Lucie

I finally found him.

He was in the place I'd least expected him to be, but I was beginning to realize Vinny wasn't nearly as predictable as I thought.

He stood outside in the backyard, at the edge of the dock, watching the waves roll in and out. He was locked in a stunning stillness, his shoulders square against the blue, neck and back stick-straight. It was a little frightening, as if his emotions had burst out of him, and now he was just...hollow.

There was a voice within my head that hissed at me to turn back, to leave him alone, like he'd asked. But it was undeniable that he was hurting, so I couldn't ignore him. I couldn't ignore this.

I expected him to hear me, but he didn't, not until I'd spoken. "How's it been going?"

Vinny tensed, casting a glimpse over his shoulder. The anger had evaporated from his eyes, and now it was just a well of sorrow, filled to the brim. My throat felt tight.

"What?" he replied, half a whisper.

"I mean—since that night you went back," I said, standing beside him, peering down into the water. "When you...I don't know, relived your death. Is it easier now?"

He hesitated, then slowly sank to a seat, folding his legs. He kept his eyes trained on the bay before him, cerulean awash with pallid yellow light, a mirror to the clouds above us. "I don't know," Vinny said then. "I thought it was...but the other night..."

He stopped, clutching at his chest. "It was awful," he went on. "I don't even know how to describe it besides...well, it felt like dying, again. I couldn't breathe and I was cold and my heart was...was thudding. And I was fine, before I touched the water."

I drew in breath I didn't need. "Vince..."

"It was Cian," he said. "Cian saved me. That was before he—"

"Don't. Don't talk about Cian."

For another long moment, Vinny sat in silence. I sat with him, dangling my feet over the dock's edge. The cool water just barely kissed my toes, and I frowned, feeling nothing at all.

Beside me, Vinny scoffed. "That's why you're here though, isn't it? To talk about Cian."

"Vinny, I'm here to make sure you're okay."

"Well, news flash, Lucie: I'm not. My dad's gone. My mom wishes I was dead, probably. My brother—the one thing I've always had—is a psycho, mass-murdering demon. And then there's you, who doesn't even have a physical body anymore," Vinny observed, chuckling bitterly. "None of this is okay."

I sighed. "Fine, so that was the wrong word."

"Yeah. Hopeless or depressing would probably fit the situation better."

I closed my eyes against it all: against the bay, the gentle foam lapping at the dock's feet, against the scowl on the youngest Horne's face. It was unnerving. The day was temperate and the view was breathtaking and yet the air just tasted sour.

He was right, and maybe that was the worst part. He had every reason to be upset. It wasn't fair; none of this was fair. People like Vinny, who knew how to care and to love and nothing else, didn't deserve things like this.

I wanted to take it from him. Everything. I wished he could just take all his grief, his confusion, and thrust it all on me. It was clear he was struggling underneath its weight, and I couldn't just stand here and watch him fall.

"They can't kill him," I said, after a while. "They can't."

"They seem to disagree," Vinny countered. "Cian slaughtered Nura's father; I don't imagine she's not pissed about that. And Caprice—I don't care what of kind of act she puts up. She's just as self-serving as ever."

"Caprice may be entirely insane," I allowed, "but she does care about Cian. She's proved that enough times."

"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe she just wants to off him like every other angel in existence. God—goddamn. I don't know how much more of this I can stand, Lucie."

I paused, then exhaled, getting to my feet. A breeze blew in, ruffling Vinny's fair hair, tossing the strands into his eyes. He didn't move to shove them away, just sat there, his expression unreadable.

Sun-baked sand was like the scent of pastries in my nostrils, warm and inviting, a reminder of home, of tradition. Of the joy we'd had before our tower had come crashing down.

I rolled my shoulders back, turning abruptly towards Vinny. "What do you think we should do?"

When he squinted up at me, he seemed startled. "What do...what do I think we should do?"

I nodded.

"Like hell," he muttered. "Like hell I know what we're supposed to do."

"Vinny, come on," I said, crossing my arms. I wasn't used to this: to the bitter undertone that seemed to soil each of his words, how his lips were never too far from downturned. I'd wanted Cian for as long as I could remember, maybe ever since I'd laid eyes on him: striding over to me from behind a tree, that ambiguous half-smile on his face, a glitter of mischief deep in his sea-blue eyes.

But when I looked at his brother, at the turmoil his absence caused, I hadn't ever wanted him more than I did now.

"You said it yourself, that we have to find him. Sitting around and sulking isn't going to do anything. And you're literally his brother, the closest person to him. If anyone knows what to do, it's you," I elaborated. "So I'll ask again: what do you think we should do?"

"I hate it when you're right."

"Then you hate me twenty-four seven."

Vinny allowed a smirk. "I guess so."

"So?" I asked again.

Vinny cast one more wary glance at the incoming tides, swallowed a bit, then clambered to his feet. I noticed as he strode from the dock that his steps were timid, unsteady, but I didn't ask, nor did he give me an opportunity to. When he passed me, he was a new person, his brokenness left behind, as if washed away in the bay.

Maybe it was a facade, but for the time being, it convinced me.

"We need the girl—Nura," he said as I fell into step beside him. We were approaching the house, climbing up the backyard's grassy slope. "If she can sense demon energies, then we're pretty helpless without her."

"How do we get her on our side, then? Considering—I don't know, everything."

Vinny waited a moment, wiping sweat from his brow. "Good question. I guess we'll figure it out...but then again, think about it. Where else does she have to go, besides with us?"

I raised an eyebrow. "But I don't think she likes us. At least, not anymore."

"We gave her hot chocolate. She has to like us."

"It was hot chocolate mix. Like, the pre-made stuff. From a pouch," I pointed out.

"Who has the time to make the authentic stuff?" Vinny replied, throwing up his arms. "We had information to gather and psycho, mass-murdering demons to discuss."

"I'm just saying," I told him. "You two don't seem to be on the same page. This isn't going to be easy."

He stopped walking, and the look he gave me was dark, eyebrows pulled low over his eyes, his face all light and shadows. "Nothing's ever been easy for me, for us," he said—not like it was dismal. Just like it was the truth. "Nothing."

I wanted to speak, but I swallowed my words.

A scream split the silence, and that it was: a terrified scream, ringing high through the house like the wail of an off-pitch melody. It wasn't Caprice's, I didn't think, probably because I'd never heard her scream anyway.

Vinny and I shared a wary look. "Nura?" we questioned at once.

Before I even knew I was moving at all, I was sprinting.