Page 54 of Eternal Devotion

“You shouldn’t be here.”

I jumped and cried out at the sharp tone. My heart leaped into my throat, and I spun, planting my back against the door.

Beyond the path, among the trees and framed by mist, was Mordecai. In his black clothes, he blended with the night.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“You shouldn’t have followed me. It’s unsafe.” The comment dripped contempt.

“All the more reason to bring me along.”

He moved toward me on silent feet. The fog bent and moved around him, licking his shoes and curling up his legs like a lover’s caress. Like it was sentient.

“He’s not in there. This isn’t the correct location.” Mordecai glanced warily at the river, his spine rigid and jaw tight. “It’s all wrong,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.

“How do you know?”

Transfixed on the Sydenham, he sighed—whether in frustration at my coming after him or his failed mission, I wasn’t sure.

“In the forty minutes I’ve been here, I’ve encountered two joggers, a man walking his dog, teenage lovers, and a group of ten- or eleven-year-old boys who’d snuck off to smoke cigarettes, likely pilfered from a parent or older sibling. The path is commonly used. A practical thoroughfare. I haven’t seen a single suspicious character who might be guarding a secret. He’s not here.”

Mordecai’s attention never left the water where the fog noticeably thinned right before my eyes, offering glimpses of the opposite bank. I was no expert in weather phenomena, but there was something unnatural in the way it shifted and moved. In the sheer rapidity of its exit.

In a matter of minutes, the thick fog vanished. The final tendrils danced around Mordecai’s feet before evaporating into the night as though they had never been there at all.

I wanted to comment on the phenomenon, ask if he’d seen it too and thought it bizarre, but when I returned my gaze to Mordecai, I was met with a firm resolve that stole my voice.

“Go home, Ensley. This is not your business, and I won’t see you hurt.”

I huffed derisively, abandoning the steel door and stalking up the small embankment to join him on the path. For a long moment, I held his gaze, challenging his decision.

Mordecai didn’t back down.

We’d shared something intimate a few hours ago. Maybe it didn’t mean anything to him, and that was fine. I hadn’t gone looking for promises, and it wouldn’t be the first time I’d felt something for a guy who didn’t return the sentiment. Casual was a sadly prominent nuance of gay dating. I had yet to meet anyone who wanted to get serious, but that was my luck.

Either way, serious or casual, it would be a cold day in hell before I let someone I knew, someone I had developed feelings for, venture into danger. I had enough on my conscience for one lifetime. I would not suffer another loss, knowing it was in my power to step up and help.

Mordecai didn’t reiterate his demand, but he didn’t waver. The Bordeaux color of his eyes was lost in the night. They gleamed almost ebony under the trees and with the same intensity that had sucked me in and held me prisoner on day one.

“Ensley—”

“No,” I whispered. “You don’t get to send me away. I don’t know what’s going on, who your uncle is, or why you’ve been sent to find and rescue him. I don’t understand why the police can’t be called or what kind of people you’re up against. But I’m helping. That’s nonnegotiable. You can tell me as much or as little as you feel is necessary, but I’m not letting you do this alone.”

“It’s not a game.”

“Too bad because my priest has skills that would have been an asset.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Nope. Maybe not. But if something happens to you…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

Visions of flashing lights and the piercing wails of sirens filled my head. Screams. Crunching metal. The antiseptic scent of a hospital. Soft organ music. Sobbing. Burning incense tickling my nose. The judgmental glares of a whole town, silently pointing fingers at me, me, me.

Mordecai’s shoulders came down. His determination slipped. Stepping forward, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear before cradling my jaw. “Stubborn human,” he mumbled. “It’s not your fight.”

“I care about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Oh, Ensley.” He cupped my face with his other hand and rested his forehead to mine. “I’ve made a mistake with you.”