EVA

STICKY JOE'S PUB WAS BARREN. They stepped inside to silence, save for light static crackling from overhead speakers that hadn't worked for as long as Eva could remember. There was usually a surplus of boisterous laughter and catcalling at any given time, eliminating the need for noise. That night, however, it felt far too quiet.

The bartender greeted them with what Eva assumed was a permanent scowl. Then her eyes landed upon the pint-shaped clock hung above the backbar. It was nearly two in the morning, and they'd arrived with minutes to spare until last call.

Jensen took the initiative and ordered two long islands, sparing Eva's still-twisted tongue. After bartering with the bartender, he convinced the pissed woman to let him buy a basket of cold wings from the darkened kitchen.

Eva tried to stay calm, but absentmindedly paced the floor as he approached with his wings. The bartender eyeballed them from across the way as she poured ice into their glasses.

"Let's grab a seat," said Jensen.

Nodding, Eva followed him, with the woman's eyes drilling into her skull. If their goal was to stay undercover, Eva felt she'd blown it by a mile.

They made themselves comfortable in a booth near the back of the pub. Jensen wasted no time digging into his food, fingers and lips slathered in sauce before Eva could take a calming breath.

"Enough of this." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "What are you?"

Jensen licked his fingers. "Hungry."

He went in for another wing, but she grabbed his wrist and forced him to look at her. Under the weariness, his eyes held the mischievous glint she'd found enamoring for months. But she didn't want games. She wanted the truth.

Even if she had to strangle him for it.

Jensen knew it, too. His playfulness faltered as he cast a glance over Eva's shoulder. Impatient footsteps slapped behind her, and it was hardly a moment before their drinks were placed onto the table with a little too much force.

Their bartender flicked her eyes between them. "You have thirty minutes."

With that, she turned on her heel and resumed a steady gait back to the bar.

"I think you already know, coffee bean."

Eva's head snapped back to Jensen. That sly smile crept across his sauce-slathered lips again. Coffee bean. She had hit him plenty of times for that nickname, and the only thing stopping her from doing it again was the bartender who would likely throw them out for breathing in the wrong direction.

Still, his words struck home. Eva opened her mouth to argue, but when his eyes flashed from cerulean to gold, only a gasp left her lips. The overhead light sputtered and buzzed. With a blink, his eyes dimmed to their familiar blue.

Flames. Golden eyes. Black goo.

"Emrys?"

His eyes flared again, and the lights rattled even more furiously.

"I'm losing my mind," muttered Eva. "You're not... you can't be. It's impossible."

"So is everything else that's happened in the last twenty minutes." Emrys—if she could even call him that—tossed his next picked-clean wing onto a napkin. "What the hell were you doing in that park?"

She swallowed hard. "I had a dream."

"I thought your dreams stopped."

Eva opened her mouth to ask how he knew, but promptly snapped her lips shut. On slow days at the library, "Jensen" had taken a particular interest in her dreams, asking endless questions about how they affected her stories. It had never occurred to her that his curiosity was anything more than enjoyment of her books.

"They did," she said, "until last night. Bobbi showed me a video from her shop. There was this black gunk that the police never found. It looked like..." She felt silly for even thinking it. "It looked like the Darkness."

"It is. I've run into a few Corrupted in town already. If you couldn't tell, our kitty friend was one of them."

They reached for their glasses in unison. Eva took a long drink, while Emrys' was hesitant and followed by a strong shudder. She couldn't help but wonder why he ordered it before remembering Bobbi's prior assumption of his drink orders. Of course he would order her favorite out of politeness. It probably tasted like shit in comparison to the sickeningly sweet drinks in Astraela.

"When I got home from the library," she continued, "I looked through my books to read up on the Darkness. Then, I fell asleep, and—"

"What did you see?" Emrys watched her with such intrigue that she was sure he'd sear a hole straight through her skull.

She described her dream to him in detail: from the flaming room, to the tree oozing Corruption, and how her body had fled to the park of its own accord. Emrys grew increasingly tense, sipping his grimace-inducing drink nervously.

"I've never heard of a Visionary being controlled like that," he mumbled.

They shared a knowing look that made Eva's heart stop. Visionaries were prevalent in her books, traversing the dreams of other Astraelans and seeing the world through their eyes. The Guild used them as spies, putting them to sleep to scope out anyone suspected of dark magic. It often led them straight toward encampments of necromancers.

Emrys and Thana had lost countless allies to them... and, now, Eva was one herself. She'd traveled through her own dreams for years, watching her characters and writing down their adventures for others to enjoy.

"Are you sure you didn't see anyone?" asked Emrys. "Feel another presence?"

"It felt just like my other dreams, until the weird trance."

"Who would do something like that?" he whispered, more to himself than her.

"Thana?"

The name made him recoil more than any sip of his drink. His brows knit together and a cold, far-off look plagued his eyes. "That's impossible."

"You said it yourself: we've gone way past impossible." Eva drummed her fingers against the table. "I've never been inside anyone else's head. I'm only connected to Thana."

"Not anymore."

She scoffed at his defensive tone. Something inside urged her not to push, but she refused to acknowledge it.

"I don't get it," she said. "Why would I jump into someone else's mind—"

"Because Thana is dead."

The air between them grew cold, but whether it was from the revelation or the constant draft, she was unsure.

"She can't be."

Emrys' eyes, aimed lazily in her direction, seemed to stare much farther away. As his blinking became more rapid, he shifted back against his seat with folded arms. His wounded expression made him appear much smaller, as if the six foot tall man was no more than a child shrinking into himself.

She could hardly look at him. Any other day, she would offer consolation or a quick joke to make his smile resurface. But she couldn't.

Taking in his sorrowful demeanor overwhelmed her with an emotion she didn't understand. It felt as though an anchor had been chained to her soul, drowning her in murky depths of despair.

In less than an hour, not only had she met one of her fictional heroes, but the other was dead.

Feelings drifted to the surface that she'd long buried to keep their tight-knit relationship intact. The tips of her fingers tingled; she longed to reach out for him, to stroke his cheek with comfort, to assure him everything would be all right.

While the distance between them was minimal, Eva couldn't bring herself to close the gap. Instead, she settled for a spoken word, and not even a helpful one for her hurting friend.

"How?"

Deep lines creased his forehead. "We were on the run with a pack of necromancers." He cleared his throat, but it did nothing to diminish the thickness of his words. "We figured we were better off sticking together since the Guild was rallying forces. Armies. We knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up with us, but..."

Emrys' words trailed off, and he stared into his nearly-empty glass. A quiver jumped across his lips.

If Eva didn't know better, she would've sworn the lights flickered.

"They assassinated her?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Most of our pack went into the city for supplies, but a few of us stayed behind to keep an eye on the camp. When the Guild arrived, we thought we could handle them until we saw their eyes. Pitch black, but not Demonic.

"They weren't like anything we'd come across, and they went down hard. I came nose-to-nose with one who barely flinched until I cranked up to max blaze. That's when we noticed the goo."

Suddenly, Eva was unable to stomach the sight of his food.

"It leaked from everywhere," continued Emrys. "Eyes, mouths, nostrils... I think every exit hole on their bodies dripped with the stuff."

Moisture glistened at the perimeter of his eyes. He tried to swipe it away, but she saw the tear he caught before it could snake down his cheek.

Emrys took a deep breath. "One of them got Thana. She fought like hell, but even the Reaper's Touch took too long to kill the damn thing."

When he fell silent, Eva longed to ask more, but chose not to prod as he let out a shuddering sigh. She scoured her brain for another topic—anything to derail the conversation to something lighter.

She found nothing. Instead, they let silence blanket them in its embrace as they finished their drinks (with a surprising second round for her companion), and Emrys polished off his basket of wings. When the bartender returned for a third time to remind them they needed to leave, they didn't fight her, though Eva's clouding brain wished they could stay put for a while longer.

They emerged into the bitter night once again. This time, the heat radiating from Emrys' pores did nothing to touch the chill. He clearly had a destination in mind, his steps leading them assuredly down the remainder of the street.

"Where are we going?" asked Eva as he turned another corner.

In the distance, a familiar boarded-up storefront caught her eye. Much to her surprise, soft light filtered from the upstairs windows, where the coffee shop ascended to Bobbi's small apartment. She must have gotten involved in binge-watching a new show; it was the only time she was ever awake at such a ridiculous hour.

"My place," said Emrys. "The Corrupted know where you live. That attack on your street was no coincidence... not after tonight. You'll be safer with me."

She believed him, but her confidence wavered with the slight slowness of his voice. While he wasn't drunk, she couldn't imagine a human fireball mixing well with alcohol.

But he was alert, and that was all that mattered. He cast continual glances up and down the street, over his shoulder, and listened intently for noises she couldn't hear. In fact, it wasn't until then that Eva realized she heard nothing at all. The night was deathly quiet, void of even the breeze that once chilled her to the bone.

They shared a hesitant look. Stopping by the entrance to a short alley, Emrys did another sweep of the surrounding area. Even the air smelled of char and decay, something Eva had never experienced, but so distinct that there was no mistaking it.

She stepped behind Emrys. "Do you—"

"Yeah," he whispered. "I smell it, too."

They moved slowly, steps falling in harmony while they shifted to stand back-to-back. It felt natural. Like they'd done it for a million lifetimes—and Eva realized that, inside her dreams, they had. In another body, another world, they had taken a similar stance. One where they didn't touch as they did then, where the warmth of his body didn't envelop hers with safety, but it was effective all the same.

When Emrys held his breath, listening again to something Eva's human ears couldn't perceive, she pressed herself closer to him. She jumped at the sensation of something brushing her hand before she realized it was his. They interlocked fingers, and she squeezed his hand tight.

A snarl pierced the air.

Eva had no time to react before their hands were ripped apart. She turned in a flash to find him tumbling ass-over-tea-kettle with a familiar corpse.

The mountain lion—or whatever the hell it was—slashed a paw across his chest. Emrys crumbled to the ground, fire blazing behind his golden eyes.

Every street light sputtered in rapid succession. One by one, their bulbs shattered, raining glass upon their heads, but Eva paid no mind to their sting.

Instead, her focus was on Emrys, who narrowly dodged another talon strike. He gripped his abdomen, and through the shredded remains of his shirt, blood poured from what should have been a fatal wound. Still, he stood, albeit unsteadily, to fire a ball of flame.

But nothing happened. Not even a spark emerged from his outstretched—and now trembling—hand. Their eyes met, his full of rage and Eva's wild with fear.

"Close your eyes!"

Emrys' cry echoed down the empty street. Eva didn't listen. She was fixated on him, on the opportunity he'd provided the charging beast. Before she could holler for him to watch out, the cat had brought him to the pavement once more.

It was déjà vu. The beast stood atop its prey, nose-to-nose with Emrys in the stare-off of the century. But this time, it raised its barbed tail. Its thorns glinted in the moonlight, poised for a lethal strike.

"Eva! Close your damn eyes!"

Emrys must not have known her stubborn nature well—but she quickly wished she'd listened.

Everything went white.

She closed her eyes and lifted an arm to shield herself, but nothing diminished the blinding light. Sweat dripped down her face. The temperature had risen exponentially, as if she'd been thrust into the room from her dreams, where flames waited to consume every molecule of her being.

It wasn't until the light died that she peered through the cracks between her fingers. The street felt much darker in contrast, especially without the street lights to guide her way.

Only one shadowed figure remained on the pavement, surrounded by what appeared to be tufts of ash. The fragments fluttered around him, blanketing the street like a fresh dusting of snow.

Eva sprinted to Emrys' side, but stopped in her tracks when she saw the man sprawled out in pain.

A man who did not look like Jensen Hawthorn, but one just as familiar.

When he forced himself to sit up, his irises shifted to an amber hue, and his usually-glowing skin dimmed in unison. His complexion was abnormally pale and clammy; dark bags folded under sullen eyes, unfocused in his dazed state.

As she knelt at his side, she took in every line and freckle on his face. She had watched him in this form so many times, but it had never been so close.

Never so real.

Eva's hand moved of its own accord, fingers sweeping the unkempt raven hair that hung over his eyes. Any other time, she would have found its sweat-riddled stickiness gross, but the soft texture of his skin brought such a shock to her fingertips that she couldn't pull them away.

"Emrys." Her voice was breathless. Hopeful.

Either she wasn't insane at all, or she had gone so far down the rabbit hole that she had begun hallucinating her book character's true face.

"I'm glad you recognize me—"

His voice nearly made her heart stop. It was deeper than normal, weighted with pain and stripped of the life that typically bounced across every word.

"—but we should run before we get arrested."

Eva snapped back to reality. Suddenly, she remembered where they were, sitting in the middle of the street with blood splattering the asphalt. Her eyes drifted to his midsection. While his shirt was drenched in crimson, she could see through the slashed fabric that his wounds were healing at superhuman speed.

Emrys extended his other arm, and she took it, helping him to his feet. When he leaned his full weight against her, she couldn't help but notice how light he felt. She wanted to brush it off as adrenaline until she turned to face him. They were at eye level—something she had never experienced next to Jensen.

Had he always been so short?

"My apartment is only a few blocks away."

Eva shook her head. It wouldn't be long before the sirens wailed again, and since they weren't far from the park, they would have emergency services surrounding them before they could get far.

"I have a better idea," she said.

Not giving him the opportunity to protest, she hastened her steps to half-drag him down the street. While he struggled to keep up with her pace, he somehow managed it without collapsing to the ground.

Eva's gaze lifted to the boarded-up coffee shop half a block away. They could make it if they hurried. Though the upstairs lights had browned-down from the electrical surge, she knew there was no way her best friend would stay in her apartment—not with the noise from the street to drive her information-seeking brain downstairs for a better look.

She only hoped Bobbi wouldn't mind cleaning up blood.

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