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He pulls a gun from the back of his dark, too-tight jeans and waves it around. “The only thing I can think of is that you get this nonstop bullshit special treatment…”

Oh boy. Here it comes. Cue casual racism in three…two…one…

“Because you’re a woman.”

Huh. Not as bad as I was expecting.

“Women have it so easy these days, you know that? I mean, you benefit from it, so you should know. Men, on the other hand, don’t have it so easy.”

He returns to a crouch and points the gun at my face. “It’s like––”

A deafening blast cuts off Wyatt’s words. The only defense I have against it is the ability to close my eyes. A ringing fills my right ear, and the left isn’t working at all. I feel a wetness stream down the left side of my neck. I’m guessing it’s blood. My left cheek stings from several little cuts. Pieces of something cover my body as they fall from above.

When I open my eyes, Wyatt is gone. The gun is on the ground next to my head, and in the spot where Wyatt was standing…now stands a tree. A tree that’s at least ten feet tall, with a thick stump and branches full and lush with green leaves.

Then I notice the blood and wood chips. Blood is splattered over my entire body, along with more wood chips. Blood is also splattered all over the ground, and it’s trickling down the tree from a spot close to the lowest branch. When I zero in on that spot, I see it. A face, as if carved by a knife in the wood. The face looks remarkably like Wyatt’s, and his expression is an exaggerated pout.

The branches above the pout crying blood whip around suddenly, and I hear a deep, belly-shaking laugh from the forest. “A monument to an inept streak of piss shaped like a toy pony. My gift to you, Madam Mayor.”

Nysso.

I don’t know how he was able to do anything outside the forest entrance. His powers don’t extend past that tree line, or so I thought. But Ziggy got to him, and he saved me. He fucking saved me. The image of Wyatt’s pout and the bloody tears he continues to cry is the last thing I see before darkness takes over.

Chapter 21

Emma

The first things I see when I open my eyes are Mom and Morsa on either side of my bed, holding both my hands. The first thing I feel is parched. I pull my hand out from Morsa’s to reach for the cup on the nightstand. She understands immediately and holds it to my lips.

“Take small sips. Don’t want to upset your tummy,” she says.

Once the water slides down my throat, easing the discomfort, the next thing I feel is rage. Right on time, Henrik strolls into the room.

“You,” I croak out. “You fuck⁠—”

“I know, Emma.” He holds up his hand in surrender. “I should’ve been on top of Wyatt. He was one step ahead of us the whole time, and that never should’ve happened.”

“What did you do?” The question is accusatory and laced with venom, and only two of the four words come out clearly with my scratchy voice.

He stands at the foot of my hospital bed and lets out a deep sigh. He explains that he had a one-night stand with Wyatt’s mom when he was on a business trip to Texas. She called him as soon as she found out she was pregnant, and he agreed to pay for childcare expenses but didn’t want a relationship with Wyatt.

Wyatt tracked him down anyway when he was fifteen, and he was desperate for them to form a bond, as any child would be. Henrik was reluctant but agreed to visit him once a year. When Wyatt graduated from college, he flew to Sweden without telling his mother and demanded a job at Henrik’s lab. It’s where he’s been ever since.

“Over the last few months, Wyatt’s behavior had been increasingly erratic,” Henrik says. “Demanding a promotion, a raise, a job transfer into my lab, and losing his temper whenever he was told no.”

“Sounds about right,” Mom and I say at the same time, then exchange a smirk.

“A week before the portal bombing, Wyatt asked for time off. The request was denied, but he left anyway and didn’t tell anyone. After the attack, I tried contacting Wyatt’s mom. It took me weeks to track her down. She left her house and changed her phone number after Wyatt tried to kill her. She fought back and escaped. Tried reporting it to the local police, but they didn’t take the threat seriously.”

“Okay. Then he came here, started stalking me, tried having me kidnapped, yada, yada, yada, and now he’s dead,” I say, growing impatient. I feel for Wyatt’s mother and hope she’s okay. I want her to find peace and healing with good people around her. Part of me also wants to pummel Henrik’s face for not saying a single word about this to me or Mom or Morsa or the fucking committee. Mostly, though, I have one thing on my mind, and one thing only. “Where is Abe?”

Henrik gives me a solemn nod. “He’s being worked on at the local lab.”

“You mean your house? The lab inside your house here?”

“Yes.”

I throw up my hands and shove the blankets off my body. “Why didn’t you fucking say that? Jesus huckleberry Christ, everything has to be a never-ending story, doesn’t it?”