Chapter VI: When Angels Fall

  They were on the road, headed north toward Whittaker—more specifically, the police station. The GPS had mapped it as just under an hour away. Nathaniel was fine with that. The road gave him time to think, and lately, there’d been too much in his head to hold still.

  Sarah had drifted into a nap about fifteen minutes earlier, and now she was stirring, blinking against the slanting light of the early morning. She shifted in her seat and rolled the window down halfway, letting in the cold air as she ran her fingers through her hair, tugging it back into shape with soft, absent motions. A thin line of drool stained the corner of her mouth, which she wiped away with an annoyed grimace.

  “If you tell anyone about that, I’ll kill you,” she muttered, not even turning to face him.

  Nathaniel smirked, eyes still on the road. “Don’t be mad. It’s adorable.”

  Sarah laughed, the sound light and unguarded. She turned in her seat, curling her legs beneath her, and stared at him with that sideways smile that hadn’t changed at all. “I always thought you were cute, you know.”

  His heart thudded once, hard. He glanced at her, taking in those green eyes—bright even under the shadow of her hoodie, her freckles catching in the pale sun. “I’m glad you did,” he said, voice low. “I never had the moxie to talk to you.”

  “Moxie?” She chuckled. “You still talk like an old man.”

  “Can’t help it,” he replied, a little grin playing at the edge of his mouth. “I like it better than the way people talk nowadays.”

  He trailed off, eyes drifting out the window. For a moment, he grew quiet. The trees passed in grey-green blurs, the road stretched endlessly ahead, and something in his chest gave a soft ache.

  “I don’t like a lot of things nowadays.”

  Sarah’s voice came gently from beside him. “Do you even know what the plan is with Mac? When we meet him?”

  Nathaniel gave a small shrug. “You tell me.”

  “I’m going to take him back north. There’s a halfway house in Mortimier. I’ll check him in there.”

  “Do you really think he’ll stay?”

  Sarah didn’t answer right away. She pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders and tugged the hood over her head so that her red hair fell across her face. Her eyes peeked out through the strands—sharp and uncertain.

  “I have to try, Nathaniel. I can’t just give up on him.”

  She reached out and laid a hand over his forearm, holding him tightly. He could feel the cold in her fingers, the quiet tremble in the gesture.

  “You can’t give up on someone you love,” she whispered. “You understand that, right?”

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  Nathaniel didn’t answer. Not right away.

  He knew it was pointed. She hadn’t forgotten the way he’d looked at her all those years ago, hadn’t missed the undercurrent in everything he’d ever said. He had laid himself bare for her, and she’d walked away.

  But even now—miles down a frozen road, years after she left—he still hadn’t changed his mind. That was why he was here, wasn’t it? Why else would he be driving her toward a haunted town at the edge of the map?

  Because Sarah Vanderburg, the girl with fire in her hair and ghosts in her eyes, had always been his ruin.

  He reached across and gently brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. Her skin was soft beneath his fingers. She blinked, slowly, then leaned back in her seat. Nathaniel turned the radio up, letting the silence between them fill with music. It struggled at first, static only giving way after a few turns of the knob. It came out faint at first before finally roaring to life. A cover of “Little Lion Man” was playing—raw, female vocals humming through the car like static and sorrow.

  “What band is this?” she asked, glancing over.

  “Tonight Alive,” he said. “You’ve heard of them?”

  She smirked. “I listen to good music, remember?”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  She reached down, grabbed his phone from the cupholder, and started swiping through his playlists with mock scrutiny.

  “A lot of new stuff now. Well, newer than the last time we talked. Grandson. Shinedown. I started listening to Illenium too.” She slapped his arm with a grin. “You’ve got Bayside? Like, do you need a wife or something?”

  Nathaniel laughed, a low and warm sound. She kept scrolling.

  “This music’s the best. It actually means something. Real lyrics. Passion. I can’t stand rap or pop—too basic. No soul.”

  He said nothing, just smiled and watched her. The way her face lit up when she talked, the way her fingers tapped in rhythm on her thigh. He remembered the nights they used to spend on the roof, looking up at the sky like it had answers. They were just kids then, but even back then, she’d made the world feel less empty.

  “Remember when we used to sneak out and climb onto the school roof?” he said. “Talk about aliens and other dimensions?”

  “And Donnie Darko,” she added, eyes lighting up. “I remember that movie! It talked about parallel worlds. Like—do you think there’s more of us out there?”

  “Did I ever explain string theory to you?” he asked.

  She shifted again, now fully facing him in her seat. One leg curled beneath her, her head tilted in curiosity. He noticed she never once reached for her own phone. Maybe it was old. Or maybe she didn’t want to be distracted. Either way, he liked it.

  “String theory says that every decision creates a new universe,” Nathaniel said. “Like… if I forgot my phone this morning, that’d be a branch. Maybe I went back for it. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I bought a new one and now I’m in debt. It goes on forever. A multiverse of ‘what ifs.’”

  He tossed the phone lightly onto the passenger seat and glanced at her.

  “Imagine a world where the Nazis won. Or Russia never existed. Where dinosaurs still roam. Or where reality is made of transparent beings that float between Earth and the stars.”

  Sarah grinned. “You’re such a fucking nerd.”

  “You like me anyway.”

  “I like a lot of things,” she said, listing them off like stars. “Loud music. Shooting stars. Scary movies. Cats.”

  Nathaniel winced. “Cats?”

  “They’re cute! And lions are my favorite animal,” she said, flipping a lock of red hair behind her ear. The Blackwood family crest, His family crest had a lion in the top right corner—he remembered showing it to her once, a lifetime ago. She never was that interested in this stuff but he was. Heredity was everything a long time ago, and Nathaniel may be old fashion but it was everything to him to. The idea of a past you could look to for guidance, one that even pre-existed your existence was intriguing.

  “They walk like they rule everything. Smart, too. Did you know lions wait for their prey to be separated? They stalk them until they’re alone. Then they strike. And by the time the prey even notices… it’s too late.” She turned back toward the window, her reflection flickering against the glass. Nathaniel didn’t reply. He kept his hands on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

  He wasn’t sure why her words sent a chill through him.

  But the silence that followed clung to the car like fog and only served to elevate the feeling of something else hidden in her words.