A fresh surge of resolve quickened my pace. I didn’t give a thought to stopping at the house for a shower or a change of clothes, and by the time I arrived at that familiar crack in the ground, a fresh layer of cold sweat clung to my skin. I ignored it and rushed headlong into the darkness.
Fortuna, Finn said. I spun, startled again, and saw that he’d stopped in the mouth of the tunnel.
“Oh, sorry. You have no idea where we’re going,” I blurted, rushing back to him. Breathing hard, I knelt and held my phone in front of Finn’s whiskered face, showing him images from the Google search I’d done on Goldmann’s area code. The werewolf sneezed, stood, and trotted down the passageway. I hurried to follow.
Though Nuvian always had Guardians stationed near the surface, no one bothered us as we used the Door. I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured the town where I hoped to find the answers to so many questions. Moments later, Finn and I stepped into a sunny, busy street.
The door to a movie theater closed behind us. We looked around in unison, taking in this place that may as well have been on another planet for how different it was from Granby. A trolley glided past, its sides painted in red and yellow. Heat shimmered over the pavement and there were no mountains in sight. Palm trees cast fringed shadows over the sidewalk. Everyone within sight wore summery clothes in bright colors.
There was a bar next door, and it looked exactly like the sort of place that would still have a phonebook. Finn had either put together what I was doing from the voicemail he’d heard, or he just didn’t care—knowing him, it was probably the latter—and his nails clicked as he trailed after me. I stepped toward the entrance of the bar, then paused. I eyed the enormous werewolf taking up most of the sidewalk, and he looked back with his usual stoicism.
“Maybe you should stay here,” I suggested, speaking aloud out of habit. Nightmares caught people’s notice everywhere we went, but whenever I had Finn with me, the stares got even worse. The locals might be less willing to share information if their minds were bouncing between lust and terror.
Without a word, Finn loped over to a patch of lawn in front of a boutique store. He planted himself next to the white-framed sign that read, LILY’S LOVELY LINGERIE. I pressed my lips together and turned away quickly, knowing he’d hear it if I laughed.
I was still smiling when I pushed the warped door open. I was greeted by a gust of cool air, and floorboards squeaked underfoot as I entered a small, dim room. An air conditioner whirred in the window. It was busier than I expected for noon on a weekday—several of the booths were full, and two of the high tops. I saw several people glance my way, a look that was probably meant to be cursory until my magic took hold.
Most of the conversations in the room slowed, then halted altogether.
Wishing I’d thought to bring the goblin ring, I scanned the space with a neutral expression. I was careful to avoid eye contact with anyone, since that tended to encourage them and I’d prefer to avoid human interaction if possible. Just as I’d hoped, I soon spotted a payphone in a narrow hallway. A thick stack of paper rested on top of it, the top cover curling at its edges. Bingo. I hurried toward it and flipped through the white pages as fast as I could.
No Jacob Goldmanns.
I left as swiftly as I’d come. A round-cheeked man had been moving to speak with me, and he opened his mouth to say something, but I slipped through the door before he could say a single word. Finn was already standing there when I emerged into the open again. Neither of us spoke as we walked to the second bar. Once again, I entered alone, and it felt like I’d stumbled onto a memory playing in a loop. Heads turned, eyes widened, conversations stopped. I ignored them and searched this room, too. There were no payphones in sight.
Damn it. Now I had to talk to a local. Swallowing a resigned sigh, I turned to the bartender, who’d frozen mid-scrub. He looked like a walking dictionary definition of a surfer—long hair, tanned skin, shell necklace.
“Do you have a phonebook anywhere?” I asked politely.
Using that tone had the effect I’d been aiming for, and the boy blinked. Watching him regather his composure was like watching an old computer reboot. He cleared his throat, raking his blond hair back. “Yeah. Yes, we do. Just… just hold on a second.”
“Thanks.” I sank onto one of the stools and forced my hands to unclench. I’d forgotten how powerful the Nightmare’s influence could be. So much of my time had been spent in Granby, where most of the humans were accustomed to me, or amongst the fae, who viewed extraordinary beauty as commonplace. Now I remembered why I’d left Denver at the earliest opportunity.
Surfer Boy had barely taken four steps when I felt someone sidle up next to me. The tension I’d just managed to ease came back in a rush.
“No,” I said, staring at the rows of bottles adorning the wall across from where I sat.
In my peripheral vision, I saw the man raise his hands in the air. He was wearing a gold ring on every finger, and they gleamed in the weak light. “Oh, hey, look, I didn’t mean anything by coming over here, I was just—”
“No.” Still not bothering to turn my head, I sent a whisper of my power to him, coiling its essence around his body like a snake about to strike. The man stammered out an apology and retreated so hastily that his heel slammed into the leg of a stool. He fell onto his ass and crawled backward. After a few awkward scuttles, his bare hands slapping the tiles, the man whirled and scrambled to his feet. His sneakers squeaked as he hurried out the door.
If people weren’t staring before, they definitely were now. I gritted my teeth to hold back a curse. Smart, Fortuna. Real smart. I caught sight of my reflection in the glass, and the face looking back was troubled. The fear I saw had nothing to do with all the eyes boring into my back, though. Truthfully, it had been too easy, doing that to the human just now—I’d destroyed him with barely more than an impulse. Sitting there, I heard Dad’s voice again, his worry echoing across the years. Her power grows by the day.
What if history was repeating itself? What if I lost control of this power I didn’t fully understand?
God, I wanted a drink. Jacob Goldmann. I was here for a Jacob Goldmann. I focused on the thought like a prayer.
Luckily, the bartender came back a few seconds later with a pamphlet-sized phonebook. This really was a small town, I thought as I noted the limited number of pages. I made sure to take it from the bartender without smiling. Don’t want to give the poor kid a heart attack.
The pages were so old that the rows of ink had started to fade. Determined, I leaned closer, skimming the column of names with the barest touch. I found the one I wanted within moments, and my finger stilled on the page. With my rapid heartbeat pounding in my ears, I typed the address into a GPS app. My heart quickened even more at the results—Dracula’s mysterious contact was only four blocks away.
I dropped the phonebook onto the bar and jumped down from the stool.
“Thanks again,” I said, nodding at Surfer Boy. He stared at me, open-mouthed, and didn’t even attempt a response this time.
I returned to the haze of heat, where I discovered my huge, scary-looking werewolf getting his fur yanked at by a toddler. Finn didn’t move or flinch, and the boy babbled at him happily, a bubble of spit appearing at the corner of his rosebud mouth.