The mechanic emerged from beneath the car, rolling back on the chassis. “Reflexes a bit rusty, eh?”
Ryder’s jaw locked as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I thought you already left.”
“Your suspension needed some extra juice.” Leif lifted his hand, his blackened fingertips smearing the lubricant all over Ryder’s as Ryder helped him to his feet.
Immediately, I recognized the shaggy blonde mane now clasped into a bun, the hazel irises now a dominant green, and the height on him—still two inches taller than Ryder. The boy from the family photo was now a man.
“River.” Ryder’s hand grazed my lower back. I tried not to lean into the touch. “This is Leif. My brother.”
Leif raised his eyebrows at my clothes and his chin at my hello, skipping the how-you-do’s. Eyeing me with an incisive stare as sharp and predatory as his brother’s, which convinced me he knew my secrets just by reading my gestures. His interest didn’t linger, and he moved to his workbench, grabbing a rag to wipe off his arms. Unlike Ryder, he rocked a full sleeve of tattoos, a colorful canvas of conquests and dreams.
“Consider your truck as good as new.” He clapped his hands and grabbed a weathered leather jacket, throwing it over his white-ribbed tank. The umbra cast by his shifting shoulders spanned past his silhouette, a spooky trick of the light that caused shadowy extensions to unfurl from his upper back. I’d seen that before. A few times, actually. I again recalled the picture in Ryder’s room.
As Leif popped his collar, a small yet recurring emblem stood out in his tattoos: NS with a serpent’s head near his thumb. Too soon it disappeared within the other designs as he hiked his leg over the wide saddle of his classic motorcycle. Nearly mistaking the turn of the engine for a mini explosion, I jumped so high I was pretty sure I left my skin for a second.
“I’m out of here then.” Leif bumped his brother’s knuckles and took a final glance at me, eyes boring past the surface. “You two should get going as well.”
“Right.” We answered at the same time, jittery, as if needing to prove our innocence.
We must have looked like bumbling fools rushing for the doors and fumbling with the handles as we clambered into the car. Neither of us made a peep as we trailed Leif down the dirt driveway and out onto the main road. He saluted us as he turned his iron hog left, and we skidded to the right.
“You work at the coffee shop downtown, right?” Ryder asked.
Don’t remember providing that detail, but I must have at some point, I thought, as I nodded yes. After that, the silence kept—which I was fine with. I had too much anxiety to say anything coherent. I stared at the side of the road, hoping to see my bulky wireless headphones, because without them I couldn’t turn my brain off. I mean, how does one go from learning econ to magic and not feel overwhelmed?
Magic. Not just pulling rabbits out of hats. Magic capable of incinerating living beings.
I gnawed at my lip. My necklace hummed against my fingertips, a temporary wash from the stress. I peered over at my driver, who paid more attention to the rearview mirror than he did the actual road. It didn’t ease my fear that a pissed off demon could manifest out of thin air at any moment.
“I do want to say one thing.” The tiniest tremble entered my voice, so minor no one but Ryder would have noticed. “I think it’s pretty suspicious all this started happening around the time I met you.”
“All of what?”
“All of this weird stuff.” Although I peered out the window, his reflection dominated my view. He maintained his focus on his task. I tried to do the same. “The other day I woke up to a flying gremlin, today I was chased by the Creature from the Black Lagoon’s cousin. I can’t tell the nightmares from reality anymore, and there’s one common denominator in all of this: you.”
Ryder tightened his grip on the wheel. “These things don’t materialize overnight. It takes decades, or an obscene amount of money, for a human to interact with a piece of dandruff from another dimension. So, unless you’ve invested in some 4D spectacles or are suddenly a scholar in Source…” He tilted his neck towards me and raised his brows despite the obvious answer to that. “Maybe you’ve been a part of this world all along. You’ve just been taught not to notice.”
“For eighteen years I’ve been getting along fine and dandy,” I argued, “then you show up and shit hits the fan. Any other suggestions?”
“Really.” Ryder shot me a disbelieving look, lightning fast, before focusing back on the stretch of road in front of us and behind us. “In that entire time, you’ve experienced nothing?”
“Besides the tarot reading from hell, no.” I held in my lies as tightly as I clenched my fists. I hadn’t explained the Voices to anyone—the shame held me back from opening up—plus, I’d been able to do life fine-ish the way things were. But now…now the Voices were gone, and the same old wound still existed. Now it felt like everything was crashing in at once and if I didn’t change the topic I might get buried. “We’re focusing too much on me here. I still don’t understand how you tie into all of this. Why haven’t I met anyone else like you? Where are all the other Ryders?”
“They’re here,” he said.
“What, in hiding?” I waved at the endless stretch of forest.
“No.” He tightened his jaw. “The Nephilim walk among us.”
They had a name. Even if I couldn’t pronounce it, my heart leapt faster than the blur of trees passing by. “Are they all as stealthy as you? Is that why I haven’t seen them?”
“You’ve seen them, but you haven’t noticed.”
“How so?”
“Your eye has clearly been trained to overlook their abilities. As if it were only human.”
That. Phrase.