Chapter 18 | The Devil of Siren City

Skylar

Leaving the church, the first thing I notice is the chill in the air.

It wasn’t there this morning. Before, it was warm. Almost sticky. Now, there’s a sharp breeze coming from the boardwalk and with it, dark clouds march on the horizon.

I walk down the path, my stride pausing on its own as I reach the fountain of St. Nicholas. Like the surrounding neighborhood, he looks cleaner as well, the water in the basin free of dead leaves and debris. My eyes scrap the bottom, quickly focusing on a golden coin reflecting light. I stop and stare, leaning forward to get a better look at the sigil stamped on the coin. It’s no dead president I’ve ever seen, that’s for sure.

“Best get home soon, miss.”

I turn around, facing the woman standing behind me. She holds a walking stick in her hands, her thin, black-cloaked form leaning slightly against it to keep her upright. The wind catches her dark blonde hair, pulling a few strands free to frame her middle-aged face.

“Another storm is coming,” she says.

“Right,” I say, nodding at the black clouds. As I look at her again, I notice the glossiness of her eyes. She’s blind, obviously. But one doesn’t need eyes to feel the rain. “You too,” I add. “Do you have somewhere you can go?”

She chuckles. “Of course.”

I pause, taken back a little by her smile. It’s familiar, but I can’t place it. “I’m sorry,” I say. “Have we met?”

“I’ve never seen you before,” she quips with a grin.

I smile back, a polite habit.

She steps forward; her stride a smooth glide on the path. I startle a bit, the movement so sudden. “You sit with Ethan,” she says.

“I sat with him today, yes,” I say, confused by her phrasing.

Her smile fades as she looks me over, somehow. Her eyes are noticeably sharper. Piercing, even. “Shall you sit with him again?” she asks.

“Maybe,” I answer slowly. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m not sure what you’re asking me.”

She turns her head, looking north. “Best get home soon,” she says again after a minute. “You’ll be needed.”

Before I can respond, she turns and walks back toward the church. Her form disappears as she enters the open doors, enveloped by the shadows.

A raindrop touches my cheek. The first of many as I rush back the way I came through Old Town. Ares’ men are still around, though increased in number. I do my best to avoid them, but they don’t seem to be focused on me or anyone else at all now. They’re bolting north, racing toward the bridge. Toward Olympus.

Something must have happened.

Grateful for the diversion, I continue home. When Aurora Avenue finally comes into view, the storm clouds are directly overhead, blocking out the sun as if it were night. Time to get inside and batten down the hatches. 

My clothing is completely soaked through by the time I get indoors. I slip out of my jacket and wring it out before I enter the elevator. My sneakers squeak, my socks annoyingly mushy inside. The chill in the air takes hold, piercing my skin as sharply as that woman’s eyes. I see a mug of hot tea in my future, that’s for sure.

I enter the apartment. I hang up my jacket and kick off my shoes, leaving them to dry in the mudroom. Pausing in the kitchen doorway to peel my socks off first, I scan the room for signs of Adrian, but he hasn’t been here. The living room is dark. Completely still. The hallway, too. 

I flick the light switch, but the lights don’t come on. Power outage. Goody. 

Rain slaps against the windows, overtaking the sound of my bare feet on the floor as I make my way toward the hallway.

“Skylar.”

I startle and spin back around. “Adrian,” I gasp with relief, recognizing his voice, his shape sitting on the couch facing the windows. “You scared me.” 

Lightning crashes outside and I freeze, the brief flash illuminating his soaking wet form for only a second. But a second is all it takes to see the blood red stains on the white couch. On his clothing. On his pale face.

My heart stops. “Adrian?”