, I had to figure out if my friends were still wandering in the fog.
So I turned into the endless silver mist, the same as I had not long earlier with Milo, Asher, and Acacia. This time, though, I just walked. I figured the Ancient One would lead me to where I needed to go. This was its domain, after all, and it seemed able to control how time and space flowed here.
And as I wandered, listening to my footsteps echo, I hoped the Ancient One was watching, and I racked my brain for the cause of the déjà vu. Something told me that figuring out where the murderer had gone would give me answers, and I knew it was familiar.
I just had to figure out how.