JOSS

I have no choice currently but to hold inside how I feel. I know Vee's struggling—but over how this affects us as much as the effect on her. I tried to tell Xander and Ewan. I don't know if they understand, because they're lost in their own attempts to process the news. So, yeah, I have no option other than to stay focused on helping.

Did Vee’s time alone with Heath help? I sensed their closeness when they returned. I sense she’s closer to the humanity that slips through her fingers like sand in an hourglass. I’m thankful I didn’t meet her request to take away her humanity the time in the study. If I had, what would she be like now?

Heath's better since he returned too, but Ewan and Xander aren't.

Xander’s anger edges above his fear and distress, which is usual for him. Ewan's emotions are harder to figure out. Hurt. Anger. Fear.

We're all frightened.

Vee's switched off and hasn't left Heath's side since they returned. I don't want to be jealous, but I'm the one who normally soothes and comforts her when things turn to shit. Of course, she hugged and kissed me when she came into the room and asked if I was okay—because she's Vee. That's what she does.

I also saw the hurt in Vee’s eyes when Xander kissed her on the hair with just a brief hug. The matching wave of pain from him stabbed at me too. The empath thing is a shitty power right now. I don't want to experience every emotion surrounding us—it drains me.

If I said the guys’ emotions are off the scale, it would be an understatement.

They're all in bed now, spread between the rooms the Collector offered us. I'm surprised Xander's sleeping, but suspect he's still recovering from the fire’s effects on him.

I'm wired and unable to give in to sleep.

I sit in the lounge room that's turned into our base since we arrived late this afternoon. The room is now lit by a single lamp standing in the corner beside a large picture of a country scene. I stare at the painting for a while, drawn to it as if I could lose myself in the quiet woods represented. I sip my whiskey—the glass I poured for medicinal purpose, y'know, like helping me get some bloody sleep.

The still house holds a strange peace I've never felt in our farmhouse, as if infused with a magic to keep us calm. The Collector? How powerful are his spells? He protected Syv the day they went to Paris, and from something powerful too. Resting my head on the sofa back, I close my eyes and inhale the peace, hoping this helps me with sleep too.

I don't hear anybody enter the room until he speaks. "I did offer you a bed, Joss."

I open my eyes. The Collector stands close by, amused curve to his mouth. His blond curls surround his face tonight, loose like the vibrant blue shirt partially unbuttoned. A large pendant, matching in colour, hangs around his neck, touching the top of his broad chest. For a moment, I wonder if his form changes. Or has he always looked like this—halfway between a man and an ethereal creature?

Why will he never reveal his name?

"I'm not tired,” I reply.

The Collector sits in his chair, buttoning his shirt as he does, and nods at me. "But you should sleep. I sense your exhaustion. You have busy times ahead."

Understatement. "My mind is racing. I'm panicking about—"

"Vee?" he asks softly. "But you have more time and less distractions now the storm has gone. You can focus on finding Seth because you know what to do."

"One less distraction, but a fuckload of confusion." I drain my glass and his lips purse. "Sorry, I hope you didn't mind me helping myself to your booze."

"No. I told you, whatever you need. I'd like to help, where I can."

"You already have, and we really appreciate it."

He nods and watches me drink. “How are the others coping, Joss?"

I shrug and place the glass on the table. "I think once we move somewhere we can settle and regroup, it will help. We appreciate your help and letting us stay here, but—"

"I understand. You need to be somewhere you can be in control." He smiles.

The Collector remains still, watching me, and my scalp prickles. Why did he come in here? To talk to me? This fae holds answers to questions and more secrets than I realised. The mystery surrounding him grew with Portia’s news he could open the fae realm portal. I need to dissuade him—and find out how he can. That way, we have a chance to prevent extra shit happening if something walks through to our world.

To distract myself, I stand and look around the room. For the first time, I notice that something is positioned on a table beneath the forest scene painting. A blue-clothed table, trimmed in gold. I recognise the fae runic symbols in the open book resting on the table. A metal pendant of a Celtic knot on a long silver chain lies along the spine.

The Collector approaches as he notices my interest and closes the book. The more I look around, the more similar symbols I see hidden amongst the room’s decor.

"Syv told us you employ her to find everything related to fae that’s spread around the world."

"Yes.”

“And this pisses off Portia. What are you looking for?”

He arches a brow. “How do you know I’m looking for something particular?”

I bite my lip. "Is it something connected to what Portia said—to open your portal? Is there a key?”

"Not a key, but something I lost." He chuckles. “Portia doesn’t know what.”

"I don't believe that. How could you lose an item that can open something as dangerous?"

He frowns. "You keep talking of danger in my old realm. There's nothing dangerous back there. Who we left behind are shrivelled versions of fae. Magic addicts incapable of anything but subsisting in the wasteland." He stops himself. "Anybody who could survive left. Only the insane would return."

“Wow. Portia must be really desperate. Can’t you help her break back through?”

“No. Even if I wanted to. But she doesn’t know that.” He winks at me. “I’ll keep her distracted and on her toes. She can keep thinking she has a chance to leave if she can persuade me to help. If I keep her focus on that, she’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you.”

“But remember, I'm only getting involved in this.” He gestures around him, “Because I don't want to be forced from another world. I’m comfortable here, and I have an infinity to live."

"And we appreciate the help."

The Collector picks the chain with the wrought symbol and runs a finger across it. "I hope you found my help useful today."

"Of course. We had nowhere to go. You were very generous and of course the translating—"

He interrupts again, a habit beginning to irritate me. Powerful people like the Collector aren't interested in listening to others. They prefer to say what they think.

“I may not be much use when it comes down to the wire with the chaos god, but I will help where I can."

"And then you'll go back to looking for your… item?"

The Collector rubs his lips with two fingers. "Yes. But only to keep the power to open the portal away from others."

"Such as Portia?"

His reply is another smile.

"This helps a lot. We’re relying on Seth's fear of Vee right now. We've moved a step ahead after translating the text, now we have more information. Vee will stop Chaos. With us. We all will."

The look he gives irritates me—a smile a parent would give to a child with a crazy idea. "I'm looking forward to when that happens."