Chapter 45

Selene slept all through Monday, and into Tuesday. She was plagued by dreams of an anguished Sam running through a castle calling her name, and the feel of Zaybris's tongue on her neck. Cass made brief appearances at her bedside, and Selene was comforted by having her sister take care of her for a change. Vaguely, she remembered Cass leaving for work. When she woke again, Kevin was standing over her saying, "You're still in bed? It's nearly dinner time."

Selene sat up groggily. "I guess I overslept. What day is it?"

"Tuesday. Your boss has been blowing up my phone looking for you. Why didn"t you call in sick?"

‘Oh, I… " It took Selene"s brain a minute to recall that she had obligations and responsibilities in this world. "I didn't think about it."

"Where"s your phone? You must have a million texts from him." Kevin asked, gesturing at the empty space where her phone normally charged on the nightstand.

Selene frowned, trying to remember what her phone even looked like. The last time she could remember seeing it was within the backpack Arkaya had given her, which was now on the floor of the cave. Next to Sam. The image made her breath catch.

"I lost it," Selene said. "Cass and I went to Rugby and must have dropped it when were hiking." She paused then asked, "Why are you here? I thought you were touring."

Kevin pushed a lock of his chin-length hair from his face, and Selene wondered when he had last shampooed. "We're back for a week. The drummer's tendinitis was bothering him. I landed a gig at Maynard's Tavern on Saturday though. You'll help me out for it, right?"

"I guess," she replied sleepily.

They stared at each other while Kevin fiddled with his silver thumb ring. Then after a moment, he sniffed, "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

"Mmm hmm," she said, then rolled over to face away from him and fell asleep.

It was nearly 6 a.m. when Selene woke again. Kevin had climbed into bed next to her at some point and was snoring softly. So many times she had thought about how she'd feel upon returning home, but the reality was just… meh. It was good to see her sister, and she wanted to see Evan soon, but she wasn't as relieved at being home as she expected.

The automatic coffee maker switched on in the kitchen, reminding Selene that she should be getting up for work now. The idea made her want to groan. Spending her days filling out forms, sitting through boring meetings, attending webinars—all of it felt so pointless compared to how she had been living in Aurelia.

What would her life have been like if she had stayed? She pictured a quaint little cottage like Brunie and Eldridge's, with smoke puffing out the chimney and flowers bursting from the window boxes. She would spend her days going on long walks, reading, and growing vegetables, and her nights locked in Sam's arms. He would do manly things like chop wood and hunt for food, but still help with the dishes and pick up his dirty socks. Maybe she could open a little bookstore or start a library wherever they settled…

Stop.

Rolling over, Selene remembered that Sam's plans for their life together were very different. He had wanted to leave Aurelia as soon as possible and take her to the Underworld. Lock her away where she'd be his little pet since he had "claimed" her as his mate. What did that even mean? That she existed to soothe his dark moods or hop into bed whenever he felt like it? Whenever he needed her? The thought made her tense with anger.

The aroma of coffee drifted through the apartment, and Selene slipped out of bed. She poured herself a cup, spurning her usual artificial sweetener for real sugar, and gazed out the window. It still wasn't clear to her if her time in Aurelia was real. The vividness of the experience faded with each minute she connected with the real world. A hallucination seemed the most plausible explanation. Perhaps there was a gas leak nearby that had given her strange visions. Or maybe the doctor had been right about her allergy medication.

Would she ever really know?

The thought of always living with such uncertainty was devastating. Yet sleeping all day and moping wasn't going to cure her. Maybe a return to her routine was what she needed to refocus—something to occupy her mind and give her some perspective. After finishing her coffee, she started the shower to get ready for work.

Once in the office, it took her a while to remember the context of the emails in her inbox. Her boss had been understanding when she explained how she'd lost her phone and gotten sick in Rugby. The hours dragged by, and her back ached from so much sitting. When her lunch hour came, she was grateful for an excuse to pop out and buy a new phone.

It took longer than expected at the cell phone store, and she was starving by the time she finished. She stopped by a barbecue place to grab lunch, and while she waited in line, the hair on the back of her neck began to rise. It felt like someone was watching her.

She looked around the restaurant, but everyone was glued to their phones or occupied in conversations. The feeling continued until her eyes landed on a tall man leaning on the wall near the restrooms—staring directly at her. He wore a black button-down shirt, indigo jeans, and a silver skull-shaped belt buckle. The cowboy hat he wore gave him away as a tourist, but he didn't seem lost or taking in the local flavor. There was something predatory in his lean, casual stance.

Their eyes met, and his mustache twitched with a smile. He touched the brim of his hat and nodded. It was an old-fashioned gesture, but before Selene could respond, it was her turn in line to order. She could still feel the cowboy's eyes on her as she paid, but when she turned around, he was gone.

Back at the office, she stared at the clock until it reached 5:00, then practically sprinted out the door. As she drove home, she thought about the cowboy, wondering why she felt strangely drawn to him. It wasn't just because he was tall, dark, and handsome—there was something more. Thoughts of him dissipated though, once she got home and gratefully found the apartment empty. She flopped onto the couch, relieved to at last have some time alone.

After finding nothing on TV, she picked up the pile of cardboard coasters stacked on the coffee table to shuffle them absentmindedly. They were emblazoned with lyrics from Kevin's moderately successful song, "He Died of Poetry," and used as giveaways for fans.

She thought back to the night when they first heard that song play on the radio. They'd been driving back from a Nashville Sounds baseball game, and both of them had screamed when the DJ introduced it. Kevin had been so excited he immediately wanted to visit a tattoo parlor to get the title memorialized across his forearm. Selene stood by as he got inked, checking his social media, and reporting back with all the new followers. She had been thrilled for him, but also gratified to see the work she had done pay off. It wasn't easy building his platform, making contacts, and learning about the music industry, but that moment seemed to make it all worthwhile. For months after, he would dedicate the song to her at shows. The recognition made her glow.

I miss those times.

She thought about all the little victories they had celebrated as a couple. In the beginning, they used to have a lot of fun together. Kevin wasn't a bad person; had she been too hard on him? Was it fair to compare a regular guy to a towering, muscle-bound Vengeance demon? Especially one who may or may not have been a hallucination?

Placing the coasters down, she stretched out on the couch. Maybe Kevin did just want some space to focus on his career. All relationships took work, and this could be a new beginning for them if she were open to it. It was worth considering.

The rest of the week went by quickly. Selene felt like she had something akin to jet lag and kept falling asleep on the couch in front of the TV each night. Cass texted her a few times to see how she was feeling, and Selene feigned normality. Work was as dull as ever, peppered with a few awkward moments when she unexpectedly found herself walking out of a meeting that had dragged on too long and confusing her boss by flat-out refusing his requests to work through lunch.

Kevin spent most of his free time rehearsing at a friend's house for his gig, so they rarely saw each other. When they were home together, Selene tried to be positive but found herself barely able to hold a conversation with him. He always seemed to be whining about something or fishing for reassurance. She went along as best she could, but her thoughts kept straying to the stone she had clutched in her hand in Rugby—now sitting in her jewelry box. A few times, she had taken it out to look at it, wondering if it was truly pulsing with energy or just her imagination. One time she even thought she saw an image of Sam's face glinting on the stone's shiny surface, but the surge of grief it caused made her quickly put it away.

On the day of Kevin's big show, he left in the morning for one last rehearsal. Selene spent the day running errands until she found herself unable to resist the call of her cozy bed for a quick afternoon nap.

She was awakened by the words, "Are you serious, Selene? Why isn't my stuff ready?"

Kevin stood by the bed, glaring at her with his hands in a "what gives" gesture. The clock showed it was nearly 4 p.m. but it took Selene a moment to understand why he was so offended. Then she remembered how she usually had all his merchandise organized and packed up by the door before his shows.

"Oh, sorry. I haven't been feeling well lately," she said.

"I have to be at Maynard's in an hour," Kevin said.

"I know, just give me a sec to wake up." She rose from the bed then began brushing her hair.

"You don't look sick," Kevin muttered. He started to pace, stroking his goatee impatiently. "Could you hurry it up a little?"

"Sorry, I'll be ready in a few minutes." She began gathering her hair back into a ponytail.

"You know this show is important to me. There might be industry people there."

"So you've said."

"You had all day to pull everything together."

Selene's eyes narrowed as she watched him in the mirror hanging on the wall. "I told you I haven't been feeling like myself this week."

"How convenient."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just that… well," Kevin plucked at the beaded bracelets around his wrist. His eyes were accusatory as they met hers in the mirror. "It would be nice if you could support me for once!"

Selene paused as the words rang her ears. Slowly, she set down her hairbrush and turned to face him. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me. This is my dream we're talking about, and you're acting like it's nothing." He kicked the footboard of their bed.

"That's not true," she said.

"Then show me that you want me to succeed here."

"I'm trying—"

Kevin stepped closer to take her hand. "Try harder, Seleney."

Selene jerked her hand out of his grip. Anger ripped through her like a shot—more urgent and closer to the surface than ever before. It sizzled through her veins. She leveled her gaze until Kevin paled and looked away. Then she pushed past him to march into the living room. She began to grab handfuls of merchandise from the stacks of CDs, LPs, stickers, and coasters littering the room.

"Forgive me for neglecting my duties!" she snapped while tossing Kevin's things into a plastic bin near his guitar case. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a black shadow dart toward her, but it dissipated when Kevin followed after her.

"Hey! Be careful. Aren't you going to inventory those?"

"Are you going to dock my pay?" Selene continued filling up the bin. Her skin felt hot, though the air conditioner was on. After all that she had done for Kevin, she couldn't believe his nerve. It's never enough. Seeing so clearly how he was trying to manipulate her felt as though she were waking up from a long sleep.

She went to the coat closet and pulled out the metal cash box she used for making change and threw it against the carpet. How many shows had she lugged that thing around? She even carried it into the bathroom with her to prevent someone stealing Kevin's "hard-earned" profits. Next, she grabbed the folding table with the wobbly leg and set it near the front door with a thud.

Finally, she picked up the big vinyl sign leaning against a wall with the KEVIN P. NORTON logo she had commissioned. Shoving it into Kevin's chest, she said, "All done!"

He swallowed. Carefully, he took the sign from her hands then set it on the floor. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm done being your manager."

Kevin gaped at her. "What do you mean?"

Gesturing around, Selene said, "This. Coordinating your schedule. Running your social media, booking your shows, hauling your gear. I don't want to do it anymore."

Kevin's mouth open and closed, but no sound came out.

"I quit," she said.

He looked shocked. "But… I thought you loved my music."

"This isn't about your music."

"I don't understand."

"It's about my time. You wanted a break, so here you go."

The confusion in Kevin's face turned to a sneer. "What's your problem? You've been weird all week."

Selene laughed. "Oh, have I?"

"You used to like helping me. I don't understand what's changed."

She was about to say something caustic, but the hurt in his eyes made her pause. Her anger ebbed as she took in how pitiful he looked, standing there in his best vintage t-shirt next to a sign bearing his own name. She considered that it was an abrupt change for him to take, after she spent so much time working for him without complaint.

"I'll show you how to do everything," she said. "We can take it one thing at a time."

"But you're so much better at it than I am. And what about tonight?" Kevin's voice was panicked. "You know how important this show is for me. I can't do everything by myself!"

"Take a breath. I'll help tonight. But after this, things have to change."

He nodded. Selene smiled, feeling more awake than she had all week.