Karsten Knight - Afterglow

Of course she couldn’t blame them. With the way she had her cell phone and its GPS held out in front of her, she might as well have been clutching a big, wrinkled map. For the second time in as many weeks she’d traveled to a new city with absolutely no preparation or plan . . . and it showed.

That didn’t stop her from pausing in one storefront to admire two big crimson awnings that read CAFFÉ POMPEII. A volcano goddess standing in front of a restaurant named after a town destroyed by a volcanic eruption? If Ash believed in signs, this one might have indicated that she was on the right path.

But Ash had no faith in signs anymore.

She had no faith in people anymore either. In the last few months she’d witnessed the grisly murders of three of her best friends—innocent gods whose lives had been snuffed before they’d even graduated high school. She’d watched power-hungry deities descend into madness, the worst offender being Colt Halliday, a villainous trickster who, unfortunately, also happened to be her ex-boyfriend. And worst of all, her two sisters, Eve and Rose—her own kin—had betrayed her and teamed up with the puppeteer.

Colt had charmed and deceived his way into her life, pretending to be human, when in fact he was a supernatural entity just like her. His ultimate agenda: to merge Ashline and her two sisters back into Pele, the destructive Polynesian volcano goddess that he’d supposedly loved for centuries, over many lifetimes. If he succeeded, then when Ash, Eve, and Rose were reincarnated in the next lifetime, they would all wake up in one mind, one body.

Ash knew she wasn’t perfect, but she liked her soul just the way it was now.

And she’d do whatever it took to stop Colt from tampering with it.

After a five-minute walk down Hanover Street, the storefronts opened up onto a beautiful, tree-lined walkway—the Paul Revere Mall. A bronze sculpture of the famous patriot on the back of his horse loomed over Ash, but her attention was fixed on the tall monument in the not-too-distant background.

The Old North Church.

She made her way down the walkway toward the towering white steeple. As a lead, the nearly three-hundred-year-old church hadn’t been much to go on, but she’d learned during her last encounter with Colt that he wanted something here. What could Colt so desperately need to acquire at a church? She couldn’t imagine that Colt was after a Bible or a hymnbook, and he certainly wasn’t going there for confession. And more importantly, why had both Eve and Rose willingly followed him here?

Ash jumped the short wrought iron gate behind the church and cut through the little garden. Against the shrub-lined wall was a statue of Saint Francis, who gazed back toward the street as though he were imploring her to turn around.

The front doors to the church were wide open to let in the crisp July air, but there were only a few people inside. A young man dressed in a shirt and tie stood near the altar, looking remarkably bored. His attention seemed divided between his cell phone and the few random tourists who were wandering around with cameras and camcorders. However, Ash noticed the well-dressed man straighten his posture and smile stupidly when he saw her.

Good , she thought. He looks eager to please. . . . Sometimes being a girl really does have its advantages.

Unfortunately, Ash had no idea who she was looking for, and the tour guide didn’t exactly exude that “person of cosmic importance” vibe. It’s not like she’d been expecting to walk through the front doors of the church and find Colt and her two sisters camping out in the white pews. Still, she’d hoped that someone—or something—would scream, “Colt was here.”

Instead the place of worship looked just like an ordinary church. White walls and high ceilings. Tall windows to fill the room with light. An old pipe organ with its rigid metal fingers pointing to heaven.

Then Ash’s attention drifted to the stairwell against the back wall, which was barricaded by a red fabric cord.

She tried her best to plaster a smile on her face, something she hadn’t done a lot lately, and approached the man at the altar. As soon as he saw her coming, he stuffed his phone back into the pocket of his khakis and tried to look casual.

Nice try , Ash thought. It didn’t help that she could still hear the tinny sound effects of the video game on his phone chirping through his pants.

Ash stopped just inside the man’s personal bubble. “Do you work here?” she asked.

Unlike hers, the lopsided smile on his face was genuine, if slightly idiotic. “No,” he said. “I just like to dress up and stand around in historic churches wearing a name tag.” He angled the metallic pin up so she could read his name: Dave.

Someone has to teach this kid some game , Ash thought. She touched his elbow. “Well, Dave, I just wanted to tell you how adorable I think it is that you let those kids out in the garden make chalk drawings on the side of the church.”

Dave, who had been glancing with anticipation at the hand on his elbow, suddenly blanched. “They’re . . . they’re drawing on the church?”

“Well,” Ash said, “one of them is technically using finger paint, but I’m sure it will wash right off the brick. I especially like the kid who drew the devil and its two big red—”

Dave sprinted down the aisle toward the front door before she could even finish her sentence. Ash made sure the tourists were too engrossed in their filming to pay her any mind. Then she darted over to the stairwell, ducked under the red rope, and jogged up the stairs.

The second floor was just more of the same, but Ash found a door leading farther up into the church. Sixteen hours ago she’d watched her friend Raja fall to her death off the top of an apartment building—a fate that Ash had nearly shared herself, if her fiery abilities and some quick thinking hadn’t saved her on the way down—so the last thing she wanted was to climb a series of rickety staircases and ladders to the bell tower of a hundred-and-ninety-foot tall church . . . but she was running out of options and clues. Colt and her sisters had reached Boston half a day ahead of Ash, after they’d jumped through one of Rose’s portals, and there was no time to lose.

The musty stairwell, which was barely wider than her shoulders, led up into the dark, brick-lined interior of the steeple. Eight thick ropes descended from above. When Ash craned her neck to gaze up into the rafters, she saw that they were attached to a series of enormous bells. She grabbed one of the red grips but resisted the urge to tug on it.

Ash leaned beneath the little circular window and sighed. “What the hell were you looking for, Colt?” she whispered. Unless there was someone or something hiding up in one of the boulder-size bronze bells, she was faced with two possible realities:

Whatever Colt was looking for wasn’t here, or worse—

Colt had already found it.

Ash dropped down into a sitting position on the dusty floorboards. She was overcome with defeat and out of leads, and her fatigue suddenly caught up with her. She buried her face in the crook of her elbow. She just needed to rest her eyes, just for a moment. . . .

Ash wasn’t sure how long she’d been out when the telltale creak of the stairwell door woke her up. She scrambled to her feet just as a skinny college-aged boy popped into view. The moment he saw her, he froze in the doorway, his foot only beginning to come down. He had a bulky backpack slung over one shoulder and a pizza box in his hand. Beneath his red and black baseball cap, there was something in his expression. . . .

Recognition.

And that’s when he tried to run.

Disoriented as she was, Ash caught up to him before he could even make it to the second step. She looped her fingers around the handle of his backpack and pulled hard, sending the boy flying back into the bell tower. He landed in the dust beneath the bell ropes. Ash slammed the door shut to block his escape.