Page 36 of Angel of Water & Shadow

“I have them.” It took an enormous amount of willpower to stay calm. “Now what?”

“You’re going to have to join me out here.”

Shit. How did I not realize that climbing out the window would be a requirement when I agreed to this? Rewind; I no longer wanted to help. My legs lifted me despite my resistance.

Ryder’s eyes lit up when I folded the upper half of my body over the top of the cab on the opposite side—and held on for dear life.

“Alright,” he said, “listen closely. First take the bow and hold it with whatever hand you don’t write with.”

I attempted to control my shaky left hand.

“Next, place the nock against the string—the end with the fletching. Pull back, using whatever fingers feel most comfortable. Then aim and release.”

The equipment sloshed in the water running rivers atop the metal as I scrambled to bring the two pieces together. Sagging feathers, drenched wood, no notches I could see or feel in this unrelenting downpour. I went for it anyways, connecting the bow with the feathered end, and pulled back. The arrow didn’t even catch air; it simply slipped into the truck bed.

“Damnit!” I braved a look at my driver.

What Ryder lacked in verbal acknowledgment he made up for with a glare.

Ass. It was my first try!

My next attempt didn’t go any better.

As the arrow disappeared, I was thrown back into my seat—Ryder had jerked the wheel to get us off the main road. I clutched the quiver to my chest, the stiff material rising and falling with my rapid breaths.

The sky, absent beneath the redwoods, cracked with thunder. Blanketed by the canopy, the rumble bounced off the tree trunks and echoed throughout the forest. The storm howled and hissed, and I swore it snickered. The world was truly against me. A ball of hopelessness lodged in my gut.

“What’s the problem in here?” He’d slipped into the cab for a quick second to shift us into another gear. Before I could open my mouth to answer, he was heading up again. I let out a stressed sigh.

There were many, Ryder.

For starters, the Voices had split, and they were probably the only ones who had a clear explanation as to what was happening to me. Oh, and per his little pep talk, I was being chased by nothing other than a demon. A demon. Not to mention with no license and with every lost arrow, I was further proving my worthlessness.

Not that I was anything special to begin with…

The despair felt as deadly as the teratorn, and it started to consume me. My neck drooped, my throat burning with self-pity. As my eyes, wet with tears and rain, fluttered shut, I went to rip the pendant from my neck. It burned as if it were metal that’d been sitting in the sun.

I yelped as it seared my flesh, but the physical pain brought me back to the moment—the truck barreling through the redwoods, the guy perched atop the driver’s window ledge screaming for my assistance—the moment I had just been ready to quit.

Giving up on myself had been the obvious choice because I was a failure in every sense of the word: I couldn’t drive, I couldn’t use a bow, I couldn’t graduate high school…I couldn’t save my mom. I looked at the heated mark from my necklace, the swelling already reduced.

Maybe this was a chance for me to prove otherwise.

With the demon closing in, it was now or never.

Treating the cushion like my surfboard, I balanced on its springs, maneuvering the jerky bumps and swerves as I would a restless, angry ocean. Arms out, the gear looped around my elbow, I joined Ryder, the midsummer monsoon rain beating into my soaked clothes like pellets. Squinting, I stared past the truck bed, the harshness of the storm turning branches into trolls and roots into ogres and boulders into monsters. Every shape, every shadow of the Santa Cruz mountains turned into something sinister.

I grabbed another arrow, its glittering silver-white tip catching my eye. Weightless in my hand as if carved from stardust, but sharper than a steel blade.

My target hovered above the asphalt’s yellow stripes in a glide. Its outstretched wings covered the width of each lane as it sped towards the exhaust, dangerously close to the truck bed. I almost choked on its stench, so rotten it stung my eyes, but I blinked through the burn and tried to ignore it.

Claws scraped metal as the teratorn kicked its legs out and drew upwards. I aimed for the center of the dark mass, hoping its heart lay in the middle of its chest. If demons had hearts, that is—it was more likely to be born of necromancy and decayed cartilage. Thin, avian limbs swung forwards, slamming into the bumper. The sudden jolt threw me off balance.

Yet another arrow plummeted to the ground.

The creature snapped its jowls and moved closer, teeth closing on the air. Up close, I could see every sickening detail—the clotted blood pumping through its infected follicles, the skeletal arch of its back. I fumbled with the remaining projectiles when the hooked edge of a wing grazed my cheek, and the monster circled back around.

“It’s preying on your fear—don’t let it toy with you!” Ryder called out, as if detecting the shift in me. “You can do this, River. I know you can.”

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