Page 26 of Poison Sun

Without a word, Damien takes a thin piece of metal out of his pocket and inserts it into the keyhole. There’s a slight breeze around his hand—he must be somehow using his air magic to “feel” around inside—and the lock clicks open.

He pushes the door open, and my stomach drops at the sight of the blanket of dust covering every surface in the apartment like thin, untouched snow. The air is stale, heavy with the scent of disuse. And given the fact that it’s the middle of summer and the air conditioning hasn’t been running, it’s hot and muggy, the humidity pressing down over my skin.

The only sign that someone might have been here in the past few weeks is that the plants on the windowsill are green and thriving.

I walk over and touch the soil of one of the plants. It’s damp.

“She’s been here,” I say. “Obviously she’s not staying here. But she’s stopped by to water her plants.”

“Or she got a friend or neighbor to do it,” Damien says.

“Does Sunneva have friends?”

She easily befriended me when I moved in, but she had ulterior motives. Otherwise, I can’t imagine an immortal goddess making human friends.

“No idea,” he says. “But she does have her sisters.”

“True,” I say. “Celeste, Luna, and Tempest.”

“Stars, the moon, and storms.” Damien nods in approval at the fact that I passed his mini quiz.

“Morgan and Abigail have been getting me up to speed,” I tell him.

“As they should,” he says, wandering out of the living room and into the bedroom. Like the living room, the only things that feel alive in the bedroom are the plants. The bed’s unmade, but from the dust on it and the musty smell around it, it clearly hasn’t been slept on.

We return to the living room, and I make my way to the desk covered with papers, pens, and even a quill and ink pot. I grab a pen and scribble down a note on one of the pieces of paper.

Eva,

We stopped by to look for you. If you see this, can we talk?

-A

I keep it short and use the “human” name she originally used when she introduced herself to me—just in case Damien’s right that Sunneva isn’t the person stopping by to take care of the plants.

If she is the one stopping by, I doubt she’ll respond. The unanswered texts make that pretty clear.

Damien leans against the door frame, watching me. “Think she’ll get back to you?”

I shrug and place the note on the windowsill, next to one of the smaller plants. “Honestly? No. But I had to try. Maybe leaving something physical will make a difference. Who knows with goddesses?”

He chuckles softly. “True. They’re not known for being predictable.”

I take one last look around the apartment, the note next to the plant a beacon of hope in the otherwise desolate space. “Let’s go check out my grandmother’s place,” I say, needing to get out of here.

I have no idea what—if anything—we’ll find in my grandmother’s apartment. But it would be crazy to not look, since we’re already here.

Neither of us speak as we make our way down the steps to the basement.

The only near-incident we have is when one of the residents passes by on the stairs and gives us a friendly nod when we move to the side to give her space. But she doesn’t seem suspicious of us being here.

One of the nice things about people in this city is that they tend to keep to themselves. No stop and chats. Just a nod of acknowledgement, and then getting back on their way.

We reach the basement, and I pause outside the door to my old apartment.

Then, Damien steps forward, repeats the lock-picking process, and we step into the tiny studio that when I moved here, I had no reason to think I wouldn’t be calling my home.

Amber

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