“Okay. Last question.” I paused again, gathering my nerve. I gave the drink a light shove, and we all listened to it skate over the countertop. I waited until he caught it. Then I asked, watching him carefully, “Why did you choose the name Adam Horstman?”
It was a theory I’d had for years, based on small moments and fleeting suspicions. This time, the vampire didn’t answer straight away. He peered into the glass, and his jaw worked.
Eventually he said, his voice flat, “It was the name of the first man I killed. I was sixteen years old.”
He downed the final shot and walked out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I woke in the tent, the wind pushing against its sides.
Oliver wasn’t anywhere in sight, so I pulled on my coat and boots, then unzipped the door and stepped into the open. He stood at the edge of the ferry, looking out at the horizon. Everything was gray, making it impossible to discern whether I’d arrived in the morning, or the dreamscape’s version of daylight was coming to an end.
As the hours wore on, it seemed to be the former. Oliver and I packed our belongings more from habit than necessity. It didn’t take long, and then we drifted back to the edge of the ferry, watching for any more creatures or memories. We didn’t say much—Oliver wasn’t in a chatty mood, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation I’d had with Collith. In an effort to silence our voices, I stared hard at the passing landscape.
It happened gradually, the shifts in our surroundings so subtle that I didn’t notice until, suddenly, I realized we’d left the land of ice and cold behind us. Snow had become grass and dirt. Even the sky looked bluer. We were nearly upon the pass now.
As the river carried me and Oliver toward that towering gap, the strange pensiveness that had been hanging over our heads evaporated. I told him about my first couple days back home. The mountains rose up on either side, tall as skyscrapers. It felt like my voice was the only sound in the vast space, save for the birds and the rushing currents.
When I was finished, Oliver responded exactly how I’d known he would. “How can I help?” he asked simply. The wind ruffled his hair.
My chest felt tight. Too many emotions filled the small space, like an overpacked suitcase. “By doing exactly what you’re doing,” I answered. “I want to find out more about my past, my kind. Even if I’m distracted by Belanor while I’m awake, at least I’ll still be searching for answers here. It makes me feel like I have some kind of control, despite the constant chaos that is my life.”
Oliver’s attention shifted to something beyond my shoulder. His mouth set into a grim line. “Speaking of chaos…”
I was already turning, following the direction of his gaze. “Okay,” I said with forced calm. “Time to get off the ferry.”
There was a sheer drop up ahead. Beyond it, the river went on, but there was no way we’d survive that fall.
In unspoken agreement, Oliver and I raced to the other side of the ferry together. The current was already moving faster. Gripping my backpack, I glanced quickly toward the water, then the shore we needed to reach. Anxiety exploded in my stomach. What if there was something in the water, following us, waiting for its chance?
“If we’re doing this, we have to do it now,” Oliver urged.
I nodded—yes, he was right—and we jumped. For an instant in mid-air, it felt like we were children again. One… two… three!
Then the river claimed us.
Fortunately, nothing bothered us in the water. After a brief, not entirely unpleasant swim, I sloshed up the riverbank and twisted the hem of my shirt. Water dripped onto the sand. We’d have to dry our clothes again, I thought.
Hearing my huff of annoyance, Oliver grinned at me, and I grinned back. The exchange felt so natural and familiar. Like coming home after a long road trip.
“I’m so happy that we’re friends again, Ollie,” I said, my voice softening. The words just came out of me.
He paused. I stopped, too, and scanned the area around us. Had he seen another creature? A memory? My pulse beat a wild tempo inside my throat. Oliver started to face me, but then he stopped again. From this vantage point, I could only see his profile.
Silence wrapped around us. The quiet, combined with the tight set to Oliver’s mouth, made me realize this was about my comment, and not because he had spotted something.
My cheeks felt hot. I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction I’d expected from him—warm agreement, maybe, or even a laugh. It had been so long since I’d heard Ollie’s laugh. Now I watched him rub his lower lip with the ball of his thumb, his brow furrowed. There was something absently graceful about how he moved. It wasn’t dissimilar to a faerie’s grace.
Not important right now, Fortuna. In spite of the pain I’d already put him through, here I was giving Oliver mixed signals again.
Just as I started to speak, Oliver turned and came toward me with swift, determined strides.
I knew from his expression what he was going to do, and I had a handful of seconds to stop him. But each one ticked by like a breath—in, out, in, out—and I didn’t move. Then he was there, grasping the back of my neck with fingers that were gentle and firm at the same time. We met somewhere in the middle. In the instant before his mouth came down on mine, I acknowledged that I’d wanted this, too. As twisted, strange, and impossible that it was.
Oliver had never kissed me like this, not in all the years I’d known him, and I was so shocked that every thought left my head. I kissed him back automatically, because it was Ollie. But it wasn’t Ollie, not completely—the boy I’d grown up with had never lifted me off the ground and wrapped my legs around his waist. Our damp clothes squeaked.
After a few seconds, or a minute, or however long his mouth had been claiming mine, Oliver pulled back. Our faces were so close that I could see the texture within his irises, lines of such a vivid blue that they looked like the water from some tropical postcard. My gaze moved lower, taking in the faint smattering of freckles over his nose. I gave in to the urge to brush my fingers over them, and even this simple touch awoke something in me that I’d worked hard to put to sleep. Oliver’s eyes fluttered shut.
“Let me be clear about one thing,” he said, his voice deeper than usual, a throaty promise that slid along my skin like silk. “What I feel for you is not platonic. In fact, I’d like nothing more than to rip your clothes off and fuck you right here. But I’m done pining after someone who doesn’t feel the same way.”
I didn’t know what to say. Once again, the air between us was thick with silence and tension. After another moment, Oliver set me down and stepped away. Then, as if he hadn’t just rocked my world on its axis, he straightened his shirt and ran a hand through his hair. His blue eyes scanned the craggy mountains on either side of us. I kept staring at him, and my stomach felt like a fist inside me, clenched tight and trembling. “Ollie, I—”
He moved so quickly I didn’t even have time to blink. His shoulder connected with my stomach, and the air left my lungs as we flew. I stared past Oliver, wide-eyed, as an enormous boulder shattered against the rocks I’d just been walking past.
Oliver dove behind two boulders and set me down in the dirt. He was breathing hard, his hair hanging in his eyes. Dust floated through the air.