Epilogue

T he cafe was packed with more people than we had seen in a long time. Twelve hours of driving from our last hunt had made everyone a little cranky. Koen slid into the booth beside me and rested his head against the cracked navy blue vinyl seats.

“The bathrooms haven’t been cleaned since the sixties.” He laughed.

The bruises around his neck were finally almost gone, and nothing but faint pinkish lines indicated where the vines had left imprints from twisting so tightly into his skin. The band T-shirt he wore was ripped at the sleeves and showed off the side of his torso, where more tiny scars littered his body, but he didn’t seem to mind much.

A pretty waitress with bleached-blond hair and a bright smile came around to collect our orders. Turning her attention on Clay, his overgrown, long dark curls swept back off his face except for one that fell perfectly against his forehead. He smiled back at her with his lopsided toothy grin and big, blue eyes, his tongue darting out over his bottom lip as he leaned over the dingy table in his dress shirt. Tattoos peeked from the collar and wrists as he rubbed his fingers over the book's spine in his hand.

He hadn’t stopped carrying the book of poetry around since that day .

By now, he’d have memorized every word, but held tight to it nonetheless.

It was special because of the memories tucked carefully inside with dog-eared and tear-soaked pages.

The waitress attempted to flirt with him, but he ordered and returned to his book without much interest in her.

“Did you figure out anything about the murders?” Koen asked, kicking Clay under the table.

“We might actually have a Chupacabra on our hands,” he sighed, looking up from the page.

“Here? Aren’t those things deep South America types of bogeymen?” Koen scowled.

“Local authorities say it’s just a bear but one ‘nut job’ was telling anyone who would listen that its bigfoot; but three eyewitnesses all claimed that it was over seven feet tall and had a ‘bear-like-human voice.’”

“How many victims?” I asked.

“Six,” Clay answered, “that we know of, all hikers.”

“I hate camping.” Koen rolled his eyes, and I nudged him.

“It’ll be fun. We can have smores, and I miss the stars. We’ve been in too many big cities lately. Some country air will do us some good,” I responded.

“Yeah, fine,” Koen mumbled, sitting up as the waitress slid the burgers across the table to us. “These might actually be road kill,” he teased, grabbing his burger as Clay shook his head.

They dug in, but I couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate how good it looked before wrapping my hands around it and bringing it to my lips. The warm burger coated my tongue with grease and dripped down my wrists as I held it back from my face as I chewed.

“So?” Wesley asked me from across the table, golden waves highlighted by the sunlight behind him as he arched his arm across the back of the booth. His shirt stretched over the expanse of his broad chest, and his lips curved into a loose smile. “How’s your first greasy burger, Vengeful?”

I scrunch my nose up at him and filled with warmth under his gaze, so grateful to see it every day.

“Quite possibly the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“Until you’re vomiting on the side of the motorway later,” Koen grumbled as he shoved a few fries between his lips. Clay’s brows kissed as he looked up to give him a dirty glare.

Some days were more challenging than others, with the memories of what happened creeping into the dark spaces of my mind but, even then, the thoughts and feelings were wholly mine . Orchid Manor had been ripped from my being, its essence completely eradicated aside from my memories, and I was finally just human again—as hard as being human could be. I had come to appreciate sleep and food more than before, especially now that I needed both to function again.

It had been a growing process for all four of us when they had brought me back from the edge of death. I could remember the warm breeze on my cheeks and the soft sound of my mothers singing, and my fathers laughter calling me home. But they hadn’t been finished with me, and I hadn’t been finished with them, and in the end the Hunters who had vowed to do their job did just that. I was fortunate enough to be saved.

The images of waking up to them huddled around me were burned into the back of my mind .

Koen’s big green eyes were wet and red as I shot from death back into the light. Clay’s hands gripped around me so tightly they left bruises that didn’t heal for weeks, my chest and neck sore, and Wesley standing over us, his face tight in shock as if he had just seen a ghost.

Orchid Manor was nothing but ash.

I had died, my heart had stopped beating and, with the Manor obliterated, the house had nothing left to live off of. My death was also the Manor’s. By some sort of miracle Wesley had been able to find me and bring me back from the brink. This miracle they had pulled off was the beginning of a new life. My new life.

Stepping through the gate had brought me to tears, and each mile we drove further from Orchid Manor was a new start to a fresh life that I couldn’t wait to live.

Clay had insisted we wait awhile before we dove straight into fried foods and anything that might upset my system but, after a few weeks of traveling, he finally gave way. Starting with a disgusting roadside cafe burger and the greasiest fries I had ever eaten. I leaned against Koen and one of his hands came down beneath the table to brush against my thigh. I was always grateful for the closeness.

His lips pressed to my temple and I couldn’t help but smile even brighter.

Happy as can be.

“Oh,” Clay dug into his bag and pulled out a folder. “I found information on someone.” He held it out to me. “You might want to see this.”

I stared at the folder as he watched me carefully.

“I found her,” he said with a small smile when I didn’t respond .

I flipped open the manilla folder and stared down at the clippings, articles and photos of… Oh, Aisling. “She survived.” A sob ripped from me and my eyes watered, as my fingers brushed the photo of her.

“I wanted to show you earlier but–”

He stopped, we had been intent on his search for answers to set me free and twisted so incredibly tight, unable to shift focus from anything but Orchid Manor. I understood why it had taken so long for him to reveal this.

“So I did some more research and found so many beautiful things. She lived eighty incredible years,” Clay said. “After she was found in town she was treated by a doctor, who she later married and, with the help of her husband, they opened a nursing school that still stands. It’s part of a larger medical center in a town not far from where you were all those years.”

“Her heart always had been so big,” I whispered, tears streaming down my cheeks. “She survived him.”

Wesley leaned forward on the table, his long arm extending and brushing my cheek.

“You both did,” Clay assured me. “She had two children, both girls.” He pointed to something in her records.

Flora , she had named her first daughter after me and tears that had been steadily escaping did not cease. I set the folder down and inhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you for this.”

“Anything for you.” He winked one of those familiar blue eyes at me and went back to his burger.

Clay and Koen finished their burgers, deep in a discussion about mermaids and whether or not they existed as they funneled from the cafe into the fresh air. Wesley’s finger hooked into one of the loops on my waist and pulled me back against him as he paid for our food, his fingers tickling around my hip and pressing to my stomach beneath my shirt aimlessly.

Though it was still strange, his affection was given freely now.

There was very little in life that I was sure about, but I knew from the moment I was brought back into this world, that Wesley Cameron was done guarding his heart. He had vowed that day to wear it on his sleeve, the way Koen had, because life had swept in and showed us that it was short and fragile. And, despite being immortal for so long, I felt it in a more demanding way than the rest of them, waning between life and death for so long that I forgot what it was like to truly live .

It would be foolish of me to say I wasn’t scared. Everyday, I was terrified to be so human and fragile, but I knew if I had Wesley at my back and Clay at my side, Koen would protect the other. I could face anything the world threw at us. And the fear of injury or death faded to a dull roar when I realized I could help people again.

Hunting had stitched together that piece of me I had lost so long ago.

A life worth being mortal for.

Wesley kept himself wrapped around me as we wandered from the establishment, the sun and his lips warming the skin on my neck as the door closed behind us.

“Hello, handsome.” I giggled as his fingers danced between my stomach and the waist of my jeans, brushing between the button and my skin.

“Next hotel, we’re getting two rooms,” he whispered, and it tickled my ear .

I laughed and leaned back into his chest as the other two argued in the distance. Koen’s face was appalled as Clay spewed facts about the logistics of mermaids' existence.

“Someone would have seen them by now, Koen!” He argued.

“The ocean is massive. You’re a horrible nerd!” Koen growled as he approached the truck.

“I’m sick of sharing,” Wesley added.

“Alright.” I caved to his request, turning in his arms to face him. “But you have to tell them.”

His brows scrunched together as he stared down at me with an annoyed expression but I could count the gold specks in his hazel eyes and couldn’t be bothered by anything else. His fingers dug into my hips as he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over mine.

“I’ll play you for it?” He whispered just as I thought he might kiss me.

“Not fair, you always win.” I laughed, pulling back and holding my hand out for a game of rock, paper, scissors.

He shook his head and let go of me to hold his hand out. “Rock, paper, scissors,” he said in time, following our hand movements. His fist curled into a rock.

“Hah!” I yelled, “Paper beats rock!”

Wesley grunted, rolling his eyes but cupping my face in his hands as he kissed me in the middle of the parking lot with a needy ferocity that I adored coming from him. His lips were so soft as he stole one more quick kiss.

“Good luck.” I laughed, skipping from him toward Clay, who waited with the door of the Bronco open.

“What was that about?” He asked, stepping forward and pinning my back against the truck as he approached. Lemon and leather washing over me.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I smiled up at him, thumb brushing over the divots that formed on his cheek as his smile grew wide.

“I quite like the mischievous side of you.” His nose brushed against mine as his lips hovered teasingly, not touching me yet.

“I’m finding being human quite agreeable,” I huffed when he didn’t kiss me immediately.

“You were always human, Florence,” he said before finally colliding with my lips for a short, delicate kiss that tingled and made my knees weak. “You just needed a reminder.”