Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
“Are you kidding me?” the voice roars. “You could have died! What the hell is wrong with you? We told you to be careful!” He paces. “Don’t walk around alone at night, don’t get unalived!” He stops and turns to me, pointing his diet coke at me. “Do. Not. Go. Out. By. Yourself!”
I gape. It’s Kratos from the pub and from the dinner. He’s dripping wet, pointing his pop at me and pacing like he’s a worried mom.
I frown, why am I so wet? Did I really fall in that far? “I just looked for a few seconds because—”
“No,” he interrupts. “You don’t even let your guard down for one second.”
“That’s really all it takes.” Another voice sounds.
“Dag?” I ask.
He’s in his police uniform and smirking at Kratos. “Trouble in paradise?”
Kratos rolls his eyes. “I was walking by, asshat.”
“Good to know your manners didn’t get damaged.” Daggon smirks. “Are you okay, Cleo?”
Yes? No? Yes? I simply nod.
“Good.” He rocks back on his feet. “So, no report needed. Kratos, aren’t you expected somewhere?”
I swear Kratos attempts to kill him with his eyes before crunching his empty can and tossing it onto the street only to kick it, pick it up, and put it in the trash.
I don’t even get a chance to say “thank you” while Daggon just shakes his head at Kratos like he’s hopeless.
“So, that was fun.” He holds out his arm. “But we should get you back to the house.”
“Actually.” I go still. “Cyrus said some really violent things toward me. Maybe I can get a different hotel?”
Dag pauses and looks up toward the sky then back down at me, his eyes a crystal blue, mesmerizing. “What do you feel?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What do you feel? It’s not about what you see. That’s the trouble with Deer Harbor, with the flames, you see then you feel, but you should feel then see.”
“That’s a riddle.” I force a laugh.
He doesn’t.
I clear my throat. Clearly, I’m safe right? With a cop? “I feel scared and alive.”
He nods slowly. “Good. Then we should probably walk toward the house. Your feelings are more trusted there.”
“Why?” I’m almost afraid to ask but I do anyway.
He stops walking, takes my arm, then pulls me close against him and whispers, “Sight is nothing when it comes to instincts. You might see a tree, others might see a sprite. It’s all in your perspective and sometimes, because of the way we’re born into this world, we get lost in that perspective.”
My entire body chills. “So, how do you fix the fear? The sight?”
His hands go to my shoulders. “You allow yourself to feel. Even if it means you’re afraid.”
“And if you can’t get past that fear?”
“Then”—he grabs my hand and squeezes it—“you embrace it.”
We’re quiet the entire way back to the dark house. Though I’m with a police escort, I’m still terrified, yet he holds my hand, he keeps it securely in his, and when Cyrus answers the door and stares me down, when Dag leaves, I boldly walk in and look up at Cyrus and say, “I’m gonna go read.”
CHAPTER 17
CYRUS
“Never cheat your master.” —Njal’s Saga, ch.. 86
I’m pissed.
She’s being belligerent. The only reason I know she won’t die by my hand tonight is because Kratos sent me a text saying that she was roaming the streets and I owed him a favor.
Clearly a huge one I’ll have to fix later.
Daggon texted next saying Kratos was yelling at her and well now I have her standing in front of me dripping wet, saying she’s going to read a book.
I want to say I’m ready to put her over my knee and smack the shit out of that ass.
Instead, I stare her down.
She looks up at me, defiant.
Even the old ones don’t look at me with that same face as if to say “try me”.
And shit, do I want to.
I grip her by the wrist and tug; she follows without complaint.
We walk down the hall, out of the house, and to the warehouse basement.
The torch.
The key.
Everything.
I almost want her to fight, but she’s too traumatized, I think, to do anything but read The Book of the Dead, touch the slab, and go back into her spot where she’s safe from gods and monsters.
How lovable.
How tragic.
I smile.
And then I shove her against the platform. Her back slams against it. A glare from hell follows as she lifts her chin, her eyes hold mine in an icy stare.
“Rules,” I say, “are very important. Did I not tell you to be careful in this town? To never go out at night? Get hypnotized by the darkness and chaos that follows?”
Her chin lifts even higher. “I was fine.”
“No, you were nearly lost.” I brace my hands on either side of her, gripping the marble beside her hips. “Had Kratos not been there and Daggon, you would have been sucked into the depths of the dark water and it’s chaos, never to be found again, even by me.”