XANDER

An evening where I thought I’d find answers ends with more fucking questions. I walked back into the bar, and Ripley wasn’t there anymore. When I called him and heard girls’ voices in the background, Ripley told me he was busy now and asked why I called.

I didn’t tell him.

So, I’m no clearer about whoever the fuck that couple were, and whether they’re connected to that demon arsehole.

We have a truce, but once this shit is over we won’t be buddies anymore. Every day I toy with the idea Ripley may try to get onside with Seth, but tonight I sensed he's as worried as we are.

I’ve expected Portia to contact someone again, but Joss told me about his conversation with the Collector. Well, the part about her, anyway. I stopped him when he started rambling about God and angels again. My head can’t deal with anymore of Joss’s obsessive shit right now.

The news the Collector stopped the storm shocked us all. How the hell did he do that? I’m worried now. Anybody with that kind of power can cause major issues. What if he suddenly decided to step into the world? Seriously, I can’t deal with anymore right now.

So, he’s looking for something capable of opening the fae portal? How? If Chaos created them, he should be the only one able to open it. I joked I'll happily push Portia through that portal, along with her haughty, bitchy attitude. But we all know the main aim is to stop her—or him. The slightest sign, and I'll be there to deal myself.

At least this keeps her distracted.

We need to concentrate on what happened tonight. Who took Breanna away, with answers we might never find now. I need to hang onto the hope we can figure out more alone. Or that others out there may know how to help.

But I’m pissed off right now. Shortly after we returned, I heard Heath’s words to Joss in the hallway: “We should make the most of the time we have left.”

I stepped outside, away from them, before they saw me. I sucked in the cool air and self-control, because smacking one or both of them in the face won’t help.

Since when was defeat an option in our lives?

I hang outside and sit on the metal garden seat positioned by a small table. Somewhere for the owners to enjoy balmy summer evenings.

I don't want to be here. Not in this house. Not in this country. Yeah, by coming to the States we're stepping closer to Seth. But what choice do we have? Our home in England is destroyed, and we have nowhere. Safety has gone. But, I’m stuck in a fucking fae house, hands tied over what to do next.

I'm sick of inaction. I've waited for Seth's mocking face to reappear and unveil more bullshit somewhere, but nothing. I stare at the stars and consider what’s in the void behind them. Who created them? Chaos or someone else? A shiver sets from my scalp along my spine. The closer we move towards apocalyptic events, the harder it is to deny our connection to another god. The god Chaos complained ruined his creation.

I walk back into the house. Ewan returned to the kitchen corner with his laptop. One thing I learned about this guy over the years is he uses this activity to avoid conversation. He’ll point at the screen and tell you to be quiet. That’s he’s busy. Nowadays, I don’t know whether this is entirely true, but my desire for small talk dropped off a couple of days ago too. After tonight, Ewan’s pride is damaged, but the rest of him is okay.

Vee takes over the research sometimes as she has similar skill. But Ewan’s obsession in following every tiny story possible connected to Seth takes over his life right now. He hardly sleeps. Eats. Not that any of us do much of that either, but Ewan's the worst.

"What's happening?" I ask. “Anything?” The fridge is well-stocked with crap American beer, but the whiskey is okay. I grab a half-empty bottle from the cupboard beside the faes’ fancy wines and pour a couple of glasses. "Any weird activity around the portals? I know we haven't felt anything, maybe he can override that ability."

Ewan slugs his whiskey in one go and pushes the glass toward me for more. "There is something.” He flicks to a different screen. "More seismic activity than usual."

Shit. "By 'more seismic activity' are you talking earthquakes?"

"Minor ones. It’s freaking people out in this part of the world. There were strong tremors last week."

I snort. “Chaos is being Mr. Obvious, then? Storms? Earthquakes? Maybe volcanoes next?”

“If he fucks with the San Andreas fault, he could wipe us out with the rest of LA and solve his problem."

"Nah. He said he wants his big finale and to watch us die." I drink and pour another glass. "Shame he won't."

“I half-expected a taunting call about what happened to Breanna earlier.”

“I don’t think this was him. Or I can’t be sure.” I chew my lip. “Has Vee felt anything… strange?” Vee's pissed off we follow her everywhere but understands why. There must be a reason Seth hasn't yanked her to him again, but that situation could change.

"Do you think Seth knows we have answers?"

"Maybe. Who the fuck knows?"

I grit my teeth, frustrated by my lack of control and the exhausting need to keep my emotions hidden. Right now, I'm more bothered by Breanna's whereabouts than Seth's.

Ewan gestures at his phone. “I’ve tried to contact Syv. She might ignore me, but I sent a picture of the sword. Maybe the little magpie will be attracted to the shiny.” He smirks. “I told her in the message she could have the weapon once this is over.”

“Do you think giving a weapon like that to Syv is sensible?”

He shrugs. “I haven’t said I’d keep my word. She never does. Well, rarely.”

I shake my head at him, but if his trick gets Syv to the States to help out, it’s worth lying to friends.

Man, this is fucked up.

"Where are the others?" A suspicion washes over me. “Did they go upstairs? Like, the three of them?”

An understanding look passes between us. Joss and Heath hold an emotional, intuitive relationship with Vee that seems to spread between the three of them. Has this progressed further? The day we arrived, they shared a bed. Their decision. A weird one. But theirs.

Ewan jerks a thumb towards a door. "They’re watching movies."

I snap my head back. "Huh? Shouldn’t we be looking into what just happened?"

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly." He taps keys on his laptop and switches focus to his screen. "I think the guys want to spend as much time as possible with Vee before... shit goes down."

My stomach knots. "I heard Heath talk about ‘making the most’ of the time we have. Do they think she'll die?"

Ewan's attention remains fixed on his laptop. "Funnily enough, Xan, I don't ask them the question."

"Their doubts are bullshit." I draw in a deep breath, fighting the anger that builds rapidly in recent days. "She won't die."

"I know," Ewan says quietly. “I agree.”

I tap my foot on the floor. My attempt to ground myself fails. Movies. Fucking movies. The switch on everything I'm trying to contain flicks, and I'm caught in the immediate, frightening spiral to anger.

My bare feet smack across the tiled floor as I throw open the door, greeted with a domestic scene that rips into my heart. Vee. Joss. Heath. The trio, curled up together with popcorn, watching the massive TV screen.

Laughing.

Relaxed and happy.

Popcorn litters the floor, evidence of a food fight stuck in Vee's hair too. I clench my teeth, dragging back the extreme reaction about to pour from me. I can’t upset Vee.

I can control this.

But I can't. I'm putting all my energy we have into a future, and two of us think she'll die?

"What's going on?" I ask.

Vee looks over her shoulder. "Come and watch the movie. So funny."

Joss plucks popcorn from her hair and eats. "Take some down time, Xander."

“Down time?” I growl. “We can’t afford downtime.”

“A couple of hours before we sleep won’t hurt.” Heath pauses. “Grab Ewan. Let’s just relax.”

“You’re. Wasting. Time.” My jaw clenches.

“A couple of hours,” repeats Joss.

“I heard what you said earlier, Heath. About making the most of the time we have left.”

“And?”

The music playing on the movie fills the silence in the room as I fight against the words but they spill. "Do you think Vee will die? Is that why you’re wasting time with this when we should be worrying about what happened to Breanna."

"Wow. Just say what you feel." Heath shifts from Vee and sits forward, his expression sour.

"We're supposed to be looking for a way to fix the situation, not sit around watching fucking movies!"

“I meant we don’t have much time before we face Seth. Of course she won’t die.” Heath stands.

“Switch the TV off and help me and Ewan.”

"How?" snaps Heath. “Tell me exactly what we can do. Right now. Here.” He jabs a finger at the floor. I blink. “How about you call Seth? Why not have another chat with him?”

"Fuck you." I straighten, the adrenaline flooding through me into my trembling fingers as I push a finger in his chest. "Tell me the truth. Do you doubt us? Do you think Vee will die?"

“No. Obviously it’s you with the doubts. You’re the one obsessing about my throwaway words.”

"Xander, stop." Vee places the large popcorn bowl on the floor. "This isn't helpful."

"And this is?" I savagely wave a hand around me.

Xander. Just keep it cool. Just stop. Don't look at her and imagine Vee gone. The future you don't want to face.

Heath’s voice grows louder. "There's a fucking apocalypse waiting for us. Excuse me if I want time out to watch movies for a couple of hours."

Vee stands and approaches me, placing a hand on my arm. We've barely touched in the last few days and this is the last straw. I don't mean to hurt her, but I can't cope. I can't fucking cope.

"Tomorrow we start again. If Seth hasn't contacted us by then, we'll search for him," she says.

"Xander, just chill for a bit," puts in Joss.

Joss's words are the catalyst the situation needs to explode. Chill. I snatch a bottle from the table and throw it across the room, where it hits the TV screen. The beer runs brown down the broken screen, and I snatch a second.

"Xander!" yells a voice.

I don't listen. I don't hear. I don't think. The world blackens into the place I hate the most. Not the dreams and visions that seep into my subconscious, but the rage and pure need to destroy.

Vee’s in front of me. Someone grabs my arms and holds them behind my back. I can't lash out. They know me so well. I push back against whoever holds me, knowing they can never match my strength, and their grip breaks. Tramping through the broken glass, I crash through the door into my numb, dark world.