Page 37 of Angel of Water & Shadow

A chill hugged my bones despite his encouragement—which, by the way, would’ve been a lot more helpful to hear earlier than ordering me to shoot something that wasn’t even supposed to be real, with a weapon I’d never used, and grimacing that I couldn’t ace it on my first try—like, not everyone is blessed with natural marksmanship. Oh, and all while speeding down a two-lane road, which he now skidded across.

I flailed to hug the body of the truck, and the slick quiver whirled around my wrist and its contents came dumping out. When I crooked my head to see what had happened, my headphones slipped off my neck and went tumbling down. Leaving a cold, empty imprint around my collar. My insides went hollow as if my organs had been ripped out and fell with them, slamming into every speed bump along the way.

“NO!” The force of my shout almost scattered the raindrops.

Ryder’s swears covered the entire alphabet.

I whimpered. “My headphones.” One of the only defense mechanisms I’d had for so long. To me they were more than curved pieces of plastic—they were an extra appendage.

One arrow remained in my palm. Its notches pinched my hand as I squeezed. I’d kill this beast for what it’d taken from me. Our final shot. Our last hope. I pulled back the string, waiting for the perfect moment of release.

Ryder turned in my peripheral as I launched our hopes and dreams, compacted into the sparkling pale point. It soared towards the monster like a shooting star, as if in slow motion.

And with a blink time sped up, the arrow twisting in its spiral and suddenly…jerking left. Without even a graze against the monster it vanished into the mist.

We lost.

Mother Earth bellowed, the thunder echoing along with the teratorn’s shrieks. It landed on the truck bed and cackled at my miss. This whole chase had been a game, one it’d knew it’d win. My shoulders collapsed in defeat. I counted the spines on its throat, stared at the endless rows of denticles, winced at the open, maggoty sores gaping from the empty pockets that might have once contained feathers.

Slumped over the top of the cab, I closed my eyes and waited for death. I’d suffered most of my life—I hoped it’d be short and quick. I thought of the ocean. My happy place.

As my pulse dwindled, my breaths evened out, and my entire body relaxed in acceptance. The raindrops striking the truck and spraying my cheeks became the heavy crash of the break. The water splashing off the hood and trailing through my fingers became the velvety flow of the current. The wind whistling through the trees and whipping my hair became the wild force of the waves.

I opened my eyes as the ocean’s power washed over me. The teratorn licked its marred beak, salivating at what would be my last exhale. Faces of my loved ones flashed before me, as if they were already fading from my mind. One in particular got my attention, and the frail threads of a veiled memory popped up.

We couldn’t have asked for a better day—it was one of those where the morning fog had delayed the crowds and when it had finally dissipated, my mom and I had the beach to ourselves. The swell wasn’t overbearing; it provided just enough push to send me sailing across the shallows on my boogie board. As I’d left her grip for maybe the dozenth time and glided towards shore, a sneaker wave overcame me, the thick froth unhooking my leash from my ankle. Out of fear or shock, I swam against the current—against everything I had been taught—my mom’s calls and splashes padded by the fierce roar of the water as it carried me farther.

What was she saying? Something like…take me instead?

And I’d let it.

“I hate you,” I gritted out, my voice turning the memory to vapor. To no one really. I’d say the teratorn, but I knew I meant me. Anger and something metallic, bitter, like regret, coated my tongue and thrummed in my veins.

The monster’s hungry maw stretched open in response, with a sickening smile, as it swooped in for my head. In one bite it’d be taken right off my neck. I stared straight into its killing jaws, not unnerved, not afraid, but so energized by my wrath I might explode before it even got to me. Then the opposite happened.

A random bolt of lightning cleaved the clouds and the leaves, searing the teratorn’s flesh. Intense, white light abraded its scalp, the energy electrifying its core, petrifying its being.

I jumped back at a sound—a haunting bellow from deep within the demon’s gut, harsher than the thunderclap seizing the air around me—and slammed my waist into the window frame. Its chorus of agony cut off abruptly when it exploded into a million pieces, covering me with a film of clumpy ash and the stench of rancid egg.

As if winning its own battle against the darkness, the sun disintegrated the cloud cover and shone deep into the forest, remnants of the demon filtering through its pale streaks.

Ryder’s hollers faded in and out, so distant from where my focus lay—fixed on the black tar stain in the back of the truck, where I had just witnessed the impromptu cremation.

Chapter 13

It should have been me. My blood, my bowels, lodged into the steel grooves. But I was somehow still standing—frozen in place, sweat slicking my temples, stringy-haired—absolutely filthy. My brows grew heavy with exhaustion; my throat burned and threatened to close. I still felt the adrenaline tingling beneath my skin, and the memory, it was like the wake of a speedboat, rippling through my thoughts. Nothing made sense.

Ryder had quieted along with the forest—aside from his frantic looks. I felt those, even this dazed and confused, but I didn’t react to his silent pleas for me to get down. I was content where I was, hanging over the top of the truck. Plus, there’s no way my knees would bend and cooperate.

The Chevy’s engine thrummed through the stillness. Its tires crunched on the narrow dirt road, that at some point, we had turned down. Ryder slowed so the bounce over the potholes didn’t fling me off the side. The redwoods blurred together, despite there being no way we surpassed ten miles per hour. Dizzy, I tore my gaze from the leaping tree trunks and focused on the smooth metal directly in front of me, wondering how far he’d divert us into the wilderness.

He revved around a corner, splashing through a puddle. Mud flung through the air, settling on the bumpers and the back of my pants and probably in my hair. Hopefully they had showers wherever Ryder was taking us. A flock of roaming chickens squawked and ruffled their feathers as they darted away from the incoming tires.

“Welcome home,” he offered.

I never got the impression Ryder came from the whole white-picket-fence situation, but I hadn’t expected something as off-grid as this.

The driveway dumped us at a multitiered home that was built into the trees as if it were just another sequoia.

---