Page 50 of The Brothers Bane

“I’ve never been in freefall without wings before. That was… fun.” He grins at me.

“You need to pack it in, brother,” Alcides says, righting himself. He gestures with a smirk, and Typhon finally notices that the edges of his human form have started to blur. He closes his eyes and the monstrous pieces of him merge with his human body once again.

“Sorry,” I say again, looking sheepishly at each of them.

“Don’t worry, I was ready,” Campe says. “You did well for your first time. We got within fifty feet of our target. Why don’t we practice some shorter-distance trips? Can you take us to the ground from here?”

She’s at the very edge of the open-air observation deck we landed on, leaning one hip against the guard rail. I venture over and peek, but the floor below stretches out to slanted windows and I can’t get a straight view to the ground from here.

“Is there an elevator?” I squeak.

“Why don’t we try some horizontal teleportation first?” Alcides suggests. He turns and jogs several yards around the platform and stops, turning back to face us. “Come to me, Nemea.”

This I think I can do. I square my shoulders and fix my gaze on the spot right in front of Alcides. The act of teleporting is pretty easy, and within a blink, I’m in front of him, staring up into his handsome face. My arrival brings a gust of warm air through that blows his hair back and makes him blink rapidly.

“Hi,” I say with a smile, then rise on my toes and kiss him.

“Hmm, good job. Now go back.” He spins me on my feet and smacks my ass. I face the others, and in an instant, I’m with them again.

Now that I’m getting the hang of it, I decide it’s time to take a passenger. I reach for Ty’s hand and he gives it, sliding close and curling his arm around my waist. Before I can teleport us to Alcides again, Ty whispers, “Let’s go higher. There’s a roof to this thing, right?”

I look up, scanning the higher points of the top of the building we’re on. There’s a small structure with a window that looks like some sort of lookout station, but the top looks wide enough for two people. With a thought we’re there. From there I just barely have a vantage of the roof. I’m on a roll now, so I just go.

“Fuck yes!” Ty exclaims when we land. We’re in shadows with a red glow cast from above. The spire above us is bordered in red lights all the way up, but I can’t see the top from here.

“Do you think we can make it?” he asks, staring up into the night sky.

“I don’t think I can go if I can’t see where I’m going. Unless I’ve been there already, anyway.”

He looks disappointed, then meets my gaze. “Is there anywhere you’ve already been that you want to return to?”

I let out a snort. “Not likely. I mean, I liked the island, and I’d go back, but I’m kind of persona non grata there right now.”

He laughs. “Good, because I’mdefinitelynot welcome on that island.”

He sobers and studies me, half his face awash in the red glow of the neon that lights up what looks like a catapult-style thrill ride up to the peak. There are bench seats with straps around each of the four sides of the spire.

“What about your home? Will you take me there? I’d like to see it.”

My stomach lurches as if we’ve just gone into freefall on that ride.

“Home was never reallyhomefor me,” I say.

His eyebrows twitch, his aching need to know me palpable through our bond.

Would it really be that bad to show him?

“Okay, but on two conditions. One, we’re coming right back, I don’t want to leave them hanging.”

“Fine. And your second condition?”

“You tell me why you look so sad.”

His nostrils flare and he looks away. For a second I think he’s going to back out, which would not bother me. I can find other ways to get him to talk that don’t involve introducing him to the wasteland that is my hometown. But he finally returns his gaze to me and nods.

I clasp both his hands and take us back to the place I swore I’d never return to as long as I lived.

I land with a thud,my feet kicking up a cloud of dust in the dim light of a parking lot. The familiar glow of the faded store signs flickers overhead, painting an eerie scene that tells me I’m right where I want to be—or at least where I intended to go. The air smells like cardboard and diesel, and my stomach churns with the mix of recognition and revulsion.

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