Inspire (The Muse #1)(63)
Author: Cora Carmack

And even if I found one of my sisters … what then? Odds are they’re just as clueless as me. I could try the furies next. They mete out justice among both mortals and immortals. They’re more likely to know how to contact the greater gods, but they’re even more difficult to search for than my sisters.

It’s hard not to feel hopeless. Like I’m clinging to a solitary life preserver in a never-ending ocean. I could search for months. Years. And in all that time, Wilder will continue to age. He’ll meet new people. He’ll start dating again. What if he falls in love with someone else?

I drape my elbows over my knees and drop my head against my arms.

Where did my numbness go?

As I work to get it back, something slams into my front door. I jerk my head up, and it happens again. Repeatedly. It takes my inebriated brain a few seconds to understand that it’s not something running into the door.

It’s someone knocking.

“Kalli! Kalli, are you in there? I see your car! Open the door.”

I cover my mouth to stop the sob that jerks up from my chest.

Wilder. How is he here? I’ve been gone three months. There’s no way he’s still looking for me.

Is there?

“Kalli, please.” His furious knocks slow. The sound changes, grows more hollow, and I’d guess it’s his palm against the door instead of his fist. “Just open the door for me, please. I’ll do anything if you’ll just open the door.”

Another voice joins his outside. Deep and hesitant. “Come on, Wild. It’s dark inside. She’s not here.”

That’s Rook. Oh gods, what are they doing here?

“That’s her car. She’s back.”

“You know, they do make more than one of each kind of car.”

There’s a thud and then shuffling feet, like one of them shoved the other back.

“I drive by here every fucking day, Rook—”

“Yeah. That’s definitely an issue we should talk about.”

“There’s never been a car like that in this lot since she left. Not once.”

“So maybe someone has a friend visiting. Or maybe they rented out her place to someone else.”

Wilder ignores him and begins knocking on the door again, hard and fast once more.

“Kalli. I don’t care that you left. I don’t care why. Please just open the door.”

He keeps knocking, and before I can help myself, I’m crawling across the dusty floor on my hands and knees. Sliding carefully so as not to make any noise.

“Wild, Bridget is waiting—”

“I don’t care. You go. I’m staying here.”

“Damn it. We’ve done this before. You said it would be different this time.”

Wilder doesn’t answer, and the desire to see him is burning me up from the inside out. I can’t breathe around the heat of it.

“Fine,” Rooks says finally. “Torture yourself a little more if that’s what you want. Call me when you get tired of the pain.”

I kneel before the door and press my hand against it. Numbness is long gone, and tears are falling so fast that I can’t see through the blur. But I know he’s little more than a foot away from me now. I listen for his breathing on the other side, scared now that his knocking has stopped. Maybe he went after Rook after all.

A thump follows, and I hear what I think is him sliding down my door, sitting down on the other side.

“Where are you?” he says, quieter this time, and I don’t think he’s talking to me anymore. Or rather, I don’t think he thinks he’s talking to me anymore.

“I just wish you’d call. Or write. Or anything. I just want to know you’re okay. You—that day …” He sighs. “I’ve never been so terrified in my life. The look in your eyes. The way you were crying. Goddamn it, Kalli.”

He quiets then, and as slowly as I can, I shift so that my back leans where I believe his is on the other side. I close my eyes and wonder how I can feel so far away when he’s this close.

He doesn’t speak again. Nor does he knock. But when I stand and chance a look through the peephole a few hours later, I can still see his legs stretched out in front of him on the concrete. I stare for a long while. Until I can close my eyes and see the image from memory, right down to the worn patch on his knee and the scuffs on his shoes.

Then I settle back down against the wall. Eventually, I fall asleep there, slumped over on my side, and when I wake in the morning, my porch is empty.

It takes me two days, but after more research, I put a new plan into motion. A little poking around online reveals the name of Wilder’s old band. Wild Roots. There was a tree tattoo with intricate twisted roots on one of Wilder’s arms, and now I know its story. Or part of it anyway. I find a picture of the group, and just as I suspected … Bridget was part of his band.

From there, I find out her full name, which I then take to social media. And after a little light stalking, I see that she’s checked in at a hair salon. So I park my car outside, and wait for her to leave.

It’s a gods-awful, creepy move. But she’s the only person like me that I know how to find. And sure, she’s not going to be able to put me in touch with another god (hell, I’m not even sure she knows what she is), but another vision from her could give me some insight, anything, into the future. And this time, I’ll be paying attention. I’ll get every word.

It’s nearly an hour before she leaves, her hair shorter and a darker blonde than the last time I saw it. I decide it’s best not to approach her in public, so I swallow down a little more guilt over my stalking and follow behind her when she gets into her car and pulls away.

I’m relieved when she pulls into a parking lot outside an apartment building instead of going somewhere else. Unfortunately, it’s an old loft style building, so there’s one main entrance that’s keyed, and all the apartments are inside. I park quickly, and pull the baseball cap I brought down low on my head.

I have to get into that building right behind her. If I have to wait to get buzzed in or for someone else to come, there’s no way I’ll know which apartment is hers. With my heart hammering, I walk up behind her as she turns her key in the lock.

Thankfully, she doesn’t even look back as I catch the door. She just keeps right on going. I hang back then, pretending to search for something in my purse. I stay just close enough to keep an eye on her and catch which apartment is hers. It’s like a maze in here as I glance after her around corner after corner. Finally, she stops at a door. Once she’s inside, I take a deep breath and wait a minute or two. Then I step up next to her door, just out of sight of the peephole, and I knock. The door opens, but I’m off to the side so she can’t see me. I want her to be in a vision before she sees me. Otherwise, she’ll tell Wilder. And I don’t want him to know I’m really back. Not until I know if any of this is even possible. Nothing happens for a moment, and I’m scared she’ll close the door without looking further. But then just as I’d hoped, she takes a step outside her door, glancing down the hallway back in the direction we came.