Page 156 of Kingdom of Chaos
A hand waves in front of my face, shaking me back to the present. “Yo, earth to Talon,” Violet says, her mouth twisted into a sardonic grin. “Where did you just go?”
I give my head a light shake and refocus on the world around me, plastering on what I hope is a lighthearted smile.
“Nowhere,” I say, and pick up a fry and pop it in my mouth, not really tasting it.
I’m at an all-night diner with some fellow Order members, including Violet, who asked to be reassigned to the NYC Order after the battle in Central Park. Grabbing a bite at three a.m., after our night shift is over, has become somewhat of a ritual of ours.
When my friends returned after Kerrim was defeated and the remains of Shadow Striker were brought back to the creature world, I decided to join the NYC Order under Kade’s command. Protecting the world from things they shouldn’t know about is just who I am, what I was raised to be. He tried to elevate me to second-in-command, but I turned him down, knowing I wasn’t ready to take on something like that.
Kerrim is gone, but there are still repercussions from the unrest he stirred up in the small creature community in the short time he was here. Factions of creatures are no longer content to stay hidden in the human world like they have for two millennia.
I can’t help but feel it’s only a matter of time before the truth is revealed.
Central Park was a mess after that night. And although the Order was able to keep the barrier up throughout the battle, shielding the humans from the truth of what transpired in the park that fateful night, there was no hiding the evidence after. The park looked like a warzone, and the humans scrambled for an explanation, eventually settling on believing it was just a mass vandalization by some unknown group.
The whole park has been closed since that night, something that’s never happened in Central Park’s history, and the city hasn’t even given a date for it to reopen.
Violet takes a long sip from her wide straw. “Mmm. I’m telling you,” she says, closing her eyes to savor the lingering flavor in her mouth. “This chocolate milkshake is the best in New York. No, strike that. It’s the bestever. Period.”
My heart twists. I didn’t pick this place. It’s nowhere near an exact replica of Sloan’s back in Everton, the diner where I first laid eyes on Locklyn, but there are enough similarities to taunt me every time we come. The vinyl booths. The sticky menus. The bold “World’s Best Chocolate Milkshake” scrawled in chalk above the bar.
At first, I didn’t mind coming here. It reminded me of Locklyn, and I was desperate to hold on to any part of her I could, even if it was only a memory. I could see her in my mind’s eye, sitting in a booth, laughing with her friends. I remembered the way her gaze locked on to mine for the first time, full of curiosity . . . before it turned into a glare.
Now every visit feels like exposure therapy. Painful and relentless. I’m not sure how much longer I can take it.
I force a lighthearted chuckle at Violet’s comment, but it comes out sounding strangled, even to my own ears. Colton and Mike barely notice, still locked in a heated debate over whether the Yankees or the Mets have the better chance of making the World Series, but Violet doesn’t miss it. She sets her milkshake down, her playful smirk fading as concern shadows her gaze from across the booth from me.
“You okay?” she asks.
I shrug. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. It’s just an off night. Nothing to worry about.” I push the fries away, knowing I don’t have the stomach for them anymore. “I think I’m going to take off. I’m beat.”
She nods, but her frown deepens. As I slide out of the booth and turn, she catches my hand.
“Hey, Talon.” Her voice is quiet, searching. “If something’s wrong, if you’re not okay, you can tell me. You know that, right?”
I’ve been hanging out with Violet because even though they barely met, she knew Locklyn, and for some reason that is comforting to me. She’s also just a good person and has been a good friend over the months. But there are parts of myself I’m not willing to share, and this is one.
I slide my hand out of hers and dig deep. “I’m good,” I lie. “Just need to get some extra sleep. I’ll catch you tomorrow. I want to check out that warehouse in the Bronx where those two bodies were found. The circumstances around those deaths feels creature-related to me.”
She nods, and it looks like she’s about to speak again, but then her gaze catches on something behind me and her eyes widen. Her mouth opens and closes a few times; she can’t seem to get words out.
I glance over my shoulder to see what has her so thunderstruck and my heart stops beating.
There’s a girl standing outside the diner, a leather jacket cropped at her waist, jeans hugging her legs. Her head dips as she studies a small piece of paper in her hands.
I blink a few times, not trusting my own eyes.
This city is big enough that there are humans of all shapes and sizes running around. I’ve been fooled before, thinking I caught a glimpse of her, even knowing it was impossible. Just last week, I scared a poor girl half out of her mind chasing her through Chinatown, convinced it was Locklyn, only to find out it wasn’t.
I know in my mind she can’t be here, but my heart isn’t convinced. It keeps conjuring her.
The girl glances up at the diner’s glowing neon sign, her face angled just enough for me to catch the slope of her nose, the curve of her neck, the light brown, almost amber eyes.
And then the freckles, those adorable kissable freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose like tiny constellations waiting to be traced.
I’m moving before I even know I’ve made the decision to do so.
As I weave through the tables to the door, someone pushes their chair back in front of me and I vault over them, eliciting a round of gasps from nearby tables for being able to do a feat humans probably shouldn’t be able to.
