when I wake the next morning, but it’s not the girl I think of. Not Olivia. I think of Jake—of the fear spilling onto the floor and the tears falling from his eyes. I think of all the angry words I threw at him last night and crawl back under the covers.
The ring is gone.
And Damien’s dagger . . .
Why would the Throne Room send that? Why?
It’s a warning, it has to be. Like the halo flaming at Olivia’s touch, the dagger is a terrible warning. And Jake’s kept it from me for . . . well, for far too long.
And now Damien’s here, in Stratus. I know he is. The strange flashes I’ve been getting of the Celestial, Damien behind me on Main, fingers dragging through my hair. How could he have gotten that close?
I kick the covers off the bed and reach for my phone. Where is my phone? It’s not on my bedside table. Not on my windowsill. I drop to the floor and search under my bed, under the desk, in last night’s pants.
I need to call Helene.
“Elle!”
Dad is yelling, pounding around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards, banging down cups or bowls or . . . hammers on the counter.
I’ll use his phone.
“Elle, you up?”
“Yeah, Dad. Be there in a sec!” I rummage through my drawers, coming up with a pair of black shorts and a slouchy tank I’d worn once for a photo shoot. It’s wrinkled from my poor treatment of it, but I feel more pulled together, more in control now that I’m out of my jammies and wearing something that was designed with such care.
Like me.
I run my hands over my stomach, willing it to unclench.
I’m fine. I am. If Damien had wanted me he could have had me. I was there for the taking. I close my eyes and breathe. I think of Canaan and Helene. I think of the Sabres, whose presence I hear from time to time.
There are more fighting for me than those fighting against.
I think of Jake. How can I not? He’s the one who introduced me to this world, but thinking of him makes my hands shake, so I shove that thought aside and walk to the kitchen. I’m not going to panic. I’m not going to freak out my dad. I’m going to find a phone and call Helene.
But one sight of Dad and I remember I’m fighting battles on multiple fronts.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He looks like death. He hasn’t shaved in ages, his face pale and frantic, his hair greasy and matted in thick patches.
“Making my lunch,” he says. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”
“Remodeling?”
“Can’t find my lunch box. You know where it is?”
I step closer, squinting at him through sleep-crusted eyes.
“Are you sober?” I ask.
“What kind of question is that?”
“A logical one.”
“Yes, smarty-pants, I am sober.” He leans against the fridge, both hands pressing into it. “I’m a little hungover, maybe, but I’m sober.”
I stare at him for a few more seconds, and pity gets the better of me.
“Go,” I say. “Shower. I’ll pack your lunch.”
“Thank you,” he says. He pushes off the fridge and looks at me.
Is he going to cry?
He’d better not. I’m not dealing with that this morning.
“It’s just a boxed lunch, Dad. You’re not off the hook.”
But it does feel kind of like a peace offering.
“No Pop-Tarts,” he says.
He starts toward the bathroom, and I grab the phone from the living room. I dial Helene, but her phone goes straight to voice mail. I leave a message telling her to call me back, telling her I’ve seen Damien. No use in cryptic codes. If Damien’s here, we’re past that.
I dig Dad’s lunch box—a small ice chest, really—out of the cupboard, and I jam in one of everything we have in the fridge. Except, of course, for the liquor. He’ll have to settle for Gatorade—and a blue one at that. He hates the blue. Says it reminds him of maxi pad commercials—and yes, he calls them maxi pads. But I drop in the blue Gatorade and a strawberry Pop-Tart for good measure.
Beggars can’t be choosers.
“Brielle.”
I scream. It’s impossible not to when Helene just appears in front of you.
She clamps a hand over my mouth, her voice hushed. “Your dad’s here, yes?”
I nod, and she releases me. “In the shower. What’s going on?”
“Damien.”
The name barrels into my chest like a bulldozer.
How close is he? Is he here at my house or just here in Stratus?